Long Gung ho Poems
Long Gung ho Poems. Below are the most popular long Gung ho by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gung ho poems by poem length and keyword.
Outside it’s breezy and twenty degrees
in here the air feels humid and still
the floor’s elbow-to-elbow and I guarantee
dance for 40 minutes and the heat can kill
I left the dance floor
fully drenched
we drank at the bar
til our thirst was quenched
I peeled off my overshirt
but that didn’t work
I still felt flushed and sweaty
a guy motioned me to dance
but I wasn’t ready
Then someone opened the door
the icy air rushed in—I didn’t flinch
It felt like heaven—I wanted more
dance guy was back, the entitled prince
the 05611 is full of pushy guys
when they want something
they try and try and try
I pretend I can’t hear them
cause the music is bumping
Friday nights are such a release
a time for fun and controlled caprice
but it’s also a hot-point time to do-a-prendy
when you say no, divers can turn unfriendly
I’m not Julie Andrews—I’m not offended
It’s kind of a complement, I’m just not interested
If you can take a yes, then you should take a no
I could be protecting you, for all you know,
so chill-out playas, don’t be so gung-ho.
.
.
Songs for this:
Hit My Heart by BOY
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/23/25:
Divers = numbering more than one
do-a-prendy = a quick hookup
05611 = Yale's zip code
Across the Atlantic ocean
They have a pedantic notion
Quip us Brits have a frantic lisp
Did slip..meant to say chip not crisp
Semantic antics causing a commotion
Misunderstand our land’s devotion
To the sensory explosion that is a crisp
So why the linguistic demotion
Respond to across the pond & beyond
Have donned a wig of blonde
Seem fond of being conned
They need to be told
The reason Brits abscond from the fold
Will break the mould
Skip this blip and let rip
A chip is hot and if not.. is cold
Such umami gold is actually factually
A crisp!
Our gung ho American foe
Will still go & crow..
Blimey those slimy Limeys
We’re the aficionado…so no bravado
Must surely know a chip is always
Made I’m afraid of purely potato
(unless I guess if its chips at a casino)
Displayed for trips in dips
Not just crud dud spud chips
Bud..could be made of wheat
Sworn am often torn
Could be swayed by corn
Synthetic aesthetic can’t beat
Heart attack in a pack food p*rn
If Polenta is the mentor.. its a chip
But if some parsnip you did flip
In oil then it is definitely…definitively a crisp
Got a hunch that if for
Lunch.. earlier at brunch
Or just for a munch
Thick or thin as a wisp
If it does go crunch
Then it’s crisp
Not being trippy.. dippy or too lippy
Don’t be hasty and haughty
Nothing beats..tasty treats
Seriously salty.. deliriously naughty eats
That's why we say crispy.. not chippy
P.S ..The only crispy beast feast
Where’s there is no hackling
Tackling or shackling
A snack as a chip or a crisp
No cackling…is when it’s crackling
Oops somehow a new row hatching..isn't
Fried pig skin..a pork scratching
But Colombian cronies are dispatching
Such phony baloney..there's no matching
The show ponies that are chicharrones
Leisurely walk around Lords non stop pop of champagne cork
Scorecard dork does chalk the first over from Will O’Rourke
Another flowering Kiwi tree who gets the ball to talk & fork
While towering style of Kyle with guile & wile gall fans gawk
Doff your hat to Matt who really is all that aficionados squawk
Smith another hawk with similar riff for this tiff swing will stalk
Serious talent apparent not transparent with delirious torque
Balk one last refrain from the reign of Kane the Kiwi bulwark
If it grips rips what pips seeing Glenn Phillips flips & fillips
Golden arm charm can disarm like when baby Joe in skips
With Kane masters and pastors of snips missing the slips
Nudges nurdles overcomes hurdles as fans lick their lips
Never ruffled by kerfuffles silky shuffles and wristy whips
Express bouncer nips & dips caress the ball off their hips
Finesse not largesse witness their prowess heavenly sips
Zach having been so cack defence so slack got the sack
No coming back picked from the pack Gay to have a crack
Not out of whack got the knack this season has got a stack
Trust plucky Ducky again gets lucky no vastly ghastly hack
Stokesy becomes like Wokesy bat & ball gets us off the rack
Dirty Harry not shirty silly willy nilly hill billy flirty is like smack
In Ashes dung Tongue among the flashes of changing tack
No Josh tosh stung with gung ho bolts flung stumps thwack
Tongue climbs a rung with pace he brung others made us yack
Golly after much flak jolly Ollie the wally again leads the attack
After scold behold in from the cold part of fold & in the black
Coz after Oz fires our tyres flat just old hat we need a new jack
If not too chatty no cheeky drag on sneaky f*g or fatty snack
Hopefully no folly he will be fit on the track give us bit we lack
No off his trolley verbal volley Ollie could be return of the Mac
(whose video powerfully, profoundly, and
positively affected this southeastern residing
Pennsylvania papa)!
