Long Persnickety Poems
Long Persnickety Poems. Below are the most popular long Persnickety by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Persnickety poems by poem length and keyword.
Helen Marie was a petulant clown
Pettish, prickly, persnickety all around
She got upset at every perceived double cross
She was especially upset with her brother Ross
She is cantankerous and crotchety her mother said.
Because of her curmudgeonly ways, she needs to go to bed.
But Helen did not agree, and was ready to flare up
Her abnormally loud temper scared her dad and pup.
How can we deal with this? He asked her mother.
Let me have at it, she told Dad and Ross, the brother.
She had grown up with six sisters, so this was not new.
As the oldest of seven females, she knew what to do.
She told Helen all the great things she had going for her.
She gave her optimism, and a hope that was pure.
She assured her things would be better soon.
Then she tucked in Helen by the light of the moon.
my husband and I love dogs
he was totally against paying big money for one
I did not care; I wanted a golden retriever
so I paid for one
actually, ended up with an English Crème retriever
an almost white golden
he already had a name – Beau
so we kept it
not realizing he comes to any name
my husband calls him Pedro
pal, buddy, friend, boy,
I call him Baby Beau
Baby Beau is king of this family
usurping Buddy who has never cared to be royalty
Buddy used to live under the jurisdiction of Queen Sophie
a persnickety particular snooty black cocker spaniel
Now he is lead around by Beau, and he likes it.
Dorothy had a stubborn opinionated doll named Mare.
Mare had a persnickety attitude, her nose in the air.
I am taking in boarders, she told the stunned Dorothy.
So far I have signed on two, with a possible three.
Dorothy was intimidated by this doll named Mare.
She told others, but they laughed, for they did not care.
How can I get rid of her? She asked her cousin, Jer.
He decided to talk to this creature, named Mare.
Jer ended up signing up to become a boarder too.
So now she had three for sure, said Sue.
Sue is Dorothy’s cousin who also tried.
But came away angry, with her hair all fried.
What happened to your hair? I asked mad Sue.
That doll gave me a bad perm, and I tipped her too!
Why would you tip her then? I asked Sue. How can that be?
Because, she told me, her scary attitude intimidated me.
Mr. Cheetah’s wife was yelling “Give him a ticket! Give him a ticket!”
He outraced two pickup trucks and an antelope down in the thicket.
The highway patrolman was on the chase immediately, ready to write.
Hurry! electronic dashboard said. In a second he will be out of sight!
He'll run seventy miles an hour, robotic voice said in a persnickety way.
You’d best give chase in the most enthusiastic, exuberant way!
Highway patrolman, had heard of cheetahs racing, but this was new.
He'd never tried to outrun one in a car, he swore the air black and blue.
Cheetah had now been joined by a friend who gave Zeke the eye.
He wondered how many others in their clan would be running on by.
He put on his siren and made as much noise as he could to stop them.
You had better stop! His wife cautioned her husband. Her face grim.
Cheetah stopped suddenly, and waited for his ticket to be written out.
That the other cheetah had made him do this, Zeke had little doubt.
She was gloating in a way that the patrolman had seen in his own life.
I’ll be snickerpackered, he said to himself. I guess she is his wife!
You sure about sitting on a tile roof? Jake asked his cousin Reflection.
Jake was not a risk taker, but they had a connection.
Meet me when the moon is ready, she said and you will feel the cool.
The brick tile roofs in Arizona go down in temperature daily as a rule.
Jake trusted Reflection but he was still a little wobbly about the risk.
He was a persnickety tomcat who swept his messy alley with a whisk.
You will love it, she reassured him. I would not lie about the moon.
He planned his climb up to the roof not one single second too soon.
Reflection was already up there, meowing her heart out in the night.
He climbed up and parked himself beside her; enjoying the moonlight.
Hey! What is all that caterwauling? A neighbor asked in a mean way.
The cousins thought it was funny; he was old Grouchy Mister McMay
I have several muses inside my mind.
