Long Dud Poems
Long Dud Poems. Below are the most popular long Dud by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dud poems by poem length and keyword.
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
I was dreading my return to work. There would be a multitude of questions
especially by that sod, Riley. He and I had never gotten along; he was too weird. Death was desolating but an untimely death at the hands of a murderer seemed somehow a tiny bit worse.
I realized with a heartfelt pang that I had mourned until my eyes could not mourn any more. They were so raw already, the damage might be irreparable.
As a kind of glorious consolation Monday was a placid day. The sun was out,
the birds were singing, it felt like the first day of spring; although spring was a
few weeks away. There was a peaceful solitude when I arrived at the office.
The only car in the giant parking lot belonged to my boss, Howard. It was his old red Volvo, a monster car that we had always laughed about when we
were dating. Howard was the best kind of boss, smart, open-minded, friendly,
helpful, a great listener. As a date he had been a dud though.
I like wild boys - bad boys, not nice guys. I have no idea why, but if my adrenaline is not racing, you are not the one for me. Howard’s innocence made him seem dull to me. Yes, I think that was it. He was so quick to flush, inexperienced, I did not want him to know my wild side. I thought
it might jeopardize my job.
I would not mind having a few seconds alone with Howard
this morning. Dull was something I could do after this last week of hell. I raced up the concrete steps. When I reached the glass door my badge did not work. Dhram! I thought maintenance had fixed that.
Howard was in his office alone. I spoke to him briefly, as I could see he was not in a conversational mood, which was odd for him. His eyes were red, so I left. Sometimes work is not the best place to unleash a bunch of grief. When I reached my desk all of my things were gone. Cleared off.
I looked up and saw a giant picture of me and my boyfriend
Spider, on the other side of the room. What the ….? Irritated, I walked over there to get a closer look. Spider had been nothing but trouble lately.
A bright light surrounded me as I approached the painting. An angel was standing in the middle of it. You have said goodbye to Howard now. It is time, she said gently. I nodded. Ready now to take on a new endeavor; my real life. This one had never been what I was looking for anyway.
They all sit there lined up in a row
Not knowing when exactly when to go
Decisions are made on the image they are looking for
As the applicants mumble at the door.
Mommas got cash
Let those pass
The Agent said
Wondering if they knew how to play dead underneath the bed.
Here comes another one
Participating in the audition after getting some sun
Shez a factor the agent said and could be a fine actor
Take a picture with her in blood
And bet you bottom dollar she is not going to be a dud.
Two more come in
Being a sweet photogenic twin
And having what it takes to win
A prize which is the opportunity to hear some more lies
Maybe this is just something
Like a guy giving them a ring.
Pick up the phone
“I am alone,” she could say
About this selection process for a scene to roll in the hay
During this time when they know she is out of money
And reality states they are only there to be called honey
Having the only worry being ‘if tomorrow is going to be sunny’.
When asked to defend
Its for the men
They do state
Hoping a date will turn into a lifelong mate.
In this game where no one knows their name
One may ask about money
When the success is being a bunny
This is nothing new
In a profession that ends with “I Do”
Yes, no she is waiting for an answer
On whether she is the corpse of the principal dancer.
When she gets the green light to be in the dying fight
She gets pumped up with all the might
“How much should I show?”
She asks with a glow.
Just enough
the guys want to see your inside stuff.
Finally, they get cast as the damsel getting the gas
Ready to meet a monster with a dangerous tool
And not expecting to end up just body parts in a bloody pool.
It only takes a day and hopefully there will be pay
But if not, the picture taken could be considered hot.
Everything is fine if it looks good
Especially if the B movie talent has it all together underneath their hood.
Do not be worried since it’s just the character that is going to be buried
Then after weeks in the theater what will be sweeter
A shot on a magazine cover that begs for men to love her.
