Long Mistresses Poems
Long Mistresses Poems. Below are the most popular long Mistresses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mistresses poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm just a poor piece of cloth cut from my mistresses frock and
with a pattern that's seen better days, but Harriot Powers saw me, and said you look special to me.
She was born to a slave in a bygone age when injustice and servitude ruled.
One thing helped her stand tall and helped save her soul and that was her god given faith.
To show her respect she began to sew and to stitch, so as to tell her gods tale
Four quilts told the tale how god will prevail and goodness and truth win the day.
Who would have thought that making a quilt to keep warm, would make her famous today.
As one quilt now hangs with pride on the wall of a very famous hall for the people to see .
Harriott long ago passed by, but now uses her needle and thread with the angels instead
and Its heard often said that Gabriel himself uses one of her quilts on his bed .
Value only 4 quilts in the world one missing this one $1.000.000 to you
TRUE STORY LOL
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harriet_Powers#Work
comp entry 24022015
Maelore, King of the Mountain, owning the Mountain’s Wealth
This summer heat has been brutal, affecting the Lions Health
His mistresses, Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux
The weasels, chipmunks, squirrels and rabbits stay out of Maelore’s view
Chewing on a Milkweed does nothing for Maelore the mountain King
The growl of an empty stomach is the only song starvation will sing
Now the Moutain King, Loves his ladies : He only aims to Please
At Farmer Brown’s there’s chicken for delicious “Chicken Fricassee”
Now Maelore told Miss Kitty; under the light of the bright full Moon
“When they wake up, tell Bernadette and Linda Sioux I’ll be back real soon
A Shotgun Blast ominously echoes across the Mountain’s Forest Floor
Miss Kitty, Bernadette, the renegade Linda Sioux, would see Maelore :
N E V E R M O R E
HGarvey Daniel Esquire Wrote this for Constance ~ The Ramblling POET’S ~
Contest “ Cat Poems “ Dedicated to Constance, Barbara, and Linda-Marie
Annette Arnold had recently left college
And was thrust into flimsy dating realms;
She grabbed pen and paper to describe
Top-choice dude of her fanciest dreams.
Dashingly handsome and of complexion nice,
And gallant gait akin to quaint legends' knight;
Sainted for inventive hare's monstrous brains,
Whose vast wit tales eternalize in folios white.
Certainly wielding humongous fiscal sway
At glance to dwarf mythology’s Midas' turn;
Brandishing glitzy wads as any moguls may,
Ever copiously donating all yet lacking none.
Life tenant within fame's flashiest abodes
Where prince and duke sure habitat have,
And king and princess choicest liquids sip;
Where queen and gods fine victuals serve.
Never must such his hallowed mistress
With betrayal's faithless mischiefs afflict,
Defiling indelible vows in his loyal troths,
He’ll steadily love whatever woes persist.
And so first to hit her with resistless lines
Was one William Watts imbiber of wines;
Neither that dashing handsome nor wise;
Faring far from afore-hinted pigment nice.
After wee-witted Williams’ charming vibes
Popped Ronald Riveter from politest tribes,
Known for most arresting manly physique;
Sorry stranger to Midas’ coin-clinking trick.
When Bernard Belmont's pics were seen
He looked plain and of disposition mean;
Unacquainted with idolized royalty’s fame,
Unadorned with duke's resplendent name.
And last Jason Jay did his mistresses vex
If records past might reveal lovers' specks;
His faint affections as whims rose and fell;
Sundering divinest troths as irate exes tell.
Searing decades of pen-and-paper wait
Nabbed no Knight of heaven-hewn trait;
And so did choice-wiser Annette Arnold
Award meek Martin Monks her aisle nod.
Idlers, paved paths with active energies, purloining, feigning amity.
Dodgy & concealing past immoral dregs by comradely, waspish mien.
Obdurately empowered by this stranger plucked from their nocturnal fantasies
Wanton mistresses of countless broken walls in desperation for time.
Unbridled intrusion cloaked in religiosity vexed by undefined arrogance.
Oft, in pretext, manipulating, with energies stronger than the POPE.
