Long Fabulously Poems
Long Fabulously Poems. Below are the most popular long Fabulously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fabulously poems by poem length and keyword.
my makeup was fabulously light green, lips ruby red
I fit in well with the theme, witches, warlocks and the undead
the blue I had sprayed in my hair glittered like starlight
when we entered the party, a gang began a quick fight
my witch hat was pointed at an odd funny angle
could I get a dance? Just one maybe wrangle?
I looked at my husband whose nose gave a twitch.
I looked fabulous as a sexy, gorgeous young witch
my husband dressed as Dracula with cape and red tie
he watched me dance with another, we both wondered why
the rest of the night my man spun me around the floor
I had not danced in a while, my legs and heart said we wanted more.
My friend laughed at our exuberance yelled out “get a room!”
I gave her a gentle tap on the head with my yellow straw broom.
the food was delicious, the drinks were cold and refreshing.
my husband’s eyes were on me, I knew he was undressing.
funny to me, since we already had two babies at home.
the next thing I knew, I was picked up by a gnome.
The gnome ran off with me to the ladies room to gab.
she had a lot to tell me, and she wanted to blab.
this was a Halloween party provided by my school.
At our principal’s house, and he was now a fool.
Made silly by drinks, which went straight to his head.
His wife was so embarrassed, she sent him to bed.
teacher friends were dressed as goblins, super heroes, and a ghost.
We all discussed unabashedly the craziness of our elusive host.
He was a shy guy, and would be embarrassed to death about this.
A cobra slithered up to me and tried to speak with a hiss.
Nancy! I was delighted, she was my best pal at school.
She had a lot to confide about our nemesis, Mr. O’Toole.
O’Toole was walking around saying dumb things to everyone.
Speaking with Nancy about him was incredibly fun.
My husband was devouring everything off a huge silver tray.
Tidbits and appetizers in black, orange, yellow, and gray.
two jack-o-lanterns were giving me a clever candle wink.
I felt cute tonight, happy, totally energetic, and in the pink.
we had a sitter that night for the first time since our second baby.
Do you want to go home yet? I stared at my man. “No, yes, maybe.”
With two children at home under the age of two, this was a delight.
A marvelous Halloween party that made me feel happy and right.
Rainbow faeries in the sky, painting furiously and fabulously
God’s magic in the hands of the mystics.
His glorious red, representing our life’s blood
after it hits oxygen. Showing nature her full beauty
in the scarlet coneflowers and crisp crimson strawberries.
Flat out showing off in tomatoes.
Rainbow faeries in the sky, hurrying before we catch them.
God’s colors in their nimble hands.
His glorious orange, making us feel optimistic,
throwing a laugh into the rainbow, bringing a sense of play.
Orange, my favorite color, which is shown in
butterflies and marigolds, a sense of whimsy and fun.
Rainbow faeries in the sky, racing toward their favorite color.
The color of the sun, showing their full out yellow, which
gives enthusiasm and joy to the rainbow, softening the
other colors, acting as a beautiful companion, cheering them
all on with an exuberant happy cheer.
Rainbow faeries in the sky, settling down with calming green.
Throwing it in sparingly, as it is already in every meadow,
forest and field. The ultimate color that slows us down, allowing
our breathing to calm us, making us feel nurtured and a part
of nature.
Rainbow faeries gladly adding a touch of blue, the color of
sky and sea, the color that takes our eyes to heaven, and helps
us remember we are here to love each other, showing us compassion and empathy, giving us peace.
..... cus i aint got no mother plucking rap skills mucker,
I'm a poet shall I show it
rhyme the line combine and row it,
I'm a sick ink flicker
tips fidget like a widget
I'm a little bit prolific
that's a rap
so get with it
such a good chorus,
now feel the force of the fall as we move forward
cus I rap awful,
admittedly I havent got an ounce of pure ability
I'm the pit you see,
lips slip over lyrics like I'm tipsy
I link in, sync up like society and gypsy,
and I know what I sound like, yes I'm listening
while you sit there in your pants you just pissed in,
I miss the beat repeatedly
like a fall winter springs back to summer scorch
see it's fabulously written
I'm just crap with the rhythm,
raps a cat and I'm a gibbon
in a strap on with a ribbon,
I rap it for the hell of it,
accolade irrelevant
I'm heaven sent malevolent...….
You are a soligaster of the highest order, held in pristine favor by your court. A wordsmith after Satan’s own heart.
Champion of Doublespeak, a demonstrative firebrand with a MAGA-phone. An artful dodger, complete with chaotic DOGE.
