Long Frau Poems
Long Frau Poems. Below are the most popular long Frau by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frau poems by poem length and keyword.
Is dance a metaphor for sex?
You’d think so if you knew my ex
(at least the barflies all believe
she’s hoarding something up her sleeve).
But what makes people want to dance?
An aural frenzy? True romance?
Would Hamlet, Shylock or Macbeth
ever dance themselves to death?
Strasbourg is the kind of town
that’s unassuming, buttoned down.
These people don’t let down their hair:
rarely reckless, somewhat square.
The year before a reign began
(that’s Charles the Fifth – the Habsburg man):
to celebrate Saint Vitus’ Day
a Strasbourg woman’s new ballet
was launched in Rue des Hallebardes
(a strange event in all regards).
Right outside her Strasbourg home,
a stone’s throw from Strassburgerdom,
one Frau Follea hit the street
(and man, that chick could move her feet!)
We don’t know what her motive was:
perhaps she did it ‘just because’.
Did she deserve the looney bin?
No - other folks were joining in!
With twisting torsos, poor and posh,
the city streets were soon awash.
Without the need for record player,
the followers of Frau Follea
bopped and boogied through the night,
as hot as Rhineland anthracite.
Did scruples sting at morning mist?
Did conscience prick them to desist?
Did people halt their hellish dance?
Not one mosher! Not a chance!
On they conga’d, rocked and rolled,
oblivious to heat or cold.
More Alsace dusks, forever amber,
reverberated to their samba.
The local grapes are full and juicy:
the people step a mean watusi.
There’s such a thing as civic pride,
but this lot cha-cha’d till they died!
Housewife, beggar, baker, barber
were parties to the danse macabre.
Was their motive pleasure? Fear?
Penance? Sydenham’s Chorea?
The reason for the quick-quick-slow
I don’t suppose we’ll ever know.
Who knew shredded paper...
alias confetti could be so much fun?
The misses took play therapy (hive
urgently got to tell thee)
to whole nother level,
she smartly, expertly,
deftly... didst contrive
at my expense - (to late),
when paramedics did arrive
abusive deadly torture,
I did not survive,
when she (Frau Abby) five
feet tall minus one inch
lobbed bajillion pounds
(analogous to many
a swarming beehive),
no matter I took strategic dive
buried yours truly alive
moments before perishing,
heard her banshee
cackling, hooting, kickstarting...
dancing spot on jive,
nonetheless mere seconds
before my demise did arrive
manage to scrawl illegible
plea broadcast across
icloud expansive ethereal
euphemistic hard drive
though unsure if
timely help will arrive
to resuscitate and revive
praying immediate por favor
very limited options more
or less absolute zero before
death be not proud doth score,
sad fate, I cannot ignore
salvation amidst desperation
doth tide dully shore
bolster faith no more
toward humanity - generally a bore,
maybe comeuppance,... thus I deplore,
premature demise grim reaper doth adore
yet perchance bottled message
throughout cyber sea reaches poor
or fabled lands i.e.
Zanzibar, Timbuktu, Bangalore...,
no especial rhyme nor
reason zee afore
saith place names mentioned
except they came to fore
front of noggin of this schnorrer
realizing United States marine corps
may also beg tubby enlisted,
viz search and rescue operations
even intervention papal monsignor
please communicate asap with pope,
now I bid thee good bye bonjour
beetle browed troubadour.
(In a tiny wooden cabin,
One doesn’t say “have” but “haben”.
No one is there to speak
The husband and doctor,
Are both appropriately meek.)
Solely the doctor at her side,
The husband has left and gone outside.
Appropriate fear for his darling wife,
Or just to escape for a blissful second,
From another disappointment in life,
In which his wife dies because she is pregnant.
From the very depths of her soul,
She desires a baby which has
A functioning body and is normal,
And whole.
Her screams rush out of her,
Like water from a fountain,
Piercing the walls of the cabin,
And bouncing of mountains.
She begs for a healthy baby boy,
Her darling, her sweetheart,
Her pride and joy.
