Long Hanky Poems

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


Dining With the Refined

I hate wearing flamin’ suits and I hate wearing rotten ties, 
but if eating in a ‘glitzy’ restaurant, then I have to realize,
I can’t go wearing shorts and singlets or my best pair of thongs,
and can’t go getting rotten drunk or sing Kevin Wilson songs.

I have to act all ‘haughty-taughty’ when I’m ordering me tea.
Oh yeah, in there they call it dinner but it ain’t lunch to me,
and I have to read a francais menu written in some fancy scroll,
where nothing looks like ‘dimmies’ or a scrumptious chicko roll. 

And this ‘geezer’ asks me ‘bout a drink. And I sez “Yeah a beer”.
“Oh sorry sir” he answers back - “We don’t serve beer in here.
This restaurant has too much class for those without refine.
Now I ask you sir and madam would you like a glass of wine?”

The missus tightly grabbed me hand and glared into me face.
She knew my next reaction would; see us kicked out of the place.
So she answered with refinement “No thank you sir”, but it’s a trap!
This mongrel opened up a ‘hanky’ and started fiddling in me lap.

“Hello” I thought ‘what’s going on? They won’t serve a bloke a beer,
but they’ll send some ‘groper’ out and let him go acting *****’.
Me hairy paw was near the floor and his target jaw did jut; 
I was just about to let him have it with a king size upper cut.

Then something happened at the table that was right next to ours.
This bloke who had been watching us sort of shrinks and cowers.
Then he leant hard against his chair, sliding from it on his back. 
“Struth” I said to the missus - “That bloke’s just had a heart attack”.

And the woman he was with just carried on like nothing’s wrong.
She just didn’t seem to notice that the bloke she’s with had gone.
I whispered to the ‘missus’. “She must be blind if she don’t know”.
So I said we ought to help her so I smiled and said “Hello”.

Then I started making conversation just to see if she’d unwind,
but she was fidgety and anxious, and I could see she wasn’t blind.   
“Do you realize” I said, “Your husband slid down on the floor?” 
“Actually” she whispered - “My husband just walked through the door”.
Form: Rhyme


First Day At School

THE FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL

I was three and half
Enjoying my smile and my laugh
But then my father came
Telling me to play a game
A game in which i should hide 
Inside a building that was beside
I asked him hide and seek 
He told me no and not to sneak 
I was excited to play it along 
I was dressed up for so long
In White shirt and blue shorts 
Hanging hanky and a bag on slots
I was jumping to play that game
So excited I never became
took out bicycle to drove me there
Hundreds in the same dress crying every where 
I asked him scared how will you find me 
He said I need to plan and see
I went in with a smiling face 
Not knowing the future phase
One hour was easy to survive 
When I saw some people arrive
Same one's I saw them at the gate
Some were early and some coming late
My heart started to pump
And my tears coming in lump
I thought the game is over
my father to find me a little slower
I started crying they won't be able to find 
And I will be stuck here to grind
I cried and cried , for the whole day 
Everybody trying to make me quite in their own way
At last when a strange bell was out
Teachers in the room gave a shout
To go the gate where we came 
Then I thought now it's the end of the game
I saw my father standing 
Outside to look for me constantly bending
I ran up to him to hug him tight 
And kept hitting him like it was a fight
I said crying I don't wanna play this game of yours 
It's better we play you as the horse
He took me into his arms 
And I was back to the calms 
At night he was lying beside me 
I was asleep to see 
He saw me weeping
And then he started his speaking 
He said the game we played is called schooling 
I said it as a game, I was fooling 
The building you went in is a school 
And there I made you another fool
The rooms you sat in are classes
This is an important phase that passes
It's a game of learning 
Which all values you should be earning 
He caressed his hand on my hair 
And told me to sleep with a care 
First day at school I still recall 
This was the most important day in my life after all
Form: Rhyme

