Long Off color Poems
Long Off color Poems. Below are the most popular long Off color by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Off color poems by poem length and keyword.
in faces lined like glaciers
sometimes there's loneliness
that cuts a tow line to safety
air of flux and hostility
over dazed eyes
turbulent modernity
sometimes we yearn for elegance
like a warm shoulder
its edge of acceptance
fitted with precision
yearn to heal a heart in straight jacket pain
to know motivation that punches above the weight
of a fragile frame
to relish the faith of a welcoming hand
to find a community
that bends the bar of one's cage into bracelets
shuffled like a deck of cards
lives seldom remain still
yearning to break an existence slurred by off color jokes
reaching for an unseeable light
a homeward wish
smothering woe
...But worst is the true believers,
the ones who buy into this crap,
who spend their days lurking online,
just seeking a place to attack.
Not working, being productive,
and not thinking with any depth,
looking out for some ‘-istaphobe’
that they can harass until death.
Seeking the slightest odd remark,
or some strange off-color comment,
then making it some huge problem,
declaring loud, ‘That this must end!’
Trying to get people fired,
or pushing them to suicide,
calling them all the worst of names,
and whipping up an online tide.
Worst of all they think that they’re good,
that cancelling is a moral act,
can’t see their own intolerance,
that what they claim they have, they lack.
But normal people don’t do this,
don’t live to bring others such pain,
so why is it that they cancel?
What is going on in their brain?
The cold truth, they all get a buzz
when they see a person torn up,
there is so little in their lives
that they could be proud of, or love,
but all people want to feel great,
it’s written in our DNA,
and since some will not work for it
then they must find another way.
When they see that person cancelled,
when that hit of power comes in,
they feel good, feel like they matter,
that somehow they’ve gotten a win.
But destroying lives is evil,
so they lie on what’s wrong or right,
they tell themselves that what they do
will somehow lead them to the light,
the old ‘right side of history,’
utopia that never comes,
if they can help us ‘progress’ there
then who cares what happens to one?
Breaking eggs to make an omelet,
doing things they cannot take back,
‘saving the world’ while getting their buzz,
what ego would dare give up that?
And so they keep on canceling,
their ego searching the next hit,
some folks still ask why they do this,
they’re evil because they like it.
Cut them out of your life.
~
A lilac endeavor
of promised importance
came strolling along
on a path in the sun
Its fragrance unfurling
this side of September
when springtime was singing
for winter was done
With meadowlarks chatting
in off color language
while watching the roses
now bloom by the wall
She fancied a smile
in lace covered cotton
with hair gold and windy,
the belle of the ball
I stood there a’ staring,
my eyes hardly leaving
the shape of her world
filled with raspberry dreams
Along an old footpath
with grass patches growing
and banks touching lilies,
all lining the streams
My heart felt a tremor,
like mountaintops falling
in piles of pebbles
and granite like things
Her beauty a fashion,
none other was wearing,
a fine velvet cloth stitched
in apricot strings
She looks my direction
with eyes colored passion
and lips made of honey
as sweet as the bees
Now watching her fingers
collecting the samples
of Ginkgo leaves floating
the back of the breeze
She laughed in the open,
a bright sun was shining
midst butterflies tinting
their wings greenish blue
I followed her northward,
my hand in my pocket,
then pulled out a poem
said, “This is for you”
An unfolded whisper
‘tween petals of daisies
now telling a story
of love or of not
Her glance towards the paper
was finding her grinning,
her painted toes tingled,
her breath just forgot
I melted like butter
on sidewalks in August
when feeling her smile
pressed tightly to mine
I guess in the verses
with lines penned in rhythm
she knew of my joy,
I had told her in rhyme
So now we just wander
directions that beckon
when autumn is sleeping
and summer awakes
Picking up branches,
like sculpting a sunset
or bridging a pasture,
whatever it takes
With overall blue jeans
and knees wet and muddy,
we tend to the gardens
the earth it does claim
While sharing our wine
with a cat and a moon bean,
enjoying each other,
now who could complain
Who is the ugliest at the ugly bug ball?
Is it the hideous gnat or giraffe so tall?
Could it be that spitting camel with the ugly hump?
Or the orangutan with the butt that makes us jump?
Mayhaps it is the blue-footed boobie, a weird looking fellow
Or that weird looking duckling whose suit is off-color yellow.
Bloody turkey buzzard with mouth full of gore just came in.
He is not only ugly, but his carnivorous ways are an evil twin.
Octopus, penguin, goat, quail, each with an oddity.
Scorpion, wasp, rattlesnake with pattern of a vee….
Who is the ugliest at the ugly bug ball?
Starfish and squirrel get to pick but they went to the mall.
Could it be the mongoose, the peahen or yak?
Let’s choose the winner before they get back.
Sturgeon has a suggestion. It sounds like a wow.
Let’s call it a tie, and give them all a big whack.
