Long Jest Poems
Long Jest Poems. Below are the most popular long Jest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jest poems by poem length and keyword.
Wear a sweet smile
Joy fits your style
Learn how to laugh
Live happy stuff
Sense heavy frown
Think of a clown
Laughter fits face
Feel touch of grace
Work a fine wit
Let pun now fit
Laugh with sure zest
Jazz up your fest
Learn to hurl jest
Wit loves the best
Glow with deep style
Live a sure smile
Happy knows how
Wonder lives now
Fashion good cheer
Live laughter here
Let sad be brief
Let joy purge grief
Laugh loud and clear
Live without fear
Joy knows happy
Laugh, be merry
Cheer feels sure joy
Watch joy employ
Laugh more and see
Truth funds beauty
Leon Enriquez
06 June 2015
Singapore
Where do you begin with the power of a flowering grin
Glowering cometh the hour of need the world in a spin
Don't cower chuck all the muck and chagrin in the bin
Must overpower dour or sour & feed that glow within
We know for sure the pure joy of raw roaring jaw guffaw
No flaw can buckle the lure of a chuckle heart does soar
So don’t annoy or be a bore implore a giggle’s the cure
Doff hat to scheming Cheshire cat swell well more is more
Love every beaming bright gleaming pearly white encore
Life’s a trial but a sni*ger the trigger beguiles for a while
Your career might tank but rank and file jokes hold dear
Dreaming of folks near amusing using their laughing gear
No lies so big no surprise can see it rise & appear in their eyes
Yearning not spurning the returning of guys discerning gurning
Cheer don’t tease sneer not a smirk or leer please go ear to ear
Don’t shirk teeth show go berserk..frown upside down turning
Go to town mischief clown know what will work top of the pile
Role quirk brief & perk of north and south or cake hole is clear
My belief don't pout or flout the best jest style by a country mile
No denial changes your glacial facial profile go on give us a SMILE!
In the tangled web of screens aglow,
Messages flicker, a delicate flow,
WhatsApp whispers beneath the night’s dome,
Facebook Messenger seeks a refuge, a home.
Seven months drift like clouds in the sky,
Memories linger, with time passing by,
You reached through the pixels, with laughter and cheer,
Yet shadows of secrets brushed close, drawing near.
Discord’s calls mixed with joy and with jest,
We spoke of the mundane, the trivial—just rest,
Friendships regained amidst silences vast,
A sanctuary built, from embers of past.
Yet the clock's hands spun, and the truth took its toll,
A heartbeat away from an unguarded soul,
Her name like a barrier, a bridge turned to stone,
A blockade on the channel we had called our own.
Blocked like a ghost who never could be,
In a world stitched with longing, we drifted, you see,
For what was our bond, but laughter and light?
Misunderstood echoes now lost to the night.
So here, in the silence, I ponder the fate,
Of friendships unthreaded by love's heavy weight,
And though we’re erased from each other’s view,
In the labyrinth of memory, I still think of you.
Inspired by long distance relationships.
Night,
Out on my porch.
The orange glow from the street lights
Flicker through the deep blue hue.
Looking down, I catch myself fiddling, winding the ties belonging to the recycled plastic shopping bag in my clutch.
I wonder why street lights are orange.
Are they supposed to mimic the ‘slow down to stop’ orange traffic light?
I’m dawdling.
Must hurry. Deposit this bag and its contents in the rubbish bin under the orange light.
“You dropped your bag”.
Zone in fast, orange to green, so to speak.
Focusing, I see someone in the orange glow.
We both stand looking down at the soiled nappies exposed by a tear,
In the bag.
“How old”? A jovial jest.
Confident that they're wondering about the age of the nappy wearer.
“24” I reply.
“Aww 24 months”? They assume.
“No, 24 years”.
Red, means stop then.
Form:
The Barmy Army still wading among the dung
After Ashes tsunami any new songs now sung
Aussies smarmy but new Harmy..Josh Tongue
Dream of gung ho team does seem far flung
Baz loves betting & forgetting.. took a bung?
