Long Lippy Poems
Long Lippy Poems. Below are the most popular long Lippy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lippy poems by poem length and keyword.
Across the Atlantic ocean
They have a pedantic notion
Quip us Brits have a frantic lisp
Did slip..meant to say chip not crisp
Semantic antics causing a commotion
Misunderstand our land’s devotion
To the sensory explosion that is a crisp
So why the linguistic demotion
Respond to across the pond & beyond
Have donned a wig of blonde
Seem fond of being conned
They need to be told
The reason Brits abscond from the fold
Will break the mould
Skip this blip and let rip
A chip is hot and if not.. is cold
Such umami gold is actually factually
A crisp!
Our gung ho American foe
Will still go & crow..
Blimey those slimy Limeys
We’re the aficionado…so no bravado
Must surely know a chip is always
Made I’m afraid of purely potato
(unless I guess if its chips at a casino)
Displayed for trips in dips
Not just crud dud spud chips
Bud..could be made of wheat
Sworn am often torn
Could be swayed by corn
Synthetic aesthetic can’t beat
Heart attack in a pack food p*rn
If Polenta is the mentor.. its a chip
But if some parsnip you did flip
In oil then it is definitely…definitively a crisp
Got a hunch that if for
Lunch.. earlier at brunch
Or just for a munch
Thick or thin as a wisp
If it does go crunch
Then it’s crisp
Not being trippy.. dippy or too lippy
Don’t be hasty and haughty
Nothing beats..tasty treats
Seriously salty.. deliriously naughty eats
That's why we say crispy.. not chippy
P.S ..The only crispy beast feast
Where’s there is no hackling
Tackling or shackling
A snack as a chip or a crisp
No cackling…is when it’s crackling
Oops somehow a new row hatching..isn't
Fried pig skin..a pork scratching
But Colombian cronies are dispatching
Such phony baloney..there's no matching
The show ponies that are chicharrones
Ode to Fanny
Her start in life was rather poor
with wastrel parents, ones to abhor
She avoided living in the gutter
Earning enough for her bread and butter
Her break in life came rather later
Before, bigamy and babies to underrate her
Her kids grew up in the care of another
She never took to being a mother
Her culinary skills proved rather good
She could write and critique on all kinds of food
Destined to star in sixties telly
She graced her shows in glitzy finery
Her zany persona was rather dippy
Her dress was ball gown and misplaced lippy
Shunning apron and hat that looked so drab
‘Cos cooking and baking should always look fab
The man she had met was rather fine
Ex army major, life was divine
They fronted shows as man and wife
Fanny and Johny, well matched and no strife
Her fame continued for rather a while
Overridden by others in different style
And gaffes too many, they booted her out
No telly shows, no gowns to flout
Her recipes of the past still rather great
She put pizza and prawn cocktail on our plate
She and Johny, always a couple
Poor but content to remain conjugal
Ooh rather!
A curse that’s worse than the pandemic
Greedier populist verse became totemic
No halt of their catapult assault systemic
Seedier social media game now endemic
Whether it be some chanting panting cleric
Will ration all compassion not really angelic
Always decanting another ranting hysteric
Doubts planting the enchanting evangelic
Oligarchy malarkey their tarnished polemic
Climate fires rage but won’t call the medic
Derails with varnished tales any academic
Preening demeaning all left leaning satiric
Dystopian & myopian totally Machiavellic
We burn they’re still lippy well it’s generic
With their heinous intravenous hypodermic
Even if taciturn with boring name like Derek
Yearn for return of hippy trippy psychedelic
Not dippy all learn nature can be mesmeric
Don’t spurn love soars above stratospheric
You’re early today, her manager said
are you okay, did you fall out of bed
June told her boss, I’ve changed my routine
My bloke drives me in as though I’m the Queen
I’m able to drive but it saves time each day
If he drives and I do my face on the way
I see, her boss nodded and then simply said
Why don't you just get up early instead
June said, losing sleep doesn't worry my head
When driving gives me one more hour in bed
My brows and mascara were done on the road
My lippy went on at the lights where we slowed
That’s all well and good her manager said
But I think you should get up early from bed
For even a Jaguar, Bentley or Rolls
Can‘t save a girl’s face from a thousand pot holes
Hello, my beautiful name is Deb,
And I’ve a power to share,
I’m a little time travelling tripster traveller,
Any time, any place, anywhere,
Like the other day I woke up in a house,
A house that I never knew,
And I realised when I walked around,
This house I’d never been to,
Or last week travelling to a concert,
Mega loud, mega death, mega rock,
I travelled to sitting on the couch at home,
The next day at about one O’clock,
And time travelling messes up my hair,
Changes my lippy colour to what I don’t like,
But that’s the rub of travelling time,
For this D.I.D. living psych.
