Long Funny love Poems
Long Funny love Poems. Below are the most popular long Funny love by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Funny love poems by poem length and keyword.
In one urban area in the Midwest, there lived a young, beautiful lady named A. She wanted to get married so young because she dreamed of having a dozen children.
One day, A met a young guy named B. They felt it's "love at first sight" and so they became girlfriend and boyfriend so early. Nothing too serious happened between the two during the eleven months of good relationship. On the twelfth month, B disappeared. A searched for B the whole month, but never saw him again.
A met a new guy, named C. They became closed so quick and spent eleven months of laughter and enjoyment. On the twelfth month, however, C died. A was brokenhearted and grieved one whole month. A said to herself that she doesn't want to fall in love again.
A month later, she met a different guy named D. A decided not to have a serious relationship with anyone anymore. Their relationship lasted a year and parted ways.
A met another guy, named E. She did the same thing. And every year thereafter, she just changed her boyfriend in the next twenty years -- meeting F, G, H, I... and Y. On the twenty-first year, A met Z. Their relationship lasted almost a year too.
A wrote on her diary everything about her previous relationships, good and not so good that she felt and experienced in her life. She even decided to publish her diary and keep it for life. When she called the publishing company she contacted for printing, she was asked to appear in person. It's the editor who requested her to come over.
When A met the editor, she was surprised. She met B again after twenty-five long years. And finally, A was married.
A candle light formal dinner
Some prefers like that
but as for me
I want it up in a rooftop
Or simply in the garden
A picnic in the rooftop,
Where we can see the skies
Under the moonlit and stars
I wish the house near a beach
So we could see seagulls free
If in the garden..
A flower tuck side in my ear
I wish there are lots of flowerbuds
Half and fully blossomed
So their natural fragrance gloom
Butterflies that will fly
Hope there's a tree we can lean
Or to each other's arms we can lean
Being next to each other
Holding and squeezing each other's hands
Sometimes even a half hug
Or him or me lying on one's lap
Putting a grape or chip to one's lip
Caressing one's face
Familiarizing with each curve
Lots or small talking or no talk
Appreciating the essence of togetherness
by:
olive_eloi
6:27 pm
02/13/2014
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She walked along the narrow path.
Along the side of the lonely stream.
Her golden hair was wet
and stuck haphazardly to her face.
That face that was so tanned
fruit of summer swimming
in the lake nearby.
Her hands were cupped,
one over the other.
It's a present for you, said she.
I wondered what she hid.
She smiled and pirouetted
lively on the wet, dewy grass.
She made as if to turn back,
then stuck out her tongue.
Get your present, she taunted.
I was slightly irritated
but decided to comply.
Slowly, she pleaded
and opened her hand.
Out jumped a small green frog
and sprang into the stream.
She laughed, a melody of joy.
And I? I felt I was
In a whirlwind of mad emotions.
Was I like the frog?
Was I a prisoner of her love?
Only to escape when she let go?
How childish she was!
I looked deep in her green eyes,
So full of innocent joy.
I smiled, then kissed her deep;
Then, hand in hand
we turned back home.
Sometimes I felt like my life was an Etch a Stretch.
The catch, you'll color in the lines. Past fine, Ok which way is
up. The cup of blessing and still I'm stuck. No news on paper,
it's all I had. Then there's that part where you don't feel sad.
No need to linger with "don't look back". The there's a whistle
of trains on track. Like whisper, wonder and why your gone.
The song's all static, still I sing along.To make it further, I'll "fill
in the time". Like a lullaby or a nursery rhyme. It's why I do this
and pretend to care. All the while, the windows bare. Then see
me sorry, with no more tears. And pass me bye with all the years.
For B-
Nope reforming hardened criminal donning
scarred face, manacles jailhouse stripe, et cetera
nor taming screwish incorrigible guttersnipe
ain't most difficult enterprises
entailing me to wipe
dripping sweat from my hoary brow,
neither primary tsoris,
(i.e. Yiddish, asper in woeful gripe),
but reading tome thick as stovepipe
hat, I declare constitutes most grueling task
paging thru compendium of words A thru Z
may rank less purposeful than bovine tripe.
not surprisingly causing mine gray matter
(more'n fifty shades), to wanna up and scatter
fist size shot thru unnecessarily subjected
to feel like oversaturated blatter
vehemently aggrieved mad as a hatter
to appease, boost and flatter
ever shrinking fanbase blithely bandying
faux poetic pitter patter
trumpeting expansive vocabulary
enlivened, leavened, seasoned... smatter
ring poem to expressive affinity
how bajillion combinations
twenty six letters one can splatter
casually incorporating multisyllabic
word such as sesquipedalian
less to boast more so to chatter
up food for thought perhaps...
infect reader to accrue fatter
vocabulary than mine
actually rather paltry yoke cant argue
yukon (albeit figuratively) tatter
with little effort hen even
offer as hors d'oeuvres
to this storied scribbling wildcatter.
