Long Gut Poems
Long Gut Poems. Below are the most popular long Gut by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gut poems by poem length and keyword.
#HEY, SAY...
GIMME A GLASS OF ROOM TEMPERATURE WATER, FOR STARTERS...WITH A BRIGHT LEMON WEDGE, TO TAKE OFF THE EDGE!
"IN FACT, MAKE THAT A DOUBLE!!"
NO, I DON'T WANT NOTHING WITH FIZZ,
NOTHING WITH FROTH...
NO SCREWDRIVERS FOR ME, THAT MAY SET MY LIVER OFF...
"SHIRLEY TEMPLES" OR "EASY LIVINGS"
ARE BENEFIT PROPERTIES IN THOSE SPECIALTIES?
THANKS FOR THE CLARITY!
CAN'T AFFORD "DON'T MIX WELL---CAN'T YOU TELL" BLENDED POTENTIAL PENALTIES.
WELL, LOOK WHO JUST BREEZED THROUGH THE DOOR?
HELLO MENTALITY!
HOW'S SENTIMENTALITY?
STILL GOING STRONG, I KNOW YOU TWO HAVE A SOLID BOND!
HEY WHAT'S WRONG...
YOU HEARD A RUMOR WE, YOU & ME WEREN'T GETTING ALONG?
"WHAAAAAT!"
"COME ON' WE'RE FAMILY...AT THE END OF THE DAY,
A TRINITY, INFINITELY***"
I KNOW, I KNOW...
IT'S JUST THAT...
I HAD FROZEN BAGGIES OF ORGANIC BLUEBERRIES, WONDROUS! YET, I REFERENCED THOSE AS SECONDARIES!
BECAUSE, I PREFERRENCED BELOW...
THE DARK CHOCOLATE BUTTERSCOTCH CARMEL DROPS...
*PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP* AND *PLOP* *PLOP* *PLOP*
NON-STOP!
THAT WHOLE ENTIRE BAG...
CRUMPLED TAG!
CALL THE COPS!!! CALL THE COPS!!!
DIVINE MIND, GET A GRIP!
IT'S NOT EVERYDAY, IF IT WERE...
I'D HAVE A PRICE TO PAY!
YOU DON'T DRINK, YOU DON'T SMOKE, YOU EVEN REFUSE TO HAVE A COKE! LOOK AT ME...I'M IN A BAR HAVING A DOUBLE LEMON WATER!!! NOT EVEN ON THE ROCKS, IN JULY...89° DEGREES OUTSIDE, AS A HIGH!
STOP GUILTING! QUIT TRIPPING!
YESTERDAY, "DARK CHOCOLATE BUTTERSCOTCH DROPS!"
TODAY, BLUEBERRY BLISS "NOT TO MISS" EMPHASIS!
ALSO REMEMBER..."YOU'RE A WATERHOLIC!"
"AS WELL, WE...US THREE***
HAVE TO REMAIN {SUSTAIN} A UNIFIED TRILOGY!"
EXTRA LEMONS, EXTRA RHYMES,
AND OCCASIONALLY...
BUTTERSCOTCH CARAMEL DARK CHOCOLATIES...
HOLD THE GUILT, INDEED PLEASE...
"JUST ENJOY LIFE, BIG & SMALL, ESPECIALLY...."
*PLOP* *GULP* *WRITE* ALRIGHT...
***RIGHT***
Renee D Gross {GHPPR} June 10th 2023#
Red balloons with clowns attached
Lock your doors
Keep the windows latched
So many people
Knocking at the door
One, two, three, four,
Ten or twelve or maybe more
Disembodied voices
Screaming in my head
I found their bodies sleeping
Underneath my bed
Which I am now so far from
But still they haunt my head
There’s a man in the corner
There’s a child on the ceiling
I don’t know what’s over there
But still I hear it screaming
Howling echoes in my mind
Demons dance before my eyes
Seems I forgot my pills again
I search for them with hazy vision
Check the bottle once then twice
Then with horror I realize
Why it is that I’m so nervous
Why I appear so tense
The pills offset each other
So I’m not making sense
And then my head begins to spin
My vision darkens yet again
I fall to the floor
And the beasts dance no more
But still the voices loudly roar
Among the lot, before consciousness slips
“Leave him be. He's just drunk again.”
Bearing the brunt of betrayal,
his long-time lady lover leaves him
for another flame. Surprisingly saying
"I'm so sorry, Sam, we should start
seeing other people"
Broken by a brutal blindside
out of nowhere. He couldn't comprehend
the reason; the shock shook him
like a loud trembling thunder
shakes someone out in the rain
Suddenly lovelorn,
he's left wondering why.
"What did I do to deserve this?"
To add insult to injury, he learns
she left him for his best friend, Bruce.
STRAND CHOICE P,any form,any theme Poetry Contest( Winner: Honorable Mention)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date written: 03/24/2020
Now as I look up I catch myself, i revert my attention and I raise that man out the gutter, Oh he loves this, kinda feels familar, feels solid, Definately noticed before I left what my respect What? Sir i always give it first, try that man test him hard in a devils hell, he past them, threw me a pass, Miranda's, be my destination, gradual i give him my back, stab that dagger I still take a hit, Matters much, becuz everyman deserves his shot, 1700 hrs at the distance of latticework, branch breaker devastating on a branch dividian, swift well strong too, oh well i be a man eating ninjas the powers here area mysteries, christened chisels chosen for chips that fly chopped suey, copycat that cc cc, density left handed pulled the lever and said sTori's in better melodies,
and story's left unsaid said spoke Mandy's please Im pissing offf the managment, Chrissy damn well slip into a ****ing a man speaking serious now, Champs too, and who the **** is she? trying chances in a chandas challenge, falling behind well u silent, thinking i could never say more till i say less, as I pledge my blood on theses streets forever, I cant seem simpleminded in your head im a new hate, im raw thug talk no baby im beating demons better careflight these pussies, and there right b4 me, is the main presentation. I switch my flow and i spoke in Satin, condolences there I see the hurt in my family eyes, Dealt a challengen man, felt the weight of the actual burden is very heavy,
Very scary if u never ignored lasers dots, On the mic creating Jaxwax my product recomends to refuse a haters offer
The wind blows in any desired style
Any day every once in a while,
Man's comments to it are just a riffraff pile.
