Long Fiancée Poems
Long Fiancée Poems. Below are the most popular long Fiancée by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fiancée poems by poem length and keyword.
Not Always Blood
It was a childhood crush a long time ago; as a teenage girl you know; you just know.
I treated him as a little brother, such a little cutie, still a boy to me though.
Haven't seen him in three decades but he's like family
Whenever I think of him or his name resurfaces, a warm memory
He requested a messenger chat on social media which I happily accepted not long ago
Not an awkward moment, it was like time had stood still the conversation flow
He revealed "I had a crush on you just want you to know"
"I already knew, I thought it was sweet"
His manner took on a serious tone he said "It's been too long maybe we should meet"
My crush has never gone away, you're in my heart and on my mind
You are still sexy and oh so fine, I’m happy I connected with you face time.”
Words a woman like to hear, it really got my heart to flutter.
But common sense took over and I kept repeating “You are my brother.”
To which he responded “My sister tells me you belong to no other,
Just stop by; we can just chill, we won‘t do anything you don‘t want to.”
Jokingly, “My darling little brother am I going to have to fight you?”
“I am a child no more but a grown man and would never do you harm.
When you were my brother’s fiancée and he hit you I wanted to break his arm.
I hated him for having a good woman who he never treated well
I can’t forget and have never forgiven him for putting you through hell.”
My son stopped by to visit, walking in he hadn’t a clue
He goes to the table and hears from my laptop, “Long time no see Nephew?”
It’s been a couple of weeks, he’s invaded my dreams, I can’t get him off of my mind
On my way to visit a one time childhood crush, now a grown man and mine, all mine.
‘April’s Fools’.
Set in the 1950’s with poverty and slum housing still prevalent, to gain money, a father decides to sell his six children, never realising his plan which was really to re-house them, would place them in untold dangers.
A young couple, both single parents, find themselves later burdened with many children but with few means to look after them. Already hated by his mother-in-law, penniless and out of work, with a strong desire to be on the stage, Michael, does not let on he was divorced at the tender age of 21, he is already a father by his ex-wife and his lover; and now a child on the way by his fiancée. As the family grows the money dwindles on drink. To gain money and a new home, Michael decides he must sell his six children and offers them for sale in a local newspaper, causing uproar. This results in him being offered a job and cottage, away from the city.
The sconce opens with Mushtin and Scobell in a heated discussion about her duties and her new relationship( YinsTill is his name)
(the Well dressed woman wishes to seduce away her new lover might she become pregnant)
La cosa peggiore sono io che desidero averlo
il suo sorriso da baciare
che lei non sappia nulla
a lei il suo vantarsi di lui
e c'è un amore speciale
per cui io possa ridere e scrollarmelo di dosso
poi tutta sola
lui è mio
un sorrisetto o un sorriso
oh puttana tua
-------------------------------------
Il peggio sono io
o dovrei osare
amare qualcuno
a cui sembra importare
il peggio sono io in queste circostanze
un bacio e un sussurro
uno sguardo giocoso
il peggio sono io
credere
che lui mi voglia bene
e non lasciarmi mai
essere così gentile
ricevere il suo amore
che mondo pensare
--------------------------------
Yins Till's Song
Il peggio sono io
che fingo di preoccuparmi
dell'amore delle donne
che sembro condividere
Il peggio sono io
che si sappia
in ogni tono
Il peggio sono io
che il mondo sappia
che un cattivo o un cattivo
l'amore rende tutto così
Wost is Me (ciercles,cercles)
Written By:
Cantor Scrivnota
"Bespoked"
Cantor Scrivinota
Dramma Giocoso
Due Dive e un Divo
" Grandest Show"
Haute Couture
a fashion model falls in love with
a Arch creator
but an Actress wishes
to become pregnant at the same time
that his fiancée does: in spite of anything
Her reasoning of doing is that she knew him first.
The scene is the actress holding a broom to the
woman suggesting she is a witch..