Soon the check will come
And it will be done
Once the payment goes through and she tells the one man in her life “I do”
There has always been an inter-outer over-under tender balance of loveless socio-equations as they super fit the psychosocial sexe-endices in this modern garner of pluses/minuses/bytes and scribbles mostly incommunicado inexperience and parental impreciseness as to, "anything planned", which in tomb leaves us doth a deranged desperate captive of that all inbibed prisoner **** of nun conformist adventurerers and that really, that there are just too many organic integers making for really bad math.intuitations/attributes and all of the familio do's and don'ts that creep bastardy across the years to inculcate, interfere, incase all of the hoped, promised integrity of just 2 people in love? with all that makes it their potential, not all of the hopeless, ne'r do wells, dead driven dud marriages that hoped to promulgate their failures onto the newbies totally unprepared, but willfully negative implicit on that new, and should be uninterrupted, all naked, seeing alter intense emoexplosive journeys to that wait waits, some supposes, everybody entices, everyone enthralls, quired questions, problem perplexes, initiates initiated, complexes complete, duty deforms, eerily exacts a viscous value, on properties promised a forever coexistance, but not at the expense of selfish selfness; can it be to an us award of a faceoff fervent fever, that WE, can coincide an opposite internal presence that allows us to be a universal component undeluded, underived, unpolluted by the natural wonders that are our genetic cohesions, so they can further their total promise to lead a connected life of copious love, desire and plentitudes of us-ness, disavowing all else in a socioinvasive parental wake of them vs us in all things blood/emo crass cursive? Leave them, the future lovers of us alone, let it flow and keep your, non orgasmic, loveless failures to yourself, old/tainted people of relations, lovers of social inhibitions it plays to an ill-at-ease, stubborn Igor-ignocompliance. Yes, we had Summer Love/Woodstock, but then we grew to be livestock, waiting for the senior-socioseniorslaughter pill mill. You must have some small, tinder, macromolecule of what it was to be standing in the bliss of universal underware; a long time ago in a universe far, far, away. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! the neighbors.
Evil, Guns, Cowardice, Stupidity, and Fear
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
seventeen innocent souls departed this earth
unexpectedly and tragically so whilst leaving
grieving loved ones, classmates, and friends
to wade through another mass-murder event
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
many clownish and dud politicians in Washington, DC
including the vacuous person parading there as president
cleave themselves to a vaunted aura of self-righteousness
whilst singling out mental illness as the only true cause
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
the evil intentions and actions of a deranged person played
their horrific roles in sending these innocents through death’s
door at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School on that fatal day
as did guns, political cowardice, stupidity, and fear of the NRA
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
and so, it is: guns, guns, guns, guns, and even more guns
proliferate American society today as many in Congress
oppose common-sense gun legislation and more stringent
background checks whilst lapping up money from the NRA
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
standing with those families who are aggrieved in such tragedies
and embracing the memories of those who have so sadly perished
requires compassion, moral consciousness, love, and political courage
to do the right thing and not to succumb to greed and abject stupidity
is anybody out there?
does anyone really care?
yes, many good people are out there
and many of them do really care
it is now time for Congress and this president to wake up,
to grow some backbone, and to do the right thing to ensure
that tragedies like this one never occur again!
I am out there
and I do really care—do you?
enough is enough!
this madness must stop now!
support and stand by the students!
amen . . . amen . . . amen
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
February 18, 2018 (Political Verse)
Author’s Note: This poem is dedicated to all the students,
faculty, and staff at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School
in memory of those brave students and faculty members who
perished on that tragic day of February 14, 2018.
Unquotable quotes – VII
What comes in through one ear goes out through the rear.
Give him a wench and, he’ll want her to be French.
Give him an inch and he’ll take no small pinch.
Better be swallowed by a whale than be torn to shreds by a
shark of a girl in a gale.
The praying mantis kills after she copulates in bliss ; the
predatory woman drills a hole in your bank account first
before she kills for a thrill.
The banana kills its bearer for the latter cannot bear another.
Take the pillow but not the widow
Marry her sister if she’s fatter.
Frogs in a well croak well in hell.
A crab walking straight is out of gait.
(continuing the series from UQ - VI)
We are all sinners under bums.
We are all looters under swarms.
We are all marchers under drums.
We are all dreamers under balms.
We are all loafers under palms.
We are all voters under domes.
We are all soupers under poems.
for Chrissie Morris-Brady
If you call a spade a jade, you’ve got it made
But if you call a maid a jade, you’re likely to get laid
Though if you call a maid in bed, you’re going to get wed
Yet if you call a maid to bed, you’re sure to be up-fed.
If you call a maid in a hurry, you’re likely to be sorry
Or if you call a maid in a lorry, you’re bound to worry.
If you called a lad dad, he’d likely not be glad
Yet if you called the lad bad, he’d certainly be sad
But if you called the lad mad, he’s bound to think you a grad.
