Long Duck Poems
Long Duck Poems. Below are the most popular long Duck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Duck poems by poem length and keyword.
Donald Trump could be
doing Jailhouse Rock.
DOJ has his head on
A chopping block.
Trumped up on
charges that
Include espionage.
Donald trying to do
The duck and dodge.
The ex-President
has dug himself in
a deep hole.
Things are starting
To spin Out of control.
A Grand Jury of peers
Signed the indictment.
Donald Trump could
Be wearing stripes
in confinement.
Mr. Jack White a
vicious opponent.
Trump is in denial,
He'll never own it.
The Feds have a 95%
Conviction rate.
This is Karma serving
Up fate.
Trump is tweeting
Somewhere in Mar a largo.
The Wheels of Justice
turn slow.
I wonder if they will
Try him as an adult?
He is claiming none
Of this is his fault
Mr. Trump is starting to
Look a little jittery.
One thing is for sure this
Will make history.
Turbo1904?
The Mallard Mimic
is a myth....
it calls for a well trained
chef to use his knowledge of meat and wines
to create a standard
that many would wish for
and are willing to pay
to have
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the usage of duck fat to cook white potatoes
and then be arranged as scales attop
a turkey cutlet
that is stuffed with
mushrooms, prosciutto
olives,shallots
spinach
a sprinkle of nutmeg
and garlic with
a slight touch
of anchovy
on top of a bed of puff pastry
served with
a garlic parmesan roasted
asparagus dish
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with a side of
maple pecan
butternut squash
Medallion
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with a buttery eggnog
yeast roll
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One would
crumble pork rinds
and truffle zest
add grated cheese
and sprinkle it across the top
and serve with
Malbec!
_______________________________
So say's the Myth!
I remember the days of the purple haze,
back then I was a laze, 4 20,
all the way through my twenties,
bank account empty,
10 bag, 20 bag, Henry the 8th,
your daughter,
the Mary Jane game,
I smoked more than I oughta.
Blunts in the ride, windows up,
hot box inside, cough it up,
choke from the smoke
I'm the bloke that's broke.
King L's, different smells,
didn't need cocaine to entertain my brain,
well maybe when the Polish weed came,
putting glass in to improve weight,
you instantly knew that's weed you hate.
Boozey nights out always ended the same,
hit after hit on that bong,
booze and weed is so wrong.
I smoked weed everyday,
now it's a memory
and I don't remember anything,
well the first time, and the first green,
I was as high as a duck during the best days my life's seen.
just sitting outside
chewing on this gum till i cramp up
the stress of going through it with you is making me drown in my own flatulence
i can barely walk, and i feel myself sinking without the help of feeling
then the tears come
i collapse gracelessly, and then the fears come
every catalog in the library of me contains information that is unmarked
here i am with a million footprints all over until an adequate description of tattoo tattletale
love was supposed flow flawlessly in flamboyant flight
love was supposed to be the epitome of fascinating free fall
however love has left me....just sitting outside
out goes the man, and in comes the boy who cries when he does not get his way
i sit indian style on the damp grass like i am playing duck duck goose
i do not know if i will ever stand up again
you see, i was standing at my most erect when you were here as wood to the fireplace of my life
however here i am like repetitive clockwork....just sitting outside
pretending your butt is strategically warming a particular area acting as a sleep aid
the pain of going through it makes me want to put my hand on your heart and stomp you to the ground
however i walk away from this unnecessary scenario in my head
instead i pick myself up off of this damp grass and drag my pathetic self....back to you....
when i get back home i find you sulking with another dose of smeared makeup teardrop coffee....just sitting around
I got my first duck feather today,
First one for the season of spring,
Standing up proudly, I couldn't walk away,
To me, feathers are gifts, straight from the wing.
I watched as the turtles all swam about,
And saw a cormorant perched on the rocks,
With little blue wrens, so tiny and stout,
And behind the bushes lurking, was a red fox.
I have walked this path many times before,
So many massive pine trees so royal on the way,
I will always come back to this place I am sure,
Just to sit and watch all the majestic trees sway.
But where have all the rabbits gone from last year?
I think the rangers poisoned them, to make them disappear.
