Long Just desserts Poems
Long Just desserts Poems. Below are the most popular long Just desserts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Just desserts poems by poem length and keyword.
when this poem title
is used with "she
received her..."
it is a
negative
but i'm not
writing about
comeuppance but
about her sweetness
so should she be
a pie or cake or
something
other to call her
yet a pastry all
the same
now i must admit
that i've given up
coffee and so
the tradition
of ending
a menu
with
a
cup and
a dessert
doesn't work
for me any more
but the more i know
her i know the more i
need her and the irony
is she's from Colombia
so
like a train
i cough
coffee
coffee
coffee
building e
nough to steam
milk foam for a
cappuccino
but for me
those
days
are
over but
when you
think that
your youth
is spent
or gone
and went
remembering
i had a baby
tooth until i
was thirty
two or one
but i had
one but
maybe
it was
thirty
three
but no
that don't
seem to agree
with me thinking
that perhaps that
was my sweet tooth
so they
tried to take
her away from
me before she was
to
be
my
me
lt
in
g
dis heart
Form:
Information superhighway bumper to binary bumper.
Stark contrast versus deserted macadam thoroughfares.
Magnification rendered visualization coronavirus
alias covid 19 courtesy electron microscopy plus
sundry computer technology yours truly (popeye
Olive Garden variety generic layman) breathtakingly
held spellbound, née utterly transfixed vibrant
spectacular design regarding inexplicable dynamic
forces wrought creation (albeit - alluringly beautifully
charming, deceptively eminently fascinating, and
globularly highly intriguing biochemical cellular
denizens - indubitably jackknifing kindred livingsocial
man/womankind now outstripping Buffy the vampire
(weakened immunity system of the down) slayer
kickstarting pandemic induces *****sapiens to
experience extravagant fancy feast humble pie
(just desserts) necessitate quarantine to minimize
transmission, whereby (Gogol Ling) dead souls
agonizingly writhe within purgatory tests mine
Unitarian/nonestablishmentarian credo, never with
me wildest imagination intimating detrimental fatal
impact avast swath terra firmae, aye attest dominant
primate species, not necessarily lost cause, nor
civilization and discontents forsaken, but buzz
feeding foretaste (think while leg propped atop desk -
armageddon), of end times nonetheless triggering
linkedin helter skelter, wrenching economy (globally
webbed) doleful Lake Woebegone citizens haphazardly
remaining approximately six feet between another
human beings scrabbling, scrambling, scrimping, saving
international decree obligating painstaking handwashing
absolute zero socialization (comprising no more than ten
people), said groupon crowdsource commingling verboten,
yes tis moost ideal for solitary fellow (me barely a Yogi)
yabba dabbling playing online solitaire, chess, listening
to deep sleep music, meditating, reading, and/or writing.
'No pain,no gain‘ Mum reminded us wryly.
'No lemon no melon' Dad quipped adding pith to the bitter- sweet maxim.
So there we stood, Sis and I, incarcerated by our own parents and ordered to repaper the entire kitchen.
Just desserts in their view for the impromptu deed which had triggered such sanctions.
I refer of course to the unfortunate episode of the tomato ketchup food fight!
The gargantuan task would easily take us till noon so my gym class would have to wait.
Anna had planned a romantic kayak along the river with her new beau Bob.
Her face flushed redder and redder with florid frustration.
This was definitely not on our radar for a Saturday morning's entertainment!
Mum and Dad rubbed more salt into the wound:
‘Try your level best to do a good job of it you two. We’re heading off to the beach’ for a picnic.
It was exhausting but good strong tea was our hourly reviver and Abba playing in the background provided an acoustic pick-me-up; Mamma Mia, what a morning!
’Tattarrattat. Somebody was at the front door.
‘Just called by to see if I could help out‘ said Bob: What a hero!
The whole episode was a real eye opener for us and we learnt a new
life tenet that day that ‘As you make your bed, so you must lie on it!’
