Long Patting Poems
Long Patting Poems. Below are the most popular long Patting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patting poems by poem length and keyword.
The pilot closed the door.
Taking a brief moment to look around.
Patting himself down opening the door then closing it back hesitantly.
He walked past the vacant seats, inviting himself to the copilot seat in the cockpit.
He leaned his head back, observing the silence that surrounded.
Staring off into the clouds.
His back seeped into comfort. Sliding down a bit further.
His knees touching the dashboard to the controls.
He searched the sky. The chair becoming a more enticing place to catch a Z or two.
The plane landed about half an hour ago.
Still he sat. Constantly opening then closing the door.
Feeling the breeze of air pass across his face.
Stretching his legs from being cramped in a tight compartment for so long.
Watching the other planes come and go.
The constant flicker of port side reflecting off his face.
How easy it seems to go home.
Continuing to nod off into a deep sleep.
Listening to the other planes sail off into the distance.
The luxury of dreams
A calendar girl I certainly am not
my assets aren’t what they once were ...
pert boobies have drooped, they’ve sure gone to pot
I think other ladies can concur.
I’m realistic about the aging process
As my body is droopy and sags
And it causes me constant distress
when my bra catches on pesky skin tags
My hair colour comes from a bottle
I must use dye to cover the grey
So I apply it all at full throttle ...
Hairdresser’s bills I don’t want to pay!
My double chin it has expanded,
you should see the size of my jowls
and I expect that I’ll be reprimanded
If I dare mention my runny bowels!
I just suddenly dash to the loo
as my bladder it feels fit to burst
Drat, the ladies has such a long queue -
when I use public toilets, I’m cursed!
Sheer relief when I squat on the toilet
(I must not let my tush touch the seat)
Because sadly other women can ‘mark it’
their wee dribbles I don’t want to meet!
I hate to admit that I’m aging
and no longer am I a young lass
But my husband is still so engaging
and he can’t resist patting my a s s!
MAINLY A FICTION POEM - SPONSOR TOLD US TO HAVE FUN!
A Rattling Rhyme Contest
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7/30/18
In Chibok once, I met a maid, three hundred was her name.
Brim-filled with hope and not afraid, her life like sheets was plain.
She had a mother and a dad, her siblings were her joys.
For these her love was not a fad, there might have been a boy.
She told me how (tone innocent), she’d want to change the world.
She was so sure and on it bent that life was all she’d want.
I saw a country in her dreams, a state not like today.
They falsely pledged to never bring. She swore our renegade.
And as I versed kibaki, light, I happened on a mom.
She whispered soft with great delight, “I bore a treasure chest”.
I wondered how a chest could bring out of a woman’s womb,
Until she chose to un-riddle by patting her child’s head.
She spoke! “My daughter is my life”, and wrapped her with herself.
A child’s mother so satisfied with no more than one birth.
“I did not seek your oil crude; I did not want your gems,
I had no cause to nurse a feud, I had my little girl”.
The wildest smile I’d ever seen that tore a father’s face.
I’d thought he was smiling at me. Rear me she was, a pace.
He sped past me to unburden the clay-pot on her head.
He wiped the drops that kept rolling down her face with his shirt.
If fulfillment had a grimace, it won’t be happier.
Unfettered elation; the plague. A dad; the carrier.
In Chibok now I miss a maid, three hundred’s still her name.
Her life’s a sheet that plain remains, her bed’s forever made.
Three hundred futures are missing and we don’t recognize,
We’ve lost great heroes untimely, compatriots, O arise.
I happened on that mom again, I happened on her fright.
Delight replaced with apex pain, with not a ray of light.
She has all causes to be brute, she’s lost her little girl,
A mother is insatiable, a mother hasn’t slept.
Ocean’s seagulls are magical the older woman thought.
Her cat was thinking a seagull sandwich is what he ought.
Each on a beach chair, they sat in silence side by side.
Each with their own thoughts by the sweet oceanside.
Wonder what Bentley is thinking the old woman thought.
Bentley put his nose up in the air and sniffed, je was quite the snot.
They are grilling hot dogs or peppercorn, nothing I like tonight.
These two sat in silence for pretty much most of the night.
There was a soft breeze that brushed them both gently.
They liked the feeling of it; Mrs. Mom and Old Bentley.
Mrs. Mom got out a tiny treat with an ounce of cat nip.
Bentley went crazy and started patting down his owner's hip.
Stop making me into a nest! Mrs. Mom ordered, quite mad.
Bentley jumped down, was hissing and arching, he could be a cad.
I think this could be a regular deal for Thanksgivings Day Mom said.
And this is how they spent it, every holiday, until both were dead.
Is all we have, just hours or years, a lie we believe.