Eight hours, she pushes and heaves,
Tears mingling with sweat and saliva,
It would not come out, just like the others,
The doctor would be the only survivor.
For the father had fled, already bereaved.
Pregnant with the dream of motherhood,
She grew inexorably tired, no food and
No drink has passed her lips. She cares not,
For the beat of her pulse but only for the baby,
Unborn. Tearing her to bits,
One more push and again and again,
Agony shines from the centre of her face.
She had already made plans
For the babies’ living space,
But it does not seem probable,
She will ever see her baby's face,
Nor would it feel the warmth
Of her comforting embrace.
She broke the wings of destiny,
Desire and will and love for
Her last shot at the meaning of her being,
Fulfilled this time, she knew
With all her heart. A tear of joy
Ran down her cheek,
As if running from the truth.
“Frau Hitler you have a beautiful baby boy”.
would conveniently scare bejesus
among any hooligan tween
ready and willing to cause mischief
while prowling for methamphetamine,
or other drug of choice
one motley crew member seen
dodging, evading, fording... police
eventually cornered unlike Steve McQueen
(the late actor), who escapes behind screen
of smoke unscathed unlike
formerly acquitted, alluded mean
and aforementioned hoodlum
who suffers gunshot wound
rushed to same hospital
lay disabled fugitive ruffian took lead
fired into buttucks bullet punctured
evident by derriere oozing bloodshed
as self, both us nearly dead,
asthma doppelganger wed
did in sweat upon abdomen,
now aching pain in ass spread red
hot poker radiating throbbing inside
excruciating did quickly thread
into noggin i.e. fifty shades red
dully permeated gray matter
inducing severe agony with head,
though mustered energy to scrawl
obituary envisioning said
on same page as op/ed
gallows humor sought instead
of relief courtesy synthesized drug,
thus laughter as best medicine
linkedin chowing down unsuspected bean
dish licked plate sparkling clean
mental note made to avoid
eating flatulence inducing food
prepared Das daring "frau" faux Queen,
though I certainly also enjoy keen
wah filling up growling hungry void,
and... appealing to this bonafide android
gluten free textured meals direction I lean.
HABITAT FOR WILD (Satis Shroff)
The flora and fauna
have a hard time
In winter.
The white mantle
Of snow covers
The branches, buds and barks.
The owl loves winter
As it takes in all
Beings that move,
With its keen sight.
The woodpecker knows
Where the larvae and insects
Are hiding.
It's Spring,
The landscape gardeners
Have chopped all the trees.
Now the spur is bare,
No more can I see
The deer that came
To greet me,
To chill in the peace
Of the undergrowth,
And partake
Of the wild elderberries.
Man needs new dwellings again,
Alas, the habitat shrinks some more.
When the deer eat vegetables
In Frau Sumser's garden,
She cries,
'Inform the official hunter.
They have to be shot.'
The deer are unwelcome guests
In her precious garden.
Now and then
A russet fox,
With a bushy tail,
Comes stealthily by.
Hope the hunter doesn't get a hint.
His duty is to keep wild away,
From human domiciles.
If he doesn't shoot,
He's a bad hunter.
If he does,
He's a bad guy.
And so the habitat dwindles,
For the wild.
© Satis Shroff. All rights reserved
‘Twas the night before Christmas in the little town of Oberflugelschweinsaxenmitcracklingewurst.
(There are some that are much longer; it isn’t the worst)
Now hier ist ze haus of ze happy family SCHMIDT
Und Herr Schmidt mit rosenconk giving ze gluwein a hit
Ze Schmidt kinder all excited - Santa Claus kommin to town
Und everyone so merry, mit big smiles, und never a frown
Und zere in ze garten ze liddle haus you know what for
Zose are ze shoes of Frau Schmidt sticken aus unter ze door
Und now here ist gekommin Santa Claus on der grosse toboggan
He is singin Oh! so merry cos he also had a noggin
See ze reindeer geklompin uberhead, leaving Lufthasa standingk
Zen down zey are kommin - all ready fur ze Landingk
Ach! Meine Gott! Zey are heading for ze liddle haus in ze garten!