03/10/18
‘Palindromes contest’ Sponsored by: Joseph May
( I have used two phrasal palindromes : 'no lemon no melon' and ''my gym')
Vane glorious and absolutistic,
though I defiantly,
cavalierly, and blithely attest
Yukon bet your (laugh-in) sweet bippy
mine acidic breast
houses anarchic, anti-poetic ballistic,
barbaric, and bubonic
cannibalistic demons within thy
safely guarded Pandora chest
atomic cesium clock
timed to trigger avast
burst of anxiety, frenzy, and
(What me worry
Alfred E. Neuman) blast
ting mental quietude at most
inappropriate, inconvenient,
inopportune, out classed
adrenaline rush, nausea,
palpitating heart, vertigo
besieging, corrupting,
endeavoring fractured arrant
cleft daemonic gripping
hellishly psychic chant
rendering unto sieze hoar,
a choking vise grip extant
yule hiss sieze indomitable
banshee fully controlling grant
diabolic, dogmatic, and dynamic,
anguished corporeal ache
easily, egregiously, and emblematically,
exemplified historically
graphic fatalistic, and ecstatic coup,
(koo), when I caused furious frantic flight,
and/or fight betake
king angst causing just desserts
for Marie Antoinette,
who got her humble pie cake,
thence dispensing with formalities,
where a joshing drake
(named Gill O. Teen)
also known (solely known
to mine selfish source error ways)
alias i.e. as; the Lewis (loose)
lunatic, heady harvester,
and decapitation Deacon trumpeting,
trouncing, and triumphing tranquility
for fifty three Tuesdays,
thence sea king punishing psychotic
pre pound payment
basking in glory (re: gory us)
amidship crashing quays
music to mine ears hearing plaintive neighs
high pitched straining
vocal chord hamstrung keys
regaling oceanographic
lambent hagiographic essays
and keeping at bathos bays.
Join the ice cream army, as they head off to the coast
In the stationary traffic, they sit there and they roast
By the time that they arrive, the day is nearly done
Join the ice cream army as they race to catch some sun
Join the ice cream army, sitting safely on the sands
Lazing in their deckchairs with their cornets in their hands
Basking in the sunshine, laying like they’re dead
See the ice cream army, watch them all turn red
Join the ice cream army as they hurry home at night
In the stationary traffic with their skin no longer white
Glowing in the darkness like a red hot burning coal
Watch the ice cream army as the sunshine takes its toll
Join the ice cream army, on Mondays drive to town
In the stationary traffic, there’s no sign of turning brown
Flesh still glowing brightly, almost any movement hurts
Observe the ice cream army as they get their just desserts
© John W Fenn 04-06-2009
Form:
Bully me you, I exemplified archetypal scapegoat
Even as old (dish) married
(spooning) curmudgeon,
who receives social security disability
linkedin with social anxiety)
chose the fork less traveled
aye pucker with sunken cheeks,
(especially without dentures)
and raspily suction toothless mouth
drawing reminiscent guffaws affecting
attempt impersonating plumber
(think unclogging toilet)
please support your local bummer
back in the day one
long haired pencil neck geeks palled
around with another
hirsute nerd - Roger Kummerer,
(who both of us graduated Methacton
High School class of 1977),
and yours truly readily
admitting, alluding, and attesting
without shadow of doubt
representing the dumber
than rocks of said beastie boys
bandits, donning particolored pachyderm
gabardine garb getup trumpeting,
especially as Mummer
on each New Year's Day
with bare ass tuchus
excellently imitating courtesy said orifice
(as chief motormouth) sound
of combo motorboat hummer.
Ah... the joys of amazingly aging gracefully
happily recalling never being
beat into bloody pulp dully
imagining dimming sense and sensibility
before (appearing gratefully dead)
lifeless body dumped into gully
nonetheless all the while fully
maintaining conscious, and forcefully
summoning forth latent powers gleefully
choking living daylights masterfully
delivering just desserts upon Tom Viglione,
whose plaintive laments truthfully
resonate as blessed music
to ears unaccustomed hearing pitifully
sounding long overdue comeuppance
forever disbelieving wrongfully
perpetrated injustice
witnessed impossible mission
fueling an ordinarily meek lad
only in his dreams, he envisions zestfully.
Pugnacious thuggish hooligans... although
decades long since elapsed, whereby hoodlums
jockeyed to rain one after another verbal blow
threatening introverted diminutive boy
who, no surprise did eventually,
albeit (stuntedly) grow
(as an aside resembled anorexic
Santa Claus ho... ho... ho...)
still wracked, impacted, affected...,
this punster, he haint Joe
King, but upholds valuable humor less or mo'
feebly, lamely, and quirkily aspires toward po'
whit tree linkedin with infusing,
(no matter ex post facto)
freeing mine unsung hero.
“Thank you so much for your time today,
I hope this article can at least try to allay
some of the vitriol and online hate you’ve received
when, let’s face it, you’re the one who was deceived.
