Long Lil Poems

Long Lil Poems. Below are the most popular long Lil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lil poems by poem length and keyword.


Valentines Java Thirst

Mornin coffee thinkin of you!
Simmers thoughts of a wonderful brew,
as dreams of romance percolate into view!
Such an awesome aroma I sense,
if we were to become more intense!
How's about a warm slow roast,
somethin that you'll like the most!
And if you want to make it nice'n hot,
know Im gonna like you a lot!
Here's some sugar for your cup dear,
with visions of holding you near!
Cafe au' lait is a tasty treat,
but bet your the one thats really sweet!
What a rich blend we've found,
and I look forward to stickin around!
Guess I better get a bigger pot,
well considerin all the luv you got!
Starbucks gives you lots of frothy foam,
you know I cant wait to get you all alone!
Wishin you have a bottomless mug,
so I can give ya lotsa hugs!
Hey care for some Arab-bic-ka,
you wont mind if I grab-at-ya!
Gettin dizzy the smells so heavenly robust,
why honey you might like if I just go for bust!
Want to wait for a traditional slow drip,
and get better acquainted with your upper 'n lower lip! 
Expresso has a very strong flavor,
but girl it's you I really want to savor!
Fix'in yours up all real creamy,
and gettin it nice and steamy!
Oh so sweet and yummy,
brings a taste of joy to my tummy!
Shots of Kahluha makes a good intoxicating mix,
and I would crave to give you a nice fix!
Yep just hoping that you'll spike my cup,
and really stiffin things up!
Darlin for you I'm makin it strong,
so maybe I can kiss ya all night long!
And anytime your ready to take a drink,
deep within your arms I long to sink!
Be glad to fix ya a mocha delite,
and still be kiss'in ya come early daylight!
Next there comes a double shot latte,
your turn to show me how your so risque!
Carefully made you'll never find any course grounds,
your tearin me up with all them sweet moanin sounds!
Just ask me to prepare yours with a french press,
and surely you wont last long in that lil mini dress!
Amazing what happens when you roast a little bean,
lacey silk stockings tempt where to get in between!
Just hollar whenever you want a cappuccino,
now what about that juicy maraschino!
Ahhh the heated scent is so incredibly aromatic,
why honey never knew your so kinky 'n acrobatic!
So whenever you ponder for your cup,
k-n-o-w that I'd like to just fill you right up!
Mmmm talkin bout good to the last drop,
whoa babe I'm about ready to pop!
Thinkin you might go for a really fine grind,
I'm about ready to lose my mind!
Form: Rhyme


I'M Gone Make It

From the beginning momma been duin it on her own, raising a fast kid like me in a single parent home. 15 years old with her whole life ahead of her, but sperm traveled fast and made a single egg last. Now its me, here by mistake, so I only look at myself as one. Taking her through hell for 15 years , while she gave up all she had in front of her. No prom, no graduation, no happiness, her teenage life thrown away and sacrificed just for me. But all this didn’t have to be. She had a choice: murder me, or give me away and live happily. She kept me out the goodness of her heart, lord knows If she had the chance, she’d give it up for a brand new start. But this is the life of how a small lil teen in a huge giant world grows with guilt inside.
Daddy wasn’t an addict, and daddy wasn’t a jail berg. Daddy isn’t dead, he’s just somewhere being mislead. He’s not with me, so how can he tell me where I need to be. 
I grew up like any other kid, without a father. All I had and have to depend on is my mother. She’s not the best, but she’s defiantly far from the rest. 
She’s modeling for me, modeling how to be. The best is what she want me to see. 
Tough love is rough is love, momma know love. Momma give love, momma take love, but I’m surprised momma still giving love. Its just a matter of time before momma throw in the gloves! 
From the headaches, to the heartaches; I couldn’t possibly imagine what hurts worst! She’s smiling on the outside, sorta like me, & crying behind closed doors, praying on her knees: hoping her daughter don’t fall a victim to the streets, and become pregnant just from one lil piece of meat! The whoopings, the spankings, the beatings, the busted heads, and the loud yells are just a sign of tough of love, tryna teach a lesson, while I’m blaming myself when I should really be countin my blessings! 
Momma just wanna see me succeed, fulfill the things she wasn’t able to in life, and spend time with her on the things that her momma couldn’t. She wanna see the best in me, & honestly, I’m striving to be all I can.
Bringing home good grades, making goals, achieving goals, and playing my role. They say we can’t please every body and I guess I try too hard, but momma is one person who I wanna impress lord! 
Take care of her like she take care of me, that’s after I become all I can be! Cause I want my momma to see . . . . . . . . . I’m GONE make it!!!

