Long Flounced Poems
Long Flounced Poems. Below are the most popular long Flounced by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flounced poems by poem length and keyword.
The entire palace winned my heart, Nicely carved infrastructure, rounded dome at the top,
Ignoring out of frame, entirely My eyes tried to just crop.
Seeing at the small window pane, A girl standing nearby,
Was busy talking to someone don't know why?
I got astonished looking at her beauty.
Blue eyes of her, blushing chubby cheeks like apples,
Dazzling beauty wearing a long flowing gown in purple.
My wings flattered when she resembled like an angel down the lane.
Felt like heaven touched my heart,looking at her sparking smile.
For the moment felt like I am a needle and she is the thread , weaving our life together.
Hey lord, She vibrated my nerves!
On the grand day, She weared golden musky gown flounced with its shimmering appearance.
Later Somebody cald her as a palestial queen, I got surprised.
Her sweet and simple appearance, ghoshhh her image got penetrated into the deep space of my soul.
She was so kind, deep down persona.
She festinated and utilized her every segment of life beautifully.
Her dynamic personality, down to earth,
Her nature,her calmness, thanks lord for giving birth.
Hey Mother Mary, thanks for showering lovely fragranced petals in my life!
My heart got clinged to the seven wonders of the sky.
God had spended his entire life for making this blissful lady.
My eyes sinked with her thrice,
She was beaming positively through her eyes.
But financially I wasn't strong.
Nobody would have accepted our relation.
Mentally I prepared and cudn't rebel.
Feelings disposed, parallelised my heart.
My eyes lasted on her till occasion was over.
Ohhh thiest, You made my soul thirsty, You made my life empty!
Though I strived hard in my heart for you to be mine forever,
But destiny didn't connected us together.
Nowhere in these birth I will be blessed.
Ravishing rose my heart lay down in pain.
With her essence life was aligned perfectly.
No doubt I am damn gonna miss my hearty crush.
Hey God, may you unite us somewhere in next reincarnation!
I wracked my brain and bit my tongue
but no words would come to mind.
Frustration choked my heart and brain
as I struggled to pen a line.
Disgusted then I capped the ink
and flounced off to my bed,
leaving parchment blank and bare
with nothing to be read.
Returning at dawn to stoke the fire
I was chilled through to the bone,
for there were written pages
with words not of my own.
The door was barred, windows sealed
no one there but me,
but the quill was wet and ink near gone
with verses there to see.
Those words just soared and rhymed so well
I read till sun was high,
then tried again to add my own
but the muse was nowhere nigh.
My spirits sank with the evening sun
tears moistening the page,
bereft of hope and talent
I retired in smoldering rage.
Then again in the thin grey light
awaited lines of musical words,
gently flowing and graceful
flitting by like birds.
Fear gripped my heart like a talon
who was having this cruel jest?
Composing exquisite poems
far beyond my humble best.
These would sell I knew
fair value was in each line,
only to besmirch my name
if proven they were not mine.
Then came a whisper of the muse
saying; “Buy ink and parchment of lamb,
sharpen your quill and leave them
for the unfolding of the plan.”
I did as she bid by stocking the desk
then retired to sleep so deep,
returning to find a single line;
“Those verses are yours to keep.”
The next ones came in profusion
flowing easily from my hand,
familiar feelings translated
and I began to understand.
Our waking and our sleeping
are sides of just one coin,
the spirit and the body
being prepared to join.
Incomplete until combining
hand and eye with soul,
each complimenting the other
becoming a useful whole.
A strange woman blasted into the family reunion
Came in loud and crass; obnoxious. Showing off.
No one knew her.
I was selected to ask her to leave.
Mom! She said.
It was one of my foster children from way back when.
I did not recognize her.
She had been a porker but she had slimmed up
And gotten two feet taller.
She picked me up off my feet, hugging me with a huge hug.
My husband stood up, concerned when she carried me to the old person’s table.
“Veronica!” he said, acting delighted.
I was not fooled; he never liked this one.
“I can give you some diet tips,” she said, setting me down in the middle of the desserts.
I have lost sixty-seven pounds," she told him. "Looks like you
found most of them."
In fear, other relatives began to leave the reunion.
Our family is full people with tempers.
No one wanted to hear more and they forgot I had married a pussy cat.
I began devouring a dainty sliver of coconut cake.
“Sixty eight calories,” she declared firmly.
I had a piece of pecan pie in my mouth now.
“Sugar entices cancer to consume our colon,” she said.
I knew I looked as happy as my husband who flounced off.
I picked up a spoon and began digging into the pan of lemon delight.
I guess the more nervous I become, the more I eat.
Veronica was rattling off warnings, advice and diet tips the whole time.
No one had ever cleared out our family reunion this fast.
I kind of admired her new-found confidence.
