Long Paunch Poems
Long Paunch Poems. Below are the most popular long Paunch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paunch poems by poem length and keyword.
Max, the politician, wields a razor-sharp axe,
Slicing his chicken-bleep opponents' necks and backs.
"How dare they accuse me of power politics?" Max asks,
Innocent jowls masking the jaws of a shark's attack.
His gangland campaign staff for money never lacks;
Max' men shake down local pimps, and dealers of cocaine and crack.
As for the fuzz, Max is hip; he's got the inside track:
Scoring deals for them on the best ecstasy and smack.
First elected back in '72, Max walked the length and breadth of the state,
A reformer, he was, a renegade; at least the voters thought so and fell for the bait.
Ensconced in palatial power ever since, Max has glad-handed, partied, drank, and ate.
A 'politician's pol' all these years, his formidable paunch and polling punch have proven great.
Belly out over his belt, this balloon of a man once again challenges fate,
Can he hang on again in 2018, or will this be Max' last hurrah on the party's election slate?
Alright still gobsmacked how we were
Attacked..hacked..hijacked...whacked
Ransacked cracked shellacked poleaxed
By his relaxed Rat packed knack maxed
So here's a witty ditty ode to Travis
No ifs or buts can't tut tut... annul it or cull it
Straight out of the hut a classy brassy strut
Gung ho have a go heave ho maestro Mullet
Slaying & flaying.. no rut just a glorious glut
Left a stark dark smut.. every bowler's a mutt
Like some flirty dirty sl*t playing with the nut
Hard not to swoon at the boon of the loon
Croon at Travis's off his Head buffoon tune
Stubby not chubby tad tubby like David Boon
Us staunch fans of the promising paunch gasping
Can't snub or sub.. like a lad down the pub or club
Another out of whack attack does launch rasping
Rogue's Bogan brogue.. flashes his blade like Shogun
Wizard of Oz as loved as X men's Logan or Paul Hogan
Dashes and lashes.."Taches win Ashes" the Travis slogan
Oh, you do not want to know my tale,
But since you insist, I guess I'll just tell,
Originally from mystical India -- not Rome!
Some 30 years ago made the USA my home,
I revere Jesus, Muhammad, Buddha, Krishna
But keep my faith in love, peace and karma,
I read Shakespeare, Longfellow, Poe, Keats,
Omar Khayyam, Frost, Tennyson and Yeats,
Besides poetry and movies, I love to love
Books, traveling and fair ladies in drove,
Sometimes I blow hot, sometimes cold
And venture out to buy stuffs already sold,
I am like Don Quixote, at times like Rip Van Winkle
Sometimes Ebenezer Scrooge, at times Kris Kringle.
Balding, with a paunch, but I think young
There's not a passionate song I haven't sung,
Pensive, moody and mostly quiet
But when I talk, I usually am right,
Couldn't walk good with my bad knees
But I dance with butterflies and bees,
Purblind, yet I have seen places umpteen
I daydream a lot, you know what I mean?
Born in June, by nature I am sunny
And if I so wish, I can be quite funny,
But you wouldn't want to mess with me
I can be swift and lethal like Bruce Lee!
I am writing this jestfully but it's serious,
Ha now, don't go get nosy or too curious!
"Bio of Poet" contest by Tammy Reams
While we dwell to this dreidel,
I seek to know before a sear,
Even in the most ineluctable dandle,
The fruit to which may indeed bear;
In the imbue oblivion, I tell a riddle,
Most morass yet merely in fear,
For the sake of fiduciary wheedle,
Let me share with you my compadre,
The reason for this lachrymose!
We seek solace, I seek a motley,
Of a jejune yet quite leonine__
I’m carrying a huge cornucopia;
__And the temerity to extirpate
The gloaming quiddity, the fireflies.
With my cries not perceptible;
And this sandbag is too heavy a burden;
The earthquake of demands,
With the hallucination of needs,
Have starved my conscience Mekeba!
For I do not come to you by chance,
By chance found you in my utopia.
To be a man calls for a hybrid of habits,
The fluctuation which efface intrinsic,
Hapless of a jaded impaired grift.