If you called a nerd a turd, you could possibly get furred
But if you thought a Lord bored, you probably will get bored
Yet if you called a Lord a toad, he’ll have you all towed.
Then if you called a Knight tight, he’ll challenge you to a fight.
If you called a Baron daemon, he’ll think you were a doorman.
If you refer to Jude as a nude, you’re likely to get screwed
And refer to the nude as lewd, you’re bound to get brewed
And think of Dude as crude, there’s bound to be a feud.
If you called a squid a quid, it’s bound to think like a Druid.
If you call what you said dead, you’ll never ever get read
If you thought home food good, you must be a real hood
And rely on your word two-third, you sure are a dud.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
An American perspective on domestic and world events, in no particular order
SCOTUS rules that Trump’s immune
China flies the spy balloon
Starship booster landing glee
J. Assange is walking free
Bergdorf, Neiman join Saks
Our Secret Service sucks
Russia swaps her jailed spies
Alexei Navalny dies
Mitch McConnell’s stepping down
“Boris” causes Europe drown
Biden cancels loan debt
Hunter’s pardoned by his dad
Hezbollah - beheaded snake
East Coast’s shaken by the quake
Eagle Pass – still open path
Gaza tastes Israeli wrath
North of 40 goes Dow Jones
Loses fight one Alex Jones
French Olympics is a dud
Milton, Helen’s awful flood
Bitcoin’s rising through the roof
“Donald Trump is bullet-proof”
MSNBC for sale
Diddy Combs in Brooklyn’s jail
Donald wins and Harris not
Brian T. assassins’ plot
Bankman-Fried, the largest fraud
“AI” reach is getting broad
Pavel Durov nabbed in France
But illegals push, advance
Mid-East war still rages on
“Year of Snake” is almost born
TikTok may not be around
Syria has fallen down
Anti-Semites flowing crud
Israel keeps oozing blood
Taylor Swift, the billionaire
Art, banana, millionaire
Gone Red Lobster, Tupperware
Weapons for Ukraine affair
Prada sews the spacewalk suit
DOJ quits Trump’s pursuit
Spirit Air takes nose dive
Elon Mask in overdrive
Iran rockets come like rain
Hostages remain in pain
No DC resolve, it’s air
Beirut pagers need repair
Russia crumbles from within
Lower price on gasoline
“Brat”, the word of current year
Now, to ones we once revere
Gone for good, but left imprint
Culture, sport, each own footprint
Lou Carnesecca, Dr. Ruth
Wheel of Fortune Chuck, sad truth
Quincy Jones – culture brass
James Jones - Darth Vader bass
Newhart Bob, satire most
One Phil Donahue, the host
Famous Amos, Maggie Smith,
Richard Simmons, workout wiz
Global flier Dick Rutan
Gossett Lou, of actors’ clan
Matthew Perry, Terry Garr
O.J. Simpson football star
Willie Mays of baseball fame
Y. Sinwar, mankind’s shame
Year’s drawing to a close
Parties, cheer and best clothes
Time for thought and time for fun
Merry Xmas, everyone!
December 15, 2024
Football brought shivers to folks in Three Rivers,
With slivers of Fall in the air,
And the crowd was excited but not so delighted,
By weather more cloudy than fair.
A player named Paul was the hottest of all,
And he played for a team that was great,
He played for a team and the sake of a dream,
To be known as the best in the State.
The Bulldogs were bruisers more often than losers,
And Paul's game was proving his worth,
He was better each year with a dad who was clear,
That his son was the finest on earth.
The Dogs meant to squash all the boys from Mud Wash,
A team that was zero and nine,
But all of their scorn was like buckets of corn,
To the Hogs who refused to be swine.
The Mudhogs, in fact, were not willing to act,
Like a team that was tepid and weak,
For the rain and the mud were the life and the blood,
Of the Hogs when they played at their peak.
With pride on the line and a reason to shine,
All the Mudhogs were ready at last,
But the half-time arrived and the Hogs that survived,
Were dismayed by the two-quarters past.
The Bulldogs who led by just three points ahead,
Were convinced that the Mudhogs were done,
But the Hogs made it clear they had nothing to fear,
From a team that was ranked number one.
For the Mudhogs to win they would have to begin,
To disprove what the Bulldogs had said,
So they fought with a strength that was better at length,
By the way they came back from the dead.
