Long Milking Poems

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


Lady Liberty Lies Slain

Forsooth impeachment hearings appertain
blood on hands of
self important president,
though alcohol he doth abstain,
nonetheless permanent drunken stupor
doth wax and wain
finger of guilt
damaging democracy points

to him as chief villain
groomed since... time immemorial
atavistic primate brain
bathed (courtesy Frederick Christ Trump)
buzzfeeding chosen favored heir
go for broke - bankrupt countless times
and pulled out all stops,
viz unbridled espousing philosophy gain

amass wealth, unscrupulous 
if necessary where,
might equals right play'n
deadly serious game (Life) train
sight squarely and/or roundly
scattered lovely bones
amidst tombstones testimony
incidental secondary fallout main

part and parcel, where legerdemain,
plus art of the deal linkedin
with immeasurable gloating
ego necessary to gain
con fetter writ oligarchy plain
successfully cheating, hocking,
milking, quaffing, and trending,
yielding dynastic rule

trumpeting eternal stormy reign
vaping with wealthy
zealotry (think vain)
at electorate expense
tampering koolaid acid test
courtesy illegals sown GMO grain
colluding when/where possible,
never losing sight regarding

selfish mission to attain
obligatory ideal tyranny
rampantly running roughshod,
no need to explain
writing sleight underhanded profane
antithetical, critical, heretical quatrain
badgering, belittling, besmirching,
bilking, boasting, bragging with disdain

flagrantly flaunting, fleecing,
regarding purported B.S. degree
in economics he did attain
matriculating Wharton School of law,
hmm... methinks he paid
hirling from Ukraine

forever flirting, flouting, and flunking
even basic geography questions
case in point being where is Drury Lane
additionally, he ain't no literati familiar
storied quasi fiction Citizen Kane.


Premium Member Victorian Winter's Dawn

The rising sun casts a rosy hue upon the snowy domain.
Intricate patterns sparkle as its rays glow on frosty window pane.
The family rises to greet another cold but glorious winter's day.
The dog and cat rouse from the hearth where they always lay!

The vicious storm left havoc, yet beauty in its raging wrath.
Papa and the boys shovel snow to the barn to clear a narrow path.
There's milking to do,  bedding to strew, horses and cattle to feed.
Knowing a hearty breakfast awaits, they toil with exceptional speed!

The chores are done, menfolk sit by the fire to chat and warm.
There'll be no work on the farm today due to the violent storm.
Mama and the girls prepare a bountiful breakfast repast.
(The meals produced on the wood-burning stove are unsurpassed!)

Across the dale the distant mountains gleam in the morning sun.
In the meadow a herd of antelope gambol and swiftly run.
At the table they marvel at all the beauty that surrounds them,
Thanking God for His grandeur, He from whom all blessings stem!

With steaming cups of chocolate they sit by the hearth and regale,
As moaning winds beset their Victorian home with a lashing gale.
Anon, Papa will harness dear old Dobbin and hitch him to the sleigh,
For an invigorating ride that will happily complete the day!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Vanilla Sighs

Gentling verses, like softly spoken dawns,
Pour out rhythms, releasing hungers,
Stirring hearts to breathe, restoring hopes,
Prayerful moments trembling,
Echoing, glistening shafts of heated praises,
Mysteries in shadows, embracing – erasing
Shades of inspiration, focusing on joys
Alive like the dancing winds, traipsing 
Through autumn, leaves crisp and light – waltzing
Colors – boldest scarlet, tangerine and gold,
Laughing whispers who respond to the skies
Rich with cerulean grace, risking the lazuline lines
In attractive fogs, mists rising over the mountains
Where memories blur the past with now,
Lighting the way for passions to cry out…

Inside the wall of pines, which could tell of so much more
Than memories could hold, more laughter,
More love, more entreaties to God who knows us
Like the ordinary groanings, who release burdens
Too heavy for souls, too difficult for moments when 
Blessings rain down through the tears,
Liquid prayers, alive with feelings and fears,
Enemies of perfection but best friends with relinquishment,
Fulfilling wishes, bold and pleasant as the stars
Winking at the moon, holding burdens too heavy
With inklings of fiery melodies, tender
Like the noon when bees travel from rose to lily,
Milking the nectar, fostering frames – tiny
Gospels told by those who remember the sting,
Singing through the song, revealing 
Purpose in the hurt, when the tingle – the throbbing
Inspires light to fade, weakening, dying …

Insipid, gushing, rhapsodizing a night when stars hide,
Exposing the naked truth – just like the sun
Who births light and reveals every new dawn, baring
With it – a beautiful far more soothing than the moon’s,
A beautiful that abides in the new day, the new smile,
The newness of a hope, a prayer, a dream…

Releasing vanilla sighs to signal the moon 
	That, yes, oh yes…
It is time for rest, time to test the skies
Who are eternally blessed with God’s wondrous light!

