Long Medley Poems

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


Blowing In the Wind

Everyone farts about 15 times a day,
Everyone farts in their own special way 

There's loud ones and soft ones
And one like a medley 

And others so horrendous 
They are silent and deadly 

There's those that are heavy 
And those that float on a breeze

Whilst some happen once, 
Others come out in threes,
Or fours, or more, I'm not sure, 

As I'm holding mine in 
So I'm not keeping score

So don’t be ashamed 
For it’s natural and healthy

We all do the deed 
Whether we’re poor or wealthy

Even the queen when she’s had beans with hog
Knows  she can’t always blame the poor dog

So let the wind blow
And let it blow soon
Or you’ll float away in the air
Like some strange looking balloon
© Mike Toole  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Between November and December

November comes down gliding on filmy wings, 
Bringing cool and dank days on her way
Sweet it is to watch the spectacular changes she brings
In a medley of colors, plants and trees proudly stay 

Earth puts on a finery no other season can beat
In glinting flashes, the land and sky look so bright
The delectable pumpkin pie is the season’s favorite treat
As the day advances sunbeams fall in sparks of light
.
Early mornings come covered in snowy mist
Soon leaves nose dive and mournfully weep
The fallen leaves tremulously cry under our feet
As their last goodbye before they finally fall asleep

Evenings turn colorful with sinking sunlight, bleeding red 
Squirrels chatter noisily as they gather nuts in the wild 
As autumn tightens its grip, men retire early to bed
Wind blows all through the month with a temper mild

Soon the air turns chilly with blizzards coming in a row
And winter waits impatient for its icy-cold embrace.
The land will then be covered in a maze of snow.
Even the last flower shall fall and fade from earth’s face

The fallen dead leaves lying in piles and rotting away
And the sound of wind whistling the dirge of November
Bring to me the thought that we must all take leave one day 
Down on earth, fall and rot, thus be fodder for new life ever!


Nov.13.2022

~ Placed First~

November or December Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Caren Krutsinger
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member One Liner Medley

While you waited, he slipped comfortably into her panties.

Sometimes less is not more, it's just short of enough.

Rather than saving for a rainy day you should buy an umbrella today.

If you are reaching for the stars you can be pretty sure you're standing outside.

He felt a bit irritated when he had to jump for Joy!

He was on the highway to hell, fortunate for him his motorcycle broke down.

She wanted one on one time, sadly she had someone else in mind.

Of all your personalities I like this one the best!

Every time I make a judgement about you, I learn something about myself.

If you want to be seen, sometimes you need to stand by yourself.

Speaking louder does not make you right!

When you walk with your head in the clouds you're more likely to trip.

Original sin has become somewhat unoriginal!

I want to one day be as smart as he thinks he is.

Everything old is still old even if the new stuff looks old.

You can take that to the bank but it will cost you!

If a coward dies a hundred deaths, he should be extremely well prepared.

The poor cat got ripped off, he only had one life.

The man who talks the least has the best hearing.

Never ever underestimate the power of your own stupidity.

Not all who appear friendly are friends.

The one who loses brings another much joy.
Form:

Premium Member Broken biscuits

Auntie Val dunked a chocolate digestive in her tea 
And began telling me of how, at the end of each week, 
She and the girls would leave the rhythm and the sound 
Of the factory floor at the call of the Bournville sirens, 
To go get first dibs from the Cadbury discounted store. 
A privilege for the workers to get seconds and imperfections 
In a myriad of confections, in the 1980’s 
When the company wasted not what they wanted not,
The lucky dip of broken biscuits 
Huddled in their cellophane clear bags tied at the top,
Clipped.
A medley of Cadbury bourbons,
A jungle of jumbled Cadbury animals,
And chocolate fingers,
Fractured.
Manufactured treats of the bittersweet factory rejects.
Auntie Val told me of her friend, Linda -
How she'd waved goodbye to her,
A “ta-ra-a-bit” to her as she got on the bus, 
In a floral print shift dress,
Worn.
Linda clutching her bag of biscuits with crumbled edges,
Homeward bound. 
With her hopeful tokens to heal trusts that were broken,
Words that should have remained unspoken,
If only Linda could have had sight beyond the veil of her wedding,
That when alone together,
Her milk tray handsome man,
Who promised her roses,
Set her far heart aflame,
Was cold and deceitful, no hero,
No shame.
Auntie Val said, “But then that was our Linda,
Who in her foolish wisdom, thought of him as her only option -
A Dairy Milk girl wrapped in romantic fiction,
Forever, a glass and a half full.”

Premium Member Seduction of a Poet

She slips into my presence 
as I sleep, or think, or breathe; 
to kiss my lips without a touch, 
with movements of fluid ease. 
I sense all that is woman 
by her femininity; 
she is my heart's desire and
all the passions which so please. 

With my rough hands at work 
or the taste of honey sweet; 
the fragrant flowers’ bidding 
will be an aromatic treat. 
When life's music is a love song 
and her voice a melody, 
do I add another stanza 
that could bring her to her knees? 

Her loveliness does consume me 
as I sense her soft request; 
visions of her beauty 
bring out my very best. 
My fingertips are longing 
for the touch of silky lips, 
or to glide upon the shoulder, 
over breasts or waist and hips. 

I close my eyes again tonight 
and listen to erotic pleas, 
as my memory takes a journey 
of the words she evokes with ease. 
I let my longings take me higher 
in the fervor of her song, 
may the medley of her sultry sighs 
be the drive that makes me strong.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Nature



The morning mist begins to clear,
The golden day`s orb sparkles bright
As soft silence spins shadows near.

A sparrow sings a sweetish song,
The world wakes up sober and light,
Where the day`s paths are deep and long.

The tall oak stares at the sky, proud,
The sunshine reveals a delight
Far from the rattle of the crowd.