To be a suitable snitch in the sight,
Of your serene pugilism with skylark,
A batty revelation of chains of choice!
An honest opinion of soft sips.....
A turpitude scent of petals niche,
The jurassic meld of mundane’s prig.
In my desolate the burning throbs,
The anxiety to revert my paunch,
The antithesis of the flamboyant story;
The entangled facts from the realities
This is the precarious situation smelling,
Around the jungle with fear or shame.
The ornery of your aesthetic breach,
And they vaunted to a great suffice,
Tales of a teller telling them in a folktales.
Everyone with his own dilemma;
In the gamut of this conjecture,
Who will help me muster this burden?
I have reached the dovetail for perfection
For I’m no longer a peer, so I see different,
From the way I saw ages ago in oblique.
This pot of inferno has exploded and this fire,
The inscrutable fire has engulfed my head,
I’m burning in clandestine fray....
I’m in moribund and so I bloviate for help,
In this helpless world that help only the dead!!.
Yikes, aside from mental
health re: psychotherapy,
which haint the worse
cyst phase of being
objectionably being called "old man",
this poem doth tack
toward the no body,
and will address
no illusory (no
app for) pretensions
alluding to verse,
the slow-mo ravages
of aging, evincing
and inching into
solid AARP universe
suddenly (moon if fish int lee)
impinges on endurance
even crimping poetic
raptures tubby terse
though (oh my this
muttering ole hound) chronologically
traversing that arbitrary, elliptically,
and imaginary Maginot line
i.e. almost three score year,
thy esprit de corps unlike
complaining crotchety curmudgeon
folks living here
Highland Manor situated
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
not much older
than me do daily air
lamentations kvetching even
on days pitch perfect and clear
find some bugaboo to gripe about
which dispositions hardly
makes them endear
ring at least to myself,
a baby boomer
(lix orbitz licked) gear
ring up to enter
sixth decade of life,
when a tell tale battle
of the bulge paunch
finds mine equatorial zone
somewhat flabby, a mockery
of washboard blubbery
abdominal sculpted tone
engirdled with loathsome
ample "NON FAKE"
lovely jowly handles
which I hate, though
human flesh naturally prone
to the lowest point of resistance,
and finds these
lovely bones to groan.
Writing anything political can throw fuel on a fire,
but these Limericks are not meant to ignite anyone.
Just a bit of humor in my opinion. Yes, we all have one.
A Musk rat and a vengeful dog
Both wantin' to be called Boss Hogg
In a rocket they'll launch
The critter with a paunch
Always croaking like a bullfrog
Trump wrote a poem about the day
A verse about those who will pay
For insubordination
He'll demand castration
Through vengeance, he will get his way
Took them all to the launching pad
The rat, the dog, Fat Kim and Vlad
Cast them into deep space
Earth will be a safer place
When it's saved from those who are madddd
Kim Jong Un asked to be on board
It was a seat he could afford
"Take Putin for the ride"
Trump wants him at his side
Into space and beyond they soared
The real 'rocket man,' evil Kim
Thinks the world should belong to him
Trump and Vlad lost in space
Lil Pudge will take their place
And King will be his pseudonym
The Greyhound reels over creaking axles.
Northern Kentucky puts on weight in summer,
a green mélange thickens,
yet inside our trundling tube,
joints rattle,
gears burn through paunch and muscle.
We lurch over a crest down into a holler
An old Shaker Hymn booms across the radio:
When we find ourselves in a place just right
'Twill be in the valley of love and light.
I have often longed to be 'in a place just right,'
to be at ease in these bucking bones,
even when breathing this smother
of body odor and diesel.
Then we dip down into a valley.
At a wooden store advertising cold beers
we stop.
"Is this the right place?" I ask.
"It’s as close as we get", says the driver.
'Tis purty easy to size up a feller by the cap he wears,
By glancin' at the message that on his cap he shares.
Boldy emblazoned is a logo bright and clear,
Revealin' his dubious tastes and facts about his career!
A farmer is apt to wear a cap advertisin' "John Deere" dealers.
A football fan's cap proudly extols his "Pittsburgh Steelers."
