Long Heels Poems
Long Heels Poems. Below are the most popular long Heels by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Heels poems by poem length and keyword.
Who else in the city staking paper like l am doing?
I have been around the block but the Gucci and Galbanas got me looking kinda different.
People really love me they will be asking for them autographs , l be like no , no l got a flight to catch , no time to chill got to make more deals so she gets more heels just to avoid the feels.
Every time the blues on me l just roll and sip some till my heart tells me yeah let's do it again!
Life has been bumpy ever since l won the lottery, sleepless nights on rooftops blowing dollars like we bowlers , partying on a Tuesday in a suit and spending pounds let the Queen call a meeting!
If this is a dream don't wake me up l am to slumber in heaven.
Pilfers into preachers through my work now that's a blessing.
Used to be a berger , now they beg me to stay but they never wanted me near them until God raised me from the dead!
The essences of beauty
This admiration
her walk her appearance
a stunning performance
of perfection
She walked timely to
the grooves basset riffs
Making the most caring of
men stop to watch her
One fella called her the
shamanistic Satan
Her body made men
want to know her story
One on looker grabbed
his bass and riffed
Mocking her walk
The other grabbed his
guitar and whispered
the treble
Grooving until she
Stood before them
She pulled up her skirt
in and kicked off her
heels and danced
In front of her
Shiney new car
Grooving
Moving
Dancing
A
Sensual dance
Ooh wee
We circled the wagon
and watched
Yellow high heels shoes *** A sunshine day
Red high heels shoes *** Smiles to the day, in love with life
Black high heels shoes *** Elegant .....sexy
Pumps *** A busy lady
Shoes with ribbon on *** Love that little extra
Tall Boots *** Autumn is coming
Mountain shoes *** Full of excitement
Sneakers *** Matthew likes them
Colorful shoes *** A fun person
Shoes with laces *** Laces in many colors .... cool
Summer Sandals *** Happy with the air on your toes
Flip Flops *** Becca use them
Shoes that squeak *** Poor quality
Flats shoes *** Free and light on your feet
Morning shoes *** The day has not started yet
Gold shoes *** It is not real gold
Silver shoes *** Look how nice they shine
Glass shoes *** Cinderella
Bathing shoes *** Wet .....
Rubber boots *** Keep your feet dry
Great big shoes *** Clown
Grandma shoes *** Old and tired
Grandpa shoes *** Old and broken
Small shoes *** Cute little chubby feet
Borrowed Shoes *** Too big or too small
Party shoes *** So nice you are
Old shoes *** Buy new !
- What can your shoes tell?
05.09.2013
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
...
I asked the wee Munchkins, "Which way do I go?"
Figured since they lived here, they would be in the know.
But they looked at me uncertainly, scared of the witch.
Then realizing she was dead; they did a double take
and said, "Follow the yellow brick road without a hassle,
through the blooming poppy field but stay awake,
then on past the shire you will find an emerald castle."
After a drugged nap among the poppies with new friends,
I'd found along the way; I skipped on the yellow bricks
that came to an abrupt end without paying dividends.
I was definitely lost; not in paradise that was for sure,
but in a place, I soon feared would not take me home.
This was a strange land I'd rather not have to endure.
I'd heard about the wizard, the greatest mind in Oz
but one who never showed his face, for goodness sake!
Toto exposed the rake when he opened the curtain wide,
and there was the Mighty Wizard, where he chose to hide.
Anger raged in my heart, and I chided him for his sham.
Admittedly, he confessed although I knew he was a flake.
Said he wanted to feel important, and his name was Sam.
Now, how was I supposed to get home back to Aunty Em?
My friends found what they needed; I was glad for them.
At least the Scarecrow got a brain. No fear he'd be burned.
The Tin Man had a heart and Lion had courage he'd earned.
I'm thankful for the wicked witch's shiny red ruby slippers
that good witch, Glenda told me I should keep on my feet,
for by clicking their heels would I wake from this nightmare.
I'm in Kansas, but should've wished for Paris, or anywhere!!
Twenty-twenty one will be a year full of glad.
I am determined to eliminate all signs of mad or sad.
I will hold up my imaginary stop sign if gloomy thoughts arrive.
Deciding rather to conjure up joyful memories in fours and five.
Twenty-twenty one is going to be a fresh start, every day.
If we get to take off masks, I will hug, kiss, and appreciate good play.
My friends and family will come back, and everyone will smile
Forgetting separation of last year that kept us waving cross a mile.
Twenty-twenty one will be a year to go out to eat with my friends.
Our laughter traveling across a restaurant, love that never ends.
I'll recall the good times of other years when fear was not around.
I'll appreciate simple pleasures like air, water, peace, and clean ground.
Twenty-twenty one will be a year to do all the things I never did.
A year to kick up my heels, and travel from Egypt to Madrid.
A year to meet new people, exchange phone numbers and pray.
A year that effectively has taken the Covid-19 truly well away.
Twenty-twenty one will be a year to do the things I want to do.
To dance my happy dance, and write poems in bunches of twenty-two.
To draw cartoons, and paint canvases in oranges, yellows and lime.
Twenty-twenty will truly be the best year yet, wonderful this time!
She wails over the clasped corpse,
the sound ricocheting across the classroom
entwining with other morose voices,
baking the atmosphere in melancholy,
and immersing the cacophony of wails and squealing.
into shouts and screams of aghast lads and lasses.
Mothers, brought in haste by news of woe
and Witnessing Barbarity in first ordeal;
for such was the scene on that campus,
and astir was the town.
Rocking to and fro was the nation
With breathes, held in fright and trepidation.