Recurrent Sneezing Fit

An infinitesimal slight speck tickled 
nostril follicle – activated via an itty 
bitty, nitty gritty dirt band noah bigger 
than a mole luck yule set in motion a 
chain reaction, whence mine sensitive 
proboscis honker (wheeze - hilly little 
bridged fine tuned pug nose aroma 
sensor), got unexpectedly in gauged 
(in holy matt trim mo’ knee) to achew, 
and eschew pledging troth (in favor of 
hanky-panky) found this chap feeling 
phlegmatic because an endless string 
of faux allergic emanations, which 
upon subsiding left me throat rather 
raspy and voice some octaves deeper 
akin to a coterie of celebrated jumping 
frogs from Calaveras County, California 
took residence and refused leaving 
stranglehold upon math rote upon 
awakening from a hard day’s journey 
into night across the outer limits 
of thine twilight zone resurrected 
during slumber, yet upon awakening 
felt much refreshed and hungry enough 
to eat a horse – nee – make that forced 
whore – gulped down within a hoof 
n hour and now recount how back in 

the day when zooming thru the Lilies 
of the Valley (whooshing mass elf tubby 
an aeroplane) frequent bouts with uber 
twittering snapchatting sinus attacks 
besieged crinkled, doppelganger expeller 
for germs hunting with his clean X 
instantaneously for nasal passages 
to enter surreptitiously the fecund 
effluvia dripping, oozing, and  seeping 
clear liquid as wintry cold air looses 
droplets from out a near frozen nose, 
which bloke knows not why frigid blast 
stimulates gallimaufry of sniffling 
to spurt into a volume of one after 
another gesundheit donning, snorting 
trumpeting unwittingly confusing 
Canadian geese, who misconstrue 
the honking from midway centered 
facial organ, which angry birds
in tandem with flock of Seagulls 
quite perturbed to espy one curmudgeon 
chap clapping hands over (what feels 
like Smashing Pumpkins on face) 
in an effort to stifle subsequent gummy 
emissions, which residue expectorated 
with heave hoe shove 
schnoz el tov blowing into snot-rag.

The Comedy House

He'd return after decades
Spent in imagination. Month
spent in reality. He'd return to the
House of comedy,here,to crack
an heart-taking,wits-arresting,Emotions-
devouring,Land-quaking joke.
He'd return with a robust neck
Seasoned with weeping nerves.
The joke cracker,Let's hear.....

Before he return'd
The gym-ed rodents embroided
with pleasant 6-packs had
summoned a meeting-Impromptu-
Behing the large hall-Hall of fame!
They'd discuss'd-
"Welcome,ye family of pointed
teeths. We're here to announce the
pending return of the Jester. So,with
deep regards floating on apprehended stats.
Let's invade the large hall- Hall of fame.
And destroy his valuable documents.
Let's give room for hanky-panky. Let's
disorganize his hood...."

In succession of their meeting,
They'd prick the discussion by it hem.
And now after he'd return.
All we heard and will hear is;
"A Cracking news that's about
to break- It takes time before news
are broken here-. The federal territory
has been invaded by gyming rats
full of unpreceedented mights and stats.
We would like to elate your heart that
the palace is disorganized....."

And after that,
they'll deep their deflowered hand
Into the draining purse. One hundred
and fifty thousand dollars to buy insecticide
to eliminate
these terrorists-gyming rats.

After that they'll demolish the
Palace on accounts of the terrorists
providence. They'll tame their hearts,
They'll tame their wealths. They'll
tame their consciousness,patience,love
and mistake them for cleverness' Vice.

I've heard them talk of it.
I've seen it happened.
Rats now are braced with
heart pouncing powers. I haven't
heart of this before; Rats with
Bewitching 6-packs,luring hearts
Into corruption. Very soon,
They'll say,the terrorist have
consumed '1000000 dollars' before
His arrival. They'll say,yea,they'll
fashion a qoute from their glottis company;
"None can be underestimated,even rodents
are now terrorists."

Hmmm...... This Jesters!
17:28:08:15:16
Form: Lyric

A Nightmare

I awoke from a dream I had been dreaming  
With sweat that was popping from my head 
I knew I had to shake it off 
So I got up out of bed  
I found a bottle of bourbon 
Three gulps, then I wiped my lips 
And had to sit the bottle down 
Before it fell from my fingertips 
The nightmare I had been dreaming 
Seemed so real and so refined 
That I knew I had to see one of those shrinks 
To tell the nightmare that’s still in my mind 
I found the shrewdest shrink in the city 
And dished out all that cash 
He took it and opened up his safe 
And put that thousand with his other stash 
So what did you dream of my dear fellow 
Don’t worry, it all stays here 
Like that commercial about Las Vegas 
Tell it all and have no fear 
Well I told him what I dreamed last evening 
And his eyes almost left their sockets 
He had a strange look on his face 
As he retrieved a hanky from his pocket 
He says you dreamed you ran this country? 
And took over from that Kenyan on the throne? 
And people adored and loved you? 
And your nationality is still unknown? 
Well I say to you in earnest dear fellow 
If none asks, I wouldn’t really tell 
But the meaning of that dream you had 
Reminds me of those visits people have from hell 
You took over for that Kenyan 
And kept all his cabinet in place 
And your family now disowns you 
And your name is synonymous with disgrace 
I’d say it means you are a liberal 
Because you never changed anything at all 
So if you don’t mind, could you wait right here 
I have the solution out in the hall 
He came back in with a shotgun 
And loaded it right there for me 
Then said that this was a solution to my problem 
And he promised it would set me free 
They buried me in the family cemetery 
And said some kind words on my behalf 
The chiseler came by later 
And chiseled Progressive Liberal as my epitaph
© Will Karry  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member SNOTNOSE

  They call me "Snotnose,"
  King of the snot!
  I can slide down a hill on the snot that I make!
  Waves of snot my nose can produce,
  Most of it gooey and loose!
  My friends that I have,
  Wear life jackets and boots.
  Drowning in a sea of snot,
  Is not what my friends like a lot!
  Girls' runaway,
 "Too much snot they say.
  You're too messy to play!"
  After I rub my nose on my sleeve,
  Before I can sneeze,
 The snot is dripping down to my knees!
 My mother says,
 "Here's a hanky,
 Use it please or get a spanky!"
 My father says,
 "Do as I do."
 Placing his finger on one nostril,
 He blew out a goober that was quite awful!
 I do try to please.
 One hanky is used up in just one sneeze!
 Blowing out one nostril,
 Is like blowing out a hose,
 And that is just one side of my nose!
 My teacher said,
 "Roll up some paper,
 And stick it up your nose."
 That worked well!
 But where does the snot go?
 My head swelled and swelled,
 Until my brain began to jell!
 I pulled out the paper,
 And let loose a flood.
 Trees fell down!
 And there was lots of mud.
 Before I was swept away,
 A brick mason came by and saved the day!
 "Come on kid, this is no joke!"
 He pulled me in on the end of a rope.
 The brick mason said,
 "I can make you a deal,
 All the snot you make will make it real!
 Come work for me in the brick making factory.
 All the snot you mix in will make the bricks tight!"
 Much to my delight,
 The brick mason was right!
 To this day,
 Right after school.
 I go to the brick factory and let my nose drool!
 In addition to money I make after school,
 I've made friends that see my nose as a tool!
 Even the hospital,
 Came to see,
 When my snot fixed a boy who fell from a tree.
 All of this I did for free.
 Now they call me, "Mighty Squirt"
 And I can be proud of me!
© Kim Stone  Create an image from this poem.

Your Status

You once asked about the intensity of my love for you..
I didn't have anything concrete to say, or something new..
But it has been just two days since we haven't talked..
And miles of emotional distance I've already walked..

I really wanted to discover what you are to me..
So I kept on walking on the street of thoughts, although lonely..
And gradually all things fell into shape..
And I met with the reality which couldn't be escaped..

I found that it was your eyes through which I wanted to see the world..
Around your smile, my happiness swirled..
Your voice was the music for which my ears cried..
It was your heart where I wanted to actually reside..

Your arms would have decided the size of my world..
They were your shoulders on which I wanted my dreams to be unfurled...
They were your fingers in which I wanted my fingers to intertwine.. 
You were the glitter which would have made me shine..

I wanted your hands to remove those hair strands from my face..
I wanted your personality to fill me with grace..
I wanted your hugs to be my sole comfort..
It would have been your hanky which cleaned my face's dirt..

I wanted your aggression to save me from the cruel world..
Around your likings, my choices would have twirled..
Your favorite colored dresses would have filled my showcase..
They were your hands which I wanted to cup around my face.. 

It was your lap which would have been my headrest..
Your appreciation could only bring out my best..
They were your ears in which all my secrets would get revealed..
It was your love which would have been my protective shield..

This is what I discovered during the long walk..
But such a poor timing, that I now don't have you to talk..
I wish you could read this and just signify..
Did you get the reason why I was always the first one to say a "Hi"?
Form: Rhyme

Hanky Panky

Hanky Panky

Honey 
My foot is taping
It’s been a while
I figure it’s gotta be almost
An hour

Baby
You know you 
Drive me crazy
How you do it
Constantly
You tease my eyes
It’s no surprise
Your naughty smiles
Make me so ravenously hungry

Aw come on baby 
My heart is jitterbugging
It’s been a while
At least an hour
I’ve been waiting
Since I had my 
Honey fix

Let’s fool around a bit
And play at hanky panky

You make me crazy
Turn me into 140 pounds
Of Olympian athlete
I need you now sweetie
Just gotta have your kiss
My drug
Is on your lips

Let’s fool around a bit
And play with hanky panky

Baby
I just can’t help it
You’re just so god damn sexy
Even in your rollers 
A radiant beauty 
Even in your bath robe
A bewitchery
Everything about you
Drives me crazy

It’s only been half an hour
You tell me
Feels like longer 
You gotta help me
My blood is all polka dot and jiving
Come on honey
I think I might be dieing
It’s been a while
Must be more than an hour

Let’s fool around
Play together at hank panky

Honey
You know I love you
And how you love me
It’s not my fault
Your wicked eyes are saying
Irresistibly
Maybe
You make my pulse pound
Because I can see
That little wiggle
When you look at me
And that little giggle
Is already playing
With the hanky panky

AW come on Baby
Glide on over
And end my misery
Together we’re just so good
At hanky panky
Exploding sugars
How you make me
Walk the tight rope
Of a single hour
It’s been awhile
Since we got together
And did the hanky panky

Flash those honey eyes
And bat those eyelids
Walk on over
And be my Goddess
It’s been so long since I had your kiss
My drug is on your lips 
I can’t resist
Everything about you
Answers my every wish

Everything about me
Is your hanky panky

Sperm Motility

nature's way of saying
I love what you do with your tongue
mom used to lick her hanky 
to clean my face I want to kill her
aided by my only allies
the hobo armies of doom
resulted in a sweet tooth with no answers
for the impenetrable slits of her eyes
the crowd was aghast 
so I knew we hit the glass jaw
now back to the scheduled program
our man Swigheart Backhoe 
reports from Flat, Nebraska
on the next Heads of Kings exhibit
down at the Crusader camp
I'm trying to figure out why sperm motility
hasn't created a master race yet
The best of millions fighting upstream like 
Steelers' running back Don Quixote
over a million years and we still end up with
politicians with red putty noses that go honk
and readers of the Weekly World News
who renew their state of alarm by the minute
we're not one step closer to kingdom come for it 
sperm motility then is as effective an indicator 
of Darwinian uber selection
as a chicken on a rotisserie spit 
is an indicator of barnyard vitality
you are alive right give yourself a pinch
let's use sperm science to give the 2nd raters
and mediocrities a chance at the brass ova
the modern science of magnification
can certainly arrange for a 
shiftless layabout sperm 
to take a poke at the moon
enough with this Mother Nature swill
put the couch potato, the hysteric
the derelict pants pissing wino sperm 
up the beanpole and see who salutes
Mother Nature eats her young
and writes checks for the 
Eugenics Foundation of Savannah, Africa
does God have someone 
telling him what to think
so go for it you little tadpoles
get in there you little champions


From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/

Hanky Panky

I feel just like that old grey squirrel, 
whose belly is empty as can be.
He keeps on searching for those acorns, 
but he has climbed up a maple tree.

He worked hard and long the whole darn year, 
burying his food out on the lawn. 
But when he went back to grab a snack, 
he had found the whole damn thing was gone.

All because some stupid bureaucrat, 
said he had filled out all the wrong forms.
Now there’s nothing left of his nest egg, 
to help him survive the winter’s storms.

I keep rolling the dice for sevens, 
somehow, I always end up with eight.
Each time I think I’ve reached the garden, 
someone has already locked the gate.

Now I’m too old to hanky panky, 
and I’m too tired to even care.
Point me towards the supper table, 
and just see how fast I’ll make it there.

So don’t dare ask me where I’m going, 
'cause I can’t remember where I’ve been.
I’m sick of always losing the race, 
Just when will it be my turn to win?

Why do I keep reaching for those dreams,
when I know they’re unattainable. 
Anytime I find a little hope, 
I know it is not sustainable.

Yes, I know I’m insignificant, 
you don’t have to keep pointing it out.
I did not fall off the turnip truck, 
with no idea what life’s about.

I know that there are no right answers, 
because it’s all just lies and deceit.
But before I even start the race, 
seems that I have already been beat.

If you gave a penny for my thoughts, 
that’s likely twice what they would be worth.
I may be, ugly, poor, and broken, 
but I’ve always been that way since birth.

All I can hope is when I’m buried 
somewhere beneath a simple grey stone.
That the epitaph carved into it, 
“Here lies a man who didn’t die  alone.”
Form: Rhyme

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