Long Mates Poems
Long Mates Poems. Below are the most popular long Mates by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mates poems by poem length and keyword.
”Rego’s threescore encore tour”
(one of me oldest/best mates has just turned sexy/sixty and is celebrating in Ronda in Espagna)
Did you hear..“Wow the Rego’s Sexy”
So tasty.. like Iberico jamon
Come on ..don’t be hasty.. cloth ears
Before it goes to his head
His peers said “the Ego’s.. Now Sixty”
As those he holds dear all ponder
The wonder of those hero years
Having a ball..let’s say cheers
To a Brummie (with a touch of svelte Celt) not a Scallie
Rich voice of Villa on the pitch
Of course Redditch does bewitch
But he gets that wanderlust itch
Marky couldn’t be much fonder
Of a wee wander..then dilly dally
Won’t keep tally …go dullally
Rally down a hammy tapas alley
Fawns about those prawns over yonder
With your ladies..shindig grin adorns the big daddy
No whammy…just so bloody jammy..lucky plucky Paddy
Clearly can still be a really silly billy
But don’t let it fester..won’t pester
Fiesta to siesta…the jester of Ronda
He denies its lies...this guy’s got a prize wil*y
Sixty years young…still well hung
Between his thighs..behind his flies
He does surmise..the size of an anaconda
Famous for an old bridge over a ruddy ridge
Flocks in the tourist mist..tall tales
But what a shock..never ever fails
To be now.. somehow beer a clock
My sneaky cheeky buddy..
Lovely locks…you “silver fox”
Anyhow have a corking trip…run amok..
Let rip….aficianado bravado…wind in your sails
Blissed yesteryear gist..bucket list scale
And we’re not talking about the stale
Fuddy duddy.. austere que*r valley
That in comparison pales…& hails from Wales (Rhondda)
p.s does tickle me that.. already in a ickle bit of a pickle.. you drain another jar in Spain …no shame..a thirst you can’t tame…that ha ha…not being fickle..R-onda (red honda) is also my car’s name …
I saw blue memoirs fell from momma's eyes, as she looked into my brown retinas. Swiftly she removed my medicated glasses, a dominant gene I carved out from papa's bottled eyes. "Oh! sorry D!," She whispered! "Its just a matter of time new sores become old sores and grow to mature into scars" she cried as she looked into my eyes. Eventide dawned upon us like golden mist as I was flown into the nurses moonlit; in a bird with twinkling red optical, double paired rubber legs, iron facials. The nurses at stand dished us mother care attention. Ice dangled in her eyes. Momma is smiling joy painfully at me. As I stole
a look at her brown embattled face, I pictured her retinas glued to drenches. The ice now fell from her eyes. With my octopus years, my feet has trod this egg shaped earth.
And the world seemed to pass so swiftly on me like a shutter's speed. I could see the skyline walking on the tightropes of my memories, like flashbacks in a cinema film, laying on
this medic bed. My belly could only be facing down while my electrified toasted back kissed the wind escaping in through the casement.---yak!!!!
And the only mirror I could have afforded to reflect my per boiled back is my momma's pair of brown camera eyes, but here they are ice dank. I thought. It could be fun and warmly, laying on the pressing iron, left on the bed in our unisex room, after long being used by aunt Lydia. I couldn't tell its degrees with my brownie eyes. But my steamed back did, so it kissed it metal surface---and here we are, " In a toast of roastful love,' underneath nurses moonlit with
my mauve skin.
And the needles! o no! I hated needles. Two prickles a day!, yahhhk! my bum bum like Evans rickety bike. I heard Evans my best pal crying along in the neighborhood, while I was being rushed into the medic bird. With his grey coloured panties, hung on his waist like tarzan.
He did be jerking bitterly. I and Evans jolly good mates had known each other since the neighborhood old. His curly dark hair, and owl eyes tells you he is indian...