Premium Member Fourth of July

On a snow covered beach in the middle of Summer
Basking in the gloominess of a dark so much glummer
There lived a cow who the cowboy rode so proudly
As he rode past the horse the farmer was milking loudly
Everywhere he rode, leaves were falling from a blue sky
While the joy of Christmas fell upon the fourth of July
We celebrated the holiday with a hot cup of cocoa
And left gifts around the American flag, a little loco

On a snow covered beach in the middle of July
There came the sound of Silent Night’s sigh
Drifting on the air as dazzling fireworks would deny
Today was the day for even reindeer to belie





Nonsense Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: charles messina
July 4th 2021 (LOL)
Form: Rhyme

And Ignoble Prize Trumpeting Hubris Awarded To

And ignoble prize trumpeting hubris awarded to...

Bourgeoisie donning ersatz
overstuffed ego freezer bewigged pate
"FAKE" grotesque humanitarian
bribed corrupt judges will vindicate
jimmied cracked corn
land of "milk and honey"

red hot button he spoils to activate
countdown to Armageddon
leaving nation prostrate,
all the more reason to axe electoral college,
now holds electorate
hostage to bully tactics grate

for dead souls – zombie thriller, viz
Putin on the ritz,
whereby Pavlov's dog will salivate
on cue and pony show will titillate,
and worse case scenario, a far more terrible fate
than death by a thousand cuts

equals his refusal not to abdicate
presidency, should voters
get smart to administrate
White House with progressive commander
in chief he/she will adjudicate
decency, honesty, integrity... and acclimate

government toward amity, comity, equality...
oh,... and most importantly advocate
salutary measures affecting biosphere,
where industrialization didst devastate
contaminate by bajillion beings birthrate,
every square inch of Earth

*****sapiens succeeded to abominate...,
prima facie global warming doth correlate,
hence primary requisite mandate
to reorient modus operandi no time to wait,
where carbon footprint negligible
still preserving technological paradigm

fixing low cussed electricity to generate
courtesy renewable resources
else man/womankind will become footnote
atrophied trappings agglomerate
twenty first century civilization
damned, inundated, ossified bridgegate

checkmated, choked, chucked... wag gone wheels
das spare - tread fully tires fuming primate
jammed fruits of loins going bananas
infuriating, exhausting accelerating
no exit (sorry Sartre) to circumnavigate
hardy lee any recourse to extricate

oneself from madding crowd
self resignation minimally doth alleviate,
whereby impatient broods frustrate
inaccessible jackknifed mobility,
thence spark ignites spontaneous eruption
impossible mission to plug
crowdsource mob frenzy translate

pent up fury once loosed doth degenerate
into atavistic pandemonium cutthroat rage
snarling human logjam foaming at mouth
poised to strike ready to decapitate
any remaining shred of salvation barren feeble
slow vac hoovering, milking, and sucking
every last vestige of bondage peoples extirpate.


How To Do It

Do it without trying
Begin by swinging from chandeliers when home
Wear matching multicolored harlequin costumes
Equip yourselves with harmonicas and bazookas
Keep lubricants and trampolines near by for safety
Practice lunar landings in your room

Resume your activities in the great outdoors
Do sex in a car when speeding
Bring a partner or spare tire if desired
Avoid police if so inclined
Drive eighty miles an hour at all times
Watch out for sharp curves if they object
Narrow mountain roads are watching
Keep one eye on the road while inserting 
                                                                                    
Headlights and moon glow set the mood
Never use puppets when in an auto
Open highways are open to suggestion

Mating should only occur in flight
Eat oysters raw when in the air
Climb to greater heights by sneezing
Use Airplanes for best results
Jump from wing to wing
Wear a parachute and a pirates patch
Use only one to avoid catastrophes

Take lessons from cartoons 
To find out who you are

Leave farm animals and zoo creatures alone
Plants and vegetables are out of the equation
Milking a cow is taboo too… Don't do it!
Wear rubber gloves if you must 

Position yourselves to be lazy
In opposite directions as instructed 
Never have sex face to face
Back to back is better
Jump on the bed for comfort
Apparatuses are optional for you and amateurs
Avoid them at all cost
They cost too much
 
