Long Huffed Poems
Long Huffed Poems. Below are the most popular long Huffed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Huffed poems by poem length and keyword.
The Monarch Who Thought He Was King
Once there was a butterfly
who fluttered by a gate.
The gate was closed, that’s when he said,
“O shucks, now I’ll be late!”
He danced and pranced and shouted
and did not hesitate,
“I demand,” he said with power,
“please, open up this gate!”
To his surprise before his eyes
the gate did open wide.
“A lovely thing; I am the king!
I’m surely qualified.
I had no choice so with my voice
the command I simplified:
‘Just open up this gate!
I need to get inside.’”
He told to all who’d hear him:
“I am the King,” he said.
While some bowed down and listened;
some would not turn their head.
They huffed and puffed and scoffed away,
“We’re sure that you misread.
To open up a gate is easy;
like falling out of bed!”
His shoulders drooped, his forehead sagged;
his eyes filled up with tears,
“You cannot make me less a king
with your scoffing and your sneers.
I am the king,” he fluffed with pride,
“the ruler of my peers.”
Then off he flew without a thought
of all their laughs and jeers.
He fluttered to a purple bush;
the hue fit for a king.
And there he sat to contemplate
and other kingly things.
“I’ll show them all; the small and tall,
and all the scoffs they bring.
A proclamation for my nation:
we’ll hold a royal fling.”
From low and high, from far and near
they gathered close to see
the monarch make his grand command
and show his identity.
A thousand monarch butterflies
watched with frivolity
with five or six ambassadors
from the queendom of the bees.
And there he came with pomp and pride
the self-made king to share
he was a monarch butterfly
and worthy of their care.
He preened his wings and listened for
the sound of his fanfare,
but all he heard was rustling wind
which threw him in the air.
He crashed and tumbled to the floor;
they could not believe their eyes.
The kingdom they had counted on
was built on fibs and lies.
The king was crumpled to the ground
ashamed in his demise.
He let the rain fall down on him
from clouds in the gray skies.
And then he woke up from his nap
and turned inside his bed.
He saw the flowers of his home
of purple, blue, and red.
Right then and there he promised
and to himself he said,
“I’ll be the best of butterflies,
than to be king instead.”
It was my dream to go to the gym.
I promised myself, I would.
Days passed by,
I told myself,
‘I must work, I should.’
Far from work, I took to rest,
As others huffed and puffed.
The mirror mocked, my muscles did,
As people looked and coughed.
‘Nothing’s wrong’, I told myself,
An hour’s walk would do.
I circled my garden twice a day,
The blood in my veins coursed through.
Mother had fought her fear for long,
Our thoughts had strained her nerves.
Bereft of company, my father had left
Emptiness in voluminous curves.
I tried to be that mother was--
to my sister to live it through.
Carried the weight of pain in sleep
My lie was rebuild anew.
(Then) Mother passed to the other realm.
My sister suffered the loss.
I tried in vain, to ease her pain.
Feelings had turned to frost.
Summer set in, with strong disdain,
As I struggled to fill the blank.
Philosophy, logic nothing worked.
My heart, I felt, it sank.
In trepid and unease, I composed myself
With fear still to ruin.
Practice should work in protest, thought I,
and restored the dream within.
Not yet----
Then when it rained and the ground was wet
I charmed myself indoors.
Damsels flashed their figures shaped.
I watched my favorite videos.
My friend advised, my sister too,
Served me food that’s bland.
I gifted myself with a treat sometimes,
Till I got myself scanned.
The reports showed a lot of load
My knees had taken for long.
The doctor advised to shed some flesh.
I felt I’d write my song.
I lived a lie that I was fine,
Though arteries and veins did scream.
Of what is going to happen with age.
I laughed out the pain within.
While I prepped to battle my pain,
A fear lingered to the brim.
I finally decided to give it a shot
And tired myself in the gym.
The promise was kept as authored by me.
A story that could’ve been short not long.
I suffered pain, to keep myself
From the lie that held me wrong.
A lie that said, I was well--
Though in me, I was not.
That flashed a smile, I regret,
The emptiness in me had brought.
The sweat in pain, I no longer refrain
From working my sinews an hour.
Slowly I stretch the muscles of my heart,
Under Time’s shady bower.
Run, Girl, Run
She was just eleven, small and spry,
Her father said, “You’re due, oh my…”
A spanking, harsh, the kind she knew,
But this time she thought, “Not today, not you.”
He called her brothers, big and loud,
“Go catch your sister—make me proud!”
She took off running, barefoot and wild,
With twenty meters head start, a desperate child.
