Long Nuts Poems
Long Nuts Poems. Below are the most popular long Nuts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nuts poems by poem length and keyword.
Darkened skies
That cloaks the night, slowly fade away
And the melodic songs of birds, are heard
Heralding a bright new day
As the earth begins to feel the warmth
Of a sultry, soft sun’s heat
Morning mists envelop the ground
Like a pure white silken sheet
From beneath the shroud, rustling is heard
As small creatures leave their lairs
Scurrying around, on their hunt for food
That will be their winter fayre
Berries, nuts and soft ripe fruit
Abundant on bushes and trees
Will be harvested and stored away
To sustain through winter’s freeze
Dawn’s crisp frost begins to melt
And a tapestry of colour is seen
Of lustrous reds, orange, yellows and gold
As nature changes from summer’s green
There’s a nip in the air,
A chill in the breeze, rustling through the trees
Creating a kaleidoscope snowstorm
Of gently falling leaves
Treading majestically through the leaves
Is a magnificent, male, red deer
His melancholy, soulful, mating call
Tells that rutting time is here
It echoes to the river, where a hint of a splash
Forms rings, as the salmon rise
And from their homes in the bank, sand martins dart
To feast on insects and flies
While across in the meadow, profuse with blooms
Rabbits and field mice run free
As butterflies dance from flower to flower
To the drone of bumble bees
And in a patchwork landscape of fertile fields
Both sheep and cattle laze
Sleepy, from having eaten their fill
Of the lush, fecund, grass they graze
As I take a stroll through these idyllic scenes
It leaves me breathless, with no words to say
On how anything can ever, be compared
To the beauty of an autumn day.
Through the gap between the closed drapes
A maid peers in a daze
An ashtray upon the table
Held her undiffused gaze
Clearly there was bright red lipstick
Circles upon some butts
A golden earring lies close by
Lying cheat drives her nuts
The fog lifted revealing all
Airline ticket back home
A scoundrel, cheater, liar, creep
In the night he does roam
A teardrop fell upon the floor
As the click opened lock
He slept peacefully this last night
Gun shots silenced by the clock
Last chapter typed upon white sheets
The typewriter now still
Headlines plastered across front page
Lovers in motel were killed
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Contest: Chopped III
Form used: Poulter's Measure, Syllable count 8,6,8,6 with the rhyme on the six..Some lines might be slightly off..
I was completely, utterly, totally completely in love.
We met last Thursday, our eyes melted into each other’s souls before we spoke.
Together we were beyond sensual, beyond sexy, beyond anything I have experienced before.
There are no words to do our relationship justice.
I had fallen hard and fast, and it felt wonderful.
He was all about me, and I was all about us, and then he was too.
By Friday evening we were so in sync, we were finishing each other sentences.
I felt like I had been caught in a whirlwind, and I did not care.
We were nuts about each other, could not keep our hands off each other.
I could not wait to introduce him to my family and my friends
As he had become my world, and I had become his.
By Sunday, I knew him.
I didn’t just know him, I KNEW him - possibly better than I knew myself.
It felt like, in the space of four days, we’d been together for - oh - about seven years.
Itch itch itch.
His stories became boring. I knew every ending.
His jokes became tedious. I knew every punchline.
And his body - oh how I had feasted on that body - every single pore....
It had nothing more to give.
On Monday morning, I looked at him and he looked at me.
“Shall we...” I said, “Call it a day?” he said.
So we split the chocolate we’d bought on Saturday but were too lovesick to eat,
And we split the seedlings we’d bought to plant in the garden of our inevitable dream cottage...
And by Tuesday I was...
Over it.
have you ever heard the devil whisper in your ear?
the acrimonious voice instilling guilt and fear
a satanic chauvinist who cherry picks your thoughts
as you abdicate morality for something you should not
have you ever felt a choke while you were asleep?
fighting unseen forces that often made you weak
have you ever tried to kill yourself and shove a knife in the belly of your gut?
have you ever heard the murmuring of the crowd whispering "youre nuts"?
have you ever watched the news and seen death and destruction?
realizing human sacrifices still exists relating child abductions
the devil plays his part in the abattoir of the human mind
but within this construct of our reality his powers are undefined
his deception and his manipulative motive is to abscond from the truth
but to clarify his powers is to expose him using proof
he has thwarted love in many ways and conquered the weakest soul
he has recruited wicked men to join his bilious abode
have you ever walked the potters field and felt the presence of those who relinquished the light?
have you ever heard the breath of disembodied spirits feasting in the night?
have you ever seen a ghostly figure like your eyes was glazed with smoke?
have you ever swallowed pride and felt like you would choke?
have you ever wondered why people pull the trigger and slice their loved ones throats?
its the sacrifice to the devil insted of sacrifices goats!
have you ever blamed a creator for the mistakes that you made?
and turned your back on him for every losing game you played
knowing the devil is complicated to understand
because no one knows what its like to be a bad man
The writers high? It is quite real
Though it won’t come every day
It’s when the scene you wish to make,
Spills out freely on the page.
Say you’re writing two young lovers
In a passionate embrace…
One kisses the other, they paw at
Their clothes, fabric rips in the flurry,
She cries ‘I love you. Take me!’
He lays her on the bed, clothes fly,
Sweat and hot breath fill the room as
He grabs her by the hips and—
Oh, sorry. Got carried away.
Where was I?
Right! But the writer’s high
It seizes you suddenly,
Like a shiver down your spine,
Like when two opponents,
Trained in the martial arts,
Eye each other slowly, searching,
Glaring. Then they charge!
A jab! A cross! A roundhouse kick!
One snags an elbow
And Judo flips his foe right into
A plate glass window!
But he just gets up, smile, wipes
Off the blood and—
Nuts, sorry again. Lost focus.
My bad.
But a writer’s high, it’s quite unique
A feeling unlike any other. It soars
Through you mind…like two space cruisers
Duking it out over a desert world,
The fate of millions on the line!
Bolts and blasts streak this way
And that, and then: a fighter…
Roars in our of nowhere
Bound on a suicide course,
To ram his foe, take him down in
A rage of glory and free the galaxy
Of tyranny—
Crap.
Okay, I didn’t want to admit it,
But I’m much to high to explain this.
Come back tomorrow. If you'll
Please excuse me, I have
Some writing to do.
This erstwhile avid poet stir "boy"
prone to hyperbole in a "man" newer
(manure) of writing about his foie
gras bulls, (which matter of fact
happen tubby Ruby red)
redirects his gripe, how
he no longer doth enjoy
sharing his rhymes without
(poems), resorts to joy
full tongue in cheek humor to
lament, harumph, decry...
a source of annoy
ants, sans how nearly every
one of my satisfactory
albeit "FAKE" Hiam
Bick Penn- -Tam Meter
most definitely did perturb,
irk, and displease to cloy
administrators regarding gamut of
various and sundry writing groups,
(yes specifically geared to poetry),
(presuming me in cahoots with George Soros)
I suspect did employ
secret double agents groomed by
Mark Zuckerberg, and/
or Sheryl Sandberg deploy
ying ambiguous reference did not tow
arbitrary guidelines to cite nearly each
endeavor of mine as discrepancy
causing equivalent as digital row
points of view not
countenanced from this bro'
penniless, nearly without dough
nuts to dollars, thus to assuage ego,
(which rejections of sorts)
did rankle at first, hence
explanation no mo' crow
wing (except on my homepage),
an abrupt end explains absence
in case any readers did show
interest can still peruse yo
yo wing unstrung thoughts
from this average joe
by enclosing a blank check
addressed to this wise
acre and silently assertive bozo,
who will express how ire doth flow,
yet tactfulness and diplomacy
kept in mind before I go
ranting and raving like some roe
ving madman wading in deep water!
While on phone church Covid style
While my eyes follow the line of the psalm,
I fret about a fixture of the day.
Something I forgot fills me with alarm
a distraction prompting a need to pray.
Listening to a reading from Isaiah
my eyes upon a woodpecker alight
as it stabs the nuts in the bird feeder:
a striking bird to fill me with delight.
God given senses bring all together:
Psalms and readings of scripture correlate,
interweaving the fabric of nature
with worry about a calendar date.
Pulling such diverse strands into the whole,
oblique is the way that prayer feeds my soul.
I don’t know where it all began?
But I know I’m a dead man
Woke up to find she poured brake fluid all over my van.