The sun will give you some chilli sensation,
With no fear for it needs to take no consultation
From mankind whose whimperings cause no affliction.
Yet you still worry about what they'll say
When you know, they only speak once a Day.
No other day is given, for them to play
Take your clay-
Remember, just to mould a craft-
Trust your guts-
They help you, for no matter your move,
The tongue will move-
In critique.
But listen, "There has never been a statue erected for a critique",
I heard so...
My boyfriend was agitated
Because I was constipated
We'd be late for the game
Of course I was to blame
My butt hole's not dialated
On and on he whined and waited
Use of laxatives, debated
In my gut it was stuck
I could smell it... oh yuck
Boyfriend getting more frustrated
I could hear the game on the phone
I said, "Go. Just leave me alone!"
But he didn't hear me
His team was up by three
Stomach hurt, I let out a moan
Half hour later, he was snoring
I guess the game must be boring
I still sat on the can
Cursing my boyfriend, Dan
Who was no longer adoring.
After being lubricated
I sighed at being elated
Although my butt was sore
I had to poop no more
My bowels had been vacated
I found Dan's note and shook my head
"I had to poop, so went home instead
of waiting for you, Sue.
After this, we are through!"
That's exactly what his note said.
I felt relief, more ways than one
Happy that Dan and I were done
Now I can be alone
When sitting on my throne
No one shouting, "Hurry up, Hun!!"
Five years ago he joyously visited the maternity ward;
now it is the oncology floor.
Kindergarten will not be in the cards this year -
just lots of tears.
She has the same bald head she bore
when he coached his wife through
the Lamaze breathing they both had trained for;
the ponytails she beautifully wore in between
her hospital stays are long forgotten.
Cancer made her a motherless child two years ago;
now it promises to re-unite mother and daughter.
He tries to keep up a brave front –
but fails miserably.
It is hard to believe in the Saints for which hospitals are named
when these are the same buildings in which loved ones
are taken from us far too soon.
Unfortunately, he recognizes many of the nurses who cared for his wife.
“Hello, Daddy”, she smiles weakly as he enters her room;
“I am going to see Mommy soon, aren’t I”, she asks.
The lump in his throat prevents an answer.
“It’s okay, Daddy”, the sick child reassures her grieving father.
He cannot hold back the tears he promised not to show her.
“Now, instead of us missing Mommy, Mommy and I will be missing you.
And you can pray to both of us before going to bed,
like we do now to Mommy.”
“Tell her I still love her,” he manages to say through his tears.
“She knows, Daddy.”
“And …”
“I know, Daddy.”
She closes her eyes.
He has to walk past the Maternity Ward
on his way out of the hospital to the funeral parlor.
Written and posted on August 25, 2011 by Knot Telling
The Rot Gut Incident
Tumbleweeds blew into Town
Rolling two bearded cowpokes with them
Looking for some action and the sheriff
The Bloody Mary is the only saloon in Rot Gut
I reckon this is a proper place for the ornery
For a couple of horny no good clowns
They didn't come to sing a song or read the bible
Revenge was on their mind
Along with other assorted kinds of crime
They wanted ugly Molly for some nasty sport
And whiskey to wet their whistle
After a spell the drunken foe came down
From playing with their whore
Staggered on the stairs for lack of balance
Demanded me, Sheriff John, served up for their amusement
I killed their brother Bob last year in this here very bar
For starting troubles with the patrons
And stealing from the tip jar
I happened to be there with hat in hand
When they called me out
And made me take a stand
Then drew their guns to shoot me down
If they hadn't been such drunken boozers
Slower than molasses
I’d be telling a different kind of tale about these losers
And they wouldn't be planted six feet under ground
In the cemetery just outside of town
Used as fertilizer for the flowers
In Rot Gut that’s just how things go down
7/13/14 A Town Called “Rot Gut” contest
I’ve perfected the art
Of withholding a fart
I tighten my buttocks and clench
But when no one is the vicinity
I let rip with a dreadful stench
A silent secret fart released in a confined place
To some folks I guess it’s an utter disgrace
If I fart in a lift
To me it’s a gift
I can leave and I’ll not be red in the face!
If a fart is dropped in our house
I secretly wish we had a dog
I could toot with the noise of a bullfrog
but I would have someone else to blame
and could then say poor Fido’s name!
Contest That’s why I love …. Sponsor Lewis Raynes
A fictional write (well I have to say that don’t I … and I don’t have a dog lol)
First stanza is taken from my poem ‘the art of farting
06~05~16
You can check consumer guides
Until your face turns blue;
When buying something major,
That’s what many people do.
When planning a vacation,
Those same folks do that as well,
Believing that it will prevent
That holiday from hell.
But that’s not how we operate
(My spouse and I agree),
For all the research in the world
Won’t grant a guarantee.
So every purchase that we make
Or trip that we arrange
Is one we’ve chosen on a hunch,
Which others might find strange.
It works for us, yet there are those
Who’d argue with a “But…”
To them, I’d simply have to say
It pays to trust your gut!