The equestrian might sport a cap readin', "Equine Feed & Tack."
Can't figure teenagers, since they wear their caps front to back!
Old vets are easy to spot wearin' their caps with pride.
Patches show where they served with various units worldwide.
A feller with a ponderous paunch is wont to savor his ale,
Since his cap advertises "Old Milwaukee Pale!"
"Have You Found Jesus", might be seen as an anomaly,
On a preacher's cap broadcasting his mini-homily!
Some fellers wear caps toutin' their favorite baseball team.
Strawberry-nosed guys might wear a cap advertisin' "Jim Beam!"
"Call Before You Dig", is probably a phone repair technician.
"Sparky" on a cap might imply the feller is an electrician.
'Tis purty sure you can size up a feller by the cap he's wearin',
By glancin' at the not so subtle message that on his cap he's sharin'!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Yond odd orb apared asp cruised crawl
'f hurled hymns hoisted sanity sprawl;
'f cherubic sways marred mercies crave -
t' savor sumptuous stray sanct'ty sprayed.
Ah! Wanky winds bore sewn syll'bles -
furred fabrics meshed b' tide's lips dribbled.
Quav'ring quake teased apt awe - ruined rage;
cramped Cynthia cum azure 'neath raved.
"Seekest what you, ho!", fabrics rent.
Scurried for agora - paunch spelled,
asp basked 'n awe mocked hampered haste's rage;
quiv'ring quotient quoth bruised ire rained.
B' sassy sulphur writ 'n th' Rex visage,
baked was apared asp - mission mazed.
'20:07:19:09:47
Note:
a) Of inky intrusion.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Yond - beyond
ii) Apar - armadillo
iii) Asp - snake
iv) Cynthia - moon
v) Azure - unclouded sky
vi) Paunch - stomach
vii) Quoth - said
viii) Ire - anger
ix) Writ - written
x) Rex - King
xi) Visage - face
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) 'f - if
ii) t - to
iii) b' - by
iv) 'neath - beneath
v) 'n - in
vi) b' - by
vii) 'n - in
viii) th' - the
d) Poet's vocabulary:
i) Ah - Behold
ii) Ho - Tell me.
Filched Physiognomy - Mine!
Absolute zero escape
velocity guts dance
sing days (contra and square),
cuz metabolic full abundance
abdominal adipose tissue acceptance
not in accordance
with light as a feather
miss lost acquaintance
the boy within forced admittance
as sure man tanks of fat did advance
shotgun marriage demanded allegiance
to pledge lifetime alliance
no room for allowance
crushing lightness of being ambiance
nor allies to help me combat
battle fatigue require
ring superman endurance
to muster strength
to stand erect else ambulance
will whisk away husky
embarrassing appearance
loose fitting clothing
jelly roll appurtenance
overnight digital readout,
asper body mass index
scaled quick ascendance,
thus when showering,
I look askance
fearing bulging balloon
will necessitate assistance
else... diet of worms
as only assurance
safeguarding body electric
against hecklers at open casket
no matter, a small perchance
crowd in attendance
yea... eventual cremation
after life only fat chance
to alleviate present circumstance
heavy matter fails security clearance
the price for astute cognizance
weak willpower alighting countenance
esse pie ying sweet treats
now measures taken to counterbalance
to fight temptation and dalliance
overruling feasting craving delectation
to restore trim deliverance
love handles around equator
no magician can render disappearance
yes the discontinuance
of just dessert must maintain distance
without being weighed
down with disturbance
by heaviest haunch
ain't no elegance
lugging extra encumbrance
when throughout my early life,
skinny, yet able to steel glance
mirrored reflection now grievance,
where wistful memory
ha...ironic insouciance
more so than
today finds intolerance,
thus woebegone issuance
thorn in muss hide
to experience jubilance
hmm...maybe a strong
arm can lance
excess flab quite a nuisance
to defy gravity, why penance
sans unsightly paunch
yours truly laments skin
tight fit, thus petulance
lame excuse unwanted protuberance
necessitates dedicated pursuance
recollection of washboard
abdomen impossible, yes
nothing accomplished by remonstrance!