The fourth quarter came and the score was to blame,
When the fans said the game was a dud,
But a storm cloud appeared and the Mudhogs were cheered,
By the downpour of rain and the mud.
The Bulldogs were floored by the Hogs when they scored,
And the latter were leading by four,
But the Bulldogs were glad by the weather they had,
When the darkness turned sunny once more.
The game's final call was decided by Paul,
On a play that was fourth down and goal,
And he knew they would win by the size of his grin,
And the play of a team on a roll.
The fans of the team were already to scream,
With a second or two left to score,
But the boy and his pass were reduced by the grass,
That was fed by a Hog to a bore.
Football brought shivers to folks in Three Rivers
With slivers of Fall in the air
And the crowd was excited but not so delighted
By weather more cloudy than fair
A player named Paul was the proudest of all
And he played for a team that was great
Yes he played for a team and the sake of a dream
To be known as the best in the State
The Bulldogs were bruisers more often than losers
And Paul's game was proving his worth
He was better each year with a dad who was clear
That his son was the finest on Earth
They were planning to squash all the boys from Mud Wash
A team that was zero and nine
But all of their scorn was like buckets of corn
To the 'Hogs who refused to be swine
The Mudhogs, in fact, we're not willing to act
Like a team that is tepid and weak
For the rain and the mud were the life and the blood
Of the boys when they played at their peak
With pride on the line and a reason to shine
All the Mudhogs were ready at last
But the half-time arrived and the 'Hogs that survived
Were dismayed by the two-quarters past
Now the Bulldogs who led by just three points ahead
Were convinced that the Mudhogs were done
But the ‘Hogs made it clear they had nothing to fear
From a team that was ranked number one
For the MudHogs to win they would have to begin
To disprove what the Bulldogs had said
So they fought with a strength that was better at length
By the way they came back from the dead
The fourth quarter came and the score was to blame
When the fans said the game was a dud
But a storm cloud appeared and the Mudhogs were cheered
By the downpour of rain and the mud
The Bulldogs were floored by the 'Hogs when they scored
And the latter were leading by four
But the Bulldogs were glad by the weather they had
When the grey sky turned sunny once more
Well the call went to Paul who was sure of it all
On a play that was first down and goal
And he knew they would win by the size of his grin
And the play of a team on a roll
The fans and their team were so ready to scream
With a second or two left to score
But Paul and his pass were reduced by the grass
That was fed by a 'Hog to a bore.
Wordsmith's Veneration...
Aye willy nilly understate (trying 2)
tantalize, hypnotize, galvanize...
with "FAKE" trumpeting
spellbinding, rambling, quivering...
intoxicating, hallucinating, gyrating,
stop to take a breather...
English Language vocabulary, a
fascination, intoxication, provocation...
upon me ocular, neurological, mental...
faculties of this nattering nabob
from outer limits of twilight zone
i.e. literary krazy Jewish jabberwocky
issuing haphazard global toll till
fallout exacting deserved damn
cratering nascent (inchoate) career
digitally/electronically bi:
ne'er re: carpet bombing
away upon modus operandi, sans
sesquipedalian shrapnel strafes wrought
realization literary scaffolding
complex edifice thought
out in mind of yours truly,
not popularly sought
opportunity to experience
rush of excitement,
asper choice winner equals naught
inexorable effort to cobble innovative
linkedin words disappointment fraught
submissions witness polite declinations
attesting, lamenting, regarding poetic
expansive glommed language, unlikely
success tubby brought
adulation, commendation, enunciation...
fades into afterthought.
Ablest adept adroit aficionado
applauded aspiring authors accorded
absolute badge because
brevity brews brilliant burnished
bravado bubbling budding bulwark
captivatingly collates, communicates,
constitutes conveys avast literary
Grand Canyon chiseled, sans scribe's
Colorado devoid, asper driven desperado
contrariwise, through prevalent
persistent pinterest proclivity,
plus plethora pronounced propensity
resoundingly regaling readers
re: raffish ridiculous rumination
renders endeavor incommunicado
diligent doggedness ironically -
dampens dueling dynamic dud
dutifully dramatically diminishing
divine dream deemed darling
distinguished doodling I sip
prose poe hit tick drafter
equally or exceeding
prospects envisioning El Dorado,
thus this Neanderthal sites his lumbering
lugubrious trademark, an
immediate attribute sensing
missive heading directly
to Davy Jones locker
dead reckoning deep virtual
waters of cyber sea!