Long Pedicure Poems
Long Pedicure Poems. Below are the most popular long Pedicure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pedicure poems by poem length and keyword.
The Milky Way is full of stars
Highway 95, full of cars
Cigarettes are full of tar
Tuna fish comes in a jar
I despise tuna, How ‘bout you
Its smell upsets my stomach too
Which is nothing new
‘cos I hate salmon too
What you are reading is neither inspirational
Nor is it sensational
As opposed to being aspirational
It is more like – desperational
Perhaps needing a manicure
and, of course, a pedicure
Hell, it’d improve with an old fishing lure
For frankly, this poem is
~ 99 and 44/100ths horse manure
Critics' Corner:
~ I could smell this one coming. Wolf's usually full of hot gas.
~ A poem that should just shrivel up and die.
~ To compare this to a turd would be to degrade the turd
Who wants to be the King of the castle when you can be the Queen?
I believe that us women are capable of anything
We can reach for the stars if we want to
I’m in my soft girl era right now
I’m living the soft life
A day at the spa will get the job done
After a long day a pedicure and manicure can take the edge away
I’m not fighting with anyone
I’m blocking all the hate and bad energy away
I’m putting myself first and living in my feminine energy
Soft life is the lifestyle
I’m glad I’m embracing the woman they I was meant to be
Soft skin
Long hair and smells so elegantly
Soft life is where I want to be
I embrace the soft life
It is definitely meant for me
I might be made to endure a hard life but I deserve a soft life
First off let's make it clear I ain't funny
And I don't start conversations out with bonjour
But there comes a time in every mans life
Where he needs a good Man-icure
When you hit the age of me on the same feet
It's time to give the old dogs a break
Empty out your calendar this will take all day for sure
And you don't want distractions in the way
Cause when the hair on your toes could keep an Eskimo clothed
And carpet his whole family's igloo
That's when you know it's time to call up your Bro's
And go visit an Asian or two
A pedicure for a man to remove the toe jam
Like they would weapons of mass destruction
But let's not call it a date cause that just sounds gay
Let's say outing or a manly luncheon
Like a kid in a candy store given chocolate galore
With no earthly thoughts of calories
Signed up for the 5 gold star plan soon to be a new man
Where you're bound to not recognize me
From hot wax to cream to all things in between
Why they even buffed my buff
From bottom to top they did the whole lot
And yes I liked it...thank you very much
As we went through the day the new me being made
Rolling me from dock to dock
Then came to the time we stopped short of a dime
When they wanted to give me a bikini WHAT?!?
That's where I drew the line there's just some things I find
That a Manly Man would never stand
We went back to the front, that's enough of this lunch!
THAT gold star wasn't in my plan
Would I do it again? All you gotta do is say when...
But next time round believe me
When it comes to the stars I'll stop at the 4
Which I believe is the boxer instead of bikini
Man-I-Cure
It is 1918 and feet from the trenches require a shake up
Rotting and drenched by blood across enemy lines they
Shout ‘Peace’ and ‘This was the War to end all of the Wars’
A pedicure that is although amputated limbs have been
Discarded by the wheel barrow have found a gravesite even
Though not all are buried alongside their own bodies attached
Does a soldier’s cross rest upon limbo or on ultimate reprieve?
Faces blown into pieces require no makeup when cerebral
Matter has vanished alongside with reason a shot in the dark
Fortunate ones have their wedding rings taken from lonely fingers
Sent home as a message of a final farewell to weapons and arms
Bewildered by chemical distortion some blind are leading the blind
As they march quietly back from the front to an uncertain future
Who won this battle with whom was it lost and for what purpose?
In the mascara parlour of gas masks floating on poisonous vile air Egos
Require treatment as modern warfare rages on in contempt of mankind
Will a ‘Man-I-Cure’ ever be more than a cover up for assault on our strife?