An excerpt from my book " momma's camera eyes"
29/4/2022
"Drunk as a skunk"
Flimsy after whimsy
Flunk and debunk
Or mastered getting "plastered"
"Tipsy as a gypsy"
Sunk like a monk
Miss nights out "on the p*ss"
We shan't blush...can't hush
Us as we gush about the rush
Bliss to kiss the alcoHOLE abyss
Have a crush on the plush
Flush flights of a proper "lush"
Grinned while you sinned
Smile..getting in a right mess
Room spinned ... plans binned
Betting the style's "blotto" lotto
Pinned motto bless the "legless"
Jolly golly gosh "sloshed"
What beats "3 sheets to the wind"
Need a slash..have to crash
After being out on the lash
"Smashed"..bish bash boshed
'Off your trolley" wally or dolly
Bedazzled frazzle on the razzle
Laughter after a dafter shindig swig
On the "sozzle"..off his head ..off to bed
Reason for that big red schnozzle
Let's be frank those who get "tanked"
Get thanked...no..blanked & spanked
Don't deride those who decide
To get plied with or "pie eyed" with pride
Have a tiff with those who chose skew whiff
No need upsetting or fretting
Over a drunkard with a tankard
Rum dumb herbert on the sherbert
Woozy boozy floozy doozy
Getting whistle whetting "wanker*d"
Abuser..winner or loser
The boon of the last saloon
All soon forgetting having hankered
For.. then regretting that final boozer
"Wasted"...sauce basted I stammered
Could've plucked for being "f**cked"
Decoded it besetting with maybe "loaded"
Why's he passed on the class "rat-arsed"
Not fussed..nonplussed he cussed
Sussed just with mates getting 'hammered"
So don’t muzzle the "guzzler"
Cripple the ripple of the "tippler"
Can’t match "down the hatch"
Or sip & sup..because "bottom’s up"
No frowning cake-hole sold on downing
Beer.. .neck oil by heck will spoil our laughing gear
Crowning the glory or gory story
Comedy gold told of being "arsehol*d"
Ickle fickle wee "pickled" trickle tickle
Temptation of a nifty sneaky shifty
Iffy & squiffy in a jiffy veneration
Don't be piddly about diddly while tiddly
They might from afar mutter
Wot a nutter...one too many jars
One too many bars ..not caring...I would utter
Have a flutter...I’m lying in the gutter
Rego & I flying while staring at the stars
There was a day set aside for the wedding
but the groom was very much dreading
it would be the same day
his grand final would play
and that’s where it looked it was heading
Alas his worst fears came true
So what was he s’posed to do?
Change the date
he’d marry his mate
or send a substitute to say “I do”?
Of course, that could be done covertly
The team had done it before with Curtley
but if the bride found out
she’d give him a clout
and the next month he’d spend inertly
So I hope we have the real groom today –
shame on his mates for staying away
but he stayed away too
when best man for Stew
and the ladies can still throw the bouquet
The bride is also very fond of her sport
loving a good tussle on field and on court
It’s clear and plain
she knows Glen’s pain
and she’s the kind and compassionate sort
This wedding’s been the perfect storm
The bride’s team’s in awesome form
Today’s their final too
So what’s Jane s'posed to do?
Miss it, or follow the wedding norm?
I’m sorry the groom’s grumpy and pre-occupied
but the final’s on now and he’s not in the side
but Jane empathizes
with his sacrifices
having hired a substitute bride!
I hear the screams of pain,
Falling on deaf ears in vain.
I see children crying over dead parents,
And parents crying over dead children,
While spouses cry over their dead mates,
I try not to panic as they lead me to a camp,
As the fear of future leaves my cheeks damp.
The darkness of the explosion surrounds me,
While I try to shield myself from the painful emotional heat.
And run away to not turn into a lifeless meat.
It leaves the children traumatized,
And the children terrorized,
As they struggle to live their way out of a mass homicide.
The gods cease to exist,
And leave us with the sadistic devils to resist.
I see my future in the flames,
And my entire life bursting up in their diabolical games.
I hold my friend’s hand,
As I see everything I cherish, crumbling into the sand.
Hope seems to be miles away,
When all I see is the slope of barrel pointing my way.
So I do what I need to do,
I kneel. I bow. And I surrender.
And finally let a tear fall,
Before my soul leaves my body with a guns thunder.
Sue just couldn’t keep her hands off the buffet food
She’d elbow her way into the queue – it was very rude!
Finger foods were her favourite, she’d stuff them into her face
Sue’s body wobbled like a jelly and she looked a complete disgrace
Her legs they were like tree trunks and she had trouble with her knees
The scales groaned when she stood on them - the numbers didn’t please!
Her hubby put his foot in it when asked ‘do I look good in this tight dress’
He said you look like a baby hippo, and if I’m really honest you look a mess!
Shocked at his honest answer Sue agreed that she had let herself go
She would go to Weight Watchers and try and put an end to this woe
Her excuse was her slow metabolism, which made her put on weight
But in her head she knew the truth - it was the piles of food upon her plate
Now placed on a controlled diet she couldn’t eat steak and kidney pies
Only healthy food now touched her tongue, weight soon fell off her thighs
Sue also joined an exercise class and made some lovely mates
They would discuss the calories on their smaller dinner plates
The food Sue missed the most was a huge mound of fish and chips
But the diet and exercise worked – Sue re-discovered her long lost hips!
Sue punched her fists in the air when she reached her target weight
She regained all her self-confidence and now she’s looking great!
Contest Body Parts
Sponsored by Viv Wigley
09~10~16
Body parts used
hands, elbow, finger, face, legs, knees, foot,
head, kidney, tongue, thighs, hips, fists.
