Long Nastiest Poems
Long Nastiest Poems. Below are the most popular long Nastiest by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nastiest poems by poem length and keyword.
Who wants my spell book? Whisker witch asked her grands.
It was a mystical book held together by large rubber bands.
This book was different because it chastised your efforts to create and bake.
Calling you mean names like “loser, ignoramus, and stupid mandrake".
I will take it said her sister, who had grown up with the book.
The witch gave her the most horrible, awful, nastiest look.
The spell book picked up on Whisker witch’s cue.
And began calling her names that turned the air blue.
That’s okay, the sister said, holding back her tears.
As the spell book called gave her a raspberry among the jeers.
One of the grands grabbed it up and threw it into the fire.
Take that! She said, and we all clapped, her bravery glad to admire.
I dated a girl whose hair was blacker than night,
and eyes green as grass...what a knock out!
And spending nights together,
we counted small and big stars...
and began to dream of another
world owned by the two of us.
When we touched and kissed,
passion wasn't there...was it my fault or hers?
I'm the kind of guy who loves intensely,
expecting to be loved the same...
she was the kind of girl who fantasized
giving less, not because she was afraid;
this question remains, " Who was to blame?
Would love have survived without sincerity? "
And this relationship went on for years,
the gap got wider, causing distance...
she used to call me eight times a day,
making me feel special like no other gal would,
but that warm feeling inside started to get cold;
no text messages, no phone calls...a reason for tears!
It couldn't have ended without an explanation, or excuse!
I went to her place one winter evening to say goodbye.
There she was laying in bed with another girl with purple hair;
she jumped off and wanted to apologize for her stupidity,
" That's the nastiest secret you have kept from me! "
I said with fury and this was the right time to end the lies.
She realized that secrets will surface even on the clearest water...
when one the least expects it, but who was going to pay the prize?
Once there was a hideous troll,
With a broken nose made out of gold,
A glistening complexion, oily slick,
And scrappy hair that was made of sticks!
The Knights were sent on a mission,
To rid the Kingdom of this vision.
But she possessed a magical spell,
That would send her enchroachers straight to hell!
An army of fairies would join the fight,
To cleanse this Earth of such a fright, to make her right!
They would cover the beast with pixie dust,
Where the sticks would break and the untaintable metal would rust.
A princess to be was their goal,
But her black heart persisted; this gnarly troll.
All help they gave her, even rehearsed,
Simply made her ugliness worse!
Eventually, they would let her be,
Hidden in darkness by the nastiest of trees!
Arjuna, a grand warrior, well habited to,
Fight against nastiest of warrior crew;
Finds himself faced with kith and kin
To fight a war, hence, he fears within;
Dilemma-filled he calls out to God,
God hears him and hurries to his aid;
Erasing the doubts shrouding him,
He bids him his duties to perform;
Duty of a warrior is fighting, he says,
Not ever thinking of victory of loss;
Pleasure or pain or victory or defeat
Reckon on actions with no deceit;
Fighting against inner inclinations,
Demeanors, evil desires, illusions;
Losing all that’s imperfection within,
Combating to gain the life’s soul win;
Knowledge combined with love is ideal,
Action and no inaction – must be real;
Doing duties with no fruit expectance,
Must be the pursuit of human existence;
Though it may not be always possible,
Striving towards it is, indeed, feasible...
05 July 2021
Orange steps into view
Demanding her due,
Green plots
Blue demurs
Pink laughs
Grandma rolls her eyes
She has met other oranges
Purple sits tight, not relinquishing the throne.
Grandma mouths ‘sit put’ to Purple
Orange throws the biggest nastiest fit ever seen in the forest.
She wants Purple to give her the respect she thinks she has earned.
She uses mean words, and gives us her worst example of terrible.
Blue masquerades as a bunny; a quick flash and she is gone.
Pink and Green look to Grandma who turns and walks off.
Both Purple and the throne have disappeared, tucked away safely elsewhere.
Orange throws herself down on the grass, yelling and kicking.
Screaming until she is hoarse, until she loses her words.
Spoiled, the elves think. Irreverent, the faeries agree.
She should have been respectful to Grandma, whispers Green.
Pink laughs
deep in the depths of London, off the A35 trunk route
there lived a wayward entity with the nastiest intentions
A carnivore who ate wriggling squiggling prey
She lived on the borderline of insanity and madness
Her ancestors had lived dank, dark, dreary lives
Secrets promenaded in their family in starts and stops
Because they were wooly, wild, and winsome
Being werewolves also might have entered into it
She was a she-were, the most dangerous, devious werewolf
Most women can control urges, she prioritizes her primality
on Halloween eve she sits in the comfort of Algorith Alley
frightening the rats, who scurry and scatter in fear
There are a few seconds when the moon dies on Halloween
a few precious seconds when this she-were can strike
her ferocious fangs shred shrieking subjects with precision
Madness? Why? Because she leaves carnage after she dines?