Ultra violet light is the sound of
the violens
and the woodwinds need the light
photosynthesis is heard int the flutes
down to the tubas
the percussions are the raindrops.
They hope to never expereince drought.
Il vero motivo per cui quest'opera fu scritta fu una battuta
fatta da Lord Enrico Ashton, che disse che
il modello aveva un sedere ossuto e che i due scandinavi avrebbero dovuto condividere un godemiché. He is to play the clown, he refuses to wear the waredrobe assigned to him.
He sneared with curses.
24 slices of halved green tomatos
24 slices of cooked bacon
12 slices of texas toast type bread
(thick Slices)
the tomatos will be battered and deepfreid
fry in olive oil and bacon fat mixed.
for the batter
2 eggs
1 1/4 cup of buttermilk
2 cups self rising flour
3/4 cups of uncooked grits
salt
red cayenne pepper
1/4 teaspoon of nutmeg
9 tablespoons of pareseam cheese
1 reaspoons of garlic powder
mix batter dip tomato and fry.
cook golden brown
SET ASIDE
toast or grill bread
on both sides.
SET A SIDE
for cheese spread
mix
1/3 c of mayo
1 teaspoon of conac
2 tablespoons of honey
4 tablespoons of butter
1/3 cup of cream cheese
1/4 cup of cheddar shredded.
1/4. C mozzarella
1/4 goat cheese
1egg yolk shredded
1/4 cup of sauteed red onion
1 tablespoon of chopped garlic
1 teaspoon of crushed pepper flakes
1/4 cup of sun dried peppers
1/2 teaspoon McCormicks season all
1/2 teaspoon of lime
1/2 teaspoon of dried cilantro
mix and set aside
Spread on bread and toast until melted
twelve leaves of lettuce
24 watercress leaves
assemble
sandwiches
and serve!
I kissed my Fiancée with this mouth
she became my Wife
and it's my belief it was do to this
Subtle Emphasis
Crusted melodies
Crisp harmonies
Terminologies' of
delicate
deliciousness
Pagans Spoon
and Monarchs
gratification
This is the last poem on the history of Felicity, a person I know from correspondence with a friend abroad. No relation of mine.
In one year's time, I shall retire
What is there to look for?
Two of my daughters got married.
They live quite far from me.
Only Felicity remains, the middle one,
The one I loved most.
Mind you I paid for a grand wedding for both of them.
No favouritism would impede me from
Granting their wishes., but living far
I rarely see them especially as babies came
To brighten our humdrum life.
But where was Felicity? She spent so much time
At the hospital, except for our usual Sunday lunch.
Until one Sunday, a bomb blasted my brains.
Felicity had a fiancée, whom she invited
To our Sunday lunch. Was I angry? Confused?
He was a comely fellow, a brain surgeon to boot.
He promised to buy a house adjoining mine,
And a door would join both our houses.
Soon Felicity got married and what a wedding I paid.
They were the happiest couple on earth.
And soon she gave birth to a bundle of joy.
From that day on I did not act as a father
But a nanny for my lovely grandson.
In Memory of Giulio Regenti – a useless killing
We carried him on our shoulders
Crying our hearts out.
Annihilated Time had no meaning.
Comfort seemed a helpless fairytale.
Inside lay the tortured disfigured body
Of a twenty-year old mutilated beyond repair.
A young man, brilliant and promising,
Killed by suspicion of being a spy.
Who could dare comfort his bereaved relatives?
Or assure his fiancée of his undying love?
Time might heal all wounds but not the deprivation
Of a life once full of vitality, now lacking style of life.
Meantime those that remain had to deal with kisses
Handshakes, tender hugs and tears.
But can anyone forget the unknown murderers?
Can anyone suppress the hate that now festers in us?
Forgive? Can we forget? Some might try, others not,
That’s when we realized that the youth was really dead.
Killed, tortured slowly by unknown persons in Egypt. He was studying Egyptian Economics and was mistook for a spy. The Egyptian authorities could (?) not solve his murder.
