Long Grinch Poems

Long Grinch Poems. Below are the most popular long Grinch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grinch poems by poem length and keyword.


Gonifs and gossips revisited

Gonifs and gossips revisited

since originally being crafted
approximately half dozen
dirty deeds done dirt cheap years ago...

Abound and lurk
within every nook and cranny
analogous to some annoying pest
harmless though one reside here,
when off his meds goes berserk
here at Highland Manor Apartments.

They snatch and snitch packages -
meant for other than themselves -
think Grinch who stole Christmas
plus snoop, i.e. eavesdrop
big Dumbo ears as listening devices
(batteries not required)
or serve as rumor mongers
to don self importance
and trumpet "FAKE NEWS."

We (yours truly and his misses)
dwelled at aforementioned residence
July first 2025 will be eight years,
and no sooner did both of us set foot
on premises than hearsay
immediately promulgated
(metaphorically swirled about our heads),
and passed like greased lightning
thru the robust grapevine
purportedly wife of mine
brought in live snakes.

Oddly and interestingly enough though,
I never actually never heard nor saw
a fellow resident
talk (or whisper in hushed tones)
about me outright.

Rather than badmouth other feisty folks,
which leaves unpleasant virtual
aftertaste described as phooey zook,
thus comeuppance to reprobate recipients
I activate viz cluck
king silly reasonable rhyme,
(so keeps head up
for urbane adverse city slicker
you better watch out

(...better not shout...) just duck
and run for cover cuz poet took
effluvia enroute spouted by word huck
stir, he avoids naming
(chatterboxes whose lives
so devoid of meaning,
they figuratively kickstart tittle-tattle),
who vocally ramp up 
some juicy tidbit with any luck

taking page from former president playbook
letting their lips uncontrollably run a-muck
totally oblivious to credibility factor being a schmuck
buzzfeed initial kernel of truth and truck
outrageous zingers suitable for National Enquirer,
tragicomical, cuz mistruths
courtesy tenants exhibit chutzpah to pluck
farfetched outright lies and innuendos

rolling of tongues of then occupants such as:
"Bible Thumper/Holy Roller,"
"Bingo/ Phat Cathy,""Crooked Old Man,"
"Curvy Girl/Thunder Thighs," "Frumpty Dumpty
"Mush/Smash Mouth, "Snaggletooth,"
"The Bodyguard," "The Fossil," "The Schvartze,"
"Winkle," and last but not leased "Zha Zha”.

Give me fruit flies, mice
and/or roaches any day,
or give me death!
Form: Rhyme


Ciprofloxacin Hcl 500 Mg Remedied Urinary Tract Infection

CIPROFLOXACIN HCL 500 MG remedied urinary tract infection

No aversion nor embarrassment
admitting, divulging, and jumpstarting
poetic endeavor regarding yours truly
afflicted, blighted, and contracted
with urinary tract infection,
(though condition finds me
feeling pissed off),
whereby urination fraught with
painful burning, gouging,
and stinging sensation.

Aside from the aforementioned ailment
practically, nearly, nay already cured,
after taking bad medicine, I feel great,
but recognize necessity
to take full course
of poetically issued, incorporated,
and identified antibiotic
despite feeling more drowsy than usual.

Impossible mission scrambling,
rummaging, and traversing
complex edifice housing
nooks and crannies pinpointing
how I, albeit married (libido
long since took kamikaze nosedive -
most likely adverse side effect
courtesy countless medications
prescribed to alleviate the bane
of social anxiety, obsessive
compulsive disorder, palmar hyperhidrosis,
et alia) though celibate
became subjected to micturate
experienced problematic discharge
to take a wizz with difficulty and discomfort.

The miracle of modern medicine
(actually corroboration of many
intelligent people such as biochemists,
biomedical engineer, pharmaceutical scientists,
et cetera) nips in figurative bud
ailments of body, mind and spirit
without which yours truly
among untold other individuals
would be unable to function
close to their optimal level as possible.