The boys gave chase, they huffed, they cried,
But with every step, she multiplied
The space between, she flew like wind—
The girl they thought was small and pinned.
Her father stood and scratched his head,
Watching the blur of her legs as she fled.
The next day came, he had a plan,
Took her to school, proud as a man.
“Test her,” he said, “not with her age.
Put her with girls two years ahead on the stage.
She’ll outrun them all, I swear she might—
But if she doesn’t, she’ll get it tonight.”
They marked the track, a 1200-meter race,
She stepped on the line, fear in her face.
Not fear of losing or shoes that pinched—
But of that spanking if she flinched.
They said, “You’ll get tired, slow it down.”
But she didn’t hear them, not a sound.
All she saw was a belt and a chair,
So she ran like her life depended on air.
She broke every record, flew past the pack,
Not once did she stumble, not once look back.
The coaches screamed, “She’s one of a kind!
This girl’s got fire, this girl can fly!”
Districts called, and her name was known,
For once, she felt like she’d found a home.
Her father smiled, stood proud in the sun,
For that whole season, she was someone.
He talked to her, coached her like gold,
Like all her worth was speed to behold.
Her mother frowned, her siblings hissed,
Jealous of the praise that she had missed.
The mother drove, but her smile was tight,
She kept the times but burned with spite.
Couldn’t stand how the girl had shone,
Or how her father clapped her on.
Then the season ended—just like that—
No more tracks, no starting mats.
And just as quick, the warmth withdrew,
The house turned cold, and silence grew.
She was a ghost again in her own home,
A record-breaker left alone.
But deep inside, she still held tight
The memory of that run, that flight.
The Lockdown Phase
Shrooti Singh
"Never got an opportunity to have lunch with family! ",uttered father. His ecstatic face imparted the delectation and his longing to lunch with his children.
Hard pressed under the strenuous work load, he was always unable to manage time for the homely menage.
It was for the first time due to the Lockdown that not only he but the entire family was bought under the same roof.
Getting back to home for almost after a year, my Mom receiving me with her eyes welled up with the love and care for her child through centuries, a shower of her immense adoration and bliss, making me realize there's no heaven above your mother's station.
"Pass the chapatis, honey! ",urged my father. "Yes, darling ",Mom replied.
A long lively conversation, exchange of jokes and memory daily on the dining table made my day, for me it was not a clamp down of the regular flow of life rather a cage of jubliance and a sense of satisfaction as I never saw my family laughing in a single smile altogether .
"This is luscious! ",we all exclaimed unanimously ,licking our fingers.
In the dearth of various food and household items, my mother regularly maintaining our house and preparing one dish to another, bringing the restaurant at home,doing all sorts of effort for whom? For us... This demonstrates what a house lady can do all alone on her own. Seeing this, me, father and my brother joined her.
"Can't do more...Need rest.. ",I huffed. Up till now we all have learned a lot of cooking, cleaning and the art of keeping household. "Really, it requires a lot of strength and patience ! " mumbled my father to me.
Me attending my classes online, studying and preparing for exams, meanwhile pursuing my passion of writing on the other hand my father carrying out his professional work, playing his old flute all at home, never thought that we would be able to
utilize such a time together.
"What else could be better! To help prevent the pandemic by staying at home with loved ones, performing our basic duties, helping others and donating the every way we can.", we all agreed.
Form:
I had a niece named Karen who
at twenty has mapped out a plan
for a 'strong, independent life',
she’d be 'dependent on no man.'
And, oh, she took such pride in that,
her college had made her this way,
but badmouthing men for the past
seems quite dumb, so I had my say:
“While I cannot disagree that
women once needed men to survive,
or even that it was dependence,
but with perspective you will find
“that woman may have needed men
to have a good supply of cash,
if you look closer at marriage,
it’s far more complicated than that.
“While the women back then had to
be quite dependent on their men,
the man then were dependent too,
quite dependent on their women.
“If a man want to have a home
that was even worth inhabiting,
he could not do this on his own
when out for twelve hours working.
“There simple wasn’t time enough
when out all day plowing things up,
if a man didn’t have a wife
he’d have little more than a hut.
“And then there also are children,
the only way most men live on,
few are writers or geniuses,
so who recalls us when we’re gone?
“They were dependent on women
not just to make the kid exist,
but to mold that man’s dear child,
to teach them to live and persist.
“To take the soul you value most,
then entrust it to another…
Men were totally dependent on
the woman they chose as mother.
“Also consider the fact that men
are wired to show love through sex,
just like romance is for women,
and though this leaves some ladies vexed,
“it’s how men are put together,
for guys to give and receive love
they again rely on women,
without them their emotions get rough.
