Long Insinuating Poems

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


Blech impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea

Blech - impossible mission to savor mug of ginger tea...

When the entire mug awash
with floating leavings
by golly by gosh,
sipping said herbal brew
analogous challenge
to eat spaghetti squash
with one chopstick.

Earlier yesterday February twenty fourth
two thousand twenty four
found yours truly (me)
blithely consuming delicious
La COLOMBE DOUBLE LATTE
cold iced latte, complete
with a frothy layer
of milk and a touch of sugar.

Lower gastrointestinal war civil
immediately declared
because yours truly beleaguered
by lactose intolerance.

Courtesy veritable sweet tooth
(er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing,
gobstopping, feasting immediate laxative
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful

cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart, who unwittingly
prepared spot of tea), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly ill loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent

whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!

Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome approximately
twenty four hours ago
from Saturday February twenty fifth
two thousand twenty four
me quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously for
two whit tuss lee drab
characterized local buttuck blaster
also hashtagged endearment
as bubble butt.

Now shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister jump/kick starting heavenly 
gourmet deluxe cheese cake?
Form: Rhyme


Poem- Salt Poet- Aditya Aneek

Poem- Salt
Poet- Aditya Aneek
Reciter- Shimul Mustapha

In a  book fair, theater, cafe, on the first day of Bangla calendar, around the festive Valentine day
An ordinary boy is he, if one overlooks his insinuating efforts to catch a glimpse of her attention
She, as per beauty and diva goes hand in hand to fashion and attire, fits entirely an adjective
In a flock of Butterflies, among a group of youngsters, The boy is an utter misfit, an outlier
Even though he, a lion heart, approached her one day at last, “Will we have tea together?”
With his brave proposal in, utterly astonished she pondered for a while,then surmised, “let’s go.”
Sitting with her, face to face, he had a butterfly in his stomach
With his dry mouth, he sipped his cup of tea and then, “Waiter, please salt, here.”
 With astonishment in her face, she asked, “ Will you have salt in your tea?”
The boy answered, “Yes, I was born around the seashore, along the salty foamy sea waves.
Once I have a sip through the salty tea, I see my village, picturesque
And the faces of my parents, floating around with the salty  foamy sea, floating far.”
Silent a soul, she, heard the boy, and then replied
"I have never been to the sea, my home lies there in the mountaintop."
There, the subtle clouds touch there in the gentle most surreal, as a feather of a bird 
The mountain and the sea, closely knitted there, day by day, a story , dense in heartfelt warmth
Then a marriage, a nest, at last a duo, aged through the grace of time passed.
The old man, before dying, handed the old lady a letter to request, “Open once I‘m gone.” 
Once he died, the old lady, opened the letter, It had this written there
"I never could take tea with salt, ever
A startled one, I, stumbled in mumbling then , with salt, to ask sugar in stead 
And then had an immediate cover up story of that type, to en wrap.
And so, had the forty years follow through with cups of tea with a pinch of salt.
The salt tea made by you is sweet."
The old lady went to her neighbors one day. They served her tea.
She asked, “ A bit of salt, please.”
Astonished, the neighbor asked, “Will you take salt in your tea?”
She replied, “Yes. The tea with salt is sweet.”

Premium Member I Can'T Breathe

In memory of----

Solely in my room, I can't stomach the sound of my pulse
I sit here alone to forget the taste of air.
Overwhelm by the scene -unbelievable footage
18 seconds  long, "I can't breathe."
My judgment "GONE"   stressing all night long
I use to fear dark colors, now I fear spinning bright lights
Red, White, and Blue,  I spew the NY  crew
What's wrong with your blue eyes?
You see him, you want him to die
What a day to trade  --  a life for illegal cigarettes
Persecution and judgment day, sweet life   - taken away
"I can't breathe", executed in broad daylight!

Bullets left and right
Who's policing the police
What happened to mind our business?
Moneymaker refused to be singled out 
A hurting voice tackled by racism 
Free to see, pouring his heavy heart,
Oinkers demand the ground, shutting down his testament
8 times too many, "I can't breathe!"
Where did his vitals go? 
No one to tap him out,  pound the pavement!
What the hell, why are you just standing there???