If It Was Not For...

If it was not for¡¦

Beyonce Irreplaceable, I would not have put his bags out and told him he must 
not know about me!  Because if it was not¡¯t for Destiny¡¯s Child, I would not be 
asking him was She the reason he start acting funny
He was telling me I was tripping and like Gucci Gucci I told him B.... I Might Be¡¦
Therefore, like Keyshia Cole I had to Let Him Go!
Every since I let him go¡¦like my inspiration You Couldn¡¯t Tell Me Nothing and I 
was hitting the clubs Bottle Poppin¡¦Sh!t I was Remy Ma cuz I was FRESH 2 
Death¡¦
Therefore, for him and my haters I told yal I was gon 2 bump like this¡¦
If you ever felt like this in the words of my Idol Keyshia, I¡¯m Just Like YOU¡¦.


Part 2

I am so glad that I found my Angel listening to Bobby V¡¦. I felt like Lil Wayne when 
you told me I can be you judge¡¦So Nasty wit it!
Sometimes I feel like Alicia, I wish that we could be together more to cherish our 
time and you can hug me as if You will never see me again...
In the words of Mary J, we will be Just fine, because you taught me you are just 
like Mario and you are Crying out for me while listening to my heart
I am so glad that you CC all those other girls around town and You choose me 3 
stacks¡¦.
So now, we can make love in the Mirror like Neyo¡¦If anything goes wrong we can 
Make it like is was like Pretty Ricky.
In the end like Avant and Keke theirs nothing in the world I would not do for you 
boy¡¦Good thing I listened to Lloyd and opened up my eyes and seen that you are 
they One for me.  Therefore, I am going to take Ciara¡¯s advice and Promise that 
I will never ever hurt you¡¦because you are My Boo.
So I will flash my Promise Ring everywhere I go¡¦Damn I HATE THAT I LOVE YOU!

Part 3

Can you really Put it Down like T-Pain, and get it Poppin with our Nasty Grind¡¦
Just Say It! You are Addicted to Sex like Neyo¡¦
Just because you are such a Seduction¡¦.I Can¡¯t Leave you Alone¡¦
Like Plies I am happy to be yo Shawty¡¦even tho you told me once you put it down 
I was gone be stuck¡¦
I am Sorry, so therefore you can put the Blame On Me...
As, Pretty Ricky would say I want you to Stay a little bit longer
Because I am going to Suffocate without you¡¦cuz, you know exactly How I like it
So go back and tell yo friends that you chick said hello cuz I know THEY KNOW¡¦.

¢¾ Mz.Liscious
12/18/2007
Form:

Missing

Life is good wen ur missing that certain fragrance, warmth heated imaginary endless love, soft kisses filled with Every intention to kover a wonded heart, heaven threw hell  i was floating right pass the moon on dayz that should b irrelevant. Home is the  highest energy u kould feel, i dislike knowing that ur the valve to my heart n mind that certain key that Broke into my lock, im no locksmith ,just give me 5 or 2 min with u and i have u feeling different, so either run away from me on a different planet and i  know u Still love me with sadness that i kouldnt change to a different route  of a cycle of a man that kan be  there for you  lookn gudd to a point , satisfied like either broke or poor well b ok  whats higher than high? family, i wanna bring you all ur needs its not ur needs that u want from me just me and im missing you beyond missing like are  coming threw? i miss u ,i have passion in us and you should know being the luckiest gurl in Life wouldnt  be no gudd with a lil madness
 like the world is tragic loving you forever n ever And more its programmed to our conscience automatic so my love exist wen i lay my last breath ,I say im selfish,  kids in my life why Kouldnt i stop when, when u gave me chance after chance With that there I  dnt deserve bliss u deserved kids ,sayin that? is that a lil kid Mind , Im a  blindless guy in the world ,now im A hypocrite Who isnt..  Just know i love u Not even  close Like the ojays.... Not ever like the future lame squeeze, i hate being the guy you'll be reminiscing of ,wat u were missing, wen you should be right next to me, like did u forget what u left behind threw arguing ,How do u say no more bcuz if ur heart hurts instantly shouldnt  I TURN MY BACK ON YOU, Well i should turn it around , A roaming stream of feelings against Urself and knowing our luv is luv.. Real love or mistaken love, Like its not enough, i feel like the world is  mine when were all layed up I keep messin up. A lil bit more and more konstantly i would nvr expect the world to just up n leave  Hurt and just done to even bare to stick around me, sick n tired of being hurt once again so fall and i will katch you like a baseball mit , i feel you like Im missing you, i See you like Im missing you And i  kant even touch when im missing you which I know the message Wats falling over and  breathin Wen its the barely the 2nd inning
© Jay Gee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lay

Free Will Hath Limitations

(following on figurative heals 
   sans, l'amour, 
i.e.,and that bastard conception 
   of life, liberty, and the
pursuit by George - Marshall ling, Grant 
   ting, and Bing Frank.)