14th April 2018
First off let's make it clear I ain't funny
And I don't start conversations out with bonjour
But there comes a time in every mans life
Where he needs a good Man-icure
When you hit the age of me on the same feet
It's time to give the old dogs a break
Empty out your calendar this will take all day for sure
And you don't want distractions in the way
Cause when the hair on your toes could keep an Eskimo clothed
And carpet his whole family's igloo
That's when you know it's time to call up your Bro's
And go visit a Asian or two
A pedicure for a man to remove the toe jam
Like they would weapons of mass destruction
But let's not call it a date cause that just sounds gay
Let's say outing or a manly luncheon
Like a kid in a candy store given chocolate galore
With no earthly thoughts of calories
Signed up for the 5 gold star plan soon to be a new man
Where you're bound to not recognize me
From hot wax to cream to all things in between
Why they even buffed my buff
From bottom to top they did the whole lot
And yes I liked it...thank you very much
As we went through the day the new me being made
Rolling me from dock to dock
Then came to the time we stopped short of a dime
When they wanted to give me a bikini WHAT?!?
That's where I drew the line there's just some things I find
That a Manly Man would never stand
We went back to the front, that's enough of this lunch!
THAT gold star wasn't in my plan
Would I do it again? All you gotta do is say when...
But next time round believe me
When it comes to the stars I'll stop at the 4
Which I believe is boxer instead of bikini
My first major task today at 11AM on January 13, 2021
finds me dropping my bride off for a pedicure appointment.
Rather than pick her up later, I decided to wait for her.
I spot a parking lane among the many that are available.
It is approaching mid-January and a bit of sunlight is my chosen friend this early winter. It's a sunny day about 55 degrees as I start to read and finish a chapter from the book of Jeremiah.
I grab another book to read and get sleepy at the beginning of
the very first chapter, not finishing it. I succumb to reclining for a nap instead and before long, I begin to appreciate the soothing warmth as I am tucked in graciously by the sun's shinning upon my head.
The sun begins to speak to me in gentle and tender tones of love. She says to me, ''Your Lord and mind picked this spot and space for you, orchestrating the life of the two of us. I, 93mm away, cast a light of tenderness, a tone of quiet and solace for you, and I am enriched to be of service to you.''
The sun is so very far, but yet at this moment in a very special way, I feel so close to her. With that sense of bonding, I looked toward the sun and threw her a kiss of gratitude. I then reclined again to capture and absorb her loving nourishment.
Scientists say that the radiant energy of the sun is heating up the planet and changing the climate as a result of mankind's lack of care and overuse of earth's resources. These things I hear and read about but know not for certain how such prospects will play out. However, I know and believe, because the Bible tells me so, that the sun, just like today, is ordered by The Lord to rise and set for the good of all mankind, including you and me. So, would you join me in Kissing The Sun?
013121FBPSPH
Curtis Johnson Sunday, January 31, 2021
Destroyer vs' Gareth # 2
Gareth oh Gareth.
How have you been?
I took a look at your last hit
We both know your not gonna win
Although you are good, I admit
You have the honor to remove my gloves.
They no longer fit
After popping your zit of a poem
This is not war, not a slam
I'm just having fun knocking your wits
Like an ANVIL drop from above
I'll squash you Like a little bug.
Your words don't hurt not one bit
Running to mommy for a hug!
As you know, if the shoe doesn't fit
Why do you still wear them?
About my pants.
I want them back.
I have to give them to my aunt.
Who likes sticking her nose in your crack
I am sorry about Mother Nature
You both share the same bed
We must have the same culture
I agree her beauty is like sweet cinnamon bread.
I fly over you like a vulture
Waiting for you to drop dead
Do you get the picture?
Theirs no stop, till you crown my head.
Your slams have been fractured
Your true colors revealed as an amateur
Due to the loss of memory in this poet game
Now we both know who's the impostor
Gareth I just tossed you in the flames
At this time were acting immature
You're like the friend I never found.