Afflicted with Cystic Fibrosis since her birth
contagious exuberance, gung-ho,
infectious jubilance noah dearth
which eye opening (then tearing)
podcast link sent tummy
FaceBook account,
she distilled and
didst poignantly blog the
purpose driven life,
no matter...hmm...
her existential time
nearing thee finis
line on planet Earth
though upworthy defying
deathly clasp of grim reaper,
who scythe lent
lee doth await
she (titled lass of poem) established
a substantial supportive network,
via such an up
beat aura, charisma,
persona, et cetera create
ting global bond sans,
world wide web, aye equate
chance lucky opportunity
to witness airily especial
and gutsy acceptance
of her (congenital) grim fate
while this healthy
(as an oxymoron) lix
spit tilling chap doth hate
sweaty palms (a minor,
though tolerable inconvenience)
versus being irate
at an accursed disease
still no cure as of late,
yet...state of
the art revolutionary treatments
provide longevity, and... YES
possibility to discover a mate
though consigning severe limitations
but...WOW, that girl (unknown
til yesterday) doth narrate
positivity, which amazing
will power didst permeate,
within thine noggin
triggering sincere flowing tears
bursting forth at an unstoppable rate
hence this attempted rye
ming livingsocial tribute
to go for broke
esprit de corps elan trait
completing a bucket list
while eternal sleep will wait!
What should I write, what do you think
How's about tightie whities
The kind that get most women all worked up
Divesting themselves of their nighties
Even if you plead you have a headache
She's in no condition to listen
Those tightie whities are driving her crazy
Down below she starts to go fishin'
All of a sudden your headache disappears
Now it's you who's all gung ho
You yell out “tally ho, ride 'em cowboy”
She screams bloody murder “woo ho”
That continues for thirty-eight seconds
Then collapsing exhausted on the floor
You scream out “got a cramp in my leg”
She yells, “I want more, I want more, I want more!”
Think to myself that's the very last time
It's polka dot boxers from now on
Tightie whities will be the death of me
At my age, ain't got that long
Ha... a fairy tale!!!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Alright have to admit that whole drole Bazball or Baz Bat cool cat vibe…rabbit out of hat tribe.. is taking its toll..sunk in a hole..losing it’s goal and soul..not being a vitriol troll..maybe need to mull over a cull of this rigmarole..
Can’t pretend..is the end of this spangly jangly new fangled trend…nothing off the shelf…just express yourself…won’t spank you..will almost thank you.. if you tank…bonkers fools rules you can’t bend…must always go stonkers.. all cool no old school…when you shan't defend and depend on a blend of soft conkers and tracks to conquer..
Let’s explain there are many ways to play and entertain…the lotto of the Baz grotto..no dull lulls …no more bore score draws…one motto…just high octane insane where seemingly the sole means to control is a flat track that blunts and shunts how every attack does bowl..
I know..have already banged on..had a go at the pitches…feather beds so flat you can bat gung ho heave ho from the get go.. no wear and tear..glitches or hitches.. despair to stop the flair.. no real movement in the air or off the square..the Bazball pest…Bazbat conquest..effectively saying no we won’t be surfing the crest of a true test contest of willow and leather..hey ho nonny no…to the real deal Test fest..tally ho..
No pretension..apprehension of the lacking dimensions and few mentions of the best Test tensions..
Also must rebuke how they have turned the duke ball from a serious nuke which would spook.. enthrall..now reliant on a cherry that gets so soft you need a fluke ..well Dukes will be compliant as England’s their biggest client…we saw our copper haired laird no longer..stronger defiant..again came a cropper..and this was hardly a proper whopper green topper..
It seems kitsch Bazball rule needily greedily avoids any glitches or hitches in batter’s riches which in turn.. does spurn and bewitches merchants of seams and stitches..
Well it can be dicey to make your tracks at home too spicy..get in a lather…at the palaver as runs become rather pricey..when you could goad..milk that ilk as you explode on a silk road..
Our selector trifecta…the three wise men..Baz..Bob and Ben.. know if there is no speedster thuggery… no Geoffrey jaffas…bunsen spin skulduggery..they will be the gaffers with some Bazball muggery..
Thralldom etched in *****sapiens (mine) DNA
Though your true blue stated civilian
never enlisted nor impressed,
nonetheless I own an opinion
originally embarked on poetic quest
to express purposelessness,
when soldiers rest
at peace i.e. eternally,
many attired courtesy
smart uniform strong with zest.