real life wasn't real nice
so conceal and disguise
and let fly many lies
which fill minds and survive
'til alive and realised
as real life which feels nice
as real dies out and hides
deep inside where it thrives
as real memories arise
of reality and life
when these guys telling lies
showed their nastiest side
and true colours dark and sly
which have changed over time
to a bright light and blue sky
seen as nice now and kind
as real lies are real life
now that real is denied
as real memories in me
most alive aren't supplied
to the outside kept inside
cus if I let them fly
it means I am not nice
and they don't fit the vision
made by lies as real life
with its feeling of nice
which is now factualised
as the reality prized
with such loving delight
and people weren't evil
just so damn bloody nice
and I alone know of the lies
that I must never speak of
because lies are now life
and real life has now died
twisted up tightened twice
what was real wasn't nice
but what's real now delights
twisted up to entice
so now sinners are saints
from when saints weren't alive
and the saints are the sinners
but are saints through their lies
which means the nastiest people
are the best at disguise
whilst the honest real people
become those telling lies
because nasty memories will be wiped over time
replaced by nice ones,
whilst nice ones keep the nasty alive
the nice speak of nasty and are seen as not nice
while the nasty speak nicely and con you for life
honesty suffers and pride comes from lies
I think I'm now wiser since I realised
for me honesty will always suffice
because lies are for people who should get a life
*well done if you followed that, (the real and the lies interchange, the lies become real and the real becomes strange, the unreal becomes real and the real unreal, like a really rapid wheel stopping still, ha, paradox wordplay, if they all agree to disagree, then all agree and disagree, and therefore all agreed and none can disagree yet all do disagree, a metaphor of life and lies)
Unrelenting blitzkrieg deadly
assault upon psyche
pounded defenseless
vulnerable mindscape accustomed
to shelter within aproned crease
mama proffered manna, especially
when untethered meek docile lad
subjected to blistering hellfire
infamous hoodlums wantonly unleashed
verbal bombardments lobbing poison
spear tipped invisible blackened barbs
manifold times more agonizing
piercing, targeting, xraying...
guaranteed fatal skull and crossbones
unseen insignia wrought utmost damage
one hundred percent accuracy
ferociously besieging, jackknifing, pummeling...
successfully character assassinating,
a diminutive boy cursed with ideal traits
strongly tempted, delectably savored,
violently bullied (short of physical
stature violated, though seditious)
emotional violation wrought lifelong
oppressive worthlessness complimented
amply by absolute zero self confidence
distilled thru conception in utero
until parturition on a bitterly cold
January thirteenth (apparently small,
medium forces at large, sans right
buffalo wing conspiracy) instigating
ear splitting wailing testing threshold
of tolerance, no crying game, but
palpable anatomical and physiological
dislocations afflicting yours truly
with breathing difficulty courtesy
submucous cleft palate pronouncing
strong nasality, when acquiring speaking
ability more cause to ridicule upon
commencing attendance within Lower
Providence School District, where kids
said nastiest, meanest, foulest, cruelest...
unsolicited comments pointedly jabbing air
mocking severe twang plus pigeon toed gait
the latter rectified with custom made
contrivance crafted by papa that forced
little feet turned outward during sleep,
which less significant aberration became
corrected as I got older, but self shaming
and blaming assimilated thru incessant
intimidation, inundation, invitation...
passive personality tacitly allowed,
provided, and enabled entire classroom
to assail helpless looking human creature
'pon entering home burst into tears!
Watery eyes pour puppy chow into a bright and shiny new dish.
Tears alone most surely cannot amount to that of wonderful filtered water—this doesn't change the fact that I am outright crying—(please don't tell).
She named her Luna and I fell into puppy love.
This puppy, of only eight weeks old, is already the size of many full grown small breeds.
She's a Pit/Rot mix and I am in love with her.
I'm a bit of a softy, in general, but this particular animal is to die for.
She's too young yet to properly potty train.
We have found the back patio to be the early learning facility.
It has been working quite well as we have obviously been blessed with an above average intellectually gifted Luna girl.
Luna the tuna is the easiest rhyme and all the made up words to match are made of pure sugar, honey and love.
Do I recommend this particular breed of dog?
Well, I've only had her about 2 weeks now but my final answer is yes; definitely.
Maybe we just got lucky?
It is possible that my girlfriend is just that pet savvy that she just knew...
Being the man that I am, paying attention to nearly everything (I mean nothing), hopped into the car and she said, "Are you ready to go to P.A."?.
As if I had a choice.
Drive three hours to buy a dog we've yet to meet and pay $300.00 for..?
That's exactly how it took place.
On the ride back from acquiring our new companion, Luna and I snuggled up and I was and have since been in puppy love.
Most of the time.
They poop and pee and chew and nip and eat the nastiest things like their very own poop.
Bad breath is temporary as they work through their process of teething.
Luna-girl
This puppy that I somehow ended up being her dad.
Is the best thing that has happened to me for a while.
Luna is her name.
She is only 8weeks old.
We share a common bond that is simply described as . . .
Puppy Love
4/7/17
There is a food I hate to eat,
I hate it in my mouth
it taste like slime in my mouth,
the nastiest food on earth!
Oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
the nastiest food on earth!
It has a flower on its top,
and grows in the garden dirt,
it looks like a small cylinder
upon a pretty plant stalk.
Oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
the nastiest food on earth!
Its slimy when it gets cooked,
and slimy when its baked,
it taste like yuck in my mouth
the yuckiest food on earth!
Oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
the nastiest food on earth!
Oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
oh how I hate okra,
the nastiest food on earth!