Long Lime Poems
Long Lime Poems. Below are the most popular long Lime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lime poems by poem length and keyword.
I heard their faerie voices and they sounded far away
ran to get a magnifying glass to check out their fancy sway
it was three mini-faeries dressed in such finery galore.
decked in turquoise, lime and emerald, beautiful and more.
who made your outfits I asked the impressive dazzling three.
they did not speak as I did, their words were gibberish you see.
I was amazed at how hard they tried, they were truly beautiful.
spotted monarch came by and they sailed away, their mission dutiful.
I waved goodbye and forgot to get a selfie, so that is on me.
no one has believed my story about these gorgeous three.
one was a male who looked a lot like Johnny Depp, of course.
glad they got away before the grass was trampled by a horse.
This is another modern age,
the one others will dream about;
a free spirit out of a cage,
a balladeer creating art.
Many ages ago they used plain paper and ink,
I use a keyboard and a computer at all times;
it's a powerful hardware that makes me occasionally blink...
then it's time for me to go to bed and wait for surprises.
Pens, pencils, pads and note books now are things of the past,
what if a power loss occurred and the screen went blank,
who could recover any work...wouldn't some beat on their chest?
Get used to saving your work, be diligent and don't strain your shank.
This is another modern age that will flourish as fragrant lime,
and to lead one must be determined, motivated and accurate:
counting syllables, checking iambic meter, stress and rhyme...
and the author will have a chance to become a Poet Laureate.
discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse"
We sing heart songs making up the winged words
As we go along amethyst path undisturbed
Music we make brings about purple peace
We are indigo instruments beautiful and unique
For gold soul music is you it is me
The light uses us spontaneity
Painting the universe in rainbow shades
Dancing romancing with step’s homemade
No need to worry about a teal thing
We exist to persevere life’s jade journey
No need to fear making maroon mistakes
Throw it in the bowl we’re making lime life cake
From the sour lemons make sweet lemonade
Despite discouraging demons we keep faith
To trust green gut finding fuchsia way
And turquoise touch in happy gypsy day
The pork chops were ten meters thick.
The gravy was never lumpy, always totally slick.
Grandma’s kitchen had smells found nowhere else ever.
She was fantastic with food, surprisingly witty and clever.
Her dishes were plain, blue and white, with a scene inside.
They were scrubbed thoroughly by my Uncle Malcom McBride.
He had never married, which is why we usually had a female guest.
He had seven sisters; do I need to add on the rest?
Grandma would include anyone who wanted to come in and help.
We started carrying platters of croissants and rolls as a young whelp.
Cinnamon sugar pie crust was sitting on the back porch all the time.
To get to it we walked through smells of pumpkin, sage, peach and lime.
Grandma’s pies were in place, but we knew the absolute rule.
To take one before dinner would be death to that fool.
Amid giant platters of potatoes, corn, roast beef, in this fragrant place,
We all sat down together, and waited while grandma said grace.
Babes in Pieland, my favorite Disney movie of all time.
Annette and Tommy, Dream Girl and Dream of mine.
Those gypsies, the music, the dancing, and those scary trees!
Babes in Pieland, a kick, a whirl, a spin, and a breeze!
Apple, cherry, lemon meringue, and sweet mincemeat too.
Let’s give them a push down the old snoggle-whoo-whoo.
Sh! Here comes Tommy and Annette in a blue Corvette.
I smell pie – peach, raspberry, key lime, and chocolate.
Pieland, Pieland, Good Old Fashioned Pie Land!
We Love the way that you smile at us.
We like your trees, though they look like they cuss.
Pieland, Pieland, Good Old Fashioned Pie Land.
Written 11-16-2018 Contest: Punny Holiday Pies Contest
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner
Roast seven beets
Allow to cool
In a food processor add
2 tablespoons of salt
1 cup of lime juice
5 Tablespoons of extra dry gin
1/3 cups of olive oil
1/3 cup of minced onion
5 tablespoons of minced garlic
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
5 Tablespoons of Cayenne pepper
7 (peeled) roasted beets
1/4 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup of liquid smoke
5 drops of red food coloring
2 tablespoons of fish stock
2 tablespoons of McCormick's season salt
Process until smooth
4 pork tenderloins butterflied
Cover pork with the marinade allow to marinate
over night
Remove pork from marinade and rinse clean in 2 liters of ginger ale. Allow to dry on a rack.