Beyond reproach coach on to job has clung
Some fans jest but suggest should be hung
For bish bash bosh tosh Mac attack’s brung
Yep Jacob up his eponymous ladder swung
Radder bowler Josh has climbed many a rung
Cruel BazBull rule made us all madder..stung
Cool fool with incontinent bladder & one lung
New flair heirs did woo with their foo & kung
We coo pair made us gladder.. despair wrung
No longer unsung.. Bet Hell & its fiery Tongue
Georgina Jones, eternal optimist, with a keen sense of humor.
Never knowing where your creative juices will take you,
A master of personification and alliteration, poetry boomer,
Many poems in honor of your daughter, more than a few.
You compare yourself to a gnarly old tree, I see you as a sage.
You have a furry pet, so I am thinking gorilla, grizzly bear or dog.
Wizened, and wise, telling it like it is, I read your love on each page.
Your non-metaphoric writing is easier to read than falling off a log.
You are a word player, a maestro of playful, humorous jest.
Love that your ideal man would be “a man who could not speak”
Writing about a box dog or leprechauns, more fun than the rest.
I will turn to your poems often. Especially when sad, you I will seek.
You do not sugar coat things, rather tell them like they are.
“She was fiery, vibrant, full of life, but also edgy like a knife.”
For twenty months now your daughter has been a heavenly star.
You will see her again, I am certain, when you shake this earth life.
Words have power,
Don't forget,
What comes out of your mouth,
Is what you're gonna get.
If you're filled with anger,
Contempt and unrest,
You must purge it and kill it.
This is no jest.
If you speak anger,
Hate and revenge,
This type of thinking,
Will never avenge,
The pain you once felt,
And still feel right now.
If you will find peace,
Put it down and avow,
To think only about,
The here and the now,
Whatever is worthy,
Of virtue endowed.
Peace is the order,
From this moment on.
In time you will find,
That the pain is all gone.
It's that which you think on,
How you meditate,
What goes on in your mind,
Will sit and gestate,
Till it finds a way,
To become manifest,
And affect your whole life,
In your heart make it's nest;
For thoughts are alive,
But you give them their power.
It's what you allow,
To grow and to flower.
Whatever you nurture,
Whatever you feed,
Will take root and grow,
And produce many seeds.
Not a sliver of green to be seen on the land,
The damp heathered slopes portray the dull shades of tan.
"Oh, it’s not so bad," my friends do proclaim,
"At least the day’s sunny, we could be drowning in rain."
But the jest falls short, as we look to the sky,
White flakes are descending, and the wind whips on high.
"I could live with the rain," I exasperatedly bemoan, “but at this time of year, do we have to have snow?!”
So I’ll bundle up warmer, for a few days longer yet, and grumble about the tan grass, and the muck and the wet.
For spring is patient, it comes not at my behest,
And my hope for green things will someday manifest.
Listen...
The night seems paused,
Like the hunter downwind its happless prey;
A silence crouched in a quiet.
It lend to itself a stealth that in these shadows lay,
We may be better off to follow its lead.
Let us duck beyond the reed,
Let the gentle brook bicker over us,
And lend our tongues to monastic solitudes,
And vows of silence,
And speak not till nature finds herself
A newer cause,
Or the dawn vanquishes the need.
And the cock crows,
Midst the hollow stems and lovage weed.
Ah, the life of a cut-purse—
Ere such audition e'er dreamt the need rehearse.
"Life accompanies error,"
And we are full of its merry bliss
How ere it come to this?
A frog atop its lily
Staring at us, so silly.
By so late an hour,
Clowns before rogues—
"And all wet."
The clever night has made us its jest
Let us retreat from fen to den:
A warm hearth and dry clothes,
And conceal our conciet,
For ere the wind of rumor blows
And give nock to doors and wake windows,
Inviting eyes to spy our predicament,
And see where our path lent tself
To such wasteful end
Given to play
Soul’s luminescence,
heart’s vibrant silence,
humming with power,
God does empower.
Although there’s no spoon,
we behold the moon ~
illusions mere jest,
known when thoughts we rest.
God separation,
an aberration
restored in stillness,
when one with oneness.
There’s yet a purpose
of earth life circus,
as a divine pulse,
everywhere at once.
All that’s here is us,
aboard God’s love bus,
navigating dreams,
heart by thought so streams.
Delight’s in surprise,
to first sink, then rise,
feeling in wonder,
clap of bliss thunder.
Let’s play this game well,
casting off thought’s spell,
with God hand in glove,
becoming pure love.
09-May-2022