Long Fantasyhouse Poems
Long Fantasyhouse Poems. Below are the most popular long Fantasyhouse by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fantasyhouse poems by poem length and keyword.
It was a very long day
And a long way from home
Country back roads
Skies of chrome
Tiredness kicks in
I need to stop
A house up ahead
I'll stop and knock
The door opens
Pleasantries in greet
Invited inside
Tired and dead beat
The lady of the house
Offers a drink
A small wine i say
As she replies with a wink
We sit and talk
About our pasts
Sad stories
And past laughs
The evening draws
As i my head starts spinning
I feel elated
Is the evening beginning
Music is played
As i drink more wine
Energetic in dance
As i feel mighty fine
We end up dancing
Our hands in places
Lips touching
And not just faces
Slowly my clothes
Start to fall to the floor
My hands on flesh
I've never seen before
Her body so shaped
Even through hazy eyes
She takes my hand
To her glittering prize
Her hands mould
Around me so
My head like a carousel
In spinning mode
I seem to know what i am doing
But unable to stop
Like I'm on top of the world
And never to drop
The feeling of joy
Surrounds my brain
Elements of ecstasy
Like sparkling champagne
Naked and set
My body flows
In body arousal
Our nakedness shows
The kissing gets frantic
As we sigh and groan
On the floor we writhed
In sporadic moan
As i lie there
I recall the lights
My head in confusion
Now I'm out like a light
I'm awakened early
By a knock at the door
The lady of the house
In breakfast chore
I sit there eating
As my body aches
Scratches and marks
Was i in partake
I have no recollection
Of the evening that's past
I can recall driving up
And that's the last
I say my goodbye's
As i thank my host
She winks as i leave
Looking as white as a ghost
I get in my car
And i head of home
Stopping for gas
No more wandering roam
I speak to the attendant
About the house where i stayed
A lady so kind
How at home i was made
He turns to me
As if i had taken a turn
There's been no one there for years
His face showing concern
I stand in momentary shock
As he tells me the news
The marks on my body
And the bluest of bruise
All the way home
I try to recollect
About the previous night
My thoughts can't project
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy2.php
The Three Little Pigs
By Elton Camp
(I continue to be puzzled at the quite horrible
nature of some of the stories we read to our
small children. This one, perhaps, is no worse
than the original.)
The pigs went out to see what they could do
And their names were Yellow, Red and Blue
Their mother said, “Trouble will cause you care,
But of the big, bad wolf be especially aware.”
Due to their mother’s warning, they did decide
Each one should build a house in which to hide
Yellow soon met a man carrying a load of straw
“That will make we the best house you ever saw.”
As soon as Yellow had his house of straw complete,
The Big, Bad Wolf came along all ready pig to eat
The wolf ran right up and began to knock at the door
Yellow said, “Get away and don’t come back anymore.”
The wolf growled, “That’s not a very friendly way to be.
I’ll huff, puff and blow in your house on the count of three
The big wolf in his lung power took an inordinate pride
And soon he trotted off with the first little pig inside
Blue heard what befell his brother, so decided what to do
A house made of sticks should be harder to break through
His house the pig put together and thought it was sound
But he was proven to be wrong when the wolf came around
The ways of the wolf, Red the brother three, now knew
He didn’t want the fate of his brothers to befall him too
Red talked a man into giving him a large load of brick
“A house made of these and the wolf can’t pull his trick.”
True enough, his huffing and puffing didn’t do the job at all
So up onto the pig’s roof and over to his chimney he did crawl
But it was into a big pot of boiling water that the wolf then fell
Red then cooked and ate the wolf, but also his brothers as well
I had a dream
A wonderful dream
Of a house on snowy hills,
Surrounded by lush gardens
A huge apple tree in the center
On which lives the nightingale
With rows and rows of daffodils
Dancing with the winds.
The dream of winter nights
And coffee cups
Of dancing brooks and daisies
But reality is different
Have to choose a part
The man of my heart---with a tiny flat
A few shrubs and a couple of flower pots
And a heart full of love.
Or the man of my dreams
With a big house in snowy hills
Do I want the dream,
The wonderful dream?
Or do I want true love
The real happiness of being loved
Can I live in the cold ,Beautiful, lonely house
Or do I desire for the warm and loving
Circle of the man of my heart.
I wake up……wake up
And find myself surrounded by the voices
Of ‘Mummy’ with my head in the lap of my love
Happily watching TV in a tiny flat.