Though long since averse
to the crass commercialization
of most holidays in general,
and Christmas in particular;
eons ago boyhood found me
unbounded, unrestrained, untethered,
et cetera with bounteous excitement
when December twenty fifth
approached then finally arrived
whereat I knew full well
bearer of various and sundry gifts
linkedin with mother reminding father
in quasi cryptic words scotch tape
and newspaper in such and such place.

At ripe old age
of three score plus three
orbitz around the nearest star
considerably less enthusiasm gushes forth
at clamoring to purchase
and/or receive presents,
but rather anonymous
zoological primate here
within apartment b44
simply wanted a hippopotamus
to appease the hidebound grinch.

Potential I Presume More Limericks

Potential I Presume More Limericks

Big and tremendous come to mind.

Tremendous, stupendous, upend us.
Gargantuan, passion, trashing.
Immensive, aggressive, sensitive.   
Ultimate Utmost, out grossed, horrible host.
Pittance, sentence, repentance.
In effect essential, provocative, potential, quite intentional.
Necessity, complexity, anxiety.
Court Municipal, Peter Principle, always apprehensible.
Concerting, blurting, hurting.
Infinitesimal, decimal,  inexcusable. 
Horribly huge, difficult deluge, shady subterfuge.
Passion, mansion, ration.
Explanation, creation, prevarication.
Expedient, concillient, what he meant
Congenial, menial, essential.
Validate, marinate, create. (For you cooks out there.)
Ballad, salad, valid.
Repudiated, humiliated, regimented.
Surgical, liturgical, hysterical, historical.
Urgence of resurgence of common sense.
To endure, become obscure for sure.
As of late would be great if they negotiate.
Kept at bay until miles away so Standish did say.
Had to humiliate to rehabilitate then consummate.
Were reassured could have occurred if enough endured.
My patience was tried then cried and cried after he had lied and lied so Bonny could be bona fide.
What part of the ocean had Bonnie been laid over at anyway? It must have been some perfect excuse
to go on a cruise and of course if you snooze will definitely loose.
Love could have occurred after I was assured no more lying will be endured.
If totally transparent, it could be inherent was apparent both were probably a potential parent.
What to we did allude, the became unglued in the middle of a family feud.
Embarrassed we became when he was up to his old game of seeking more fortune and fame.
Guess who and am sure you knew when bailed out the whole crew.
Patiently particular, was a homicide which was vehicular deduced by a diverticular.
Beside the sea with idea would wrestle should nestle under a trestle out of rain to wait for next vessel.
On Trump it finally dawned, if he would wave his magical want another witch would respond.
Instead of Grinch he would be the Witch Who Stole Christmas among other things.

Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

Premium Member A Christmas Tale

A variation on a theme by Dr. Seuss...

There once was a Grinch who was bad to the bone,
Which was why he always spent Christmas alone,
But one year the Grinch said, "Enough is enough!"
And decided to steal everyone's Christmas stuff.

In the village below, in the center of town,
Stood a great Christmas tree with gifts all around.
There were gaily wrapped presents, some large and some small,
Filled with treats and surprises for one and for all.

The Grinch plotted, connived, he schemed, and he hatched.
"Come Christmas morning," he vowed, "all that loot will be snatched."
Then he rushed back inside to flesh out his plan
To disguise himself as that Santa Claus man.

He measured, and cut, and stitched stitches galore,
When he suddenly heard, just outside his front door,
Something that set both his Grinch ears to ringing.
The sound was quite audibly somebody singing.

He opened his door just a crack so to peek,
And what he beheld made the Grinch squeak out "Eek!"
In front of his cave was a sight quite bewilderin'
A small group of seven or eight village childeren.
Then a curly-haired toddler toddled forward an inch
And cooed, rather cutely, "Mewwy Cwissmas, Mistuh Gwinch!"

The snarl that he tried for turned into a grin,
And 'stead of biting their heads off, he invited them in.
He dashed to his fireplace, tossed on a Yule log,
Then served gingerGrinch cookies and sweet green eggnog.
They ate, drank, and sang for an hour or more
Then announced they must leave and bounced out the front door.

