Long Licking Poems
Long Licking Poems. Below are the most popular long Licking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Licking poems by poem length and keyword.
My husband and I have two dogs – Buddy and Beau
Buddy is a gentle giant, one hundred and sixteen pounds
Beau is an exuberant puppy, licking and chewing, chewing and licking
we adore them, they are like giant ponies, galloping through the house
Beau will jump from blue couch to recliner to brown couch
makes no difference that I am sitting in the recliner
This does not slow down his enthusiasm
Sometimes the couch slides three feet into the kitchen
Buddy was calm until Beau arrived
Now they are both like pony tornadoes
dashing around knocking us over
my husband and I will probably both break hips
We do not care; they are worth it.
Breezy evening almost setting in
Broad leaves of Badam trees
Sign about snack time
Hot tea with Bhaji!
Ah! A time to tickle our taste buds
Wait not, grab the Gota!
Head to eat the mouth–watering snack
Along With a spicy hot tangy sauce
Finishing off with licking fingers
Not to miss bonda ! & vada !
Try one new each day
Niche of taste, mesmerise you
All you love is, just one more please!
Flavour, taste, and a dash of freshness
Adds the badam leaves
In which all is served
No to plates, no to papers
All done with leaves of taste
Badam in backyard, yield to all
Next to plantain, serving snacks
Dried or fresh they feed the best
Just wash it once
Fallen or plucked, the leaves of badam
Used as plates from the tree
Standing tall by the tea stall
Serving all Pakodas & TEA!
(Badam is a Indian term for Almonds, Bhaji, gota, bonda, vada and pakoda are the Indian deep fried snacks)
REGULARS
Wednesdays, Fridays and
Weekends are my shifts.
When I am there, regulars turn up
which is as exciting as getting gifts.
Let’s start with Carole and Jackie
having so much energy in the morning.
I can hear their voices from down
the road to my adoring.
Two coffees or two teas but
never gravy and water from peas.
Always having a story to tell,
And we always have a laughing spell,
Having a sense of humour that is hip and quick,
I do see Carole licking foam
off her wooden coffee stick!
Moving on to Angie and John,
“A pot of tea please" the kettle I go
and merrily put on. I’m still baffled
by their self-fixing Corsa car.
On evenings, they enjoy going
to The Southcliffe Bar. They love
Bridlington except for when
it’s busy in the streets.
I’m always delighted to see them
come in and take their usual seats,
A 70/30 split heated sausage roll,
as they ask me about a potential
minor TV role,
I ask what cafe’s they’ve been to,
and always hear the portion sizes
are too big to get through!
Josie on Saturdays with
her telephone phone call,
I love saving her “shipping order”,
it’s no problem at all,
Getting up to all sorts like
gardening and swimming at the leisure centre,
It’s always a delight when I see her enter.
Wendy comes in at the end of the week,
seeing her brings a smile to my cheek.
It’s nice to see a fellow author,
having wrote a book about
Sewerby with a co-author.
Paying for her shopping on her
mobile phone up to date with her tech,
She’s so advanced I bet she hasn’t touched
in years the likes of a cheque!
There’s plenty more who come in off the street,
The most brilliant people you’ll ever meet.
Being so privileged to have gotten to meet them
all over the span of seven years,
I certainly owe them a few beers. So cheers!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am a thousand violet tongues
licking the wind, silently bending
beneath the blistering Texas sun.
I unfurl where the highway
forgets its name,
where the sky
presses down like a warm hand.
I am not regal;
I am not obedient~
I am a wildflower,
a spill of indigo
against the thirsty Texas earth.
I do not beg. I do not bow.
Only nod~
a friendly howdy
when the pickup trucks rumble past,
kicking up the Texas dust
that settles like old prayers.
The cattle low at my presence,
their hooves careful, almost reverent.
Wind bends me; I bow back.
Rain comes; I drink deep.
At dusk, my petals close like fists~
small, stubborn prayers.
Each spring, I return.
I open~
a rebellion of color.
I am not delicate. I am patient
I am waiting
for you to pull over,
to kneel in the dirt next to me
and take a picture with me~
a Texas tradition.
I am the lupine that remembers
the Comanche horses,
the oil rigs,
rodeos, and
the subdivisions
creeping like frost.
When they pave this field,
I will rise through the cracks, for
I am as defiant as Texas.
I am the Texas’ state flower.
I am the bluebonnet.
“Touch me”
she pleaded
no more
than a whisper
hands tied
behind head
as she begged
him to kiss her
he slid up her top
over breasts and chin
pausing for thought
with a playful grin
he moved it up further
but to her surprise
left it to cover
her lust filled eyes
he unclasped her bra
baring both breasts
stroking her nipples
with soft caress
he licked them
and sucked them
her nipples erect
her body responding
the desired effect
he made his way south
and pulled off her jeans
then ripped off her pants
with the help of his teeth
he parted her legs
and kissed his way up
soft and wet
till he reached the top
his tongue started licking
fingers were flicking
all over her moist special place
till all of a sudden she
could take it no more
and came all over his face
A warped board on a bench seat
causing discomfort
to an old bum, an aching foot,
a touch of pity all came to keep me
self-sealed inside a bag of skin.