Stress, anger, madness, the voice of innocence
"I can't breathe." the volume to valium
"Officer, did you not hear the man?"
Are you deaf, have you forgotten how to save a life?
Is it just the NYPD or is it every other badge,
Insinuating crime's a one-color show.
We are all criminals, why the excessive heat?
Shot, tasered, beat down, pepper-sprayed,  now on the ground
The mother of all chokeholds, murdered, outnumbered 
The echoes remain "I can't breathe!"

- The truth!
Eric Garner robbed of his own natural path and youth
One man down eyed suspiciously 
Perplexed minds suffocating him instantly
The mistrusted, the awe, the hate,  
So tangible, uniforms using deadly force
One asthmatic in a chokehold
Slamming his head on the floor
Open wounds, worldwide tears

My heart goes to the family and friends left behind
A courageous last breath, for the first and last time
"I can't breathe," now deceased.
You left this world unwilling, waking up a strong community
Strolling in a safer world, where racial discrimination doesn't exist
"I can't breathe,"  Eric Garner Rest in peace!

By: PD

2 Ways To Go Which 1 Chose

On the news today

The headline storyline was presented
and reported as follows

In Liverpool today some local right wing
protestors who's arms are up in flame's 
replacing pitchforks for placards 

Which was later retracted in place
of rabble of lawless youths one as 
young as just age 15

Causing and terminating in a riot
and remonstrating outside a 4 Star
Hotel

Currently turned into a hostel or facility
to accommodate Asylum seekers 

Because and due to according to official
press releases and reports 

Misinformation being posted on social
media platforms 

Which left the male only residents inside
traumatized and fearing for their own
safety and lives

So much so they do no longer wish to 
stay as are now so fearful to even
contemplate leaving the confinement 
of the building let alone venturing outside 

Now it all depends on what and which
you as individual choose to be believe

As everything unless you were actually
there to witness it with your own eye's
and for yourself

You have no choice unless you know
someone who was actually there

But to take onboard the way it is
reported by the news media believing
they are holy trustworthy

Like in the aftermath the very next day
a reporter is stood outside interviewing

One of the Asylum seekers describing
exactly how bad it actually was and the
general mood and feeling amongst
those inside

With not a scowl but rather a broad
smile seemingly more than willing
actually happy to be interviewed

With what appeared to look like or
be a backpack as if he was just off
out for a morning strole to the shops
for the maybe daily milk or bread

Not someone in fear all dressed up
well prepared in expectations of an
impending fight

And granted that I did not see the
contents of hidden inside his bag 

I'll have to rest my case 

Otherwise I am in fear of falling into 
the same category of what the media
do ever so well

Like insinuating presuming and making
things up as I go

And never letting the truth get in the
way when trying to embellish and
over egg a story

Joyless Joseph

Wordless worries wander wearily working wayward,
    Towards thoughts transgressing truth’s textured tide.
As always acknowledging agnosticism’s appeal,
    Essence easily evaporates, exeunt Emile. 
Very virtuous violent vowels vociferously validate,
    Sanctimonious sessions some subtly sacrosanct.
Is it in incrementally immense ingenious imaginations,
    Or ontology’s omniscience overcoming oceanic oratory?
Roughly rallying rage’s recessive righteousness, 
    Quickly quartered queens quietly quiver qualities quoi.
Under unctuous undeniably Umbrian utterances, 
    An astute and acute awareness as always arose. 
Placing plausibly proverbial prevaricating predications, 
    Many morose morally myopic manly mighty men, 
Eulogize everlasting ephemerally entertaining evocations.
    Insinuating incredible implications, insomnia initiates,
Notably nullifying notoriously negligible nihilistic necessities. 
    Lies lay low, linking lofty linguistic lessons like laws,
Of optional opportunities oscillating on occult overtures 
    Until underlying unctions unify ubiquitous unknowns.
Joyless Joseph’s joyful Joy just jumped, just jumped!
     Killing killjoy knuckle kosher korma koranic krap.
And announce another anonymous anodyne appointment?
     (Empiricism’s emphatic emission, enter erotic Eloise).
Having Heidegger helps, hope’s homunculi hunting human. 
     Get gone ginger guesses, go grope Ginger’s grapes!
Immaculately ironic inquisitions instigate immediate impositions. 
    Once onto opaque ominous orbs, obey Oracles open orders.
Framing funny fractions, flaming far flung frivolous fictions,
    Death defies dollar damnations, deliciously done devaluations.
Usually uncle umpire understands useful underlying ululations,
    Also affirming apples avuncular altruistic assumptions.
Creeds crave caves, charms calm cause, come conquerors,
    Be belligerently bad, betray birth’s beginning, balance budgets.
Entreating entirely empty, emphatically elusive, existential entelechy,
    Is, importantly, incommensurably idiotic, inexplicably impractical indeed.