He’s a man of few words when he wants to be
And his silence can rival the Sphinx,
But be spins a good yarn during therapy
With his analyst pouring the drinks.
His obsession with fishing’s a mania,
Always dying to dangle the bait.
His aversion to marriage, a phobia,
His fiancée will just have to wait.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, mirrors and smoke
In some Freudian home on the range.
Though this good ol’ boy’s often laid out on the couch,
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
He’s obsessive compulsive habitually
In matters to which he is drawn,
And he’s down at the topless bar ritually,
Unless there’s a football game on.
He’s conflicted about schizophrenia,
Thinks anxiety’s nothing to dread.
He exhibits selective amnesia,
And he’s passive aggressive in bed.
It’s all cowboy psychiatry, cognitive bull,
And those inkblots are all kind of strange.
He’ll always deny its denial, no doubt.
I don’t think he’s likely to change.
Regardless his problems,
He’d rather be thera-pissed off, than thera-pissed on.
(Dedicated to my Beautiful Little Queen Fiancée Sultana Yeasmin)
Who knows the moon is brightest only with beloved
Who knows the sun is ever peaceful light only with beloved
Who knows the leaves of grasses are the mat of pure love
Who knows the drops of rain are the pacifier of heart
It's a path, the fabulous path of horizon
where paradise is nothing but you are
Like you O My gracious heartiest Darling
For you the paradise is paradise
For you the world is beautiful
For you, everything of me is alive lively
For you, I am just I am
O My Little Queen
I love you only
Let me see the face of dawn
where you are shining fairness of all
Let me see the heart of the sun
where you are centripetal light
Let me see the flying birds
where you are the power of wings
Let me see the buds of all red roses
where you are only the infatuation fragrance
Let me see the colors of the west rainbow
where you are source canvas of all colors
Let me see the bared body of raindrops
where you are a fertile reservoir of water
Let me see the oyster in deep-ocean
where you are carrier my biological gem
Let me see the darkness of deep night
where you are my ever dreamy peaceful sleep
Let me see the virgin womb of the moon
where you are a sheer keeper of virile life
Let me see my inner self O Darling
there is nothing except you, just you
Hither and thither
You are mine, you're
Hence, thence, everywhere
You are mine, you're
O My Little Queen
I love you only
© Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
26/07/2021
Well I declare
When joys came my way I danced at heart,
Lethal situations I tackled with a new start,
Howsoever hard I tried, past I could not forget,
Although obscured inside pains didn't reflect,
Either this way or that way I did choose,
Any middle road who could ever propose ?
Eight pegs of whiskey that mysterious night,
When my fiancée evoked a dominating fight,
Gender sensitivity , women are no puppets,
Living no compromises , life has no regrets,
Till emotions precipitate and sentiments flare,
Well I am an extremist by nature I declare!
Written September 9th, 2014
For contest ' Well I declare' by Judy Konos
Awarded HM
When I was but a boy
in the small village of Cold Springs,
I lived near a cantankerous old witch.
At least, that's what the gossip implied she was.
Her name was Almeda Hamilton, and she was a hoarder.
Of course, we knew nothing of hoarders back then
and most everyone thought she was plum crazy.
She'd trap and skin groundhogs and squirrels,
salt their hides and stitch their raw pelts into fur coats.
Pew, you could smell her coming downwind for miles.
She lived off-road in a patch of trees
in a dilapidated cottage crammed with garbage.
The irony is, her father once owed the whole county,
and she was an heiress,
suffering from a severe phobia and mental problem.
Years back, or so the story goes,
her fiancée had left her at the altar,
but her father had built them that house,
and so, she stayed there a recluse.
It was rumored she'd buried hordes of cash,
and when she died, alone in her filth,
her property was potholed by fools trying to find it.
I confess, I felt sorry for her then, and still do,
for the lady got mistreated by the world,
and on its behalf, I apologize.
(Free Verse)
03/18/2020