This has been a great pleasure
I'm not done putting the smack down
It is almost time for my departure
Here's my hand, get up from the ground.
Finish your pedicure
You're still on the rebound.
Your poems now sit with a foreclosure sign
Do to sissy punches on every round
To: G.J.
From: P.D
(-: fun :-)
Okay, Gareth are you up for round three.
Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon,
sings opera in the woods at noon;
I love so much to hear him croon.
At night he carols to the moon.
If you are lucky you might hear
the songs he sings most loud and clear;
he plans to make it his career
with performances both far and near.
He will audition sometime soon,
accompanied by his pal baboon
who plays a really mean bassoon;
I know they'll make the critics swoon.
I guess I'll have to go along
and keep long lists of all his songs
and iron his wardrobe of sarongs,
protect him from the cheering throngs.
He seems excited, that's for sure;
he never has been too demure.
He keeps asking for a new coiffure,
a glitter mani- and pedicure.
Last night that crazy old raccoon
sucked on a helium balloon
and ate way too much crab Rangoon,
said he planned to change his tune.
He switched his genre to rock and roll,
thinks he can sing with a lot of soul;
winning American Idol his one goal
with its million dollar prize bankroll.
Things are getting out of hand;
the raccoon's plans are just too grand;
I wish he'd join the forest band
and forget this superstar status plan.
Success can never come too soon
to a want-to-be Las Vegas tycoon
who dreams of a big penthouse saloon,
Ka-thump-a-loon, my pet raccoon.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, August 18, 2015
Take care of your feet
Those clay-looking things
molded by a blind sculptor
hardened by miles and time.
Sure, treat them to a pedicure
powder-paint jewels on the nails
pet them like twin royal elephants
that'll take you to beautiful places
that could never be reached otherwise.
They helped you discover new things, didn't they,
like numbers as your mamma counted them lovingly.
When you're old and alone -when they ache all of the time
when you're no longer nimble enough to pet or paint them
you'll know you'll soon be trumpeting behind the waterfalls.
before you fade away, tell them no shoes for those elephants
have them bejeweled, let them dance one more time in the light
yes, I know it looks more like a boot than a foot, but I tried
Faraway Footsteps
How present
This past
Called memory
Hollow sole dragging
Hobnail boots
Caked with crud
Mud
And oil
Atop the landing
"Drop them greasy clothes"
Came the sometimes loving voice
The sometimes malevolent voice
But always his wife's warning
My mother's caring way
So many years past
When linoleum's impoverished sound
Is so remembered
Stepping from stove to table
Her laboring hands
Hefting the pressure cooker
Laden with steam softened cracked wheat
Barely eatable
That day's nourishment
Weighing upon
Forever toiling legs
Cushioned by sheepskin slippers
Whispering their shuffled prayer
I care
Generously ladled
Chew-your-brain-loose grains
Fit for health
Unfit for a kid
Layered my stomach
Fortified my heart
Prepped me abler
To gather reverie
So dear
Then
There was the sound
So ethereal
Heavenly I was told
Of bare feet
Curling the once-a-day-vacuumed
Pride and joy carpet of sage green wool
Replacing recently vanquished
Throw rug jigsaw mess
My early youth played upon
Our palace place
The living room
Scrunching pleasures
Toes lapping up that carpet
Dad's feet
Awful specimens
Calloused of years hard labor
Mother's feet
Preserved with nightly hot water soaks
Epson salts
When we could afford it
Worthy of pedicure
Never afforded
Me
Always wore my socks
Heavy wool
Darned when worn spots
Yelled loud enough
Mixed colors
When necessary
Yet always comfy
Homey
Loving covers
For footsteps
Unaware of the journey ahead
When steps would have to become strides
Leaps
Bounds
And eventually
Idleness
So present
These footfalls of then
Becoming echoes
Foreshadowing paces to come
When a once stubborn child
Needed to listen carefully
Or miss the lessons
Still offered today
From faraway footsteps
Passing near by