Long Pantaloons Poems
Long Pantaloons Poems. Below are the most popular long Pantaloons by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pantaloons poems by poem length and keyword.
Methinks I'm overdoing these pep talks
You people must be tired and bored
I hereby announce, going back to the sillies
Worry not, it's off my own accord
A niche that's always been my cup of tea
Poetry that includes lots of humour
Get quite a kick out of making folks laugh
Losing my smile's just a rumour
So here we go, are you ready for this stuff
I'm afraid it can get a bit hokay
What did the water say to the cruise ship?
Nothing, it just waved... okay-dokay
Now wasn't that extremely thoughtful of me
Coming up with this comedic gem
I'm not just another pretty face you know
I'm real kind and a genuine friend
Are you ready to bust a gut laughing again
Well maybe I'm exaggerating a bit
Are you ready to pee in your pantaloons
Oops sorry! No off colour quips
I've always been known as a rebellious sort
But I've tried hard to mend my ways
So it's nothing but sillies from this day forward
You can bet all your hard earned pay!
Started writing poetry then joined Poetry Soup
When submitting a poem I’m really cock a hoop
Have a cyber brother I did meet on line
Think he's quite amazing his poetry's divine
He said one day we were separated at birth
His comment amused me and filled me with mirth
Soon was confirmed we certainly were twins
Both write silly poetry and both have hairy chins
My cyber sister Jan started my big old heart a-ticking
Since entering my life it's sure been a-clicking
Wake up each morning can't wait for sister Jan
Even check my inbox before going to the can
She never disappoints though we're an ocean apart
Start's my motor racing, got a hold of my heart
Haven't figured out why I deserve such a friend
Separated at birth we'll be friends to the end
Noticed on some comments people call him ‘Kenny’
He’d love to sing with Dolly – I guess he’s one of many
Jack and Dolly’s greatest hits I see it in my mind
But Cathie said no, I guess she’s being real kind
From Jack’s picture, think he’s more like a Santa
We get on great as bro and sis with much silly banter
I’m so very fortunate to find my cyber brother
If I had to choose one I couldn’t wish for another
It's a well known fact, Brits lack a sense of humour
Sister Jan sure puts a kibosh on that silly rumour
She makes me cackle and wet my pantaloons
Sometimes I snort like a silly old buffoon
At my ripe old age of fifty-eight plus twenty
Things don't work well, I have heartburn a plenty
But the heartburn I have is caused by my love
For dear sister Jan's given my heart a big shove
Collaboration between J Allison and J Ellison
© Jack Ellison 2014
Madame Catherine with her bouffant so big and mighty
She wears her blue silk frock and pantaloons with attitude all righty
We see her in the garden, putting on airs, for she is the queen.
If you do not believe me, look at the butterflies give her their sheen.
Madame Catherine is too prim and proper to use a litter box, no slumming.
We have to carry her to her boudoir where she uses indoor plumbing.
We think she is amazing, our darling cat, who puts on airs each and every day.
As she wanders around the garden, we marvel at her bustle that doth sway.
She is an amazing creature, ready to date, but wait, she will not be easy to win.
For she has confidence galore and her attitude is as high and mighty as all sin.
Madame Catherine, do you mind if we call you Madame Cat, if we know you well?
Not at all, she purrs delightfully. Off with their heads; I will send them all to hell.
Annette Kellerman is famous for an event that may have never happened
There is no record of it, but the story is good
She is famous for wearing a one-piece bathing suit in 1907
Nineteen and assertive, she pooh-poohed the dress-pantaloons of the time
Many were outraged,
but this was the beginning of the end of the cumbersome suits
She paved the way for women to wear “Annette Kellermans”
as the one-piece suits were called.
There was a wide rumor that she had been arrested for wearing a one-piece.
Research has provided no basis for this rumor.
Annette was progressive.
In 1919 she was the first women to appear fully nude in a movie.
It was called A Daughter of the Gods
Don’t look for it
No copies exist
She was a professional swimmer, an actress and a writer.
Doing her Australian heritage proud.
If you hear the sound of rat-tat-a-tat
It's not a woodpecker or a chattering cat
Tis George F. Latulence an aristocrat
Playing ping pong with his gold crested bat.
A competitor and show-off he deems to be
Dresses each day in his noble finery
Pantaloons his normal fancy day wear
His ancestry, finery, regalia, style flair.
He never shares glory or plays with a partner
Winning trophies for himself, what he is after
Agile and swift, rarely points he would miss
The downside came, when you did get that whiff.
To gain advantage, a parp he would do
Clenching bum cheeks, in case he followed through
High class energy foods for his body to sustain
But his parping was every one else's nose bane.
George on first serve, parped, as he hit the ball hard
Swiftly attacking, George butt did bombard
In that spilt second threw off his opponent
Point gain to George, aided by his flatulent moment.
Silent and deadly they all came out fast
Odourous gas from George nuclear fueled ar$e
If one made a noise he'd give a loud grunt
That was his bum burping cover up stunt.
Knew there was trouble when audiences pulled faces
Some even fainted, brave stayed in their seat places
George didn't care, just wanted top podium status
His methods and thinking obnoxiously atrocious.
Audience faces were different shades of green
People were swaying, some even vomiting.
He called it his ping pong, parp-crafty-art farts
Next point to win, final round about to start.