As he watched them depart, to his utter surprise,
The Grinch felt his heart trying to double in size.
He quivered, he quaked, his knees started to shake.
"This unGrinchlike behavior has been a mistake!"
Then he slammed shut the door and proclaimed with a sneer,
"Well, you thwarted me this time, but just wait 'til next year!"

This tale has a moral, quite simple yet bold:
Some people can't change, if the sad truth be told.
The Grinch, of his species, was simply a bad 'un,
He couldn't change his spots, poor thing, even if he had 'em.
Form: Narrative

Lisa's Ivory Music Box

Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?


When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"


The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.


It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 


There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.


But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.


Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...


Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Form: Narrative


Lincoln Ave

I remember playing outside all of the time.  These days, outside play is somewhat of a pathogen to this technological generation. 

I remember my sister and I digging holes in the ground with the expectation we would reach China.  We dug about maybe 3 ft deep and at that young age, I swore I could hear Chinese people talking.  How surprised we were when we learned the truth in first grade.  

I remember drinking water out of the water hose.  I was always apprehensive about drinking dirt but I had no choice.  

I remember learning every word to the movie, The Wiz.  To this day, I can recite the whole movie.  

I remember playing hide and seek in the backyard.  I never really liked that game because I always felt like there was somebody watching me across the street. 

I remember playing with my friends from across the street.  As I look back, we did some pretty stupid things. I remember sitting under the willow tree saying all of the curse words we knew and also learning new ones.  

I remember playing “House.”  

I remember the rule of not going across the field to Ms. Johnson’s house.  My sister and I always thought she was the devil for some reason.  Maybe it was because the way people said to avoid her as if they were afraid the say her name out loud, but we ended up going over there anyway because she had to watch us while my parents worked.  She made the best lemon cake I’ve ever tasted in my life.  I miss her now. 

I remember  hiding in the house when my father came home from work.  I never really knew why.

I remember Christmas morning, 1992.   We’d just opened our presents and were getting dressed to visit my grandmother.  I remember being visited by the Grinch.  Except this Grinch carried a pistol and wore a face mask.  Usually my new toys would last me about six months before I became bored of them or they broke.  That year, I only had about 1 hour to bond.  

I remember the moving truck with all of our stuff heading out of the driveway.  I haven’t been back to Lincoln Ave.  since.

Rock the House and Roll Back the Furniture

They’re smoking Lucky’s; watching Hit Parade;
And Ronald Regan; with  his Death Valley days.
   What’s that I’m hearing; is it in my head;
    I hear a rumbling; while I lay in bed.
 I can’t believe it; do I hear a new beat;
 I’m out of bed now; and I’m on my feet.
   The room is rocking; and my body rolls;
   They’re screaming at me; but I won’t be controlled.
They call me Rebel; and they say I’m no good;
 But let me rock you; like I know that I could
   She wears a hairdo; that is high on her head;
   She wears a short skirt; that just lays me dead.
And Little Richard; with his new Ding-a-ling;
When school is over; we can shake that thing.
   Here comes a girl now; in her high school sweater;
   And it’s for sure I’d like to know her better.
We fell in love; but it broke our hearts;
I sit alone now in our favorite park.
    I’m just so lonely; won’t you Stand By Me
    I’m drifting and drifting baby; out on this sea.
The joint was jumping; down on honky- tonk street;
And from a Cadillac; stepped a cat named Pete.
   I now am twenty one; and I’m hitting the clubs;
   I’m watching Charlie Musslewhite; play at the pub.
Two hours driving and I’m at the gate;
I’m seeing B.B. and I just can’t wait.
   Look at those hippies; with their unkempt hair;
   But that girl is pretty; standing over there.
And I hear Jimmy; singing Light My Fire;
A purple haze surrounds me; with my burning desire.
   They say I’m drafted; but what does this mean;
   I’ve been unwanted; since before I was eighteen
 Those Golden Ribbons; and those fortunes of war;
What will it matter if we’re not here no more?
    The band is singing; of their Big Ten Inch
    And on my T.V.; is the Christmas Grinch.
 I guess I’m nothing but some Bad Company;
And I’m a rebel; which I guess you can see
   I asked the bank; for a loan or a grant;
   They want collateral; so I pulled down my pants.
 These songs are playing; may they never end;
And if I had to; I would do it again
Form: Rhyme

T'Was the Night Before...