/|\
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XX is Female
XY is male
__________________________
Health and Fertility
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Muscovy and American Buff hydryds
where talked about.
Sceince would use two turkeys
2 muscovy duck
and two american Buff
to create a new taste.
Lacking the fishyness of goose
the gameyness of wild turkeys, geese and ducks
they looked to solve the evolutionary problem of
making a bird
that is cheap afordable
and willing to reproduce quickly and cheaply
for a public that is willing to buy.
"These species are genetically and taxonomically completely incompatible. Because they belong to different taxonomic groups (turkeys belong to the Galliformes order, while Muscovy ducks belong to Anseriformes), they cannot produce viable offspring"
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Do not donate to this Cause!!!!
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"if we start tonight
out daughter or son
could be born on the night of the Superbowl!"
Valentines Day!
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Pro. and Mrs. Steymmey and Dillgeldob Whoretense P.H.D.
That child is like a washing machine
when tucked within her bed,
Arms and legs flail everywhere
No chance you’ll find a head.
I expect that's hiding somewhere down
where you’d expect to find the toes
Where a noggin normally rests
Well! No one really knows.
You lay her down to go to sleep
The first move is the “wash”
Linen, gets all pushed around
erratically till its squashed.
Here’s the move I call the rinse
This one’s rather tame.
Motion, and then rotations start
But not quite yet insane.
Ye Gods!!
Here’s the start of the spin cycle.
As bed begins to rumble
Thrashes mirrored by crashes
Artistic gymnastic tumbles.
Blankets, pillows, clothes
All flying through the air
One stuffed toy arcs past the light
Whoa!
Had to duck a teddy bear!
Of course she always sleeps
Through all this absurdity
Each morning I lament the fact
that she was tucked in carelessly.
Walking through the early morning mist
Barefoot in the grassy dew
A Meadow Lark spins his tune
Strangers about there are a few
I spy a busy Woodpecker
Tapping on a tree
With bright green back and black eye patch
He is a sight to see
Sweet Violets are all around
Their blue hue and strong scent
Giving out such a fragrant smell
A perfume only lent
Just then a Hedgehog scampers by
On his short legs as quickly as he can
His pointed snout and prickly pines
His day is going to plan
As I walk on my merry way
Trying to enjoy the day
A Tiger Moth flies by as if to say
Goodnight and keep away
His brightly patterned wings do flap
He’s flying rather manic
I’m going home, it’s far too late
He is in such a panic
A Ladybird lands on a leaf
Just as I was passing by
His bright red body and clear black spots
Are easy on the eye
Good morning chirps Robin Redbreast
Sitting on a nearby post hook
With his brightly coloured red vest
Is worth a second look
As I gaze upon my morning world
I thank God that I am Alive
But quickly duck as from the right
Bees zip out from a hive
God has given us all these creatures
To enjoy and marvel at each day
The way they go about their business
As we just walk and pass their way.
It is a plant’s life.
Up in the continuous night, I saw a streak of light
a dying comet’s last hurrah.
Bedroom in darkness couldn’t sleep too much death
for one night.
Got up and read a book about plants speaking
to each other.
Warning, “heavy-footed human coming your way.”
“Duck, a lawnmower is going amok.”
Amputated roses and tulips chafes in a vase kept
alive for a few days, admire the agony of flowers.
Carrots scream when pulled up from the soil,
good for your health the dietician says.
Everything we do hurts someone, especially plants
except a few that can poison you.
Is my dentist a gardener of my teeth?
The 27 Club:
the strangest sort of pub.
Seems everything is cubes.
(except the ladies’ boobs)
Those lovely duck fat fries
are the exact same size.
The burgers are all square,
with centers nice and rare.
It’s rational to try
their 3.14 pie;
sliced in a perfect third,
the blueberry’s preferred.
The sassy gal with hips
brings twenty-seven chips.
I like to watch her make
a large vanilla shake
with cherries on the top.
Oh man, it’s hard to stop!
You’ll slurp her with a straw
and then you’ll slap your ma.
And you’d have to be daft
to pass up on their draft
with IPAs on tap:
no ordinary crap.
The cover is absurd
unless you know the word.
But speak up and be clear;
no twenty-somethings here.
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for the The 27 Club Poetry Contest
sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
written on 8/27/2022