Long Likely Poems
Long Likely Poems. Below are the most popular long Likely by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Likely poems by poem length and keyword.
She’s into sushi and sapiosexuals,
Yogis with crystals, and vain intellectuals.
Just a flutter-by wisp with a thin portmanteau,
Who doesn’t believe what she’d rather not know.
Her porcelain features come straight off the shelf.
She plans for the future by suiting herself.
She teases the barmaid with talk about milk,
While flashing embroidered hosiery silk.
Her custom transmission is always in gear.
Neutral doesn’t stroke her RPM.
You never need to peel her grapes,
Just be sure to pluck them off the stem.
Mars is impassive. Venus is hot.
Their orbits eccentric, as likely as not.
He’s got a terribly large axe to grind,
And doesn’t ever kindly suffer fools.
To him, she’s just another barroom filly,
And he’s not the sort to follow by the rules.
He didn’t need the laurel of another top ten hit.
He’d written that song many times before.
But her magnetic eyes and tell-tale mouth
Put his better judgment on a slow train headed south.
If not for the liquor, he might have ignored her,
Instead, he laid his papers on the line.
And offered up a wary introduction,
Inviting her to share a glass of wine.
Mars is unyielding. Venus is not.
Their orbits are star-crossed, most likely to knot.
The Valley Of Love And Delight':
An anniversary feting mine birth (date),
a plan we almost didst ditch
nonetheless the general game plan
soared like an Eagle,
and went off swimmingly (into a dive)
hence we chose Wegman's with doll finned porpoise
minus a sue per stevedore tailored hitch
cuz the China Jade restaurant
near Collegeville Redner's
nearly felt cold as ice dining niche
as if we accidentally
got highjacked to Siberia
where heat took precedence
verses restaurateur eatery reputable pitch
thus despite praise worthy Yelp reviewers,
whether they be named Poe or Rich
hard, earning their keep whose fingers
hut till lee diploid across
warp and weft to stitch
together disparate threads
weaving a webbed whirled Magnum Opus
where thoughts analogous
to this aspiring paperback writer exerts,
(whose muscles twitch)
in an attempt for phalanges
tortured as going every which
way with to craft a non ode us paean
from deep within thy bowel
applying me magical diving rod –
essentially a computerized dowel
which makes a dinging sound,
or emitting an odor most fetid and fowl
unintentionally inducing creatures
large and small to howl
at the abominable cursing and swearing
using languages that lack a vowel
sound - clouding ability to communicate
to remain steadfast
with intent thwarted by (third eye blind)
minor detour of fate
three doors down and celebrate modestly,
NEVER thought to "FAKE"
forgo wing NOR deferring
time to be spent with
a gluten and MSG free
NON GMO endearing sibling
NO whey iz she dee snide dour twisted sister
hood moost likely become irate
invested in marriage to a loving mate.
Amid the deafening ruins
in the viral era
in my final years as a career bibliocrat
in the autumn of a broken life...
I
became
a born-again poet
I create
malleable/mutating
meaningful/less
texts that
flow from a
nomadic neural network
reflecting
decades of
conflicts &
conflicting worldviews
hoping to create
something with depth
while being out of
my depth & mind
But it's now clear
I'm at my best
not making sense
and simply surrender
to logorrhea
I hope for some
recognition
and maybe
a little immortality
as I will someday
cease & desist
but
will likely
fade into
obscurity
obscurit
obscuri
obscur
obscu
obsc
obs
ob
o
They came lined up like chorus girls -
Just five, though, in a row,
A plastic cover letting them
Be visible below.
Protected, they stayed soft and fresh
Until the wrapper tore,
Most likely well before you even
Paid or left the store.
The colors, bright and cheery,
Topped with sugar, never bled –
A lemon yellow, orange, green,
A licorice black and red.
I mostly ate the red one first
But sometimes chose the black
And green, without a doubt, remained
The last one in the pack.
Though chewy Chuckles candies
In my childhood gained acclaim,
They never lived up to the joy
Expected by their name.
Well hallelujah, it's another great day
The clouds may be covering the sky
But the sun is shining deep in my soul
No worries, no tears in my eyes
Wish I could tell everybody my secret
Believe me, I sure wouldn't lie
Something to do with inherited genes
Most likely the reason why
Some wake up happy every morning
While others it's doom and gloom
Could it be a matter of mind over matter
Think positive and spirits will zoom
I'm certainly not an expert on the subject
But it always has worked for me
Realized I'm one of the fortunate ones
I'm as lucky as a person can be
Give it a shot, greet the day with a grin
You'll be floating on air, just try
If you greet each day with happiness and joy
Everyone will want to know why
© Jack Ellison 2013
There’re so many sad love poems around here.
