Long In a jiffy Poems
Long In a jiffy Poems. Below are the most popular long In a jiffy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long In a jiffy poems by poem length and keyword.
An ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain
Much like some people I know
Snails can sleep for 3 years without eating
I'm ravenous in an hour or so
A pregnant goldfish is known as a twit
That's a sight I've never yet seen
A giraffe can clean its ears with its tongue
Wondering what else it can clean
The youngest Pope was eleven years old
Barely toilet trained they say
Most lipstick contains stinky fish scales
From kissing I'm staying away
Originally Coca Cola was green in colour
It surely turned off a lot of folks
The dot over the letter “i” is called a tittle
I'm not kidding, it isn't a joke
Donald Duck comics were banned in Finland
Coz he didn't wear anything below
Mel Blanc who was the voice of Bugs Bunny
Was allergic to carrots I'm told
“I am” is the shortest sentence in english
“I'm not” runs a very close second
A Saudi Arabian woman can get a divorce
Without coffee in bed from her husband
A “jiffy” is just a hundredth of a second
I'll be back in a “jiffy” as they say
Sometimes it can stretch to an hour or more
So now what would you call it I pray
© Jack Ellison 2013
What's 111,111,111 times 111,111,111
Answer 12,345,678,987,654,321
Now that's AMAZING!!!
This feeling of bewilderment blows things out of proportion…
Give me whatever advice you’ve got…I’m willing to listen
Why are you looking at me funny?
Why do you like to watch me suffer indecision?
What about I scream in your ears
Maybe you’ll hear…maybe you’ll get the clue
That I care about you…
I thought you knew…you knew…
There. I said it.
If I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t be true
But, it is true…
It’s not something new
Open wide your mouth,
So I can clean it up with words of sincerity
There’s no point in weeping…
No point in sleeping…
There’s a road for you and I to drive on
To drive away the thoughts of being gone
This distasteful dread…this scary experience
Will fade away in due time…
Don’t you worry about a thing
We have to keep moving forward…we can’t look back
I know we both can be get off track
This anxiety of losing you…
This terrible tragedy will not be upon us
Watch your step! Cut off the deadly cancer!
Be wary! Ask me for support when you feel unsure
Are you sure you know where we’re going?
Hey, my eyes see a splendid sight ahead of us…
It’s called Tomorrow as mentioned in my faith-driven dreams
Midnight unveils itself in a jiffy
Our wings are broken; they’re not able to fly
The waves of emotion wash over me and I long to tread
My legs feel like lead…
Where do your winds blow?
And your reply is as soft as smooth butter,
Marinating on warm toast
She said she’d be a minute, that she’d be there in a mo
She called down stairs, “Give me a tick, then I’ll be set to go.”
She said she’d be down shortly, that she’d be down in a flash
She said, “Two shakes of a lamb’s tail and then we’re set to dash.”
She said she’d be no time at all and then we can get on
And then she reassured me that she would be down anon
“In the twinkling of an eye,” she said… but that was rather rash
When she said, “Before you know it,” that was total balderdash
She said, “I’ll be there in a trice,” which sounded rather iffy
But not as bad as when she’d said, “I’ll be down in a jiffy.”
Directly; in an instant; any time now; before long
All these words and more she used… but all of them were wrong
Despairing seafaring..can be
Lore of days of yore
Glories or gory
Bold stories told
Foreshore folklore
Hemingway’s…Old
Man and the Sea
Smiles..feeling chipper
Like a wee nipper
Reeling in a ripper
Serious delirious skipper
No not a wee kipper
More like stealing Flipper (ah remember Flipper)
Sort of caught
Trials snort beguiles
Rather overwrought
Wiles & guile..fraught
Palaver..how they fought
All went iffy in a jiffy
This grouper.. a storm trooper
All came a cropper
Squiffy party pooper
Proper show stopper
The line snipped…then ripped
Pip gripped but it slipped
Flipper well flipped
Hadn't read the script
Skipped...Pip pipped
Tripped then quipped
Simply ill equipped
Despite his devotion
No delish fish
Dish wish delight
In the commotion..swish..
Dipped back into
The ocean it sipped
Ought to remember what
We’ve been taught
Unless it’s been bought
Down at the port
This is a sort of sport
Where nought could be caught
That’s why fishing
Isn’t just dispatching
Santa’s sea grotto
Matching motto hatching
“It ain’t called bloody Catching!”
Death—
I’m the silent noisy appellation
I visit once and not twice,
Now load your luggage in a jiffy,
I have given you galore of time,
Continue in merry making!
For tomorrow might past thee not.
Man—
Ah! I trembled at your sight,
Death! For I have heard thy work,
I have just taken in a wife—
And soon to bore me a son!
Can you give me months or a year?
And I dare not to cross,
The demarcation of my promise,
Or confuse you with magniloquent.
Death—
You have spoken well,
But I’m the spirit that never compromise,
I cannot come again, to reparagraph,
And again, what do I tell my master?
You came unclad and unprepared,
Dare I not for tomorrow shall not pass!