The ball went to and fro like a speeding fast bullet
George, with match point, he was about to secure it
Hitting an ace, made a spark, that caused a boom blast
Left the audience with mix feelings of relief and aghast.
Breaking news of his death headlines did broadcast
Even able to download from what's called a podcast
George F. Latulence died from a blast from his ar$e,
He blew up one too many, too dense and not sparse.
May The Gas Be With You Farts Part 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Written 07.10.21
“May I fondle your gluteus maximus milady?”
“Why you certainly may, my good sir”
“A bucket like yours with such voluptuous curves
Starts me tingling and me motor to purr”
“Let us meander beyond that tree over there
We can let our sweet passion flow
Bid a farewell to our inhibitions so to speak
And share in the light of love's glow”
“Now my kind sir, may I ask you a favor
I wish you would progress a bit further
The way you fondle I find quite exhilarating
Can't help myself yelling bloody murder!”
At that very moment, a small crowd did appear
They were clapping and cheering us on
So we sheepishly pulled up our pantaloons
As our moment of passion was gone
The moral of the story is really quite simple
When fondling a lady's gluteus max
Make sure you're alone and don't gather a crowd
It can certainly detract from the act
Picture on the Parlor Wall 9-27-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sampler on the Parlor Wall
Shadows born from dawdling light
Stretch across a firelit room set with porcelain cups,
From tea parties long ago and faraway,
With an invitation to sample sweets and savories
Like the sampler on the parlor wall.
Beneath neat rows of alphabets stories gather,
Verses stitched with silk and dreams
And numbers that taught a woman’s craft –
A child’s wishes fly with birds and lady bugs –
Wishes to convince a suitor at the door of her wifely worth
In tidy stitches foreshadowing an orderly life.
A young lady-girl in pantaloons and blue sashes
Weaves circles of symphonic dots in French wheels
While lazy daisy chains meander on her linen fields -
Magic flares in her zigzag lines, her wishes on wooly stars.
No signature remains from her little hand -
Her hearth, her home, her heart –
Only a legacy of butterflies and roses sampled on a parlor wall
And a tiny scarlet dot of imperfection like a signature remains
Embroidered into a sampler embracing each dawn and dusk.
Started writing poetry then joined Poetry Soup
When submitting a poem I’m really cock a hoop
Have a cyber brother I did meet on line
Think he's quite amazing his poetry's divine
He said one day we were separated at birth
His comment amused me and filled me with mirth
Soon was confirmed we certainly were twins
Both write silly poetry and both have hairy chins
Cyber sister Jan started my big old heart a-ticking
Since entering my life it's sure been a-clicking
Wake up each morning can't wait for sister Jan
Even check my inbox before going to the can
She never disappoints though we're an ocean apart
Start's my motor racing, got a hold of my heart
Haven't figured out why I deserve such a friend
Separated at birth we'll be friends to the end
Noticed on some comments people call him ‘Kenny’
He’d love to sing with Dolly – guess he’s one of many
Jack and Dolly’s greatest hits I see it in my mind
But Cathie said no, guess she’s being real kind
From Jack’s picture, think he’s more like a Santa
We get on great as bro and sis with much silly banter
I’m so very fortunate to find my cyber brother
If I had to choose one couldn’t wish for another
It's a well known fact, Brits lack a sense of humour
Sister Jan sure puts a kibosh on that silly rumour
She makes me cackle and wet my pantaloons
Sometimes I snort like a silly old buffoon
At my ripe old age of fifty-eight plus twenty
Things don't work well, I have heartburn a plenty
But the heartburn I have is caused by my love
My dear sister Jan gives my heart a big shove
~ Collaboration Poem by J Allison & J Ellison
written for contest sponsored by Jared Pickett
Rhymes in Nine 2 10-11-24 Rhymes checked with www.rhymezone Picture #4
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fall Rhapsody
Fall rhapsody to BEGIN, TOLD IN scarlet tones,
A SERENADE for strings in a PARADE of russet GOLD hues -
A JUBILEE for acorns and for oaks in an autumn harvest JAMBOREE.
Maple LEAVES BLUSH in SHEAVES of firelight crimson choruses
Courtly LOVE sung like minuets OF twilight THRUSH vespers
MERRY harmonies of CRANBERRY aria odysseys.
Trees FESTOONED in UMBER pantaloons cast off MAROONED melodies
Twilight breezes FAN a cinnamon TAN pup in SLUMBER -
Orange opus CALLS when fall RECALLS harvest harmony.
Lovable Henry was a dapper, pompous hedgehog
His flaming style was ritzy, he put on the dog.
We thought it amusing he wore a silky top hat.
He was afraid of nothing but a prissy stuck up cat.
Henry had a lady friend, she was so loud, obscene.
The two of them together had much fun being seen.
She wore a bustle, a bonnet, and prissy pantaloons.
He wore the most outrageous suits, with bright yellow moons.
They went on their dates in the vegetable garden out back.
He would pack a picnic, taken in a crinkled paper sack.
Henry the Hedgehog and His lady friend we called Honey.
We thought she was in it for his body, not his money.
The cat would watch them both, rolling his yellow evil eyes.
Watch them laughing idiotically under the blue skies.
Then he would chase poor Henry, our little tiny pet
Back into the house. Luckily, he has not caught him yet!