Habits of a thuggish intervention foist on bewitched “soul tie”
Ill-beseeming nuances summoning this Stygian to their unsealed brothels
Obvious cliquish vindictive venom of a barrage of past bed felon.
Zestfully compelling, violently intrusive and surreptitiously preying.
Ending the farce, Rapscallion oozing countless entries on the rotten hole.
Smoke Vegas
Ladies and Gentlemen
Hit it again Sam
Tickle that Ivory Joanna
Black velvet tuxedo suit
Tanned Brown Chesterfield Leather Booths
Polished studs out
Crooner poised spitting on the end of a Stainless Microphone
Either hand holding a smoking cigarette
And tumbler of Burbon Whiskey on the rocks
Dames in 1000 Dollar Frocks
Drenched in Diamond's and furs
Mistresses not wife's
Straight City Life
Bright Light's
New York City
Big Apple
No Sleep
Room's upstairs
Illicit affairs
He who dares
Them were the day's
Manhattan to Vegas
Stranger's Broadway Night's
Hollywood Stars
Town Cars
Red Carpets
The Golden age of Song and Stage
Old Blue Eyes
Frank Sinatra
Slow dancing with your Partner
Pressing up close and personal against her
Holding hands
Wishing the music would never stop
Times were simpler way back then
When girls were young ladies
At had to be home by Ten
And Marriage proceeded having babies
And young men wore suits
How i yearn for the crackle of a needle on an old record player
But that was all our yesterday's
And as the story goes
Not this old story again Grandad
Move on those times are gone
Put a C.D on
And don't you know you are not allowed
To smoke indoors
You may survived and fought in World Wars
But we are the snowflake righteous generation
So far above our station
You just can't tell if am talking through
My mouth or my bum
Title:
Are we all mysteriously
Sinful?
(A lone voice whispers)
In the beginning
Did you secretly
Walk like a curious
Enigmatic Charles Darwin
Looking
Whilst
Lost in Youth
Seeking The Meaning of Sin
To clandestine dark places where
Angels
Without harps
Profusely lambast and
Sing
Searching
Through concealed ancient manuscript and treatises
Seduced by Mistresses and Masters
Of Seductions
By their ever-changing winds
And rhymes
And now
Are you still covertly
Only understood
By a select few
Riding your Pale Horse
Tempestuously
Through lost
Biographies of Old Beliefs
Always on the lookout for engagements
A means to sometimes
Circumvent dark
Carnal release
Or are you still drinking Cool-Aid
From the Matrix’s ever spinning
Propaganda's machine
As the Cosmic Serpent
Of your own Apocalypse
Approaches with such devious guile
Heralding a new divine invasion
Of your own United Nations
So you still dwell in
A new vision of Gilgamesh
Wallowing in previous dark memories of
Sins
Of old encounters and embraces
Of its sensuous
Flesh
Or are you a new lost Nikola Tesla
Lost in the folds of deep personal histories
Overwhelmed
With impropriety and greed
Still seemingly held in check
By fingerprints of
Memories Old Gods
But still always courageously
Praying silently to the skies
Trying to save
Your soul
Always praying someone
Hears you and your deeds and comes down
To intercede
Copyright John Duffy
It runs in the blood, you know.
The mind may forget, but the body remembers
There are things you'll try to shake and fail for years
Etched in the nerves for generations to come
Love you grandpa
You ol' whiskey-soaked lush
You've got three daughters and three grandkids who won't touch the stuff
So clearly, the responsibility fell to me
It's extra bitter today
The saving grace my body has
Where it realizes that the fun poison it loves
Is poison after all
You can't even call it liqueur, can you?
Sweet enough to drink with a burger
Sweet enough to sip like water
Sweet enough to lose weeks to
Scotch was always your vice, wasn't it?
The scent of your breath scarring three girls for life
Scaring them away from our stereotypical legacy
Christ, you had good taste
But it tastes so bitter now
Floating on the sweetest cloud for months
I've lost the taste for complexity
Nearly 30 with the tongue of a teenager
It's a pricey habit for a gal too anxious to talk
Half-gallon of milk is half a minute of looking for loose change
Half-gallon of this would eat an entire shift ten years ago
Or at least half of one now
Did it bother you as much as it bugs me?