I must say you do have a gorgeous house. So inviting.
I can certainly see why children find it exciting.
Can I ask if the walls are held together with sticky toffee?
Is the garden soil really ice-cream flavoured coffee?
I told my editor I didn’t need Google Maps to find this place…
believe me, the sweet scent of bubble-gum was easy to trace!
But unlike those two rude little thugs, I didn’t steal and I didn't eat
one sugared door handle, nor the chocolate post-box out on the street.
I’m here to get your side of the story, to get on the record your words,
so that Mr Hansel and Ms Gretel can finally get their just desserts.”
“That’s ever so kind. I relish the chance to speak to someone new.
Please, take some liquorice tasting pebbles from outside to suck on or chew.
It’s the least I can give because your treat is now a trick, too:
like the others, you saw my gingerbread house but didn’t smell the oven, did you?”
Written ~ December
two thousand seventeen
in case ye dear reader possess
an eye extremely keen
nonetheless just by happenstance
courtesy this human bean
counter, who also happens
tubby garden variety alien.
Panoply of mystical elements of holly day style
breathe prez sense frostily exhaled aired
per millennia athwart
(this terrestrial spaceship planet Earth)
two plus seventeen carousel rides resonated
veritable pantheon of pagan rituals
and quirky superstitions lit
(akin to a lit Christmas tree)
starry eyed imagination
as catalyst viz *****Sapiens
furrowed stern brow of forehead
aft stemmed whilst Santa oft puzzling
(allocating suitable gifts)
inducing him to tug thought generating beard
pondering, whence agents provocateurs
receive just desserts
fueled hodge podge, mish mashed, helter skelter
eclectic December twenty fifth
encompassing tens of thousands previous generations
bred despacito fixtures via paganism,
Manichaeism, Jainism, et cetera
ancient brutish credos, ethos, faiths
brewed nebulous concoction
within mindset of early mankind
loose confection, confederation, conglomeration
indiscriminately torquing, vetting, whetting
disparate constituent beliefs
contagion wrought spirit paradigm
inculcating oral tradition Madonna and child
occupying high chair
whereat superstitions birthed patchwork
comprising divergent ensemble heralding
Donut People
Not all donut people are large or police or thieves
Nor are they thin, eating only greens and leaves and vitamins
Or exercising on the side of reasons muscularity
All this takes time to digest of course
Another hole, another donut down
Finding the criminal intent within is not a sin
Each and every calorie must be accounted for
According to health reports and other sources
Sugar particles find their way to court
Another bite out of crime….(but what about the obvious holes in this story?)
Public opinion is all about perception and what went down
All energy and money spent takes time to digest as well
To track down lost donuts, confections imperfections
Bring it to just desserts and deliciousness of justice
Our dedicated police will not sleep on just one donut
Their job has just begun
All citizens of our fine town
Can rest assured…. (So let them sleep)
Why!...Some of my best friends are donuts…(the mayor shouts.)
There is nothing wrong with that
Knowing one is out there unconsumed….
Leaves donut people too confused
Children are donut people too
They eat them all, run back for more….Poof!.....They’re gone
Confectioner’s confess and conjecture
Did girls and boys steal or simply borrow them?
Dusting off sweet powder and tiny prints of suspects
Leads to one conclusion
Convictions are in order for any one large or small…mostly small
When donut snatchers perpetrate such crimes
Donut people have their rights to eat in peace
Protected from crumby children who steal their treats
Yesterday it rained
I went out without an umbrella
Because I didn't check the weather
And you know what happened
Shock horror
I got wet
What on earth did I expect
I've no one else but myself to blame
Unless I somehow thought since
it had rained last
A new type of dry rain had been invented
overnight whilst I was soundly asleep
and dreaming fast
But in reality surely when you awaken
in the morning and open your eyes
You should be wide awake and stop
dreaming and leave them in the past
And so too then take an umbrella out
with you when there is the slightest
possibility it may well be raining
Unless you choose or wish to get wet
or believe
The rules and laws of nature can be
somehow be undone or changed
simply overnight
And you don't then expect to be met either
With the possibility of God to have
revealed whoever they may be as well
And whether or not you have done that
what he required as the basics necessary
In order to fall under his umbrella
Or are left out in the cold and rain
to suffer
Much like you yourself did to so many
others
With no one else but yourself to blame
Left at that point thinking and eventually
realizing upon reflection
What on earth did I expect
In the end we all get what is coming
to us
And we receive our just desserts for what
we have put in