Now I’m ducking and dodging the frying pan
My head’s got a lump from a, what I thought was a miss aimed tuna can
I broke the woman’s cardinal rule
I shouldn’t have done it, I know, I know, I’m a fool
Now I’m going to get my ass kicked by an ass whipping mule
I ducked and left behind my front teeth wedged in a stool
I am standing in a blood pool
She should have worn out by now, she must be tired
But a burst of energy the woman’s gone wild
She’s cross eyed and crying like a child
Sh-t she just knocked out three teeth I shouldn’t have smiled.
Dam! she got me, I’m dizzy on my knees
Everything is going dark but I can hear my mouth begging please!
Now she got my nuts in a squeeze
And the only expression I can come out with is GEEZ!!!
There I was gramercy
A wild woman with not mercy
Had a knife in one hand and in the other my Percy
It all started when she asked me to help her friend spread fake tan lotion
Then she saw two hand prints on her friend’s ass and it sparked the commotion
She came at me like a locomotion
At the time she said she was overwhelmed by her emotion
I was battered beyond repair
When her friend came to the rescue, my cries of despair
And told my girlfriend “I bought them with the hands printed on this jean wear.”
I collapsed to the floor whispering “not fair”
Now they call me the $6000 dollar man
With a permanent print of a fish on the head from the tuna can
Freudian Slip --- Insight of Lip --- Dane Ann
Gravestone ---Heart- Mark ---Dane Ann
Gall --- Vexing Vixen --- Dane Ann
Happiness --- Bounteous Bliss ---Dane Ann
Hog Sty --- Power Pen --- Dane Ann
Indigent --- Penniless Pauper --- Dane Ann
Insistent --- Relentless Nagging ---Dane Ann
Jerring ---Heartless Heckler --- Dane Ann
Jovial --- Cheery Chirping --- Dane Ann
Sports Nuts --- Crunchy Food, Poetic Mood For All to Read --- Linda-Marie Bariana
Good Vibrations --- Ghostly Groove --- Catie Lindsey
Last Will and Testament --- Dead Bread ---Catie Lindsey
Fine Wine and Spirits --- Wink and Drink ---Catie Lindsey
Agreement --- Words Concurred --- Dane Ann
Argument --- Quite Quarrel --- Dane Ann
Banter --- Chat Wit --- Dane Ann
Care --- Need Heed --- Dane Ann
Conscience --- Scruple Snooper --- Dane Ann
Detective --- Fact Grinder --- Dane Ann
Ducking --- Waddle Quacking --- Dane Ann
Emotional --- Frazzle Dazzled --- Dane Ann
Ship Mate --- Toy Boat --- HG
Gravestone --- Dead Cert. --- Sean Kelly
Broadcaster --- American Female Newscaster --- Sean Kelly
Cold War --- Battle Against Swine Flu ---Sean Kelly
Silicon Valley --- Cleavage, After Breast Enhancement --- Sean Kelly
Hebrew --- Jewish Tea For Men Only --- Sean Kelly
When I was only ten years old, I yelled at my TV
For I could not believe the filth they played to kids like me
Right there upon my TV screen, a frog with skin of green
Was lusted after by a pig whose plans were quite obscene
That frog would always act like he was playing hard to get
But that there pig would have her way… it was a certain bet
Well, some years on I met that frog and frankly I saw red
I glared right at that dirty frog and this is what I said…
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
Amphibians ain’t meant to speak, but he’d been on TV
He stood there with an attitude and tried to make me see
I glared at him and said there’s nothing here to be discussed
A frog that sleeps with piggies is a frog I’ll never trust
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
See, I’d just seen my dentist and he told me you’d been in
He said he had to throw you out or land one on your chin
He wouldn’t see you then, nor would he polish up the gnashers
Of any frog whose teeth and breath smelled much like bacon rashers
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
That frog has really messed me up. My nightmares feature girls
They all have snouts, four trotters and a little tail that curls
My given name is Herman so my friends all call me Hermie
But in my nightmare all those pigs squeal, “Come to Mumma, Kermie!”
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
I only hope that, one day, on him, law enforcement calls
And at the gallows they will hang him by his bacon balls
Be sure that I shall be right there to watch him as he falls
And as they pull the lever, I’ll cry, “Up yours, Bacon Balls!”