We have no clarity as to what God will do.
So grab this minute given to you by God, you don't
need to be ruled by the terrorism of the mob.
The mob will shirk you, humiliate you, so do look for
the leading star in a crowd.
Like sheep they huddle in common mediocrity, adoring
each other,so slovenly.
Their eyes never raised to adore, just to gain points, they
do keep score!
Patting their own backs constantly, with no credit ever,
not for one second to God.
Indeed, in the arts and literature, many are eternally lost.
Refusing to realize, that the eternal loss of their souls is
their ultimate cost.
August 5, 2019
9:30pm PST
Look out you might see them
scuttling down your street
patting the neighbour’s dog
nodding to people they meet
They lurk on hospital corridors
wearing their black shiny shoes
then scour obituary columns
for all their latest news
They follow people on stretchers
to sickbeds, funerals, and wakes
asking for extra cups of tea
turning their nose up at cake
They might just take an interest,
if you should start to feel ill
checking on your temperature
your welfare and your will
So, keep your curtains closed tonight
lock all your windows and doors
the graveyard groupies are coming
it’s you they’re looking for…
Push- by Dominique Smith
Push through they say, keep pushing my way, dark cold wet sorrows and woes, spring comes for flowers and pressed for beauty. Hold on not yet, push down and keep it there.
Others aren't watching no one cares. That's not true or fair enough to get yourself near some warmth. So many lives are effected by lies and rejection. I try so hard, smile as the world throws eggs and expensive items in your face body and hair. Push through they say they have to keep you at a distance why patting your back. They have lives and they share but your story is for bed time and the snores you hear.
Keep it pushing, A saying in itself. Meaning I dont have the time to pretend I feel your pain. I don't celebrate your wins but I touch your shoulder to give you the illusion that I didn't know your failure was close. Like the shadow in the corner that followed you since the moment you were pushed into the spring from the cold dark wet obiss
Human Crowns
Let God
be always in control!
You just do your ultimate best!
He never asked you to be number one.
However, you were asked to love all
women and men.
We all are referred to as His sons!
True satisfaction comes in wrapping
your arms around another, never in
Patting your own back, no, but yes,
The back of another.
Human crowns slip and fall from fat,
arrogant heads.
The crowns of the spirit last, long after
we are dead!
The Lord doe not care at the end of the day,
How many human crowns you won today.
The true crowns, go to the woman or the
man,
Who lived a life of compassion, thinking of
his fellow man.
Panagiota Romios
4/26/2019
4:10pm PST
Sorry honey, BettyeJean can't come over and play
with you- she's got a show today
my mother said, patting me on the head
as my father muttered something
barely audible about those
mumble-grumble horsey-people
and their shows
He despised show horses
and the people who showed them
My father believed that
all things wild, animal or child
should be left alone to do their “thing”
but BettyeJean's Mama said
show horses couldn't do anything
naturally- as it might ruin their training
and I think she was afraid we might
ruin BettyeJean's training, too
All this impressed me
maybe not so much
my father's philosophy
as his choice of wording-
Horsey-People.
I pictured them all
my friend, BettyeJean
her Mama and
her Mama's high-end friends
with huge horse heads
on long arched necks
proud and haughty
resting on human upper-bodies
with horse rear-ends and legs
reared up, upright
they were quite a sight!
High-stepping
in useless circles
busy impressing themselves
The fires of hell start to burn my skin
I never knew I had committed such a sin
My skin is leaking all over the bed
The arrows of 20 thousand Indians pierce my head
I’m burning up I can’t take anymore
I try to escape but I just hit the floor.
A river of ice rushes over me
I’m frozen and shaking why can’t he see?
I need some quilts I need to keep warm
I think the chattering of my teeth will do them some harm
I am lucid again, things are looking quite good
The elephants knitting some booties out of wood
The cowboys’ and Indians they fight back to back
I know I’m getting better, I know they can’t win like that.
The fires of hell sweep over me again
My throat burns like I’ve swallowed a topless fountain pen.
My husband looks at me and he declares with concern
I’m fetching the doctor so we can learn.
The doctor he calls I know what’s wrong with you
It’s a microscopic bug and we call it the flu
Stay in bed till the Indians have all left the closet
Till the booties are made and you know that they fit
Your temperature will fall don’t worry it will
But stay where you are or you will be ill
I’m ill now I said patting the bed
Just sit beside me you can massage my head.
When you are lucid and well we will have a chat
And your husband will explain what was wrong with that.
He laughed and patted my head like a child
The elephants dropped a stitch and It’s making me wild.
The lap top is laughing at me on top of the bed
The river of ice is rushing from my feet to my head
I think I will leave my writing till later
The heron is now fighting with the pet alligator.
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