Expectant motherhood generates aurorean
sonogram x-ray zooms 
   bringing developed fetus 
   healthily shimmering viz, 
   quasi hologram seen
glowing halo, inducing 
   jubilant kickstarter lil bean, 
administering capitalone 

   earthlinked joyful lyft, 
   natural pheromone readying cerulean
tommorrows, venerated ecstacy doth gleam
zinging bounteous 
   dizzying feelings hormones houseclean
jackanapes leviathon nestling 
   pinterestinly interocean
reaching terminus vista 

   xing zee birth canal mien
doctor readies Fallopian tube cutting 
   helping jiggle little nymphean
possibly ranking... 
   as future topnotch venerated Olympian 
fast forward to joyful loving neuro
   logically plain resplendent teen
knee weeny tiny 

   vaunted expanding zing 
   baby dripping Vasoline
like goo fully gesticulating 
   happy jolly newborn.
Which miracle whipped 
   purely by chance
given reason to the most orthodox 
   to sing and dance,

sans said singular biological 
   phenomenon does enhance
freshly minted parents, 
   or the mommas 
   and papas genetic 
   copy wrought grants
who already passed along 
   to a brood of offspring
 
   gushing with excitement 
   akin to fire hydrants
spewing forth fountain head 
   treasuring such Kodak moment, 
   cuz such instance
and subsequent tender 
   wonderful blessed 
   Instamatic reverent cherished instants

will zip at greased lightening
   via speeding hurled lance
sing remembrance of things past 
   during twilight years, 
   an eye blink those yesterdays, 
   when my troubles seemed so far away
   and upon being centenarian, 
   doddering fogie gripping hold,

   hugging intensely, indubitably decrying
   how quickly of 
   decades long ex pants
   didst elapse, when tendering
   to a coliciky, finicky, 
   inscrutably lemony snickety offspring
   wishing infant would grow up already, 
   now onset of autonomy 

   Das Agean sea sunned 
   father or mother 
   hood doth rants
at father time, he doth access
   without a word an excel lent 
   power point demonstration 
   with near vertical line brevity
   of how mortality slants.


Premium Member Kids' Table

Laying my head back, eyes closing,
reminiscing, the years falling away into decades ago
to the 1950s at my grandparents' grand home
for Christmas.

It was a gracious dining room.
Noontime sun streaming in.
Chair rail with deep red wallpaper, white trim.
Decorating the lace clothed "Big Table"
was a tallish 1870s porcelain Meissen fruit centerpiece
with lovers circling the stem.

Even the adults had to look around it.
Grandmother "Lil" and "Mister B"
were at their nouveau best.
All their progeny seated in good form
awaiting the traditional invocation by "Mister B".

Also seated were the ones that were to be
"seen but not heard" at our side table, the "Kids' Table."
Draped card tables for the dozen of us -
me, my brother and sisters and cousins.
Everyone all scrubbed in dresses and ties.
Mine was a clip on.

As expected, a milk glass got tipped. Spilt milk.
Besides that, we kids had great fun and 
became friends again as we did each year.

The thing of it was, none of us liked
being at the "Kids' Table."
We felt lesser, unworthy, subtly so.
Even when I was ten, I knew there were
only two ways to get to the big one:
marriage or go in the army.

We all wondered what it was like to be adult.
After all, most of them smoked.
They all had drinks.
The women had figures, swishy swirls.
The men wore suits like they knew how.

At the "Big Table" they all talked like experts
about stuff we didn't understand
and they laughed loudly at Uncle Bob's jokes.

As the years moved on, things would change,
always do.
I saw virtually all my cousins
disassemble their lives too early -
marriages, divorces, addictions, lost jobs, left school -
beleaguered into inevitable submission.
My family miraculously unscathed.

But they're all gone now,
"Big Table" and little table too.
All that's left from the 50s
is my brother, sister and me.

For years, I was at the "Big Table" since my brood and I
took over the Christmas tradition.
The "Big Table" conversation was
superficial and posing was prevalent.