Melanie: Why would you want to marry me for, anyhow?
Jake: So I can kiss you anytime I want.
Sweet Home Alabama
THE KISS
See Rodin’s sculpture, sumptuous or a stiff on the shelf.
I have to inquire about the development of their hot lips.
Oh have I a story to tell the young - one about myself,
the happenstance as our nuptial sun and moon eclipse.
We avow in front of witnesses at the Beach’s square.
Behind our backs, windows speaking, “Don’t do it!”
The prisoners wear black and white stripes, bars stare,
still they believe in forever after, happily or despite it.
The Kiss, romantic bliss, a formidable honeymoon thrill.
Two bodies encapsulated into one pill, happy or bitter.
Naked for all to see, plastered over the waves, his will
of handsy regret or not, inspire of modern day twitter.
I’m in my wedding-white gown, contrast of a shotgun —
Dad’s not trying to marry me off and I’m not from the hills.
Regardless, the cake and wine awaits in the Virginia sun.
I repeat the words from the Justice of the peace, the untils.
An eventual kiss in sight…oh what Rodin has in mind!
Would he be proud of my dad, when my espoused asked,
“Can I trust her to drive?” …the response, curt and unkind,
“I don’t know. I trusted her when she left.” Dad unmasked.
My to-be wears his Navy cap, concealing his eyes.
Terrified that my parents had arrived and their camper.
Side-by-side sister-in-laws, sizing them up would be wise.
In what possible way could Rodin create mischief…tamper?
The moment arrived…. “You may kiss the bride.”
The jailbirds whistled and their hand claps echoed.
Between the eclipse of the sun and the moon, it’s slide,
vibrations of laughter we would carry over the threshold.
1/4/2022
Contest: FUNNY MEMORIES
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
With a one rupee coin having tiny hole
to talk endlessly throughout the day
to reach to you ,fulfill my goal
shower love talks you can say.
To talk endlessly throughout the day
I tied a string through that hole
shower love talks you can say
bringing closer our thirsty souls.
I tied a string through that hole
to make phone calls without a pay
bringing closer our thirsty souls
from public booths on my way.
To make phone calls without a pay
inserted the coin holding the string
from public booths on my way
dialling your number tring,tring,tring!
inserted the coin holding the string
to pull it out after the call
dialling your number tring,tring tring
soon this trick was picked by all.
To pull it out after the call
so that I could call you again
soon this trick was picked by all
to make a phone call now and then.
So that I could call you again
to reach to you,fulfill my goal
to make a phone call now and then
with a one rupee coin having tiny hole.
===============000=================
*The one rupee Indian coin doesn't have any hole;
people used to make one to make phone calls from
public booths without paying by the above method.
I'm rooting for intellectual sex
where we all go to bed with glasses.
And foreplay is just a few little words
from Einstein and one of his classes.
Where everything's done in a manner of space
where who did to who what did done.
And nothing you've said is as dirty to some
as who taught you relative fun.
Where all of the night can be filled with love
when a bookworm can stay up all night.
And the sex that you have is equation to none
over pages for learning the light.
That the evening can end in the click of a light
with a darkness to deafen the bright.
When the turn of a page brings the end to a book
for the rest you'll be turning all night.
So it is way, way down by the Sea,
inside
that vision comes,
crystal,
and clearly.
As the waves touch upon the feet
of the shore line.
As soul wades in.
So it is way, way down deep, to walk upon...
leaving the shore,
catching a breeze,
...setting the sails,
walking upon the winds,
with wings,
So swing low, sweet the chariot,
that lifts the spirit,
so high-
The Seas.
...just to reach a little shack by the road,
with a hole in the roof,
and the boards on the side fall often times,
the winds do blow
through the holes,
Yet, here is where
a little poetry comes.
Form:
A cup of ice cream, he invites
A spoonful near my lips to try
Raising his finger to remove
Dots of ice cream that dropped
Blushing with his slightest touch
Hardly trying this to stop
Under my lashes, his eyes sparkle
Then he said, "like the stars, you twinkle"
Slight bubbly exchange of talks
As we proceed happily on our walk
Glancing sideways for sometime
Checking indirectly a clue undenied
On the red stoplight in the street, we halt
Entwining his hand on mine for a hold
Guiding me gently to pass safely on lane
To my home, admiration he exclaims
by:
olive_eloi
8:46 pm
02/17/2014
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