Psyche steeped, macerated, brewed
as token scapegoat, cue
trumpets Don to toot
courtesy more'n one
nasty shortish brute
weasley chastened me
round mulberry bush
said monkeys chased scaredy
cat me... point moot
regarding... rung me
ragged standing astute
adjacent Thomas Jonathan
"Stonewall" Jackson
(Confederate general during
American Civil War),
his own troops accidentally
fired on him during
Battle of Chancellorsville
in Virginia doth not compute
"friendly fire" unleashed during
one among many hot pursuit
part and parcel of wars,
since time immemorial
gung ho practiced soldier and/or
scared cat neophyte unwittingly shoot
pellets traveling speed of
sound bullet out - gunmetal chute
ordinarily pardoned distinct mistake
versus homicide statute
nonetheless...about
thee (rhetorical question), wherefore
art thou purpose to war,
those slain now paid tribute
since major hostilities of
World War I formally
ended at 11th hour of 11th
day of 11th month of 1918
yet... I question military conflicts
battle hymns constitute
legacy e'er since Homo
sapiens stood erect,
many soldiers of misfortune,
sons of destitute
versus wealthy heirs accepted perception
that war was "a rich man's war
and a poor man's fight"
countless generations ago
deserters fate would mean execute
"the bastard," even second decade
into twenty first century
once sworn in at basic training,
getting discharged (vodka luck), but absolute
zero tolerance quitting before
duty commitment desertion flagrant violation,
no easy task leaving service minus
tribunal meeting severe to prosecute,
thus joining military unlike
accepting any other job
punishment greater than Das boot,
yet patriotism, née jingoism
not ideal, viz conflict resolution,
verstehen, or did this wordsmith convolute?
just a little slurring on the left side
as he holds back these tears
my eldest brother
so funny down the years...
we`ve had our differences
yes, that I can say
and yes, I still love him and wish the stroke away-
He`s so gung ho to get going
he`s amazing to me
inspirational and uplifting and funny as can be...
how he keeps busy in that hospital by day
is a mystery to me as his spirits don`t fray
he does all his exercises
in fact he does more
in hopes of escape
on that hospital floor-
he`s got his reservations in
to be with the world real soon-
my brother
the star
you got me over the moon.
Form:
I woke up this morning like i can do anything
got the feathers to fly and swim with a fin
a divine right as though born to be King
I can do anything, I can do anything
I'm going gung-ho
I'll let the gun blow
I aint done no
until I say so,
I've got sayings to sow
when I lay they go woah
ink the words in the row
as I show off and show
why to throw me the doe
I can row the boat slow
fly high dive low
don't underrate bro
and belittle or bellow
as my bow and arrow
will hit you I'm hallow,
I'll take in the takings like a baker with dough,
rhyme baking and making it rise up and grow,
win prizes through flow
as I fly like a crow
cus i woke up this morning like i can do anything
An old scholar called Mi Balls Hung Lo
Wished he could put his gonads on show
His poor wife got quite mad
But his daughter said “Dad…
just remember to add a big bow”
By Jan Allison
Now Hung Lo was really Gung Ho.
He had his big bow now in tow.
The new goal he set
was somehow to get
little Mister Happy to grow.
By Dale Gregory Cozart
Dolly Parton said, "Hey there Hung Lo!"
"Why don't you appear on my show?"
"While we're on the air
we'll show our two pair,
It might make your wee Happy grow."
Dolly said to Lo on a dare:
"Would you show off your pair?
I'll show mine
They're very fine
but not all covered with hair!"
By Lim'rick flats aka John Wulf
Lil' Mister Happy wanted to grow
So he could become part of the show
But overshadowed a tad
by the two giant gonad
Now so sad is Mi Balls Hung Lo.
by John Gondolf
To cheer him up they took sad Mr. Hung lo
To a place for encouragement to grow
Down they did jut
A poem for each nut
Mr. happy stood up tall for the show
By Pat Adams
Just woke up to this gorgeous day
What joy, think I'll go out to play
In my skivvies I will
Oh what a thrill
Tiptoe through the tulips twittering away
By Jack Ellison (My Poetry Soup Brother)
When Mi balls hung lo joined the nomads
Something happened to his small gonads,
the further they would go
much bigger, they did grow,
So he now uses them as knee pads,
Due to drinking the milk of the Yak
his large gonads started to shrink back
the more milk he did drink
more his gonads did shrink
problem was they were turning jet black.
By Roy Pett
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME YOUR POEM AND I WILL ADD IT TO THE COLLABORATION
10-04-17