The drink didn't kill you, the smokes did
But did your stomach ever twitch after a good night
And have you questioning the validity of God?
You were an excellent Catholic, my boy
A serial adulterer and cruel as your mistresses
Only to change your ways so close to the end
Take solace in knowing everyone but Mom forgave you
I wonder how we would have talked nowadays
You've been dead for nearly half my life
And we so rarely held any meaningful conversations when you lived
If I read you this poem, would you fill up my glass?
But even pure sugar was too bitter for me tonight
My liver's getting sassy with me before I can actually stress test it
I made up for every imagined sin of last year
But this hasn't been penitence, just excess
It's a strange feeling, you know
To look in the mirror and see your face in it
I think I'll keep my gaze at the ground for a while
While I fill this glass with water instead
Yes, I was inurbane but not from family poor.
Of innumerable malignant deeds you were the doer!
You, urban man, on your knees you came with aim to flatter.
I was no girl capricious though stood in line the next suitor!
All charms you applied to have me towards you gravitate.
In no time you grabbed all my wealth like water to dissipate!
Perspicuous you were in making me, in face of others, the scapegoat.
Many to alienate me; your mocking mistresses, family members who gloat!
But you stupid and ungracious, you may not know this journey with you is transitory.
“Every dog has its day.” I’ve found my true love and soon he will end my sob story!
12/09/16 - 10 lines
Ten words Challenge by John Hamilton
1. ALIENATE 2. CAPRICIOUS 3. DISSIPATE 4. GRAVITATE 5.FLATTER 6. INURBANE 7. MALIGNANT 8.PERSPICUOUS 9. TRANSITORY 10. SCAPEGOAT
Not more than 20 lines.
Judged 17/09/16 - Placed 7
Original nursery rhyme ~ Old King Cole
“Old King Cole was a merry old soul
And a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe, and he called for his bowl
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler he had a fiddle,
And a very fine fiddle had he;
Oh there’s none so rare, as can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three"
My original parody
Old King Troll had a very long pole
And a very long pole had he
He called for his wife (she’s his trouble and strife)
And he called for his mistresses three
King Troll sat in the middle …his wife said you’re on the fiddle
This fact King Troll couldn’t deny
All the women took a swipe at him
and gave him a black eye!
Alexis challenged me to do a parody of Old King Cole nursery rhyme
10~03~16
New Poem
Old King Troll was out of control
An Internet stalker was he
He sat at his desk (he was really grotesque)
And he made lives a misery
With computer sites he’d fiddle, (only leaving for a piddle)
He would lurk there for many hours
The cops finally caught up with him
And now he’s put behind bars!
Poem re written 10~23~16
Least Viewed Contest
Sponsored by Marugu Mo
10~23~16
happiness
i have spent this life
with mermaids and maidens
the most beautiful of women
who made words like sweet perfume
flying above me are valkryes and fairies
long looking for my soul
and how they could bless me
lovers and mistresses made of the earth
built in human weaknesses from birth
they answer my calls with words
of worth, pecancy and flirts
also in my kingdom are queens
and princesses
perched on high mountains
and lifted heavenly
men with pen's exalt their beauty
because it is their solemn duty
to worship each other in this way
some search for saddness
and saddness they deliver
some search for gladness and
it too is in the quiver
some are sinners
some are saints
some from out of musty
books they paint
emotions or some worthy cause
matrons and the mothers
who could only live
by the graces
only a mother could give
i've laughed with these women
and cried on their shoulders
enough time has passed that
they've made me grow older
daughters and sisters my next of kin
i shared with you my secrets
my poetry with in
and sang my songs
of juvenilia
and angels that brought
lucidity and luciferous
to dark caverns of
inhumanity
gratis for the guilty
words describing filthy
from those who
writhe in pain
cowgirls and tomboys
you know who you are
with words of encouragement
you made me a star
and to add to the list
one vixen and one witch
one who's been deleted
and the other
i don't know which
but they all make out the
women i love on the soup
they turned out to be
a tight little group
i think i've added all to my list
especially a woman
who's name rhymes with bliss
so here's to you all
i give you this
a great big hug
and great big kiss