Man—
“What shall I tell my lover?”
That death has come or that my time is gone?
The most random serendipity,
The fate of an expectant couple,
Unrealism frowns mildly in this aegis.
What should I carry along my journey?
The commotion of this overwhelmed...
The sincerity of this metaphor!
The paradox of living, and the vanity of wealth.
Should I bribe death with my mansion?
Or with my scars and flashing cars!
Death—
Why do you worry yourself?
I’m the vagrant of nature, the drift dream:
And I need nothing, so keep those mundane,
For when the hour is come,
My fingers will snatch thy bleeding heart.
I’m the unannounced visitor,
That sits comfortably in your dining chair,
And wait to spell life out of you,
Brook your imbroglio—
Man~~
Uwu! So, this just it all?
The life I have planned ends,
And in second I shall be no more,
Sweat has bathed me....
And heavy throbs have almost pulled the life
Out of my being—
Death is wicked, and death is mean,
Why do you botch the plan of my luxury?
I wail to leave you my love...
Life and death are not fair to me;
The peak of my discernment.
Death—
I corroborate with thy soul to end thee
I’m enigmatic, evasive for I’m death...
Visiting houses and lives at will,
So, I ask soothingly......
Are you ready for me? My venomous;
Is about to visitor a home.
Man—
Kpashi! Uma ka kwagh ga cii,
Alas! The love I promised will go in vain,
Thinking about my solitary journey,
And the euphoria of that grain....
The rising anxiety of a quiet kidney.
Truly! My end has come suddenly...
The onomatopoeia of life,
Crashing, zooming and humming silently.
Wandering the roads. It has me under a spell even at this juncture in my life.
Even when spiked brambles
scrape my eyelids or those tender foot soles are being twisted by tooth-like stones. Quaint and angular they cluster mischievously among
green shoots that litter every footpath.
They lie in wait, in ambush for the absent-minded unsuspecting venturer.
It goes with the territory for this seasoned footman of the road.
The labyrinthine landscapes are house and home to the spiral lanes and clover clad hills rife in my area.
Their rustic heritage now sacrifice to the
orphanage of a malleable environment
Crop farmers obsessed with harvest bounty.
Restless developer pushing limits of an urban jungle. Fellow traveller in league with those fugitives from the cockpit.
The pressure cooker of modern life. Town habitant with split loyalties who clings to tumults of the city but hankers after rural haunts of yore.
Culprits one and all.
A lair from the hubbub.
Dwellings of the strangest kind huddle together like dots in a matrix separated only by a minuscule space.
Their charm not yet eroded by intrusions of the steel plant genus.
Brick and mortar athletes of homes in a jiffy.
The more alluring aspects of tradition have been fostered and preserved.
Among these are the shortcuts or bypasses of a different more sustainable engagement
Sequestered passages that shave miles off perennial ramblers with a penchant for straying off course.
Saviours of the clueless hitchhiker whose load saps his or her every energy.
One’s eye becomes a lense to all these things hidden or supposedly hidden.
Optic sensor to those trails just slightly out of focus.
Those tucked away secret spots beloved of local wiseacres.
They festoon far flung countrysides at random. Here there and everywhere.
Posted ; April 2nd 2022
"Drunk as a skunk"
Flimsy after whimsy
Flunk and debunk
Or mastered getting "plastered"
"Tipsy as a gypsy"
Sunk like a monk
Miss nights out "on the p*ss"
We shan't blush...can't hush
Us as we gush about the rush
Bliss to kiss the alcoHOLE abyss
Have a crush on the plush
Flush flights of a proper "lush"
Grinned while you sinned
Smile..getting in a right mess
Room spinned ... plans binned
Betting the style's "blotto" lotto
Pinned motto bless the "legless"
Jolly golly gosh "sloshed"
What beats "3 sheets to the wind"
Need a slash..have to crash
After being out on the lash
"Smashed"..bish bash boshed
'Off your trolley" wally or dolly
Bedazzled frazzle on the razzle
Laughter after a dafter shindig swig
On the "sozzle"..off his head ..off to bed
Reason for that big red schnozzle
Let's be frank those who get "tanked"
Get thanked...no..blanked & spanked
Don't deride those who decide
To get plied with or "pie eyed" with pride
Have a tiff with those who chose skew whiff
No need upsetting or fretting
Over a drunkard with a tankard
Rum dumb herbert on the sherbert
Woozy boozy floozy doozy
Getting whistle whetting "wanker*d"
Abuser..winner or loser
The boon of the last saloon
All soon forgetting having hankered
For.. then regretting that final boozer
"Wasted"...sauce basted I stammered
Could've plucked for being "f**cked"
Decoded it besetting with maybe "loaded"
Why's he passed on the class "rat-arsed"
Not fussed..nonplussed he cussed
Sussed just with mates getting 'hammered"
So don’t muzzle the "guzzler"
Cripple the ripple of the "tippler"
Can’t match "down the hatch"
Or sip & sup..because "bottom’s up"
No frowning cake-hole sold on downing
Beer.. .neck oil by heck will spoil our laughing gear
Crowning the glory or gory story
Comedy gold told of being "arsehol*d"
Ickle fickle wee "pickled" trickle tickle
Temptation of a nifty sneaky shifty
Iffy & squiffy in a jiffy veneration
Don't be piddly about diddly while tiddly
They might from afar mutter
Wot a nutter...one too many jars
One too many bars ..not caring...I would utter
Have a flutter...I’m lying in the gutter
Rego & I flying while staring at the stars
You took off for Christmas and New Years Eve, and you came back high and chirpy with a rosy face looking like daisy blended with charming lips and an attitude that could pull me off the cliff. I saw you sitting there, acting as if you don’t care, you are so obsessed with the show and I have no other place to go but to sit and watch you and try to get a sensible clue from you. But the hours slip by quickly and the show ended in a jiffy leaving me high and dry with a new ambition waving in the sky.