If you guys need help negotiating love’s slippery slope,
let me offer you, your own, romantic horoscope!:
Don’t court romantic disaster
don’t mistake a lightbulb for the moon
Titanic wasn't a rom com
and a sad update:
Grand romantic gestures don’t happen anymore,
you're lucky to get a vibration in our pocket with a "sorry" text
I know what you're thinking though, “We didn’t know the moon was useless until we landed on it,” but once you’ve ‘landed’ on a guy (or girl), once or twice, it’s too late—you’re likely ‘in it.’
Big picture-wise, I think we all have Shakespeare to thank for unrealistic, romantic storylines. Romeo & Juliet are the perfect example—they meet, fall in love and marry the very next day.
In Shakespeare’s defense though, love in his world-building was always messy and imperfect, and there were few "happily ever after" narratives. (The exception being Beatrice and Benedick, in ‘Much Ado About Nothing’).
In a side note, my weekly horoscope (Libra) for the Thanksgiving holiday reads:
“You’ve become so self-centered, It’s all about you. What about your family? Before you go emo and angry, change your perspective—own it—strive to improve relationships.”
Sarsh (so harsh) in this writer’s opinion.
.
.
(Songs for this):
Love Is In Town by Brenda Boykin
Do You Even Know? by Rae Morris
Before an online purchase
Often I read the reviews
To gather some opinions on
An object I might choose
Or a hotel or a restaurant
To which I plan to go;
There might be helpful info
I would really like to know.
The problem with reviews is that
They’re all composed by those
Who are strangers with a lifestyle
I might very well oppose.
Of course, the opposite might be
The truth; I must decide
Whether what they’re recommending
Would be worthwhile as a guide.
I still like reading others’ thoughts
On things they have inspected,
Though likely their advice will get
An almost-sale rejected.
The outlook for the coming week
Socially hot with a wave of heat
Love is fair, fine with expected sun
Finances however overcast but rain there's none
Health this week foggy with low lying cloud
The weekend expect lightning and thunder that's loud
The extended outlook it's fair to say
Varies by the season, month and day
Summer this year to love brings doubt
Hot, dry and dusty, somewhat of a drought
Socially you'll reach maximum temp
Tropical storms are likely and they're meant
Finances look bright, calm and clear
But health may be blustery with arctic air
The months in spring a likely rainbow
Socially you're tired as cloud lies low
Love could be foggy and a likely frost
Poor visibility brings financial loss
The barometer gives an accurate measure
Health is suffering from high pressure
Winter expect blizzards and snow
Socially too cold you won't want to go
Love has a warning gale force wind
Finances will continue in a cyclonic spin
Health can expect the bitterly cold
Snowstorms and snowflakes you just want to hold
Autumn the climate sure does change
Socially there are twisters that'll rearrange
Love can bring a storm of dust
Beware of this as it's just lust
Finances they may just evaporate
This warning however has no date
Intermittent rain describes your health
But the forecast predicts just be yourself!
Nine lives removed from royal dignity
Five days after
getting acquainted with darling cats
pampered like queens courtesy
thee eldest daughter
and her partner acquired as kittens
reminiscence occurred regarding
one particular four footed feline
my late mother doted over.
Lion eyes hide predatory wage
sharp retractable sharp claw
never did the late Sage
exhibit talon nor ferocious jaw
even when getting his nails clipped,
said gentle cat infrequently
sunk daggers into soft human skin,
but upon completion
of aforementioned onerous task,
he voicelessly, soundlessly, passively,
manly, joyfully did withdraw.
Aye attest tubby reincarnated
(as well mine eldest daughter's beau)
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives
a handy dandy clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued and Atlas
shrugged off kitten hood
fur hum lee established
type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate nicknames)
as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,
yes him Elephant resembling
a humongous mandrake
from the, "Animals"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Inuits accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms)
these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek), he knew
practically every detail
incorporating page number, punctuation
plus citing word for word
never truncating, omitting,
nor jumbling... any lines,
and could track missing link,
when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files
would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour,
cuz yours truly off
in a huff to bang a lore.
On a winter or fall’s eve, dark and deep,
snuggled in my bed, I’ll be fast asleep,
but online (if Sandman acts unkindly);
there is where most likely you will find me!
In spring or summer, I’ll be having fun
just sitting with my pen beneath the sun
on my patio writing poetry.
There is where most likely you will find me.
Each Friday to a movie house I go
in early afternoon to see a show.
Because I revel in good fantasy,
there is where most likely you will find me.
If I’m not at work or shopping, it’s a time
I can relax or lose myself in rhyme.
In my home with hubbie, feeling comfy,
there is where most likely you will find me!
Written March 16, 2016
For "Where Will They Find You" Poetry Contest of Marugu MO