Long Fluffiest Poems
Long Fluffiest Poems. Below are the most popular long Fluffiest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fluffiest poems by poem length and keyword.
A phrase we’re all familiar with
I write about today
In slightly different context
my words come out to play
For in my house there dwells a pup
who bears a fleece of gold
A tongue of pink for kisses
a paw he’ll let you hold
Retriever is his trait by name
He never gets the blues
He’s much too busy chasing balls
and hiding grandma’s shoes
His eyes so brown and gaze so deep
could melt the coldest heart
The fluffiest companion
and oh, did I say smart
Yet I digress, back to that phrase
I’ll take you all to school
For in my house, treats on demand
That is “The Golden Rule”
For
Monte, My beautiful Golden Retriever
Her skin is softer than the cotton of a Southern field;
she ignites the desire of a knight deserting the battlefield,
slowly caressing every inch of her body...
arousing in her the thrill of ecstasy.
Her young lips are warmer that the evening sun,
and they can't escape the temptation
to explore a short-lived obsession...
deluding themselves with the hope of passing it on.
If sweet kisses could turn into snowflakes and become indelible as memory,
her velvety dress would be decorated with their unutterable beauty,
never allowing the distant sun melt them with its blistering breath...
winter clouds would brush her highlighted hair bringing in a surreal sunset.
Her skin is softer than the cotton of a Southern field...
much silkier than a rose illuminated by a moon so pallid;
her image is similar to that of Mona Lisa with lovely eyes so wide,
and a virtuous, radiant smile that captures a weak heart like mine.
Let me squeeze her like I would squeeze the fluffiest pillow;
she may giggle, or scream for the tickling sensation...
making me fondle her more: until I slip into another tomorrow
with the notion that I have reached my gratification.
When stepping from the shower,
Dripping wet and set to dry,
I like to know a bath sheet’s
On alert and standing by.
It needn’t be expensive
Nor the fluffiest of brands,
Just large enough to wrap me up,
The simplest of demands.
For the towels they call “bath size,”
Though I guess they’d do the trick,
Aren’t quite the ones in bath departments
I would ever pick.
There are other stipulations;
As for colors – dark is best
And one tiny other factor
Really needs to be addressed.
Growing up, we shared our towels,
Which my parents thought was fine,
But the towel hanging on the right
Today is only mine!
Waken from an exhausted sleep,
With cries of utter delight.
My angels excited to see what Santa left.
Oh, this is a wondrous sight.
Brightly colored packages under the tree.
The anticipation on their faces show.
To the window they drag me,
our whole lawn is covered in snow.
"Mommy, can we make a snow man?"
is what my precious children ask.
"Absolutely, " I say, "But just so
you know, it won't be an easy task."
Presents were then opened and
wrapping paper littered the floor.
They thought they were done, until
I said "Santa left you just one more."
Around the corner running at full speed,
was the fluffiest puppy complete with a bow.
They asked "Can we get dressed and take
our new puppy out in the snow?"
I happily agreed. "But only for awhile,
Mommy has the rest of dinner to make."
Outside we went, all bundled up warm,
but poor puppy was so cold, he started to shake.
Our snowman was built, complete with
coal for eyes and carrot for a nose.
He was the best snowman on the street,
all the love we put in him shows.
Inside to drink hot chocolate we went,
so it would warm us to our bones.
While I prepared our dinner,
the puppy explored his new home.
The house smelled of various flavors.
Again a cake is made, each year the design is new.
We all light the candles and sing to Jesus,
"Happy birthday to you."
Though the gifts are great and decorating is fun,
most people forget the true meaning of this glorious day.
It's the day our Savior, Jesus was born,
and in his mother's arms he finally lay.
I am in love with a real babe, Foxy Moxy said to his cousin Line.
Gabe was picturing a sensuous fox with a silver tail fluffy and fine.
You will meet her shortly, Foxy told him. She’s over by that pine.
Line squinted his eyes, but he could see no female fox sublime.
He was confused by Foxy’s declaration, where could she be?
Yonder by the tallest pine, Foxy told him. The fluffiest tree.
Goosy walked up to his cousin and gave him a peck on the cheek.
Line was astounded and gave out a growl and a squeak.
I know we are diverse, Foxy Moxy said to his favorite cousin.
But she has the heart of gold of at least ten women, maybe a dozen.
