Long Lass Poems
Long Lass Poems. Below are the most popular long Lass by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lass poems by poem length and keyword.
Dearest Prof –
Upstairs, downstairs:
Racing ref-wards: lasses
(Prof, a roused lad saw them)
Breaking through the prime fogs
Racing like some fleece-hunters
Led by a night-gowned lass
(Where could they be going?)
The peering at something in soils:
Some retreated – wordless!
Like a soul peeved by a sight.
Dearest V.C. –
Many racing clay of lads: restless!
Racing ref-wards as the lasses
(Prof, a roused lad saw them)
A corpse at the rear of our ref
(Prof, a roused lad saw it there)
The thick stagnate flood
The naked log devoid of pistils
Was it a sermon for each beast?
(Who cut down this limping tree
From this famous forest of pantology?)
Dearest Prof –
Each beast: even rabbi-beast
Came and saw himself
In a log: that naked log
“A rebel caught by pig-watchers!”
(A roused lad herd it told!)
Was the log alone in the mad act?
The corpse by the ref
Whose flesh & blood was he?
And those two dry logs lying at Medical Centre
Whose bones & blood were they?
Form:
Acres and acres of barren land.
The dried tumbleweeds roll across the open field,
their roots dry and uprooted.
The quiet cotton field where slavery once beckoned,
the sounds of voices chanting,
the saloon where the taps flowed like blood through their veins,
the missuses with long skirts and huge hats—
a young miss sitting on the knee of some foolhardy lass.
The sheriff across the way,
a hand on his hip, meaning business.
The smell of warm bread lingers in the air from the bakery,
the blacksmith, hammer in hand,
striking the hot iron on the wood stove.
Memories of ancestors and fool’s gold remain in the dark.
The fine line that was drawn is still visible in the sand,
along with the bloodstain, now a faint shade of pink,
telling a story of the law against the outlaws.
The onslaught that ensued had turned the town into a war zone,
makeshift graves and wooden crosses everywhere,
a place where man no longer exists.
A battle of wills with no surrenders,
the legacy now silence,
marked in stones scribbled in red.
Years of neglect; now it feels like a ghost town,
the empty years and the signs that are left are part of the history.
In the distance, the sound of life; there’s the silhouette of a horse and buggy.
Inside, a little family—the new settlers.
The father jumps down at the line in the sand.
A boy of six, with dirty suspenders, squeals with delight
as his father, with sweat running down his face,
hammers the sign in the ground.
The hope of a new beginning is felt in the air.
You hear the faint sound of a baby crying,
the mother shushing
as she reads the simple wording:
In Marked Territory
1889
Population: 9
there once was a princess named snow
she was sad wherever she’d go
because of her mother
who was unlike a brother
truthfully, was jealous with major woe
Snow ran off to the woods one day
found a delightful cottage to stay
home of little men
who let her chuck their chin
They adored her in every way
A woodcutter was sent to kill Snow
when he saw her, he said oh no
he took back a heart
in an apple cart
The stepmother’s mirror gave a glow
angry stepmother wanted Snow White dead
she went to cottage with poisoned apple, red
Snow took a bite
Fell down on the site
Her dwarf friends were bereft in their head
They made her a coffin of glass
She was gorgeous, this beautiful lass
Young handsome prince with a kiss
Gave her corpse a kiss
She woke up, and pounded at the glass!
Cinderella's Christmas Snow-Ball
Once upon a bright snowy Christmas Day
Cinderella wished to go out to play
A snowball fight or skating, she would like
But the sad lass she never gets on ice.
It soon came to Cinder’s, out loud and clear
She really wasn't liked or wanted here
Except to toil all day, morning to night
For the step-family who loathed her sight.
Her father had no say whatsoever
He’d gone and wed a wicked stepmother
Her daughters who were an ugly duo
Took after their mother, very much so.
Cinder’s danced round the kitchen with her broom
Mice would join in, to brighten the gloom
Dreams kept her going, she knew some day
A prince would come and take her away.
Now, Cinder's had a fairy godmother
Who loved and thought the world of her
She came this day and shooed her away
Wrapped up nice and warm for a play day.
Then she waved her magic star-dust wand
All Cinder’s chores were done in respond
The turkey got cooked and so did the pud
For once her girl was let off the hook.
The ugly duo got the shock of their life
To see Cinder’s skate like a dream on ice
Her spins and flips were out of this world
With faces gone green they were lost for words.
Prince Charming came passing along the way
Saw Cinderella and thought "she looks ok"
Most charmed, he invited her to the ball
The rest’s history of a perfect after all.
5th December 2020
The last-call lights flickered once more
A warning sign she chose to ignore
Her soul, just like her pocketbook
Was as empty as inside the glass she looked
The bartender said, “Lass, you now must leave”
As she wiped her tears on a tattered sleeve
With no place left in the world to go
She ventured out in the freshly fallen snow
The beauty that she once wore with pride
Had long ago shriveled up and died inside
Her vanity had taken its high priced toll
Leaving behind a lost and lonely soul
Girls who were much less popular than she
Now bask in a love life of prosperity
While she is a smile in many a lad’s past
The less frivolous girls have had the last laugh
Now her love is something she can’t give away
None of the men she devoured elected to stay
That pint she just drained with her last sip
Is the only thing left willing to touch her lips
Her lights flickered their own last call
As she ached for some more alcohol
Today there'll be wearin' o' the green, pints of Guiness and Jameson... neat.
This was written for an AP contest, from a male's perspective.
There's nothing better than Irish whiskey
to get a lass feeling a bit frisky
So, I found a jigger
that was somewhat bigger
I didn't foresee it becoming risky
Jameson was flowing... best when neat
Colleen, the redhead, was spicey but sweet
Said she likes hers on ice
Slice of lime would be nice
After three, she couldn't stand on her feet
She was mumbling, sounding rather dipsy
Kissing me lustily like a gypsy
I whispered, "Not tonight."
It just didn't seem right
To do the deed while the lass was tipsy
She asked me if I was a Leprechaun
I said, "No, darlin' but my name is Shaun."
She looked a little green
A shade I'd never seen
Three sheets to the wind and the lass was gone
I'm an Irishman but I'm not a lout
Guess I shoulda' offered her Guiness Stout
I carried her to her flat
Tucked her in with her cat
And turned off the light before walking out
Twas a St. Patrick's Day I'd not forget
Nor the bonnie lass that night I'd met
She's the joy of my life
Colleen became my wife
Wedding vows spoken, I'd never regret
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
inducing madcap
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
(sporting hair
white as the virgin snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
If I say I love you, what does it mean?
Is it just something physical, a sexual thing?
Is it just what I feel when I feel my blood surge,
When you reach out to touch me, a physical urge?
That can't be love, it's just chemistry.
It cannot be based on biology.
For sure we all know that's the way it begins;
But if that's all there is then it will soon end.
When the newness wears off and things become old,
Then boredom sets in and the lamb leaves the fold,
In search of new pastures and new, sweeter grass;
So listen and learn be ye lad or a lass.
Love is a deep and emotional thing,
That grows over time, not just a short fling.
It's something so precious, something so rare,
Most find it but once so shop with great care.
You'll kiss many frogs 'fore you find a prince.
It's an old saying, yes, but it makes lots of sense.
Don't jump at the first one that may come along.
They'll woo you and lose you with an old but sweet song.
Set your sights higher for it's a sure bet,
One values the most what is hardest to get.
I stand infront of a mirror...
Beholding my reflection in an hour..
As Slowly, I am amused to devour..
I notice changes more and more..
Have I grown old that fast?
Stressors and problems that pass
I sighted it's effects that may last..
I do not like to gush and rush..
For I want to enjoy in as much..
Tic tac! tic tac!, says the clock..
Don't get stuck, Don't get stuck..
Liking myself from a boulder or a rock..
Though a wind flows strongly aghast..
There's assurance it will not break or crack..
outside, I wanted to be like that..
yet inside, nothing but a soft firm lass..
Good or bad experiences, I have..
Not that I don't care as long as I'm love..
I don't want to rough but definitely tough..
Fearless yet Heart-full like a vamp..
(C) olIVE ELOISA
cONTEST: A POEM YOU HAVE NOT ENTERED #5
sPONSOR pOET DESTROYER
8TH PLACE
Flowers are beautiful
to see
to feel
but they are short-lived
for they wither fast
Relationships are beautiful
to cherish
to nourish
but they break apart
if care is not taken
Art is beautiful
it brings wonder
in its splendour
but not all can understand
its real worth
Glass is beautiful
in its pattern
as a lantern
but it shatters to smithereens
when dropped down
Icicles are beautiful
in the caves
near the waves
but a little sunshine
and they melt away to nothing
Life is beautiful
to enjoy
and employ
oneself in good works
for soon it will end
Everything is beautiful
in its own way
but does not stay
forever the same
for beauty is fragile.
30th July, 2016