So one year, I put myself at the "Kids' Table." Just for fun.
Yes, milk got tipped.
But oh, the wonderment and hope. A meal that truly was
food for the soul.
Now that I'm old and looking back,
with a quiet smile, mulling it,
I kinda liked the "Kids' Table" better.


Colored pencil illustration by G.Gaul
© Greg Gaul  Create an image from this poem.

Haunting Past

I was ten, my own useless nothing
No money, no food, no toys as a child could I bring!
My only possession was my little, harmless brother
His eyes so blue reminded me of mother.....

A dark storm had struck, long ago that eve
I still remember the words "Sorry there is nothing we can retrieve.."
The house lay in ruins, mixed with stone and rocks
I cried, he cried, and I gently brushed his blonde locks!

Mum-dad lay somewhere, down-below the scattered lawn,
Oh! I still remember how they pushed us, out-safe that stormy dawn!
No one left to love-cherish, no one to simply care,
No one to pass a smile, to feel what we bear!

I had sworn that dreary night
I would be his dad and mother...
A light made my world bright,
My brother, Oh! My brother.

It did not take me long to get,
That world was thirsty for tears,
Not those of joy, of laughs or smiles
But those of your darkest fears!

The forces took us into custody
Aunt Anne owned us then
Dark, small, abode of dust
Our new room was more of a den!

But as long as she loved us
Or rather did pretend
I thought I wont make a fuss
But the trouble for my little one had to end!

I made the fire, did the dishes
Cooked the food and fed the fishes
I cleaned the bathroom and all of the mess
I adjusted, but she made me suffer- an year with only one dress!

She would scare John, my lil- snow
Made him stay up for late
No school, no games
She scraped my teddy's fate!

I knew this had to stop,
I felt the need to do..
Then an idea struck
And my eyes shone their brightest blue!

It was the same night, same storm
I dreamt of how our world had torn
A knife in my hand, I headed to the lawn,
I had to do that just for my John!

The clouds growled, the winds dwelled...
My mistress yawned, my way led!

I screwed the knife through her waist,
Twisting it for end of the wild
She turned behind, in quite a haste
I drew back, her smile was mild!

She bowed down, to my surprise
A feel of shame, did sure arise
This one thing- future did I dread
I took my brother and far I fled!

They still look for the killer
Me, it was! Oh such a thriller.
Guilt still feeds on all parts of me
But my angel sets me free!

This was MY story to mourn
I swear I could have sworn
There will, sure be one bright night,
When I will bring this crime of mine in his sight....
Form: ABC

The Ruining

You were "blood", & you had nowhere else to go. 
You were the brother of my love, how could we tell you no?

We welcomed you in our home, you and your "escorting" hoe.
He even got you a job, as you stated "I won't let you down, bro".

But no good deed goes unpunished, our sentence was not even deferred.
An Instant hell, we fell and we fell, dwelling in the stench of one little demons turd.  

My love, he lost his job, because, well Josh, YOU know EXACTLY why.
You ruined the life we worked so extremely hard for...you-the epitome of a big 'ole lie!

Our things were disappearing, but you, you thought you were so very, very sly.
On a golden pond of crescent stars, you were floating on a free moon pie...

My dress, my shirt, our conditioner and for God's sake, my deodorant too?
Was there anything else you forgot to take? Perhaps you'd prefer we send it to you?

My shirt jumped from my drawer, grew lil' feet and placed them on the floor...
Ran down the hall, scooping up my deodorant and into your bag they soared...

Your kitten, the one left in our yard, because of you, she'd almost died.
When we saw her deteriorating condition, it was enough to make one cry.

Poor little thing, you told us she would catch her own food outside.
One more being left in your wake, drowning in the storms from your tide...

Nine hundred dollars in fines, that's how much we paid to claim your kitten as our own.
Or the animal control would take her out of the misery of the only life she had ever known.

For a concerned neighbor, assuming we were responsible, was kind enough to phone,
and they were going to take her, & put her to sleep before she was ever even grown.

But I could not let that happen, even as now, we have not even paid our rent.
My love, because of you, he has no income, and we may all end up residing in a tent.

To think, one little brother could be responsible for these rapid, earth-shattering events,
leaving us a tumbling down alone, and for the next ruining, off you went! 

This down-slope of destruction, on and on, has yet to slow for us...
disturbing hatred now swirls inside my belly as this journey has been so rough...