Kablunden! Blitzen ! Alles Kaput! Ze liddle haus Ist geflattened
Und Frau Schmidt ist runningk aus mit ze knickers round ze ankles!
Zat’s enough to spoil your Christmas; in ze snow it really rankles
Fater Christmas zen ist sayingk: "Shtupid dumkopf reindeer - Heraus!
I gave you clear instruction to be landing on ze SCHMIDT Haus !!!!!"
There's a party going on upstairs,
your invited, to come and have a scare.
H.G. Wells, will meet you at the gate,
costumes required, hurry don't be late.
Vincent Price will be tonights D.J.
Halloween is his favorite Holiday.
He's spinning "Thriller", while dressed up as "Kiss".
Watching Claude Rains do the "Transylvania Twist".
Steve McQueen came dressed up as the "Blob",
he's serving up the zombie shish-ka-bobs.
Elsa Lanchester placed real bats within her hair.
While Marty Feldom keeps yelling "Frau Blucher".
At the stroke of the witching hour,
St. Peter amps up all the power.
A disco ball drops down from a cloud.
Out on the dance floor, forms a massive crowd.
Michael Jackson then leads them all in dance,
while Lon Chaney and Karloff take their chance,
to join the angels in harmony,
While "Monster Mash" is sang by Lugosi.
Even the Devil made it through the door.
He's the one sporting an Elvis pompadour.
So much fun is had by one and all,
at Heavens Annual Halloween Ball
For Heaven Hustle
By: Tony Brooks
Adam, I haven't a care in the world
eating apples or drinking, so absurd
The devil it seems, was his best mate
I laughed when they kicked his butt out the gate
Its Eve that makes me stay up at night
Her kindness, always, like a bright light
Worry I do that she is well and ok
All of humanity has a stake in Eves day
Forever quiet, never one for attention
Yet when angels sang she was there for redemption
She has transcended time and lore till now
I know, for she is the sweetest frau
Her paintings lift up any sad heart
Musings written, all a la carte!
She is one of the greats in the arts
Softly with sweetness, knowledge imparts
She never gave Adam a second thought
For her, ol sonny was all a heart ever sought
Now Cain and Abel had another brother
yet they hated the other, to each they would smother
The other brother is not found in the books
he was too busy writing poetry, down by the brook
The moral of this story is any and none
I just wanted Eve, to smile some!
As death creeps out of the darkness,
A mother becomes the rope in a (Tug of war.)
A child reaches to help its’ mother in her weakness,
And stares death in the eye with abhor.
The rope falls limp in sure defeat,
Yet the child pulls on the strength of heart.
Against the evilness and deceit,
Fighting with the will to not be apart.
The hooks of death on weary knees,
Shackling the arms, exposing vulnerability.
Screaming and crying the words of “please”
The mother rests with peace and tranquility.
A child left to battle life’s groans,
Preparing for the encounter and all its’ lour.
For one day she will meet Mr. Bones,
And she’ll be the rope in her child’s (Tug of war.)
__________________________________________________________
Inspired by Brian’s Picture Poem’s Contest
Käthe Kollwitz, Death and the Woman (Tod und Frau), lithograph, 1910.
http://www.mmoca.org/mmocacollects/artwork_page.php?id=31
Chastity is the jewel of a girl and character ,the ornament of a woman
Exalted are the women of such ornamentation
Like a diamond , like a precious stone
Not to expose , A girl of such Tone(Type)
Like a motherland , like a home
The dignity of a girl Mariyume(Virgin Mary)….
Clubs are not the places of the Holy Frau
The trade of a girl is not worthy of a nation
Not are the sons the whore-monger of daughters!
Like a shield in the battlefield, are the sons of the nation
Character of a girl , the character of a nation
Future builder are the daughters of the nation
Spoiling a girl , is spoiling a nation
Making not marring is the Job of the belle(Beautiful) creation
Purity ,Modesty is marking up(marking up is increase value) a girl
Making her the Mother Mary of the nation
Chastity is the jewel of a girl and; Character,the ornament of a woman
Exalted are the women of such Ornamentation