Galvanized With Steely Mettle

Countless instances submitting poems
finds me racking
quite a hefty collection of rejections,
the responses lacking
disappointing voluminous vicious
venomous vitriolic backing
quite the contrary,
the prefabricated responses

unsuccessful at hijacking
my "FAKE" toothy gumption
(since I wear dentures) lip smacking
bite size packing
not exceptionally appetizing,
but definitely wanting
with more pungent acidity stinging
(albeit figuratively) painfully digging

into the essence of all bone marrow,
asper this humble,
who will brazenly continue entering
competitions until scathing
character ridiculed of course including
unsolicited yet denigrating
words clearly, definitively,
and flagrantly insinuating

this prolific entity among
basket of deplorables wasting
his precious energy and time crafting
ambiguous, horrendous, and
nebulous word mangling
poetic endeavors attempting
to garner plaudits generating
infamous, notorious, and

sanctimonious renown diluting
the medium, which 
August pantheon replete
with posthumous scriveners
reputations eternally outshining
any facile, infantile, 
and juvenile laboring
in my unbiased opinion 

far more deserving
of a simple bland communique
devoid of any ripsnorting
flagitious, malicious, and
unscrupulous character assassinating
(mine), which continuously insipid sending
(to yours truly) said
tactfully gentle turning

down efforts requiring
nose to the grindstone painstaking
efforts, which witness shuttering
myself within this
mancave, barely surviving
on thin gruel necessitating
copious blood, sweat, and tears with
nary even a shopworn reprehensible glint

bombarding, condemning, and defaming,
hence such determination bedeviling diligence
to espy acceptably blistering
excoriating, and insulting
nauseating mean opprobrium
meted out to me
until such outpouring
of vindictiveness acquired,
I will continue logic bending writing.

Wherefore art thou to find (even trumped) critique?
Form: Bio

Will You . . .?

Hark there kind sir, what brings you here?
A message for my lady, from Sir Lyle Gere
He penned these lines, for her gentle ear
Would you have this delivered, pray kind sir
Indeed I will, my word is my honour
Fear not kind sir, for tonight it will see her

What is it butler, who wrote me this letter?
Sir Lyle Gere, my lady, has requested a titter
Pray let me see, you insolent old timer
Your sarcasm ignites, especially at night sir!

Dear Lady Camilla, holder of my heart
My eternal hope is for our life to start
Would you be so kind to join me for a sitter?
High tea perhaps , around say four or a fiver?

Note down these words butler
And pray not a word from your sour lips
 Much obliged kind Sir Gere
‘twill be my utmost pleasure
To join your company for a wee sitter
Until the morrow, I will treasure this letter

Will you now excitable lady Camilla
Lady of leisure, not a spoon thou hast washed
Shush, be quiet you insolent obscene butler!
Or what will you do, sweet Lady Camille

I will have you flogged for your foul mouth
And public it will be, just you wait and watch
My sincerest apologies, my dear Lady Camille
Never would your Ladyship do anything so vile

Oh you know me so well you old timer
Subtle am I?  Oh surely my Lady!
 My sensibilities are fragile, I hope he knows
I can only consume delicate h’ ors de oeuvres
Sweet desserts and cucumber sandwiches

He will be fooled my kind Camille, he will never suspect
Has he ever had the pleasure of seeing your lovely face?
No, our paths have never crossed butler, are you insinuating?
Never my dear Lady, I am a mere butler!
My thoughts matter not, my heart be ripped, I will deliver this chit
Come flood or disaster, your healthy smile is my bread and butter!

Aye your sarcasm is but fraught with the devil’s own tongue
But in my life you have been for so very long
I love your wit, you impudent satirist 
You crafty shrew, slyly devious!