Make filling for the pork
4 cups of cooked mustard greens drained
2 cups of onion dip
1/2 cup green bell pepper diced
1/2 cup of onions diced
1)2 cup of diced bacon bits
4 tablespoons of. Minced garlic
1/2 cup of parmesan cheese
1/2 cup of crushed sun dried tomato's
Stuff your pork and roll each loin foil
Roast @ 360 degrees for 1-1 1/2 hours
In a sauce pan bring
2 cups of water melon juice to a boil
2/3 cup of lemon juice
Add 1/4 cup of strawberry brandy
1/4 cup of honey
2 tablespoons of fresh chopped Rosemary
1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper
Going back over the past years of St. Patrick greenish fun, and
remembering how my Irish mother sure liked that happy shamrock day.
Everything she baked for us was emerald, like sugar cookies and puddings,
even a lime green cake with silly green decorations, drinks of questionable green.
Now, I like an Irish beer in a cold glass, and do a jig- kiss me I'm Irish(but only half).
__________________________
March 16, 2016
Poetry/Acrostic/Green
Copyright Protected, ID 16-768-837-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Get Into The Spirit Of Green
sponsor, Poet Destroyer
Fifth Place
Early one Spring morning, I joyfully walked the verdant hills,
among lemon tinted blooms of coltsfoot, swaying in spills.
Their beauty seemed to drift in a gloriously scented display,
so enticing that honeybees and butterflies visited that day.
Dawn whispered with fruited breath to bid the sun, "Arise,"
and hues of watermelon rind and peach flesh filled the skies.
I gladly welcomed the gentle warmth on my upturned face,
savoring this tranquil scene; a moment I would long embrace.
Tangerine and lavender coral bells had grown quite profuse.
There was one the shade of lime, like the liqueur, chartreuse.
Blanket flowers of crimson were fringed in saffron yellow.
Dragonflies flitted among the buds; a pastoral scene so mellow.
Wild lilac bushes were maturing into a beautiful hedgerow,
then I caught I glimpse of aquamarine water on the lake below.
It was such a serene setting that I lingered for some time
thinking about the pastoral scene I would write about in rhyme.
April 13, 2021
Changing Colors Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Afternoon Snowstorm in January
David J Walker
What else would I dream about
in January
When the chill is enough to kill
All incentive
And the north wind huffs its wicked breath
In a cruel Laugh
What else would I dream about except
a certain day in a
Far away June
The 10 O’clock sun blazing its tune to
The roar of the lawnmowers
Joining the song
Shorts and a t-shirt is all we had on
And new flip flops that knew
to keep time all along
the sweet smell of fresh mown grass
and the shrilled laugh of children flying
On swings that become wings
against a summer sky
What else would I dream about when
An ice storm sets in
except the
Cherry Icee’s we bought
At Gordon Moore’s drug store
For a dime
There was Cherry and Cola
Root beer and Limon Lime
We started to notice that
Girls were different
A mystery that would never be
Solved
What else would I dream about
in the concession
to an afternoon snowstorm
in January long gone
Once a friend of mine invited me for lunch
A celebration he planned for his book launch,
The book was on traditional Indian cuisine, I knew
No very different from its modern cousin or new.
I was hesitant to join for my stomach was upset
He pleaded with me, let the plan not get upset.
I must join the friend’s party, how could I say no
For it was a special event in his life, I should know.
He would take care, being an accomplished chef
For me, he assured, food would be entirely safe.
I decided to not enter into a friendly row
But to go, occupy a chair in the back row,
Enjoy the lunch as best I could to the last course
And not utter a word about stomach, of course.
I went for the lunch on a winter day quite chilly
Vowing to avoid the food items with lots of chilli.
Through morning my friend made things all ready
For the party he threw, guests had arrived already.
While cheese and toast rested untouched for a while
We proposed a toast to his success as a chef of style.
Matching the rhythm of our warm and soft whine
Rose red wine rose and swirled in shining glasses thin.
I was delighted to see on the table dishful curd
So much good for my stomach, I shouldn’t discard.
The fat naan was so liberally buttered all over
None possibly would have eaten in their life ever,
Flat bread made of finest flour of well bred wheat
Looked like blooming flowers on the floral plate.
The flavor of famous basmati rice as it would rise
I would favor to have it instead of bread to be wise,
Sprinkle of spring onion with smell of spring in fish curry
Added to the gastronomic delight, a treat far to carry,
Meat in gravy with basal green layer of fresh basil leaf
Could meet the culinary acumen of any expert chef,
The salad of beet root, leek, lime and touch of olive
Could beat any such combo in the world, I believe.
Before scoops of ice cream could bury the red berry
The dessert disappeared as if in desert heat in a hurry.
My friend’s hospitality won the hearts of one and all,
Thanking him amply we departed before the nightfall.
We expressed the appreciation for the food aloud
As much as our satiated minds sincerely allowed.
December 3, 2017.