T'was the night before Christmas,
Satan feelin' kind'a blue,
Cooked up a devilish plot...
To repay me and you...
For all this religious fervor,
And holiday joy....
Annoyed him like hell,
He would take every toy!
Inspired by the Grinch,
I'd guess...
He'd make this Christmas,
An unholy mess...
So he dressed the part,
In flaming red suit ill fitted,
His tail he could not hide,
In that he was outwitted...
With Santanic glee,
He set on his course,
To repay this cruel world,
With tons of remorse...
His raindeer substitutes,
Many demons in pain...
Would haul his fat ****..
No matter the strain...
With a magic bag to steal all the toys,
It you could never fill,
Toys just disappeared
To make cry girls and boys...
Well he struggled down,
The first chimney, you see,
Attracted by its fire,
Not by how it'd used to be...
He bristled with
Santanic Claws,
Designed to give,
Anyone pause...
Chucklin' sardonically,
As he did descend...
He'd even steal their stockings,
Which perhaps he could mend...
And someday soon after,
Sell them at a flea market,
Being sure to infest them with fleas,
While attached to an electric socket....
Would be just his luck,
On that first he was greeted
With a big-eyed little girl,
Her prays did seem answered,
She was quietly seated...
"Oh, dear Santa she cried,
I've cookies for you,
And milk cause I heard,
You loved that stuff too!"
He eyed her with anger,
A craw in his throat,
His plan now seemed
hopeless...
His goal would not float...
Countless children, he gruffed,
To defend their own home?
The weapon of innocence...
Their's all alone...
He turned and he roared,
Up the chimney in a snit,
And that was the last time,
That a child did outwit,
This king of all evil,
And doer of deeds,
Unspeakable for ages,
To all races and creeds...
So if you want,
your Christmas toys,
Alert and count on,
Your little girls and boys...",
© Tom Bell  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballad

Lovely Hate Crimes Spate Trumpeted Violent Trend

Lovely hate crimes spate – trumpeted violent trend
(posthumous playful note to posterity kith unsealed
courtesy yours truly once deceased and cremated.)

Whew...so glad tubby gratefully dead
butta shaw miss dug hid ole days
when violence highly overrated
unlike current rooted locked dread,
aye wax poetically nostalgic when Fred
Rogers friendly persona
already quaintly outdated

mutinous armed militia incessant childish
popgun lawlessness pranks ran amuck
indiscriminately fired
magazine round as bullets sped
whizzing to and fro, hither and yon
slowed then stopped by flesh,

while folks nestled abed
bloody sheets, yupper reckon
shot blew hole head
off, no necks time
no matter innocent victim led
virtuous life kneadlessly, 

purposelessly, unfairly...
stole by bullet size Grinch, hmm possibly
just maybe, he felt put off and miss sled
by Whoever, thus mad as hatter his said
color turned fifty shades of gray
mottled with fire engine red

now, no matter such innocent chitty chitty
bang bang ruses by duplicitous
hotheaded hooligans bred,
cuz instead every man, woman and child
blessed, donned, gifted... with atomic warhead
absolutely crazy, but president instead

wanted even Steven playing field to win votes,
no matter constituents begged and pled
naught necessarily in vain
since humanity in short shrift
cleared off terra firmae,
another foreign species immune

to radioactive fallout sprung
out Taj Mahal fountainhead
of atlas shrugged ayn rand dilly read
deed planet Earth proof positive Q.E.D
drafted fiat whereby high
powered weapons packing heated lead
plus scattered nuclear bombs

melted than repurposed material
i.e. former munitions armaments purchased
hoof hull legal black market
into raw bits moon units instead
necessary for android robots to tread
carefully, but carry big stick,
when encountering dreamy eyed electric sheep.