Stolen Dreams - Not Unwell

In your eyes a spark still survives
A place where your dreams flies
With your hand, mind and heart
Created a sweet that was art

One fateful day you questioned the books
To find honey mouthed partner a crook
The trust your partner did swear to abide
Was stealing your dreams, a grin did hide

Heart heavy with sorrow, your trust torn apart
The choice to leave before you tore him apart
You vanished from where your praises were sung
While whispers arose and rumours swiftly sprung

You are insane your partner did claim
Voices in your head is how you were defamed
Yet you never told the truth or yourself defend
For the thief wrote the story and rewrote the end

Devasted by lies and deceit, your genius confined
You took to drinking to silence the pain in your mind
Numb and drown out the pain of betrayal
Your mind shattered in pieces, so very frail

The whispers grew louder and rumours took hold
Insinuating, manipulating, lies your partner told
Painting you as mentally ill to hide his theft
Portraying himself as your saviour, he is deft

Beneath the surface, rage keeps you in a trance
Lost in the rhythm of a self-destructive dance
Giving wings to rage to hide unhealed pain
Acting out for the excuse to numb your pain

Deep in your heart a fire still burns
A whisper of hope, as the earth turns
Look in the mirror and see what I see
Find away to heal your pain, be free

To escape the trap of your own confine
You will have to confront the loss and stain
Let the truth of betrayal and theft be known
Control of emotion and courage yours to own

Your brilliance should never be caged
Even in darkness it burns enraged
Never again hear you’re broken, unwell
Your truth will outshine the lies they tell

By Cathrin Stuart
Form: Rhyme

January 13th, 2023

January 13th, 2023

After wishing upon a star
to garner a handsome windfall
as a positive fated birthday gift
lo and behold, these ears didn't deceive me,
cuz I discerned a partial telephone message
hinting at word winnings to good to be true.

I (a sheepish fellow) nearly got fleeced...
to the tune of five hundred dollars
courtesy publishers clearing house scam
nearly got the wool pulled over my eyes
lucky for me presence of the missus
a force not to be reckoned with,
she madly gesticulated
yours truly to hang up the telephone.

Predacious con artists
flourish thick as thieves
insinuating themselves
with practiced braggadocio
annoyingly swat away
her/his feigned friendly felicitousness
courtesy mine non affirmative action
think my feeble and meek
polite verbal declinations.

Characteristic passiveness pervaded
persona non grata of yours truly,
whether being the "scapegoat"
all throughout twelve years enslavement
constituting skool of hard knocks
reflexively withdrawing within self
seriously contemplating existence
as Norwegian bachelor farmer.

After consuming copious
platefuls of powdered milk biscuits,
I (an ordinarily shy person)
bucked and chucked
conventional behavior of mine,
plucked courage with humorous repartee
off times conjuring
the perfect comeback
versus smarting with absent
quick wittedness ex post facto.

Overzealousness ofttimes finds yours truly
trying to overcompensate
being pegged as quietest student,
whose severe nasality reinforced
(courtesy submucous cleft palate)
impeded communicating spontaneously
even now thinking twice before
interjecting a comment viz aperçu
(ideally humorous) to feel included
among social venue or milieu.

Premium Member Excuses Galore

Let’s relax along mentorship pleasure
to bask in varied students’ excuses when facing pressure
as they abound for sure…

Learner A says, “There is a lion in the way”
so I’m late for the reporting schedule today
hope to fulfill it later, I pray.

Learner B uses blame game, insinuating
“the serpent beguiled me” into such tainting 
thus, I succumbed to the ranting.

Learner C retorts with confidence reign
“the dove returned not again”
when asked of his assignment he forgot in vain.

Learner D enumerates alibis to cover negligence 
even citing Balaam’s talking ass confronting guilty conscience
pledging to show next time enduring diligence.  

Learner E lets absenteeism be justified
testifying, “I’m the lost sheep personified
needing teacher’s patience, greatly magnified.”

Learner F, for missed requirement, declares candidly:
“Mine was done perfectly; indeed realistically... 
... and then a flaming pterodactyl ate my homework surreally.”

Learner G, muses midst rationalization glow:
“'When thoughts cease to flow ~Where does ego go'”**
May, I please be forgiven as I ask for understanding-flow."

Well, as a learner myself, I admit with earnest confession
my human nature is no exemption 
so my heart seeks the LORD*** for wisdom’s implementation. 

*Proverbs 26:13 The slothful man saith, There is a lion in the way; a lion is in the streets.
**Unseeking Seeker
***Proverbs 2:6 For the LORD giveth wisdom: out of his mouth cometh knowledge and understanding.

February 4, 2021
Edited on May 14, 2022
Tristich in Rhyme form
3rd place, "Bubble of illusion" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker; judged on 5/20/2022.
Form: Tristich

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