Suddenly everything around me become obsolete but hopes catapult me to my feet, there was nothing to hold to and a sudden emptiness that I have been fighting for weeks captivate my body. I took a walk up the street hoping to find someone to lay it on, but no one was there, but the cars driving along the street they were just few but they appears to be many.
I walked into the grocery store and stood behind the door so as not to distract the customers, the shopkeeper saw me and wave to me. She forced a smile and went around the back and left me standing there looking in despair as the harshness of life has taken its tolls in the environment and everyone was paying the price.
I felt the tears springing up in my eye and suddenly I started to cry. I tried desperately to hold back the tears so as not to embarrass myself on the spot and so I suppressed the emotion. My body took on a different figure and I could feel all my joints getting stiff and so I clenched my fist and stood silently behind the door and I could hear my own heart beat racing towards the shore and my body moving to an unfamiliar rhythm. The customers come and go staring at me with budging eyes, some had no purpose there they only wanted to look at me.
I kept squeezing the tears inside hoping someone could understand how I feel and touch the pain in me. But my spirit kept draining and my heart continue to ache. I bid the shopkeeper goodbye and venture out the door stumbling on the brumby side walk until I was able to hold my grounds. I walked slowly along the path and each step that I take I could hear your voice shaking and telling me to go. I like watching the show because that’s the only time I can be with you. My hands are stiff my heart is pounding and my soul is waiting for you. Just one more day and I will board the plane and go away from this wretched place.
Still baronial the feudal caboodle at the home of cricket
Colonial testimonial for a posh canoodle should picket
Ben used his noodle & won’t see Crawley surely nick it
Purely those who chose bacon egg clothes got a ticket
Neighbourhood of dons not wrong uns in St Johns Wood
Confess is a public school caress where members stood
Impress hamper-ed pampered and champered so good
Largesse epicurean finesse with Eton Mess for your pud
Spiffy faction only see pithy fraction of the action perhaps
Sniffy Telegraph on laps drinking clinking sinking schnapps
Aristocrat sippers in Gucci slippers round neck cravat wraps
Squiffy slumbers sarnies with cucumbers smoked salmon baps
Maps round the ground laps for the sound hand pull taps
Recover in the bar batters flaps to cover another collapse
Diehards doing hard yards tryhards with lanyards on apps
Iffy in a jiffy encumbers fiesta to siesta and afternoon naps
Real fans do obsess about the Black cap chaps prowess
Claps & reciprocal back slaps for underdogs feisty scraps
Kiwi bowlers wrist snaps out of the traps can be express
Batters when matters fielders energy saps finding the gaps
Rare Lords success Bazball under duress feeling the stress
Mystery..artistry...history of the Test tapestry fills me with glee
MCC forever twee picky with bow of dickie for every wannabe
Oh yippee will be many a yuppy but sadly not really any Kiwi
And poorer sorts without Sky Sports can’t even see it on TV
Blowers basked in causing quite an iffy stir with his devious quip & slur on a previous Ashes trip…mischievous when tasked Customs asked do you have a criminal record, Sir ?
Delicious not really malicious..the Aussies beaten by the squiffy mellow spiffy commentary don from Eton.. as he did bellow in a jiffy "why my dear old fellow..do I need one?"
The blizzards of OZ.. team and crowd are bullishly proud about how it’s not allowed for them to be kowtowed..having the fizz to do the biz in any tizz..so crass..brash and loud.. Vultures
Which is why I still enjoy how that blonde boy.. sometime fool or tool & England envoy Lord Fauntleroy (yep Gower) did annoy .. as public school cruel did rule..
Dave did wave from his Ivory Tower...mean as Jardine made them glower when asked what he thought about the cricketing war between two powers & Cultures..
Like a lush lefty skied cover drive…the plush curly exponent hard as he tried couldn't hide enjoying the moment & ride...
As a proponent of some early hurly burly.. made them smart..denied being snide but slyly wryly and dryly replied without hesitation
The baronial blondie or country squire fondly did chide and deride with his aside..
Did confide the question implied but lied that there was actually factually a plied allied Culture..
Or indeed an applied appreciation of art in this dire Colonial upstart nation & his opponents entire side..