The petals kiss the verdant grass,
The clouds drift across the sky tight, 
Blown by the breeze that softly pass.

The blazing orb ascends the sky,
The midday sun, a bright spotlight,
Robins sing a sweet lullaby.

The wind whispers waving the pine,
At its crest, a charm to the sight
While twisting vines begin to twine.

Soon the sun sets behind the hills,
With medley of hues of twilight,
A serene silence spreads on fields.

Darkness slowly spreads its black wings,
Welcoming the sprawl of the night,
Crickets, awakened from sleep, sing.

The river ripples around stones,
The stars in sky above  ignite,
Travelers tread the path alone.

The silver full moon mounts the sky,
Reaching the top peak at midnight,
Half the world, in slumber dreams high.

Faint gleams herald the coming dawn,
Darkness begins to take its flight,
Light simmers on hills and the lawn.

Golden sun heralds a bright day,
Infuse in men strength and insight
With zeal to embark on their way.

Beauty of nature, free to eye,
A humble gift, a sheer birth right,
Like the rainbow hues in the sky.

Nature works out wonders for man,
But can turn to a real fright
With woeful winds that can wreck plans.

 So, let`s learn to respect nature,
Protect in every way its plight
And be a just and fair player.

Let`s with nature weave tender ties
And spin webs of love infinite,
As a child for her mother cries.
Form: Tercet

James Crisp

James was very disappointed at fourth place, 
In his final at Rio when he swum in 1:05:01,
“My arms just felt like lead down that 2nd 50m”:
He’s been to four Paralympics, many Worlds.  

With 12 Paralympic medals and with 16 World, 
He has 3 Paralympic golds and World golds, 8,
7 of the Para medals he won in Sidney in 2004,
And 8 of his 16 World medals are gold colour.

He was born in Nottingham in October 1982,
But now he lives in Lib Nick Clegg’s Sheffield, 
Where he trains. He obtained Polio from a jab, 
And as part of his physio he went swimming. 

In Sydney 2004 in the 200m individual medley,
He won the gold, also in the 100m backstroke,
And another gold in the 4x100m relay freestyle,
And a silver in the 100 metres butterfly bounce.

In the 100 metres freestyle, he won a bronze,
And also in the 400m freestyle, bronze again.
In Athens 2004 for the 100 metres breaststroke,
He won silver, and in the 400m freestyle, silver.

In the 100m backstroke, still Athens, a silver,
And then in London 2012 at the breakthrough,
At that game-changing Paras which did define,
Disabled people as vibrant, a silver he took.

In 2016 at the IPC European Championships,
James won the gold for the 100m backstroke,
Where secured him his place at Rio in Brazil, 
But now he’s re-thinking his future, no need.

Premium Member Wildflowers

Wildflower field tells me beauty is greed
Blooms never at rest in clay pot homes,
            but in a field that sprawls to the river's edge
Wildflowers thick like curls in a Harpo wig
Hot colors straying skyward
Poppies, cosmos, daisies steal the sunlight full,
            embroidered medley,
            reds, blues, whites, purples 
            quilted composition
Colored lanterns on green stems,
Patches that fuse into each other
            inextricably
            like your fingers into mine

Blooms of promise to hummingbirds
            who hover in jittery beats,
            frenzied chorus of faith
A landscape kiss of hot human pleasure
            breaking virtuous restraint

Royal skin of budding blooms,
            gifted egotism
            to cheer earthbound captives
            dispelling petty worry
            with summer's bounty
            in bits of tissue-petals
A mish-mash flag of flourish
            that flaps a grand sweep
            spread before us
            like the grace of a skilled weaver

Much Larger

5/30/22
"Much Larger"
Getting smarter
Working harder
Open to barter
Occasionally taking a charter
Nearby a harbor
Sometimes wearing armor
Buying crops from farmers
When necessary I display ardor
In order to reach farther
There needs to be a departure
Brush your teeth or there will be disease and tartar
I have no care to become a martyr
The bigger picture is much larger
No matter if times turn darker
And get harsher
I've become sharper

Ups and downs I went through many
The weight on my shoulders and back got heavy
Nearby an eddy
I held on steady
With a machete
Ready for any medley
From here to New Delhi
Then beyond the Serengeti
I'm talking good and plenty
I got no time to be petty
I need to stack up some serious feddi
Instead of just celebrating with confetti
Will they ever accept me
Or just always judge and think less of me?

Occasionally listening to Mozart
I've been off to a slow start
For the most part
A lot have no heart
So if need be I shoot them with a blow dart
Then take off in a Go-Kart
Into the Ozarks

At it again, guess who?
Can't let it all get to you
Even though everything I've said is true
Life is always going to test you
Will either handle it or panic and call for rescue
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member We Are Cheering Our Rebel

We are out in the ocean where the spray is rough
Old Medley Meanie decides to get meaner and tough
We take Captain Smithe and we throw him overboard.
We are a crew of roughnecks with our hatchet and sword!

Cap’n is gone, we are cheering our rebel!
The ocean has taken him, he’s head’d for hell.
We are fighting to be Captain, in charge now.
Fighting for the crown on the ship’s bloody bow!

There are ten of us left. We know there is only food for six.
I am hoping to get the one steak, but I am in quite a fix.
The other pirates are as mean as I have ever tried to be.
I am in trouble now in this dangerous Caribbean Sea.

Cap’n is gone, we are cheering our rebel!
The ocean has taken him, he’s head’d for hell.
We are fighting to be Captain, in charge now.
Fighting for the crown on the ship’s bloody bow!

There are six of us left, we are the toughest of all.
I am scared of only one, shipmate Morey, he is seven foot tall.
He comes at me with a hatchet, and I plunge into the sea.
I guess fear will now be the death of me.
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace