Long Pesty Poems
Long Pesty Poems. Below are the most popular long Pesty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pesty poems by poem length and keyword.
I fought one piggish Titan and I won
As if that devious Leech existed not;
Sealing the very firy nose of his gun
With ball-like rags to sap every shot.
A long-lionized mogul of giant name
Slew my low fists by a magic stroke;
Vilest Judas glossing in pesty fame,
I his two-timing fang spookily broke.
I know not if such a scheming villain
Fickle arms dim for want of glut gain,
Ever shall by Time's rare marvel floor,
And ink selfsame serendipities more.
May the Highest Star your ochre clip,
And pelt plagues and fates your ship;
Until Hades her filthiest minion finds
Sulfurous frying betwixt fallen minds.
May your fiendish bow of foxy veneer
Snap mid-hunt as looms hugest deer,
And life's fave tooth turn fatal sore;
Your daintiest morsel tartest grow!
Do You Wonder How You Made It?
By Franklin Price
1/16/2015
Do you wonder how you made it
If you're past your youth and grown?
Was there someone who helped you along
Were you ever on your own?
For me there were so many
That I can still recall
Pulled me up when I fell down
When they could, cushioned the fall
First there were my parents
They were always there for me
Took me to church and raised me right
Taught me right from wrong to see
My brothers and my sisters
Often took me 'neath their wings
To help the pesty youngest
Could have been doing other things
Then came the time I went to school
With teachers all around
Although I was quite flighty
They kept me anchored to the ground
Never had a bad one
Nor one who didn't care
I think teaching was their calling
And for me were always there
Scout leaders who didn't have to
Helped me further to grow up
To be the dog I am today
From an untrained, frisky pup
The military service
Taught me how to heel
You have to get the job done
No matter how you feel
I could go on forever
For I never was alone
Friends always there to help me
Never farther than the phone
Now I'm old, retired
Have the best help of my life
My best friend for many years
Always there, for me, my wife
They're gathering their broomsticks
and sharpening their hats
Found catching little spiders
and feeding them to rats
Down pesty little fruit flies
and swiftly soaring bats
All mixing in a cauldron
for temptous gloary vat
And tasty to the forked tongue
of glecious gloried glum
While mixing to the tastebuds
of racious roary grumb
And taking home our vest lines
of ivy, flora, spum
when making it their best fun
of Halloween has come
I wrote this poem based on one I found
on the internet by Lillian Moore.
Here is her version of the poem from
the book Spooky Rhymes and Riddles
Poem about THEM
THEY
polish their broomsticks,
sharpen their hats,
catch some spiders,
feed the bats,
try out some yowls
with all the cats.
THEN
witches are ready for
YOU
KNOW
WHEN!
-by Lillian Moore
*Image of The Big Bang Theory giphy by CBS.
Coronavirus: COVID-19
A knock upon my chambered door, silence foregone, it goes ignored,
Too feeble I, coldness instills, lain I awry e'er filled with chills,
Vice convince spree goes on toiling, thrice has it been, owned its spoiling,
My eyes have seen, I've read the news, tried ears have be, shunned knocked sound blues,
Scores abound knocked chambered door, roars I cannot, for I am sore,
Then suddenly, a stillness had come, my chambered door, went silently numb,
So I, read on, of coronavirus, tis recent so hence be it naught an antivirus,
Kept abreast of things albeit online, inducement, the spread, signs, all be I fine,
Cawing gawked my chambered window, peering through midst raised crescendo,
A black raven tis annoyance it is the calling, disturbance afoot, perpetual cawing,
A chapter be read, of the ailment, fear breeds in verses, amongst confinement,
As a bird scrutinize, belittles my illness, with a litany of awk, pesty nuisances,
Fatal passages beset home and town, beat I the averages, best all around,
A door and window, be I immune, alas, a dreaded raven befalls its lampoon.
2020 March 12
*2nd Place*
Coronavirus COVID-19
~~Team PoetrySoup: Judged 2020 May 12
Our mayor was attacked out of town as he went for a peaceful little stroll.
There was an odor that wouldn’t go away, it was left by a pesty little troll.
Bullies come in all shapes and sizes, both male and female alike.
Here they are no longer tolerated, we will just stick your head on a pike.
I went for a short little stroll to check the perimeter outside of our town.
It appears that an old bitter troll left some puddles that are smelly and brown.
Maybe it was a drink with her father that gave her that extra little pep.
Those puddles could cause an infection, so watch each foot where you step.
Our mayor gave a call to old Wilbur, he’s a farmer who can shovel and dig.
He is pretty good at cleaning up messes, back at home he lives with a pig.
On the farm is a sign making spider, once famous but is now known as Jeb.
A few of you just might remember, he once starred in the famous Charlotte’s web.
Together they helped make a sign and then hung it by the Troll’s little shack.
It’s a reminder for this foul little creature, just be careful of who you attack.
Peace is once again restored in Soup Creek, that wretched smell is gone from our air.
Don’t mess with our good mayor Tom, he has friends who love him and care.
I tested negative a few days ago,
the virus has yet to find my ink
to write another obituary.
I hugged my family and invited
friends for dinner, drinking, dancing
and singing, making the old days
return sooner, at least for a night.
Children have no monopoly on
childish thoughts. I imagined the virus
disappear one day like a miracle,
superstitious or not.
Then as I was cooking a nice meal and
thinking of walking my pesty dog round the bloc,
got a call from a medic trying hard to
pronounce my name correctly, with
deep and since apology informed me of
the error: my test was positive. I know what
comes next, my step-sister will think the
worst, accusing me of intentional homicide.
But, I 'm not dead yet, it's not too late,
to invite her a second time, to make sure
we'll both die in the same hospital -- the heroic baton
I cannot reward myself.