Long Maxi Poems

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


Riding on the Ferry

I am very, very, very
Fond of riding on the ferry.
There’s no traffic on the river,
So it’s easy to deliver

All the riders when expected
From the boats they have selected.
Up on top, the ride is breezy,
But in any seat, it’s easy

To gaze out at your surroundings
While the vessel’s leaps and boundings
Take you all around the city
For a taste of nitty-gritty.

Passengers of all persuasions
Ride for various occasions – 
Workers heading to employment,
Tourist seeking pure enjoyment.

People-watching is rewarding.
Check out strangers while they’re boarding.
Hear the accents from their nations;
Eavesdrop on some conversations.

Ditch the subway, bus or taxi;
Turn your mini journey maxi
And your mood from tense to merry.
Hop on board a New York ferry!
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Bikini

'All a man really wants , a girl who looks good in a bikini.'

     
     BIKINI
               
              When looked by man,
              A woman
              seems pretty in bikini :
              It's a male factor !
              Special character,
              to watch a lady 
             smarter and sexy,
               dressed in mini.

               Necessarily does not mean :
               Girl in bikini to be seen
               is wanted or loved by that guy on dot.
               An eye wash not brain wash on spot.
                
              Beauty lies in the eye of beholder.
              Bikini or Maxi covered from shoulder
              matters not at all.
              Feelings ! That call
              After all.
Form: Rhyme

Maxi

Mama brought me
A dog for a present
I was smiling and very pleasant
I called it Maxi
Maxi used patrol the streets of Atlantis
With a pal called Twiggy
They were unstoppable
It was a doggy, dog world
When I was alone in the car
Maxi was my bodyguard
Our neighbour was cruel one day
She poured boiled water
On my best friend
Even though I wasn’t there
She was in good care
Mama nursed Maxi with motor oil
Maxi regained her glossy light brown fur
She made a full recovery
Even though that what the neighbour did
Was bugging me
Maxi I embraced her hugging
Glad to have you back
Still Maxi and Twiggy
Be roaming these street of Atlantis
Intruders and strangers beware
These k-9’s are armed with their teeth…
© Phatt Matt  Create an image from this poem.

Amma

Dedicated to Ed Sheeran


Inside the glass the dry leaf was manifested, as a skeleton is prominent with all the inside structure and artistry. 

I went to the voting center. I had nothing , completely nothing in my mind. Beto O'Rourke, some democratic other names , but I was not daydreaming, I was not dreaming at all, in a grown up body, I learn so little, after putting so much efforts, I feel I am getting washed away, and nothing sits there, nothing gets deposited there, as silt, sedimentation of particles, nothing too much sensual either. It gets washed away, as the river flows, as a present body embedded in the nature, out in the flora and fauna.

I had a ride. She is a beauty, with headscarf and white skin, she is a mirror of the past. flavor of cooked mosul of next door neighbor, where we had a big big masjid on the other side of the road, the name of the masjid was Minar Masjid. 
The minaret was truly beautiful, and the curvature , also. Older days, in Bangladesh.

We reached the destination. She met a random person. I had so many complicated nuances in my introspection that I hardly talk about that. There is a narrow lane to be tagged as inferiority complex, and opening up about truer issues, where lights are making the pathway as our intentions are reflected on that.My mom was a old fashioned beauty, an old one, but vintage enough like the most delicate motif, as I touch the threads beyond time, without cherishing too much, without mourning too much for perishing either.

She was never an outspoken person. My older sister had a maxi, a long gown, a greenish one. Amma mended the gown for me, a downsized one, and did embroidery on the chest with pink and green threads. Her knitting was with a style, a reserved one. 

Not every morn brings her back. Not these days. Not too often.

Premium Member Down the Drain

[ to the tune of If I Only Had A Brain from The Wizard of Oz ]

I know she will soon be blushing,
Because of what she's flushing,
When I have to explain.
With the plug I will be finding,
She will need a swift reminding;
I may likely go insane.

Well, I’ve really got to fiddle;
It’s somewhere in the middle
Of twenty feet of drain.

Seems the start of this caper:
Maxi pads or too much paper
Have been flushed straight down again.

Oh, I don’t mean to pry;
We’ve had this talk before,
And your brain will freeze on things that you abhor.
So I’ll explain again once more.

Oh my darling, dearest muffin,
You simply can’t be stuffin'
Those products down the drain.
When she’s here, I am wary;
It is really rather scary,
‘Cuz she’ll do it once again.

----------
Third Place Winner
for the "To The Tune of Musicals" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
written on 03/15/2022
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Lyric


Twiggy

This story is better
Then the Lady and the Tramp
It’s a doggy tale revamp
Maxi and Twiggy
Used to patrol the streets of Atlantis
Yep these two were the baddest
A bit more bad ass
Not your ordinary mutts
This is story of glory and guts
Nothing went past these two
Unnoticed and without an 
occasional bark or snarl
Your ankles weren’t also spared
The postman got his share
Of your daily dose of neighbourhood watchdogs
One day something happened
Twiggy was fighting with Emily’s big dog
She was trying to protect her litter of puppies
Even if it meant she would lose
Her life or pride
It was her pride she lost
Her puppies were safe
But I noticed something strange
Twiggy was never the same
the fight she lost was too much
It is almost like she went insane
After that I never saw her again
Maxi lost her best friend…
© Phatt Matt  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Nimo, My Sweet Home, By Marcel Ike Okonkwo

Written By Marcel Ike Okonkwo


Under the sound of the Ekwe Nimo
In ancestral groove
One hears the dale and might
And songs of our ancestors
In a land of rich cultural heritage.

Nimo, the land of great heroes where star guides 
And tender moon abides, 
And where the art in the belly of
Asele institute breeds creation. 

From Nimo, the ancient town of brotherly love and fraternal unity
A land of hope and fine dreams
For people with revival dedication And excellent spirits
Where the dawn of the new age
Shines upon humanity. 

In the streams and seams of our seeking hearts
Within the current of our yearning souls
Down that endless desire for provision
Oye-Nimo, the mother market Awaits with open arms to feed her children. 

A town of vibrant men and women With viral giants of the academia
A mother of astute politicians
Business moguls and doctors
Legal luminaries and engineers
A home of renowned professionals
Clergy, great patriots and patriarchs par excellence
With noble people of extra-ordinaire. 

The ancient land is not kingless
Igwe Maxi Ike Oliobi wears the crown
In nobility his essence is formed 
Oh the great lion of the Sahara
Whose roar quakes the land
And sends the mighty hiding

He leads with all sense of commitment
And unveils the great ocean of truths 
That lie undiscovered before his people
All have made Nimo a sweet home
With Nimo our sweet home
Our world of opportunity 
Is simply unlimited and infinite

Nimo Bu Enyi —A Profound Peace To You!

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