Beautifully crafted from end to end
Made even the wealthy squill
An ark prepared to safely swim
Captain Andrews behind the wheel
Remarks were made, degrading God
The very one who crafted the sea
Off color, crude, un seemingly odd
"Not even he can destroy me"
An arrogant crew of skilled men
Created this masterpiece
Glory was given to none other than them
As they departed from the East
Four days of sailing with un punished boast
Reassured their sinful tongues
Smoothly gliding far from coast
None predicted what was to come
But God knew there was a lesson to teach
At the expense of even the young
This vessel would cease to reach the beach
A rupture too grand for a bung
A colossal mass was lying in wait
Since the very beginning of time
A monstrous iceberg determined fate
Stood proudly in their line
A dumbfounded captain and ill prepared crew
Lacked wisdom and common sense
Took illogical action and spared a few
Left the poor behind a fence
Her maiden voyage, a catastrophe
Not once would she defy our King
A lesson learned, now history
Oh the knowledge that it would bring
Let us color
the colors
in their right
shades and hues;
Is white, white?
Or, red, green
and blue, too?
Red is red but
Green is not green--
It’s yellow and blue,
As yellow is
red and green.
Black is black,
It's in black and white
Black as night
White as a ghost,
Not black and blue,
You get the blues
Out of the blue
Once in a blue moon.
Red is blood red,
Paint the town red,
Red in the face
but not off color,
Always in the pink
never in the red.
Show your true colors,
Raise a white flag
if you see red,
Not your green thumb.
Get the green light
Not green with envy,
Chase the rainbow
Be not a black sheep
Or yellow-bellied.
~1/15/2015
~Anacreontic Verse 2 contest by Edward Ebbs
Remember when summers were fun?
When the days were long and you were gone
From just after dawn 'till the setting sun
Remember when summers were fun
When you didn't go to work or to school
When you hung out with your buddies at the local pool
Remember when summers were fun
When you played baseball for hours and hours on end
When Mom couldn't track you, couldn't text messages send
Remember when summers were fun
When you teased the girls, before you first noticed their curves
When you played daredevil on your bike, stunts of steel nerves
Remember when summers were fun
When in one giant gulp you downed an ice-cold coke
When no one was offended by an off-color joke
Remember when summers were fun
Well, if you do, you may be the only one
Because those kind of summers are finished and done
This year the black flies are ravenous.
To enter their habitat, I pay a toll in flesh.
I like a good steak now and again.
But I have to pay a toll to Bill and his Lone Star ticks.
Never thought a tic and a cow would be bedmates.
I pray that they leave my skin untouched.
I don't think that's asking too much.
I pay a toll to cast a vote
knowing greasy politicians
never keep promises.
The voting booth is a house of mirrors
with a clown spewing off-color jokes.
I pay a toll to fill potholes
to smooth the burning roads.
But the roads are worse than ever.
Where is all that blue-collar jingle going
I can only guess.
The last toll will be most expensive.
It's to pay for the vast parade of sin
that I often marched in merriment with.
My good black book is dusty and crisp.
I lack
faith
discipline.
confidence.
I'm a quart of a good Christian
I pray, half-assed, for forgiveness.
Just in case there's a hell.
I played the short game but not very well.
The destiny of living is an unmanned toll.
Even the saints and sisters have to pay.
So, I pay the tolls with little complaint.
I know very well the rules of the long game.
There is a toll for every devilish pleasure.
For every slinky, sweet, sultry thing.
That takes you further from heaven.
Living v living
By Dominique Smith
Mirror images are flooded with joy compassion is overlooked and the heart that beated for it echoes across the pond. Neglected and overwhelmed both extremely acidic. You eat your favorite food and you drink your wine. Flashes of off color flowers, hey they call you look up at the reflection of normality.
In your hand a cold stone, smooth to the touch of your finger tips, small but fragrant scent of salty air. Wind sweep's past your ears, hey are you ok? They call but when you speak you smile and say yes, you blink it's three days later and you have more smooth cold stones. You feel you touch you taste the way every being has had and will. The plant is there over watered, Goosebumps comes from your skin. The hair on your arms flex like the leafs on a Autumn tree.
You shutter to thought of a misstep, you count the steps as you move your hand down the railing, Broad hallways are dark and quiet. Your hair on your head falls to your shoulders. the tips of said hair grow pale, Hey you with us? They ask you looking at the ceiling but never directly at you. You answer with a smile with a nodding motion. The table grows longer and the faces blur. You're respected, rejected, inspected, humiliated,praised, and thrown away. No one hears your whispers because you have none. You look at yourself image through the eyes of the confused, You ponder have you been living or living.
As wisdom thickens, bones tend to be thinning.
If everybody's competing, nobody's really winning.
Everyone's whispering in green, but no one is truthing.
They're busy garishly flirting while heavenly preaching.
While everyone's busy pecking away at yellowing keys.
No one sees miracles unfurling like the rose and the lily.
Too many plastic boots tapping asphalt and concrete.
Not enough pinkies are touching forests of green.
I think daisies and cherubs are quite enchanting.
Though some folks call them just weeds and fantasy.
Peace, love, and empathy writhe in the briar and weed.
Like a three-legged dog pawing at a squadron of flees.
The tap water is off color and sniffs quite unclean.
Hit another pothole in my blue-collar daydream.
A plump governor is binging on blue-collar tax dollars again,
Leaving all the townsfolk scratching their heads.
He fingers my heartstrings though we've never once met.
Milking the puppet until there's not one splinter left.
Everyone's leaving, but galaxies keep on spinning.
The dead and dying far outnumber the breathing,
Wars are forever breeding with the money machine.
Their offspring are the orphans of misery and poverty.
Time thief is stealing the names off every gravestone.
13 chairs filled but one man still eats his last supper alone.