The left wing said 'Nay".
The right wing said "Nay."
Speculations clashed on streets
as who could be this bloody
For the Kids in neutrality
now repose in butchery.
From the town, some took to their heels
just to alight back months later
and be mocked by same wordings:
"welcome to Kumba".
Hitherto, a mystery it remains,
but the pains still lingers
and all what remains
is the mounds of Earth,
that separates they, from us.
© Temajung Michael T.
I can hear the village cry from the middle of the sky; I can hear the village cry but there is none to give a Bligh. The earth is saturated with dust and debris from meteorite thundering from space, but I was just in time to move from that place before the meteorite explodes in my face. I can hear the village cry as daylight breaks through the sky, heaven rains upon them but the devil have them trapped in the lion’s dens. There is no investment there and that reality has caused the people to fear, the adults are hustling on the side to keep afloat the village people’s pride. It’s the future that stares them in their bare faces and the truth running a marathon in the sun, with bruised heels and cracked lips. The reality of life is so strong that the young and old cannot understand. You wait for something positive to happen, but all you hear is grumbling and complaining all over the place and everyone jockeying for a powerful place. Angry faces stares at you and you just don’t know what to do; this thing has destroyed so many people’s lives, and it has caused many fights and painful sacrifice; broken family, broken homes, broken relationship and broken bones, and broken tracks where the tiger roams. It is something that you cannot fix, even if you pray all day under the crucifix. I can hear the village cry a thousand miles above the sky. The people have clashed into the street, and they are complaining in the sweltering heat, I wish if I can do something to ease the pain, even if I had nothing to gain. Water is springing up all over the place and the people are drowning in it, so get ready to evacuate from that place and move to a new place. All around is Chinese grocery store but there is nothing to open the village people’s door. There is no employment there and there is little to share. I can hear the village people cry, so do something before they die. Tears are pain, tears are joy, tear are shame, so meet with me at Bennett Lane tonight at nine to solve the village people’s cry.
The heel grabber
from birth, until deception called out.
Jacob loved to dish out
soup, thick with red gravy.
His twin jealous for
that heavy satisfying sup
but fate would betray him
as would his belly ach(ing).
Esau, translated
would be “Harry,” changed
from hairy and was he red
or the living end…do I digress…
Jacob held on for dear life,
as he like many second born,
wanted to be first. And his dear mama,
bless her heart, heard from God -
Rebecca wondered what the wrestling
in her womb was all about.
She thought, ‘must be boys.’
She thanks God for the dynamic duo
but knows that God has chosen
numero two. She favors Jacob
as her husband clings to his firstborn,
Esau, that macho hunter.
Jacob is a mama’s boy
but would have to flee
after deceitfully gaining
his brother’s birthright.
Of course Esau sold it
precariously for a bowl
of stew and their blind dad
would be tricked too.
Jacob ran from his land
as his brother wanted to Cain him,
in other words murder was on his mind.
Uncle Laban took him in.
Back in that time
cousins would marry
and Jacob fell head over heels
for the beautiful Rachel.
In the dark, they made love
to consummate their marriage
after working seven years
for her dear old dad…
except Laban slipped his firstborn
under those covers,
and the heel grabber
would have to work seven more
so he could have the object
of his affection. (Slighted Leah
was given many more children
as God saw her plight.)
After all those deceitful years,
returning to his rightful place,
he wrestled an angel of God.
He wouldn’t let go until God blessed him —
that heel grabber had tightened his grip,
until he was blessed and unhinged his hip.
As the angel touched Jacob’s socket
and changed his name to Israel.
3/15/2022
Genesis 25:19 - 32:32
Written: August 4, 2026 for a contest by Silent One
Quote: "All opposites unite, All that is profane becomes sacred again." By Rumi.
******************
I move through the dusk
where the air feels half-holy, half-feral—
a thin-veined shimmer
trembling between grace and grit.
Some nights, the mind cleaves
like a slow-burn seedpod,
one part stretching skyward,
one part anchoring in dark loam
where old impulses hush and hear.
A drumbeat in that place—
A firm, orotund thrum
like aureole tracing archaeology of rust
like a breath caught
at the threshold of ardor and augury
I've felt the infinite in finite foofaraw
a faint flare of a fancy
that flouts all fetters
the way a memory falters
and still summons song.
the way serendipity sidles sunward
And sails, steers by secret stars
And I've peered past the profane.
in the pellucid, pearl-lit moments:
a misshaped munificence of misery
a molded by mourning mercy,
a trembling truth that teeters
but never topples.
Both breathe beneath—
the balm and the bruise
the straight line and the stumble,
the silence and the thunder.
I walk with them
as if they were twin shadows
weaving at my heels,
each whispering
its untamed vision
of what I might become.
I hope you will be my last Ex
No human, shall come between us apart from death
I save my breath
for you to inhale, 4,5 & 6
No affection will be greater than this
I will take you places including Paris
I love black high heels
This agony, only you can heal
Your soft skin, is a cure
To my past wounds, you are pure
You are my autumn season
That blossoms these roses for sure
You heart is a safe prison
I want not to escape this future
To the love of my life
I want you to see these flaws
The flaws that flow from my vein
I inherited, jealousy and resilience
Patience and tolerance
I will be your definition of perfection
Your Alpha-Bird and Bed
I have two hearts
The first is my late grandfather's hat
if it's not on my bald head, it's on my wooden table
I create memories to keep
The second, is the woman I will own
My Delilah and secret keeper
I'm short of words
In my silence, feel the love
Your tears, is the last thing I would forever wish to see.
Your soulmate
Mr. John Kazadi