“In nations where men can’t get this
their aggression will destabilize
the society around them,
they depend on women to survive.
“So don’t say this goes all one way
when you whine about dependence,
honestly, is seems that we are
engineered to be compliments.”
I hoped she’d find some use for this,
but I guess, for now, I was wrong,
she huffed and stormed out of the room,
the indoctrination is strong.
Amazing acrobats astound awe-stricken audiences. Amy always asks about acts already arranged.
Bouncing bears balance beach balls. Bobby Bear bicycled behind Betsy Bear.
Crazy clowns crash carelessly. Carousels circle clockwise.
Daring demonstrations dazzle dazed dreamers. Dopey donkeys dance diligently.
Elegant elephants elate everyone, eating everything enjoyable. Eight elephants execute exciting entertainment.
Forty-five feisty flamethrowers fiercely fight fires.
Great Gambino gulps gigantic gems gingerly, giving gasping gazers giggles. Genuine gigantic gorillas gaze goofily.
Hefty horses heave hefty hounds, howling harmoniously. Heavyweights hurl hug hippos. “Hasn’t hurt him,” Hugo Heavy huffed.
Iris indicated it’s impolite if I’m interested in inquiring into immersion into icing.
Joshua juggled joyfully. Jeremiah just jumped jackasses.
Kissing kangaroos kiss kids kindly. Karate kicking kids keep kicking.
Lions lounge lavishly leaving lookers laughing loudly. Lollipop licking llamas licked Lional Lion lovingly.
Many men make mountainous merriment. Mules march, munching Mayberries.
Nineteen nutty nags named Nancy nudge naysayers near nets.
Orange orangutans obey old-timers, opening obese objects.
Portly Peter Penguin parades past pretty Penny Penguin. Penny paused, politely preening. People purchase peanuts.
Quilting-bee queens quickly quiet quails. Quarantined quibbling quackers quickly quiet.
Rabbits run rampant. Robert requests refreshments.
Silly seals steamroll stalled stallions, snorting soundly. Six stallions stomp successively, surrounding such silly seal.
Tumblers take to the trapeze. Three tall tents tower, taller than two tightropes, two trapezes, three tumblers.
Ursula untied ugly umbrellas.
Vexed Venetians volleyed violently.
Wondrous wide-eyed watchers wooed weighted-down wagons.
X-rays x-hausted Xena
Youngsters yelled, yanks yelped.
Zany Zelda’s zebras zigzagged.
Like any family, mine’s the same, they leave Mama with the dirty Chores.
You’d think with Trolls, and Dragons, and such… There’d be magic galore!
But I concede defeat at Pooper Scooping Time, my sons taught everyone well.
You’d think just once, they wouldn’t run away, with such a humongous bombshell.
The Witch next door is out of town; she usually uses it to fertilize her yard.
Her magic does it in a minute flat, but she’s not here, as my yard becomes marred.
She flew on vacation with the first snowfall; in spring she’ll help my backyard.
In the meantime it’s just little old me… It’s like cleaning out a yucky stockyard.
So I gave a shovel to a grouchy old Dragon, since he’s so big and does so much.
But I came back fricasseed and charbroiled, my shovel totally melted, as such.
I put on my fire retardant suit, and I gave him a special spot where he can unload.
Apparently he didn’t like that either, as I dug out from under a humongous load.
Finally, raking it all up, I ask the dragon, to make cinders of the yucky stuff.
Instead he laughed as he huffed and puffed, blowing smoke at me, in a huff.
I smelled kinda bad as I went to the house, getting a cart to fill to the brim.
I’ll admit, getting mad at a dragon was never a good idea, to originally begin.
But I was pissed, as it looked like rain, and my mind was beginning to spin.
I filled the cart to overflowing, then tied it to the sleeping dragon’s… butt end.
When he woke up, he flew half way up to the moon, spreading it on the wind.
Unfortunately it was me, my yard, and my house, that finally got it again.
Who knows where that darned old cart now lies, as he came flying back alone.
I had learned my lesson that it would never be wise to lose my temper again.
So as the rain began to wash my folly away, I looked up and kissed the rain.
Sometimes it’s prudent, to just relax, and get in touch with the elements again.