Delusions more grandiose than Bonaparte, crowned King of Deception you be a celebrated charlatan who follies in the scam.
Hats off to the Misleader of the Free World, ‘Trumping’ reality in monolith farce filled fallacies, fabulously flaunting fake.
Protagonists of propaganda. Promoter of pandemonium. You thrive in ‘Mythomania’ unraveling truths with charismatic flare.
Purveyor of provocation.
Pestilence peddling Prince of Calamity. May you find solace amongst the shameless.
Fabulously entertaining for many years you were to many
Ranking at the top of everyone’s list, and worth every penny
Always so suave looking and so debonair
Never out of place was even one hair
Kisses and hugs came from bobbysoxers when they heard you on the air.
“Strangers In The Night” was a big hit for you later in your career
“It Was A Very Good Year” followed that one quite near
Nancy, your daughter, had a career that came along
Anything you did turned to gold. You could do no wrong
Topping the charts was another song, “Witchcraft” was its name
Recording and performing won you much fame
Although you’re gone now, we will all remember you just the same!
I wear the stars like a vintage jacket—zippers of bold contradictions. One day, I’m a storm; the next, I’m a rainbow with a cigarette. My laugh? It’s a brushstroke across canvas, full of sarcasm and a splash of love. I know the constellations of me, and when I speak—it’s a rock concert tangled with a philosophy class. I don’t fit any box—I burned the box, lit a candle, and read tarot on its ashes. Every page I turn is my next brushfire of originality. I breathe in the irony of life and exhale an artful smirk. Every step I take, I leave footprints of both sass and sincerity. I’m a walking contradiction, glitter and grit. I know what Saturn’s return means and I dare it to try me. I’ll dance under the moon, debate under the sun, and when the day’s done, I’ll still be fabulously, mercurially, uniquely me.
You are a soligaster of the highest order, held in pristine favor by your court. A wordsmith after Satan’s own heart.
Champion of Doublespeak, a demonstrative firebrand with a MAGA-phone. An artful dodger, complete with chaotic DOGE.
Delusions more grandiose than Bonaparte, crowned King of Deception you be a celebrated charlatan who follies in the scam.
Hats off to the Misleader of the Free World, ‘Trumping’ reality in monolith farce filled fallacies, fabulously flaunting fake.
Protagonists of propaganda. Promoter of pandemonium. You thrive in ‘Mythomania’ unraveling truths with charismatic flare.
Purveyor of provocation.
Pestilence peddling Prince of Calamity. May you find solace amongst the shameless.
They kissed her soft cheeks. Blew love into her gorgeous green eyes, and gave her their favorite blessings. A baby in disguise, she looked at them and smiled, knowing she could only keep their images for about two years. They would dissolve in her brain dendrite bank when she reached the ability to form words. Angel love. Nothing like it. Being in heaven, indescribable magic. Nothing on earth was as grand or as wonderful. She spent her life helping others, making her angel team proud. Did not return until eighty-nine earth years. Her entire angel committee was there to greet her. They cheered as she came forward. She instantly remembered them. “I missed you so much!” she said. The angels danced their happiness. Another fabulously selfless soul safely home!
lovely homecoming
angels danced their happiness
soul remembers home
written 8-24-2019
Contest: Angels Danced
Sponsor: Lu Loo
Lower gastrointestinal war civil declared
because sweet tooth (er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing, gob
stop ping, feasting immediate enema
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome this second July Sunday 2019
quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously drab
characterizing local buffoon, i.e. yours truly.
Shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister heavenly gourmet deluxe cake?
Moving out feels much sadder
than moving in, more gladder--
which is poor grammar
for severance of love's embodied glamour.
Packing up
feels more like packing in
and down,
cutting ties with my own stage,
this playful working space,
for everyday self
and other witnessing life
love
hate
joy
anger
courage
fear
healing
suffering
Not a fabulously grand stage
but my intimate memories
triggered by damp basement
through dusty attic,
inside resonant
and outside growing resilient,
front yard exhibitions
and back yard more inhibited glimmers
and shivers,
dimmers
and emotive rivers
Moving out
without regard for loss
feels too surgical,
masochistic,
violent dross,
silent shriek of bad faith,
cross,
divestment from personal
political
economic
cultural placement
more sacredly cherished
than secularly calculated
in clock time to move on.
My best therapeutic intent
to know I leave this tiny spot of Earth
at least as healthy
and beautiful
as I have found her
while unpacking
in her abandoned
neglected
bramble thorned sadness
inviting my hope-filled gladness
too few years ago.