One is Trixie, and she loves to rhyme.
Another, Pixie is somber and sad.
Wixie and Blixie just want to be bad.
As you may have guessed, Trixie is the ultimate muse queen.
She loves the rhyming cat contests, not being obscene.
These muses of mine want to be fed daily, and in their own way.
I am merely loaning them my typing hands, they are merry and gay.
A fifth muse, who shall not be named, pops up once in a while.
Angry, somber, dank and dour, she never gives chuckle or pretty smile.
When she begins writing, we recognize it is going to be free verse.
Corpses, howling things, grizzly bear killings, monsters and worse.
The truth is that since I began writing about three years ago.
My persnickety muses will not allow me to take my time or go slow.
They are opinionated and sassy, assertive, aggressive and mean.
We all stand back when She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is the queen.
We sailed the seven seas with vinegar in our brains
Singing ingrained sea chanties, with repeating refrains
We did not eat oatmeal, the rats ate all of our grains
We were proud persnickety pirates, there were no kinds of chains
Our parents tried to coax us out of the sea and the rains
But we were determined to make our way past the Great Plains.
We sailed upstream, singing our loud repeating refrains
Did not stop until we got to a whirlpool that changed our lanes.
What are you hoping to accomplish? Can we send you some planes?
Called out our grandparents, who had difficulty with their restrains.
Sorry, we yelled back, singing with gusto our repeating refrains.
But we are sailing the seven seas with vinegar in our brains.
I just saw a little beast outside!
I think he has scurried off to hide!
Is he a little chubby with a pretty face?
That’s Rhubarb my hedgehog, he has such grace.
You mean you are feeding this rodent creature?
I surely am, he is like watching a double feature.
He’s funny and sassy and he scurries with attitude.
I love everything about him. He is polite, never rude.
He washes his food first in that little bowl of water.
We all adore Rhubarb - my husband, son and daughter.
Please do not scare him, it has taken him a long time.
To get used to humans, and now I claim him as mine.
You really are an animal love the persnickety visitor said.
I think you are odd, I would enjoy seeing inside your head.
meet my muse Trixie.
I want to draw.
she wants to play in the Thesaurus.
Trixie is a freebooter, marauder, pirate, she plans to win.
I sketch a monkey, elephant and acrobat.
I am in circus mode.
Trixie slams her green eyes over the big book.
she is persnickety, determined, and forceful.
fat blue Thesaurus is a harpy; she flips open.
I stare at these words - deaden, anesthetized, stupefy.
write them down! Trixie demands.
she is more trouble than a gewgaw, trinket or knickknack.
I avert my eyes, not wanting to play with words
now drawing a circus tent, and a popcorn box.
red and white striped popcorn box has arms and legs.
he sticks out his tongue in maniacal cartoon laughter.
Trixie flips some pages of this dreaded book.
gleaming, sparkling, glistening stand out.
magnify, enlarge and amplify bite me on the left arm.
I am not writing right now! I tell her.
she sticks out her tongue.
eager to work on a magnum opus, creative masterpiece.
I can hardly work on the giraffe.
curious I am to read words where she is pointing
lionize, glorify, elevate
vanish, disappear, dissolve
I begin drawing a lion, trying to break my muse's spell.
Call me spoiled, call me late for a date, call me casual or smirky or crazy
But do not call me sloth-like, sluggish, disengaged, placid or lazy.
Call me from Mexico, Canada, China, France or another fine place.
Call me from Venus, Mars, or a meteorite from outer space.
Just don’t call me from Kansas City, for it is where I live.
I already know every relative of Clyde, Celander and Viv.
Don’t call me from these two area codes - 816 and 913,
They are all Kansas City numbers, and would much annoy me.
Call me happy, joyful, enthusiastic, wild and carefree.
Never call me stupid or to dine on a persnickety tea.
Don’t call me at two or three a.m. that would irritate me.
And never never never call me from area codes 816 and 913.