Back when girlish daydreams
rode the ether like coal-glowy-clouds
my featly feet kept a beat in spring grass
as I flounced with Romany winds—
breezy-gypsy-lips brushed my cheek
as I whirled in his imaginary arms
‘til I fell over on pillows of clover…
white fields of clover did pillow my dreams
as slow-motion-cumulus shape-shifted
into what I wanted to see
I found you where you stood
a wizard-well made of stone
there you sang
your mouth O-pen
like the eye-of-the-storm
and oh— with fluent depth
your slippery rime beguiled my mind
June wind— a flowy fifer
blew across your rounded rim—
folksy-fife twisted petticoat heartstrings…
my wishes stitched my seams bewitched
—hopes bloomed
like soft-stemmed peonies twined
by choke-hold-vines
in the season before my summer solstice
when skirt-pleats still hid shy knees
how was I to know
wishing for lambs from edelweiss
was as fictive as sugarcane unicorns
so I dared not damage the magic
with doubt’s dent
as I cast blindfolded coins
weighed down with cinder-block-hope
in fealty to a wishing-well deity
who made ethereal echoes of my name
—yet callous your schemes pitching dreams
as empty now as this fool but for my shame
back then life was unmapped—until clover fields
became sneak-away-streets paved with your name
where remains of yesterday’s wishes lay
like burned-out cars along couldn’t-care-less curbs
You have gone berserk the ghost said to me.
I will acquire an ambiance that shows I am free.
The level of thinking brought me a hulking gargoyle.
He said, “please relax” and slide down this tinfoil.
I saw a curve as I flew off the slide onto a leather couch.
The manager of the furniture store heard me yell “ouch!”
The selection of lamps was intriguing, but how to classify?
Those glorious multi-colored light fixtures began to magnify.
The ghosts are running rampant in the attic a guy said.
Manager told us he would continue speaking to these crafty undead.
Dracula’s tummy grew bolder, it began to turn into a giant belly.
Worse, it also transmogrified into a vile something really smelly.
Let’s celebrate the store’s fifteenth year, the owner announced.
After we replace those light bulbs, the hostess said as she flounced.
They were marked with tiny graves, weirdly turned toward the garden.
I think they have been stupefied, I said. Please beg my pardon.
The jack-o-lanterns in the display window were now easily defeated.
By the delicate ghouls who were nastier when standing than when seated.
A Halloween minister came to marry whoever wanted to be hitched.
We made short work of this little guy, he became immediately bewitched.
Snails are snarling and sneaking around.
Escargot I mention, and they can no longer be found.
I get out the pot and I clang it on the stove.
An enormous one just under my grimy refrigerator dove.
Come on out here, and let us get a glimpse of you, I say.
They are trembling so hard; my curtains begin to fray.
What kind of a kitchen is this to help food hide out?
I am irritated now. I give a whistle and a loud shout.
Snails are whispering, hoping I will forget how tasty they are.
I decorate a hat with them and put one on hubby’s cigar.
I make pets of them and pretend they will not be flounced or beat.
But eventually, of course, we will get to eat them all sweet.
For now, they are fooled, and they begin wearing designer clothes.
They parade past the mirror, carrying my dad’s garden hose.
How could my food get any prettier? They simply look great!
I say to myself, as I ready my escargot plate.
Written 5-2-22
Contest: A Merger with Food Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
I stood on that busy street
And I rattled out some tunes
On my tap dancing clogs
And a pair of soup
spoon
I rattled out some fast songs
And I rattled out some slow
I rattled out bonny songs
As I thought folk might know
And I placed my cloth cap
There between my feet
And folk threw their money in
And filled it up a treat
And a lass fro the baker’s shop
Brought me a fresh balm cake
Full of meat and tart sauces
That the baker do make
I tapped her a few steps
Went down on one knee
Saying oh my bonny lass
If only I were free
And she dropped me a curtsy
Flounced back across the square
Gracing that town street
By just being there
Then paddy kelly came and caught me
And marched me to a cold cell
But he let me keep my money
So I did very very well
And I went to the ale house
When he let me out
And I celebrated my freedom
With a glass of cold stout
Then I walked down the road
Rattling out a song
And doing a quick tap dance
As I marched along
She put her cowboy boots on first and then her make up
Sniffing her ample posterior was her wiener dog Mup.
His brother Max looked interested from the cozy chair.
But if he left his cushion, Mup would be there.
She put lipstick and powder on her pretty face.
She is one of their besties, corpulent woman, Grace.
Her husband asked “why did you put your boots on first?”
She gave him a look that was one of her worst.
I mean, you are in your pajamas right? asked old Fred.
The dogs knew this was a mistake. But neither said.
Don’t go there with her! She is wearing that to work.
Don’t be ridiculous, Grace said. Don’t be a jerk!
But those are your PJ’s right? Fred said again.
She flounced away as if he had committed a sin.
He looked at the dogs and said “I like you the best.”
He was now in the doghouse, as you could have guessed.
Every age
is a nursery for afterthoughts.
I am a wardrobe for naked shelves,
naked hips and joints,
naked space. Behind me
old clothes slung on a chair,
nylon clouds, woolen hills
all only partly filled,
partly lived in.
I call them ‘togs.’
my togs once used to dance
around gyrating girls
on floors that gleamed shiny
as new spun silk,
but that was when togs
were a statement of a younger,
more fake me.
Now my togs
are wrap arounds and comforting,
or just a little too tight
to accompany me
to the green shod park
where the wind flounced trees
swirl in their summer dresses,
both full-figured and slender.
Arboreal moments like this
help me ponder
on what afterthought to wear
tomorrow.
.
Why does the sylph
inflame me so
The symbols clashed
Within mine dome
as she like the fairy
flounced before me
I
like the poet Daver
of yore
heard the ambulance
rush toward me
yesss
mine heart clattered
when the flower without skew
leaned over
exposing
hern
purty poison
*years later ;)
Lexicon ; SKEW
C14: from Old Norman French escuer to shun, of Germanic origin; compare Middle Dutch schuwen to avoid