Two become one
Blue and yellow combine to make the lovely colour green
It's neither blue nor yellow it's something distinctively in between
Can you say that green is not good because it's not blue?
Or, because it's not yellow it's really good for nothing too?
No, green is also beautiful it has it's rightful place too
being a wonderful blend between yellow and blue
When two become one, something new and distinct is created
One should not feel weak and useless or completely dominated
Two equal portions mixed together creates something new
as man and women blend together a marriage is created too
Like two colours blending together produces a new colour too
Two marriage mates when joined together become one not two
It's not like they lose themselves and their own unique personality
Each one contributes something special forming an original identity
Just like colours stay the same but change in the act of blending
Souls unite but something changes when it's qualities they're lending
One shares with the other their feelings and experiences in life too
Their lives they synchronize together with harmony they are infused
There is a mutual giving and receiving with a symbiotic benefit too
A sympathetic relationship, a symmetrical orchestration of just two
To some , the idea of two becoming one, is miraculous it may seem
By not relinquishing their autonomy they will not realize their dreams
Compromise and loving consideration for the other person is the key
To open the door to a new oneness of spirit, that of marital harmony
John Derek Hamilton
May 21,2016
Winter memories that are still so vivid and bright
Those endless days playing with your mates
Snow falling when it should do, kids shouting and screaming
"It's snowing" running out, mum's shouting "Get some warm clothes on"
Scarves, balaclavas and gloves, only your face showing
Sledging in the snow, home made by dad, the lucky ones with bought ones
And the snow was proper snow, snow that came and stayed
Snow so deep you could only see your mate's head's above it.
Snow that made you want to play, sliding down hills falling on your backsides
Soaking your clothes getting your body chilled but still totally thrilled
Digging the snow off your path with dad making snowmen, huge snowmen
Who had carrot noses and coal for eyes and mouths with an old scarf around his neck to keep him warm
No cars on the road the whole street your playground
Having snow ball fights, taking sides and ganging up, wanting to be part of the best gang
Lying in the snow rolling down hills laughing and shivering
Then the darkness comes, off home to mum, she's fussing taking your wet clothes off droping them on the floor
Towels and pyjamas hung by the roaring fire, being wrapped in the warm towel mum furiously rubbing "you'll catch your death" she's saying
Pyjamas on, drinking warm milk sat on the carpet in front of the fire
Watching TV, the Flintstones, Beverly Hillbilly's maybe Huckleberry Hound and Yogi Bear.
Then it's bedtime, going up the stairs slowly not wanting to go, mum shouting after you "I'll be up in a minute"
Kneeling at the side of the bed, saying your prayers, Our Father who art in heaven.....
"Look after my mum and dad and my sister" then silently to yourself "Please God let the snow still be here tomorrow"
Any plans for the coming year?
Being a lonely child at heart
Can take me back from the start
Dear Lord, let me make things clear.
Enough is enough. No more sorrows
Fear, fights, foes. They are so shallow
Grant me one wish. That’s all I need
Happy New Year by the way.
I wish for brighter days
Joy, Love, my career, bliss. Indeed
Kindness is all I wish for
Luck, logic, laughter and much more…
Mastering my memories is a gift
Not presents, sweets or something I can buy
Ok, you really want to know why?
Presents last quickly. Memories do not
Qualitative research is more like it
Regarding how to spend time with your mates
Some blokes simply scream for useless stuff
Therefore, their wish would not be granted,
Ugly witches would have their thoughts haunted,
Vicious masterminds would always bluff
When they call their own bluff on Christmas.
Should xylophones be played during Mass?
Yes or no? Seems to be a good question.
Zoning out now. I’m going to sleep
..they were sent by those
who sat upon pedestals so high
whose life was sheltered and dry
and saw the new days bright shining light
and they were the ones...
who kept their hands fresh and clean
by sending others to do their evil bidding
in a another's land, a land far from home
no...they were not the ones
who saw a sea ebb and flow...red
and watched as the tide washed up broken bodies
climbed the cliffs as hell rained down from above
who watched as the blood poured
from the lifeless bodies of their mates
no...they were not the ones
who waited for the dreaded whistle blow
the sound that could signal the end of your days
and trotted through the blood soaked mud
thinking your next step could be your last
no...they were not the ones
who saw summer be replace by winterr
lived in the muddy trenches of hell
wearing the wet and cold as a second skin
smelling death and fending off cat sized rats
saw the mundane days became a war within a war
no...they weren't the one's...
and...they were not the ones...
who woke screaming at night
drenched in sweat
reliving their journeys through hell
had the vacant stare
with a tremor tortured body
a young life taken by a hidden plague
no...they did not...
forged a new culture for a nation
be written into folklore
and be called
courageous
valiant
heroes
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remembering the ANZAC`s...lest we forget