Long Nifty Poems
Long Nifty Poems. Below are the most popular long Nifty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nifty poems by poem length and keyword.
The Alcoholic in Your Life
Might be the dirty man in the gutter,
Or your mate, so loaded he can only stutter.
She might be the loudmouth at the bar,
Or the woman who almost died,wrecking her car.
Sadly, could be your father or mother.
Cousin, aunt, sister or beloved brother.
Ages of addicts are no longer fifty.
Some eleven year olds, sneak drink at home, they think it's nifty.
Alcoholism begins in denial, first by the drinker,
Then, the fellow deniers: friends and family, too.
Unable to see where this might have a fatal end.
Our society so worked up over fentanyl and shrooms,
We scoff at them throwing the drug, alcohol, up in our bathrooms.
We've yet to understand all alcohol is a dangerous drug,
I know, not you~you really are not addicted.
Many die of this disease each day, deadly conflicted.
Call yourself blessed, if this disease you do not have.
Please do not laugh at these unfortunate blokes.
See that they get the help they need~
Stop kvetching over second hand smoke.
Alcoholics come in all shapes and sizes.
Attorneys, doctors, Hollywood, too.
Love needed urgently, not arrogant and unforgiving surmises!
Panagiota Romios
4/3/2019
“The fairy was flying in loops and swirls around her,
shedding fairy dust as she went. Throwing it at Wendy.
Delighted, the human girl raised her arms up
to fully experience what was happening. Delicate
golden sparkles floated down and kissed her skin.
Where they touched, Wendy felt lighter.
Tiny pains she hadn't even realized
she felt entirely disappeared, and
any weariness vanished.
She felt rested, energetic, and- airy.”
— Liz Braswell, Straight On Till Morning
PIXIE SUE AND LITTLE OLD ME
greenery fell on me,
spare not the show —
a pixie dancing deliriously
all aglow
wrinkled bark of the wise old oak,
tickled pink,
his wizened spark —
an ageless drink
pixie sue in polka dot dress
amuses the congress —
applause adrift
in giggling face-lifts
opulent oaks
shake their bountiful heads.
the verdant snow —
a confection of Spring, spreads
my leather toes pointed
with little bell swings
melody of a child’s heart —
ring ring ring
and i’m lifting, floating, flying
freely into cloud high —
a tornadic bliss,
a kiss from the earth to the sky
sue looks up in disbelief,
cries —
she wants to live life larger,
grow in size
the leaves twiddle
and twirl,
crafting a nifty nest,
a basket for this panglossian girl —
no a boat — a love cruise
that sails up to the sky.
sue spots her friend,
lands on her head, amused
a hat for me
a strawberry beach for her —
the scent unexpected so far out.
pixie sue with pointed toes — a waterspout
the oaks
extend their limbs,
as polka dots
deliriously fall on them
4/7/2020
In the fifties we girls could not wear pants
Unless it was bitter cold, then a temporary grant.
We wore them under our dresses in freezing drool
But had to take them off when we got to school
If you told a girl today she had to wear a dress
She would look at you like you had a nose of watercress
Girls today wear what they want I have to confess
Many do not own a skirt, a jumper or a dress
In the fifties most of us went to church and sat in pews
We were silent knowing that to upset our parent was a lose.
We could sit through weddings and funerals silently.
No one thought to interrupt an adult in 1953.
Today’s child cannot sit silently anywhere without bedding.
Not at school, in church, in a synagogue or at a wedding
Today’s child thinks what they have to say is valuable without fault.
They believe they are on the same level as an adult
In the fifties we kids fought over who laid in the back window
When we went to grandma’s or to church in the Christmas snow.
Today’s child has to be strapped down like an inverted turtle
In the backseat, so the air bag does not “get” them, right Myrtle?
In the fifties students waited for instructions from a teacher
Today’s children interrupt and out-talk even a preacher.
When a teacher commands silence, they ignore her, not nifty.
I wish children respected adults like they did in the fifties.
I’ve heard about atmospheric pressure,
but honestly, it’s not a thing I get -
only that it’s something people measure,
and when it’s low, I hear we might get wet!
I guess they never taught me it in school.
In fact, I googled it just now. It said
we’re living in the bottom of a pool,
just one with air – not water – overhead!
I really like that nifty metaphor,
but how warm air that rises makes it low
I can’t quite comprehend, and I get more
confused when reading how it makes wind blow!
My brain’s now fried. I just can’t get the gist
of it! And that’s why I’m no scientist!