Now YOU have the nerve to question to US, while attempting unsuccessful to act so tough,
The ironic cherrybomb, our sweet icing on the cake, you ask, "HAVEN’T YOU DONE ENOUGH?"
© Jill Allen  Create an image from this poem.

Ghosts of Buzzard's Breath

© 2009 (Jim Sularz)

Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, by wagon, train or foot.
Days not all that long ago, in tall ships made of wood.

“A gold rush struck in ’49, all quite by accident.
A burning fever that cut men to bone, in a sea of dingy tents.
Day and night, they toiled and told, many headed home without a cent.
But some packed out bags of glistening gold, and made a stop at Buzzard’s Breath.

The town’s mud logged street, deep with horse manure, bubbled like a shallow grave.
With a Sheriff’s office, a livery stable, and a church for souls to save.
And a fancy house, on a grassy knoll – sign read, “Madam Lil la Tart”.
With soft, curvaceous ladies who mined for hearts – and gold of a different sort.

Didn’t take long before easy gold, was extremely hard to find.
And burly miners, tough as steel, moved in to hard rock mine.
With bloodied knuckles, dented hats, they blasted at a furious pace.
To find the gold, called the mother lode, yellow blood coursing through their veins!

The mine they worked was called “Long Shot”, the men thought that name a curse.
But the miners hankered for the handle, “Buzzard’s Breath”, and the mine’s name was reversed.
As luck would say, they held a royal flush, when they hit that horse-wide vein.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found, this side of the Pearly Gates.

Eyes wide as saucers, they were all in awe, everyone was filthy rich.
The miners should have all retired and should have cashed in all their chips.
But a man’s hard to figure, when his blood is yellow, and he’s stricken with a gold fever.
“Eureka! boys, git the dynamite and a whole lot more mining timbers!”

They mined that vein to the bowels of the earth, and the heat increased by day.
Buzzard’s Breath became the hottest place, to Hell – the shortest way.
And then one day, the men never came back. – Hell must have jumped that claim.
Of the purest gold, yet to be found – that’s where the Devil mines today!”

Quiet mounds of yellowed tailings and dead weeds whisper low.
And proud rusting relics telling tales of striking gold.
The rush from East, from North and South, died a slow and quiet death.
Along with days of tall wooden ships, and the ghosts of Buzzard’s Breath.
© Jim Sularz  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Ballade

It's Cultural

It’s Cultural hypocrisy,
Like monks selling books on oxford street,
Like a political debate on your screens, 
Like when Donald lost Queen Lizzy.

R.I.P to lil peep!
And the other 2 million that died this week,
*** faked his own death,
And it only matters if you’ve trend-set.

It’s cultural insanity,
Like Grenfall tower’s insurance fees,
The 3,000 suicides a week,
And the worst one; Love Island on your screens. 

Meghan Markle’s family send their best,
Kanye says he loves Kanye West,
Like doing the floss at a dentist,
It only matters if you’ve trend-set. 

It’s cultural satire comedy,
Like playing Fortnite for 2 weeks,
A hobo getting mad cause you gave him 10p,
Proudly sharing your insecurities.

I’m a vegan but sometimes I like to eat beef,
But don’t get mad, I have ADHD,
I love labels, in fact I’m obsessed,
And it only matters if you’ve trend set.

It’s culture clarity,
Like watching **** and not clearing your history,
And thinking you're as safe as safe can be,
And then seeing ads about small willies.

But none of that applies to me,
I’m obviously talking theoretically,
Changing subject...  Can Ant survive without Dec?
Too soon? Or simply the latest trendset?

It’s cultural spirituality,
And I achieved enlightenment when I was three,
And then forgot what it all means,
And now I’m depressed.

It must be cause I read it on the news, 
And in the papers so it must be true, 
Or was it fake? I sometimes forget,
Too distracted by all the trend-sets.

It’s culture profanity,
Like your mum telling you it’s avocado for tea,
Like your grandma offering to buy you weed,
Was that just me? 

I totally detest avocado for dinner,
And parents who buy their kids fidget spinners,
My patience I admit, is on the edge,
I’m sick to death of all these trend-sets.

Since when was an opinion as valid as a fact? 
Since when was it ok to believe the earth is ing flat? 
And we sit and wonder why we’re all so incest, 
Its cause you only matters if you trendset 

Yes, this culture is distracting me 
And stopping me from finding peace,
By making me want to make money,
And tempting me with comedy. 

So I’ll end this poem with some advice,
And I’ll try my best to make it nice,
To have a nice life, and live the best,
Do everything and anything, apart from trend-set. 

It’s cultural.
Form: Lyric

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