Can't Punk this game, this game is not made to be punked/
I'm not just any grain, I'm the one grain that stands out/
You used to be planted here, now you're just a stump/
And since you think you're criss cross, I'll make you jump/
Trying to punk this game, you're wasting your time/
And time is money so you not making a dime/
You're facing a steep hill, it's something to climb/
It's too hard to swallow, your mind is never mine/
When you think, it's blank, so your checks are the same/
You're running around in circles, it's an endless game/
You can call for my help, but you can't call for free/
You can start by calling 1 800 I need a beat/
Or you can call 1 800 set me free/
And beg me please, because it's me that you need/
I can give you some pointers, and show you the moves/
But it's more than just talent, you need the groove/
You need the shoes because you can't walk in mine/
So if you tell yourself you can, you'll just be lying/
This game is not for everyone, I set the bar/
And I'm too efficient, so I'm setting it far/
If this game can be punked, I wouldn't be the best/
And from the eye test, I passed every test/
Dotted every I, crossed every t/
The jury is out and I never took a plea/
Because I never done the crime/
I know I shine the hardest, they call me LED/
The greatest of my time, I'm the young Bruce Lee/
You can call me a King but I'm really a God/
I set off drums, I shred that guitar with a simple head nod/
You see the head bob, that means they feeling me/
Every show I do, I sweep the stage clean/
In the metal game, I made my house of stone/
You made your's of stone so your house is gone/
I huffed and puffed and blew it away/
The big bad bully and I'm clearly here to stay/
This metal game is punk proof you can't Punk this game/
Maybe once before but this another time frame/
It started out as just a lark
Just a flirtation in the park
But suddenly we'd lit a spark
Enough to make the doggies bark
We were like runners on their mark
And on a search for that lost ark
We'd not be hampered by the dark
Desire was high, the need was stark
It would only take one remark
Then loud and clear came the call, "Hark!"
We looked together through thick trees
And I saw her eyes roll ,"Oh, please"
There came a small one with patched knees
One of the Irish we call "Wees"
He'd been running hard hence his wheeze
That created a sort of breeze
"Why are you here? Is it to please?"
"Nay, but to save you from the 'Threes'
A union here before first freeze
Gives birth to one he and two shes"
Who would not laugh at such a joke
But the Wee one looked near to stroke
He huffed and swelled ready to croak
We laid him in shade on my cloak
He looked so sad, that little bloke
Like a fried egg without a yoke
As usual for the wee folk
And so we left him there to soak
Then prayed aloud he would not choke
And rest awhile until he woke
The spark was gone we gave a sigh
Thought of love and we wondered why
That little man was passing by
And interrupted, my oh my
What was to be our own first try
A time to recall that first lie
That sparked the love when we were shy
And remember until we die
But we had other eggs to fry
We could but laugh and just say "Aye"
We lived our lives and bit the shark
That turned our paths in such an arc
And laughed about that piece of cheese
Who kept us from a little sleaze
A time we lived though we were broke
And saved our love for that first poke
Our happiness can make me cry
But then I laugh till they're dry
Bless the Wee one's heart and bless me
I would have died if I'd birthed three
10-9-19
Contest:Ludix-Rym
Sponsor: Lu Loo
Miss Muffet sat upon a velvet stool
I know 'twas a tuffet; learned that in school
But Muffy was the tart
Who broke the spider's heart
I'm telling the story, so shut up, fool!
Humpty Dumpty had no wisdom at all
That stupid raw egg sat upon a wall
Tempting luck, he gambled
Kerplunk...he got scrambled
Oh what dire fate for an egg to befall
Robbie Rabbit had a fly on his head
It flitted to his tongue where it fell dead
Robbie's halitosis
Was a bad neurosis
He was banished before allowed to spread
The scoop on gardener, Mary Mary
Is she liked to sip Bristol creme sherry
Her tummy was growing
Pregnancy was showing
The dad? Tom, Dick, Harry; maybe Jerry
Jill followed Jack up that hill on a whim
She thought he was cheating on her with Kim
The buxom preacher's daughter
Jill was jailed for slaughter
She beat both of them with Jack's bloody limb
Such a bad little boy was Jack Horner
Spent many hours in the time out corner
Jack was dumber than dumb
Ate plum pie with his thumb
Wagged his purple tongue at each laughing scorner
There was a speedy racer, called the hare
He was so fast, thought he'd have time to spare
The tortoise whooped his butt
The hare shouted some smut
I won't repeat it. No way I'm going there!
I read the tale about Cinderella
Who went to a ball to snag a fella
Bippity boppity boo
She ran off and lost a shoe
And stepped in some sticky mozzarella
Hey, where are ya going, Baa Baa, black sheep
Leaving your meadow, Master, you're a creep
You sheared off my wool
Tired of your bull
I'm joining the herd of Little Bo Peep
Three oinkers built houses with diverse ideas
Straw and sticks? Those guys drank too many beers
The bad wolf huffed and puffed
Piggy three had him handcuffed
The bricker was much shrewder than his peers