Sept. 2, 2017 for Shadow Hamilton's Atmospheric Pressure Poetry Contest
"Drunk as a skunk"
Flimsy after whimsy
Flunk and debunk
Or mastered getting "plastered"
"Tipsy as a gypsy"
Sunk like a monk
Miss nights out "on the p*ss"
We shan't blush...can't hush
Us as we gush about the rush
Bliss to kiss the alcoHOLE abyss
Have a crush on the plush
Flush flights of a proper "lush"
Grinned while you sinned
Smile..getting in a right mess
Room spinned ... plans binned
Betting the style's "blotto" lotto
Pinned motto bless the "legless"
Jolly golly gosh "sloshed"
What beats "3 sheets to the wind"
Need a slash..have to crash
After being out on the lash
"Smashed"..bish bash boshed
'Off your trolley" wally or dolly
Bedazzled frazzle on the razzle
Laughter after a dafter shindig swig
On the "sozzle"..off his head ..off to bed
Reason for that big red schnozzle
Let's be frank those who get "tanked"
Get thanked...no..blanked & spanked
Don't deride those who decide
To get plied with or "pie eyed" with pride
Have a tiff with those who chose skew whiff
No need upsetting or fretting
Over a drunkard with a tankard
Rum dumb herbert on the sherbert
Woozy boozy floozy doozy
Getting whistle whetting "wanker*d"
Abuser..winner or loser
The boon of the last saloon
All soon forgetting having hankered
For.. then regretting that final boozer
"Wasted"...sauce basted I stammered
Could've plucked for being "f**cked"
Decoded it besetting with maybe "loaded"
Why's he passed on the class "rat-arsed"
Not fussed..nonplussed he cussed
Sussed just with mates getting 'hammered"
So don’t muzzle the "guzzler"
Cripple the ripple of the "tippler"
Can’t match "down the hatch"
Or sip & sup..because "bottom’s up"
No frowning cake-hole sold on downing
Beer.. .neck oil by heck will spoil our laughing gear
Crowning the glory or gory story
Comedy gold told of being "arsehol*d"
Ickle fickle wee "pickled" trickle tickle
Temptation of a nifty sneaky shifty
Iffy & squiffy in a jiffy veneration
Don't be piddly about diddly while tiddly
They might from afar mutter
Wot a nutter...one too many jars
One too many bars ..not caring...I would utter
Have a flutter...I’m lying in the gutter
Rego & I flying while staring at the stars
Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage
The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered
Swimming around the ocean deep
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper
At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty
In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat
A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high
Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through
Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret
No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy
Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin
Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife
(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg. Then circled and
grabbed her left leg. The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off. She was only attended by a nurse who
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do. She was 20 hours away
from the nearest doctor. She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg. The story about the shark caught in
a fisherman's net was really not true. The grandmother here was a true story.)
Tangled up in blue Bob Dylan song contest
Tangled up in you
I remember the day I saw her,
running down the avenue...
Chestnut hair flowing in the air,
I was taken by the view
She was running late, ran by my gate,
saying how do you do....
I said, don't run away, come make my day,
turn my grey skies to blue
Later on that night, I caught a sight,
of that lady coming home
I said, hey my dear, don't ever fear,
'cause you'll never be alone
She stopped in her tracks, said is that a fact,
how can you be so sure?
I said, my love is true, and I'm true blue...
guess I'm tangled up in you
She stopped by for a spell, guess y'all can tell,
just how this story ends
She said thanks a lot, but you're not so hot,
why can't we just be friends
I said fine I guess, you know the rest,
she used those nifty shoes
I said I'll sit and wait for your return,
with my whiskey and my blues
the trouble with me is this, you see,
I'm still tangled up in you
yeah still tangled up in you.
soooooo tangled up in you.
June 11,2025 for the Dylan song contest
standing up in a class of fifty,
offering her answers, quite gently,
will the professor think she’s nifty,
or will he think of her differently,
she blushes, though she isn’t shifty,
discombobulation, incidentally,
answering, she mumbles – befuddled,
oh, no, her answers are muddled!
Walking home from class, gusts blow.
She feels her dress rise off her form,
Baring her rear, all red – she does glow,
Embarrassed as can be by the storm,
She hopes no one will see this show –
Oh, her cheeks do feel moderately warm,
Will anyone notice her mortification?
Her naked bottom brings quite a sensation.
when she reaches her destination, she finds,
not only was her bottom seen, but snapped,
by a sneaky camera, who always reminds –
those awkward moments, when unwrapped,
prompt the owner to turn shades of red in all kinds,
marking these days where there’s laughter to be kept,
so, at least, her embarrassment is a reflection,
often found in some comedian’s photo collection!
A villanelle I wrote about a parrot
a little fiend all in scarlet and green
who knew every trick in the book
he could keep me oh so amused
He liked to dance to music
yes I swear he did as he bobs
back and forth on his perch
and lifting his nifty nimble feet
He would put Fred Astaire to shame
and that beak could be so wicked
watch it when he nibbles your ear
he will draw blood if given the chance
He would sit in the window and I swear
was people watching and shouting advice
to them as they passed, bowing and dancing
he let them know he was far wiser than they
(Thus my joy for you I will relay
fill my tray you know the drill
full of colour and so very gay
keep me happy so I won't stray)
Contest: 5th poem written 06/30/2013
.......And Now For The Next Half A Century!
Over 50? Bring it on!
Feeling so empowered
Learning now that life's for grabs
So much to be devoured!
Over 50? Piece of cake
Sitting on my laurels
Fed them, read them, washed them, wed them
Taught them all their morals
Over 50? Feeling great!
Welcoming that wrinkle
Gravity - go do your thing
My eyes will always twinkle
Over 50? Never wiser!
Learning to say no
Earned my moods lost some feuds
Now basking in the glow
Over 50? Liking me
Dressing as I please
Goodbye fads, hello plaids
I ve no one to appease
Over 50? No regrets
Think it s pretty nifty
Guess I ll stick around a bit
To check out things at sixty!