You can think you’re better though affection isn’t shown
You never win approval from the people you have known
But you still boast abilities and think how far you’ve grown
with nobody around you as you’re always on your own
You’ve never known what is to be liked or to be loved
you only know what it is to be hateful with a grudge
thinking you’re superior while all else are a mug
only ever hearing your voice saying you’re above
The punishment is you are you
all your life in all you do
seeing things as you need too
the punishment is you are you
Born with a deficiency
emotionless and misery
humans are a mystery
behaving very differently
You don’t feel emotions that would make you feel alive
you just have a hollow hole where nothing lives inside
people wish you hateful suffering before you die
nobody you ever meet wants you within their life
Wishing for approval that you will never get
happy to behave a way that leaves the rest upset
it’s the only reaction that you have ever met
everyone who hurts you has no sorrow or regret
While you think you’re big and bad
others think you’re flipping sad
always lippy always mad
you’re a very tragic lad
You think you are better than everyone you knew
Everybody hating you
You think you are clever though it is far from true
the punishment is you are you
Her hair's so black, the blue is breaking through.
Centre-parted with furrow crown to fore,
Perfectly placed and kept in position
As pretty red ribbons bind the bunches.
Her face is crazed and tanned to leather.
Too many benders on Benidorm beach.
Her mouth is creased, possibly from decades
Of dragging long and hard on king-size tipped.
But her lips: Aah! A work of art in crimson.
Today she wears a short-sleeve summer frock.
Floral pattern with red to match her lippy.
Her batwings flap-flop like Labrador ears.
Her small white socks sit snug in hiking boots.
She is the little girl in the old lady.
Time corrupts. Her comfort, her addiction.
After her tour of town she sidles off
To swig Bushmills on a bus-station bench.
Guess who must help to carry her back home.
Their ma & pa were Eastenders
Blah blah..don’t remember the Blitz
Lit the bonfire..won't call it quits
Make even their kids crazy..like nits
Hazy troll scroll hits
Society in bits due to fascist fits
Dimwits just going on benders
To the nutter gutter they descend
Quixotic pretend patriotic defenders
Horrific hateful slurry..getting lippy
Like their tan..the glory of a tandoori
Sh** hypocrite story…more in a hurry
For a plateful of curry.. than a Mr Whippy
Or a trip to the chippy
Oblivion.. foster an imposter roster
But brag..as minions from the
Dominions opinions they gag
No refrain from disdain campaign
Vain..inane..insane Reform reign pain
Yet bet still the norm to holiday in Spain
It’s a farce..you are working class
Toffs scoff..no VIP pass
Stop.. just being an ar*se
Fooled..fueled and ridiculed
By public schooled top brass
Belligerent…militant instruments
But insolent..indolent & ignorant
These refugees are innocent
No different…like you a descendant of an immigrant
Tomfoolery cash for a stash
Of bold gold jewellery
Sold their souls at the polls
For whom “the Bell” (hotel) tolls
Farage barrage racist goals pepping
News airs..or views flares
Dares from their speakers
Roles of shoals of brash proles prepping
Mass of thrill seekers going for the
Kill in crass flash sneakers in Epping
Due to the "colour of your skin"
"No room at the inn".. spin
"Don't let them in" chagrin din
Charlie snorted...no parley
Reported we have resorted
To getting it sorted by them being deported
Cardinal sin..won't let them win
Cos Asylum Seekers they are schlepping
Seeming unseeing, expressionless being
Asleep in this wide awake town
Leant on the side of a bridge cross the river
Her gaze and demeanour are down
Considered a knife for taking her life
But thoughts of whom-ever might find
her blood drenched cadaver, decided she’d rather
not mess up an innocent’s mind
Spent some time thinking, painkillers while drinking
Might bring her the peace that she craves
But what if they merely left her feeling bleary
So now she stands gazing at waves
Nobody asks if she’s needing assistance
As busy folk head on their way
Ladies with lippy and cyclists nippy
And suited chaps seizing the day
A note she laid down, then without tear or frown
She climbed up and over the side
Made her last pledge on a protruding ledge
That really was not very wide
Well Lord, that was me, what had you hoped to see
Whatever it was I have failed
Messed up all my life, but I’ll get one thing right
For I’ve got my final act nailed
Behind her a groan in a juvenile tone
The nine year old face wore a frown
From under the bridge, that scared little kid
Said, please Lady, don’t let me drown
My dad paid a man who had a white van
To find a long life of good health
Snuck out of Francais then to my dismay
Abandoned me here by myself
She said take my hand, then climb up and stand
Safe on the bridge, then we’ll go
Miss, said the lad, did God have this planned
Honey, she said, I don’t know
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea
To this chrysoberyl dawn rescue from chuted linen bedlam,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
She sits on her hands and shuffles her ugg boots,
And watches me toast, I'm butter, I'm smoked ham.
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea.
Pepper shakes, egg white eyes, her yawning toots,
Her champagne hair bubbles still of our liquory sham,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
The wonder to her sprite body and this morn in cahoots,
When I feels like I'm sunken, with lids like a sleepy clam.
Now for warm oatmeal and honey and sugarless tea.
Not flowers on feathers, hoodlums we are - munchy and moose,
Nothing much matters but her lippy kiss coat of strawberry jam
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.
This first light and cigarette and her shuffling caboose
Closer, comfier, her smile on my shoulder, to the day be damn'
Now for warm oatmeal with honey and her sugarless tea,
For here's a bedside tale to whispered promise and plea.