Watch out for babies!  (They snore)
Never run them over of course
It's against the law 
And down right crazy
Such activity could lead to divorce

Pregnancy can be fun 
Instructions are on the dashboard
But first you must buy or rent a car
Before you floor it

            -Final Notice-
(*Don't use balloons as prophylactics)
(Too many colors can cause distractions)
Form: Didactic

Mowed Down Field Day With Redacted Mueller Report

Attorney General William
Barr black marker in hand
kept promise to censor vital
details of Mueller Report
swift as Usain Bolt candidly,
grandly, lustrously, roundly

youthfully blocked out more
rapid than an elegant eland
vibrantly, regally, magically,
and gracefully skirts borderland
which favored topography
constitutes grassland or woodland,

far more pleasing to observe,
than reading adulterated brand
of aforementioned compilation,
distillation, edification, fortification
zeroing questionable activity
upon head of trumpeting brigand,

whose arrivistic, bombastic, caustic,
demonic, electric broadband
outsize ego still convinces
me, thee commander in chief
delegated one or more chargehand
perhaps while delighting as

gourmand savoring chateaubriand,
where his best buddies imagined
themselves in seventh heaven cloudland
every so often taking siesta sans repast
or golfing with grisly handicapped clubhand
non verbally communicating,

in viz sub bully taking a peas zing
cues from presidential high command,
which coterie (i.e. den of thieves)
manipulated social media with nefarious,
insidious, deleterious, et cetera
analogous to "FAKE" contraband,

maybe even milking innocent cowhand
unwittingly planting GMO electronic
bugs amidst future bovine fodder cropland
to allow, enable, and jackknife demand
that moost every eligible voter tricked

induced by virtual reality dreamland
with sinister motive for thee "Apprentice"
rule his kingdom, and expand,
realm asper Medieval days
declaring himself chieftain of fatherland
and/ or North American motherland

where naysayers guillotined
by uncontested firebrand,
who without provocation
very likely bomb into Stone Age
formerly edenic, lush, verdant
geography into flatland

rendered hostile, poisonous and uninhabitable
nonetheless radiating for miles with gangland
forced labor tilling barren, desolate, fissured
landscape erecting unsightly grand
standing room only (cause he know Shylock)

terrain (reign) vast highland
manor as poobah, and husband
to his only heiress, the former
a kooky monster from foggy bottom marshland.

Milo

Their one lone cow has broken down the fence;
we see her trundling down the dusty lane.
Milo's mind remembers 'bout the milking.

Dad's face, a fiery-red,  storms from the shed
where feisty kittens spat and sparred o'er cream.

Milo's feet meander back to the scene
as words of fire enflame dad's bulging neck.
"You'll wear the shoes that spooked the cow!" he roars.

So Milo moseys off to dad's bidding.
The cream a'squish-squish-squishes from the seams
of shoes like steam escaping old train wrecks.

Milo mumbles, "Guess I'd best be moving
along that dusty road to bring back Cow,"
with no concern for who will mend the fence.

written March 13, 2018

Theres No Planet B

Did you see me before I died
I was the last white rhino alive

you have no conscience you are void of pride
you damage what we need to survive

the air you breath, the food you eat
natural resources you deplete 

the  waters rising 
the ice is sliding 

the planets clock is ticking down
yet we just stand and look around

Politian’s talk the talk
yet into disaster they just sleep walk

the young can see their future bleak
why are these Politian’s so weak 

the bosses fiddling while the sun burns mother earth 
milking her for all she’s worth

from the biggest whale to the humble bee
lets all pray we never need that planet b
Form: Couplet

When It Is Too Late

When it is too late

When I was twelve I lived at a farm milking and looking after cows, but a war had ended and the impression it made stayed with me and nothing could change the imprint of my mind
I lived a good life herding sheep and milking cows and my best friend was a little horse called Dolly and she loved me, she never had a foal, and in her mind, I was 
a good substitute mind, I spent hours brushing her and trimming her horse mane
Idyllic, wasn't it? Worth writing poetry about the bumble bees and hens finding worms in the dark soil
Despite this, I missed my old life the fear the uncertainty
of sitting in a bomb shelter, the one under the schoolhouse
listening to the worried voices of the adults, waking up going back to our flat where my mother's brother had secured a loaf and margarine and the happiness the meager offering brought, it was all too late I had been conditioned to a life where tomorrow is not an extension of today.  I left the secure life.
From a life of turmoil to the risk of violence by the mob in the knowledge that my mother loved me, for this, a son can endure the hard time.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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