I took no note of the river
almost licking at my feet,
the evening's prayerful quiet,
the sky slowly switching on
its nightly extravaganza of stars.
I was too far into myself
to see past my rim.
One can get lost in a stare,
that blank, formless blur
reflecting the endless distances
stretching across the self.
I was bubbled there.
Then slowly things happened,
a tugboat went past, seagulls
protested my presence,
the smell of river mud
thickened the air.
I stepped out and saw
an old man on a bench seat
who I have long known,
brushed the dandruff
from his shoulders,
helped him up and walked
him home.
I walk in the door,
my dog is there to greet me,
wagging his tail furiously
whilst sniffing around my shopping bags
He has that suspicious, perplexed
look on his face ,
one I’ve seen so many times before
I know what he’s thinking:
how the hell do I regularly come home
with a fully cooked chicken in a bag,
Yet he cannot find so much as a stale roadkill
when I bring him for a walk?
I look back at him, incredulous too…
do you really think chickens
just immolate themselves,
then jump cooked
nice and juicy into a bag
for me to pick up along the street?
He’s still anxious and perplexed
as I dole out his share
Imperceptibly, our curiosity
and suspicion of each other evaporate,
as we polish off this beautiful creature
Soon I’m licking my fingers,
and the real miracle happens
when I say,
“Hey Siri! Put the TV on channel 8,”
and on comes the sports news
The dog too is thoroughly engrossed,
licking his — erm — himself.
# precious little words always say more ~ just never in the way we think #
Whisper whisper laugh laugh laugh
They look at one child, one points
He knows whatever it is, it is bad.
Sets the tone for his day.
Whisper whisper laugh laugh laugh
One stands up and argues it is an untruth.
They spit her out of their “gang”.
She ruins everything
Whisper whisper laugh laugh laugh
Others begin calling them on their stuff.
They get angry; the group gets smaller.
They advance into a name-calling realm.
Bystanders have been trained to be upstanders.
They call the name-callers on it.
Bullying has stopped being fun.
They wander away, licking their wounds.
An effective school counseling program
A proactive counselor
And empathetic children who care
Have uplifted the school environment.
Yes it can be done.
Takes a little training
But it is worth it in the end
Cower from the buffets of horizon-spanning wings,
scream and run in terror that the monster surely brings.
Escape into some shadow, care not for scars or stings.
For far worse fates await you with the coming of a dragon.
Tremble in despair as you behold the fearsome fire,
licking all the land and sending thick smoke ever higher,
Shiver, though the heat is such that your steps quickly tire.
You are nothing but a speck before the fury of a dragon.
Leave aside your weapons, they cannot leave a mark,
iron scales cover her, thicker, still, than bark.
Mourn, for all resistance is doomed to meet the dark.
No mortal man can halt the fateful footfalls of a dragon.
Curse, for off she carries what we earned through sweat and tears.
Our meager stock of treasure we attained throughout the years.
And what is worse, our future bread on stalks still scorching sears.
There is no mercy left within the black heart of a dragon.
Come, let us rebuild our wreck-ed city and our walls.
Join me and quench the blaze upon our burning fields and stalls.
Take heart, we've much to do afore the first snow forms and falls.
We have no choice but to prepare for the next strike of the dragon.
Written 4 April 2017 for "A Mythical Creature" contest, sponsored by Julia Ward
Opinionated- And It’s Eyes---
I awoke and flung my mind soul in the heaven
What could there be more purely seven?
'It's that lordship,' I muttered;
And am I the nonbeliever never okaying;
I crave the divine, deponent denominationalism Why?
Death shall bring skies;
What could there be more purely otherwise?
And its eyes have all the lapping;
Human dogs!! I discovered the deists;
And its eyes have all the licking;
Instead I uncovered the thunderhead;
The grounds the earth cries, the garden smiled;
'It's that pagan,' I muttered
What could there be more purely profiled?
That moment my soul grew ritualistic;
And its eyes have all the plaining;
Eagerly I looked for the deity;
I am shorn of my heterogeneity;
Eagerly I looked for the backslider;
I felt compelled to sniff the atheists;
I awoke and flung the redeemer;
And its eyes have all the scudding;
Of the Zephyr's that is spudding;
It threw its ghost against the churchgoers;
Only this and a dominion;
And the eschatology never poppling;
Somewhat louder than the public opinion;
It threw its ghost against the peonies;
There stood a dear dominion;
The epistasis brought such sorrow;
I discovered the adherents;
The damnation laughed;
The patristic parson pitting;
And its eyes have all the reputing;
Death shall bring religionists;
But in the fact that it was whispering;
Loping and loping with my euphorbia;
Mankind, opinionated- And It’s Eyes
3/6/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019