Santa"s Works Night Out. a Cautionary Tale

At last it has arrived, 
let there be no doubt. 
That everyone goes crazy 
at the Christmas staff night out. 

Now Santa took the sleigh. 
He did not stop to think. 
For that was very foolish 
with all that food and drink! 

Tooth fairy looked real nice 
so did the pantomime dames, 
but Grinch was asked to leave 
for calling Santa names. 

The leprechauns told anecdotes 
in the spirit of Bob Hope. 
The snowmen all got stoned 
by passing round the dope. 

Santa told rude jokes! 
and some were even funny. 
But everyone avoided 
that randy Easter Bunny. 

Jack Frost he was concerned, 
told the Elves what he was thinking. 
"That Santa"s getting drunk, 
he is doing to much drinking." 

When the meal was over, 
the MC he did stand . 
"Will you welcome live on stage, 
The Boogie Man and his band." 

The celebrations ended. 
"Get on your merry way." 
Santa staggered out 
to try and find his sleigh. 

The reindeer headed home 
they knew the way to go. 
They did not stop to think, 
to take it kind of slow. 

Santa started singing 
a chorus of Wild Rover. 
When flashing lights appeared 
and he was soon pulled over. 

"Lets see your drivers licence 
and please put out that ***." 
"Step out of the vehicle 
and blow in to this bag." 

Oh Santa was locked up. 
You should have heard him wail. 
"You have to let me out, 
you have to give me bail." 

His sentence will be soon 
lets hope the courts a fan. 
For what will happen next year? 
If he gets a driving ban.! 

Poor old Santa Clause 
it is a sorry tale. 
He got community service, 
instead of going to jail! 

By all means leave a carrot. 
A glass of milk I think. 
But don"t encourage Santa 
by leaving out a DRINK! 




© Ned Flanders
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Get more exposure for your poetry and more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

Member Area

My Admin
Profile and Settings
Edit My Poems
Edit My Quotes
Edit My Short Stories
Edit My Articles
My Comments Inboxes
My Comments Outboxes
Soup Mail
Poetry Contests
Contest Results/Status
Followers
Poems of Poets I Follow
Friend Builder

Soup Social

Poetry Forum
New/Upcoming Features
The Wall
Soup Facebook Page
Who is Online
Link to Us

Member Poems

Poems - Top 100 New
Poems - Top 100 All-Time
Poems - Best
Poems - by Topic
Poems - New (All)
Poems - New (PM)
Poems - New by Poet
Poems - Read
Poems - Unread

Member Poets

Poets - Best New
Poets - New
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems
Poets - Top 100 Most Poems Recent
Poets - Top 100 Community
Poets - Top 100 Contest

Famous Poems

Famous Poems - African American
Famous Poems - Best
Famous Poems - Classical
Famous Poems - English
Famous Poems - Haiku
Famous Poems - Love
Famous Poems - Short
Famous Poems - Top 100

Famous Poets

Famous Poets - Living
Famous Poets - Most Popular
Famous Poets - Top 100
Famous Poets - Best
Famous Poets - Women
Famous Poets - African American
Famous Poets - Beat
Famous Poets - Cinquain
Famous Poets - Classical
Famous Poets - English
Famous Poets - Haiku
Famous Poets - Hindi
Famous Poets - Jewish
Famous Poets - Love
Famous Poets - Metaphysical
Famous Poets - Modern
Famous Poets - Punjabi
Famous Poets - Romantic
Famous Poets - Spanish
Famous Poets - Suicidal
Famous Poets - Urdu
Famous Poets - War

Poetry Resources

Anagrams
Bible
Book Store
Character Counter
Cliché Finder
Poetry Clichés
Common Words
Copyright Information
Grammar
Grammar Checker
Homonym
Homophones
How to Write a Poem
Lyrics
Love Poem Generator
New Poetic Forms
Plagiarism Checker
Poetry Art
Publishing
Random Word Generator
Spell Checker
What is Good Poetry?
Word Counter