They married in May, under the pine so sweet, both of them happy.
Line kept his mouths shut, eager to see the face of grandpappy.
By eight A.M. I've harnessed the sun, by nine I've walked on the moon
All men aspire to be like me, no woman can help but swoon
By 12 O'clock I've brought world peace, and poverty's gone by one
I'll enlighten racists and bigots, even politicians before I'm done
When the clock strikes two I'll clean the oceans, at three every river and lake
From the people of Earth I'm showered with gifts that I'm far too humble to take
Perhaps at four I'll take a nap atop the fluffiest cloud
Some time for introspection, away from the jubilant crowds
When five rolls round I'll stretch and yawn, bye six go on saving the world
I'll finish in time to shower and shave for a date with a dream of a girl
The hour of seven is love at first sight, by eight we're in passion's embrace
Her feelings, I know, are as true as mine, they're written all over her face.
Till' midnight we express our love, abandoning thoughts of lust
soaked in the blissful climax, of honesty and trust
When morning once again arrives, the first thing that I'll see
An angel wrapped in silken sheets, and her eyes are only for me.
My husband reads biographies
But I’ll take fiction, if you please.
He likes to learn about the past;
His tomes would bore me, really fast.
Yet having finished my last book,
I figured I would take a look
At one of his, a bio on
My second favorite Beatle, John.
It’s written by his former wife
From his pre-Yoko English life
With photos of their early years –
Quite happy, or so it appears.
I haven’t gotten far enough
To read about the juicy stuff
Though there are hints that when John left,
His wife and son were both bereft.
Of all my husband’s books there are
This is the fluffiest, by far.
Of course, that is the reason why
I’d thought I’d give it just one try.
So far so good, but when I’m done,
Re-reading time will have begun.
From novels I’ve read long ago,
I’ll dive in for a second show.
God was so pleased with his six days of creation
The seventh day He declared a day of rest
Bound to have some heavenly
Well-deserved relaxation
As soon as He woke up
He brewed a cup of java and
Set up his most comfy Adirondack chair
On his fluffiest favorite cloud
And so on this seventh day
A most magnificent morning unfolded
Watching from every conceivable angle
One glorious sunrise after another
By noon for Sunday brunch
God challenged his angels to make
The tallest fruit salad unimaginable
For a rendez-vous on the Hawaiian islands
The first summer games
Were held that very afternoon
Playful racing with dolphins
And swimming in the seven seas
Then dusk began to fall
All were cordially invited to board
The fabulous celestial party bus
For a ‘round the world premiere trip
Westbound capturing one endless sunset
For hours and hours of a colorful joyride
Ending with a final detour to the north
For a late night aurora borealis show
AP: 3rd place 2020
Heaven to each of us will be something different.
Artists will find paint brushes, easels, canvases, and glitter paint.
Musicians will discover instruments not invented yet on earth.
Scientists will land in a lab with like-minded white coats.
Romance writers will wake up to the fragrance of lilacs and roses.
Their pens will be quilled with the fluffiest feathers,
Their word processors will be voice activated
Illustrators will be creating the most sensuous book covers
Heaven will be filled with things children can touch.
They will gravitate toward each other, full of enthusiasm and mirth.
A carnival, zoo, museum, playground, and lots of cotton candy.
Bunches of relatives and friends ready to give them hugs and kisses.
TV loners will find themselves in a media room,
Each video screen showing whatever their mind hopes to see
They can spend hours in here, entertaining themselves
Food is not important, but they can choose popcorn if they like.
Each of us will have the things we need to entice us to want to stay.
If we want to take a peek at our loved ones, we can from time to time.
But after a bit we will be so delighted living our bliss and doing our work
We will stop all earthly visits, knowing we will see our loved ones soon enough.
I am a wild Pallas, so get out of my way.
I am determined to get back to my kits today
They are high away from people in the Tibetan Plateau
Please leave me alone, for I can be aggressive, you know.
I am trotting to my kits, so stay out of my way.
I am the fluffiest cat, but not here to be social or play.
I am heading toward rocky terrain, my bushy tail held high.
If you think we are going to interact, you have got the wrong guy.
My stocky build makes me kind of slow, all right.
So if you insist on engaging, I will stay and fight.
I have adopted to the cold, which is what I prefer.
Don’t expect a housecat, I have no gentle purr.