Long Pish Poems
Long Pish Poems. Below are the most popular long Pish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pish poems by poem length and keyword.
People say my poetry is mostly doom and gloom
But I’m a funny person and I’ll prove it to you soon
My wit and sharp ripostes are a constant delight
Let’s see if I can tell this story to prove I’m right.
I had three friends who loved booze
And the only time they didn’t imbibe
Was when they had passed out
Or were taking an alcoholic snooze
Each died doing what they loved
Drinking, sipping and guzzling
Johnny was a straight-forward drunk
Mary took refined and dainty lady-like slips
And Tommy was an out-and-out guzzler
Here are their stories, one by one
Pull up a chair and sit, let’s get to it.
Dear Mary! So refined and dainty
So lady-like in her behavior and thinking
Especially when she was drinking
She’d take a lady-like sip and gently wipe away
Any liquor residue on her lips without delay
She’d raise her very favorite carafe
To refill her dainty gold-etched antique glass
Mary’s elbow-bending was poetry in motion
Her pinky extended her glass up-ended
At an angle she felt was fashionable
For admiring gentlemen who’d not feel offended
When she drank them under the table
Her company (tres chic) an inspiration
But, Quelle domage! One evening Mary took a sip
And it went down to where it shouldn’t
She couldn’t speak so couldn’t call for help
Her swift departure was the tragic result
I wondered what dear Mary was thinking
At the end, I surmise it might have been this:
“I didn’t take an unrefined nip
Nor an undainty unlady-like sip
How inconvenient this is, such a bother
Dear me. Oh, Pooh. Oh Pish!”
A couple of weeks went by
Before dear Mary was found
When the policeman opened her door
His eyes rolled backwards as he fell over
While the landlord ran for cover
Mary’s very favorite carafe
And her dainty gold-etched antique glass
Sat on her cherished Victorian table
But the mess in the rest of the room was incredible
Mary here, Mary there, Mary, Mary everywhere
Spreading across the parquet floor with unhurried flair
Like a forgotten and unchecked plumbing drip
But at a refined and dainty very lady-like clip.
EPILOGUE:
Never inhale while upending your glass
But if you should happen to do so
Whether sipping or dripping
Be sure and do it with class.
Tonight, the moon shall display a dim light
For those who shall explore the night
Explorers beware...
For you approach the night's lair...
Slowly, the sun begins to dim the sky's glow,
while the moon appears as the last string of hope...
Explorers step into the night's jungle,
with the moon by their side...
Tonight, the moon shall display a dim light
For those who shall explore the night
Explorers beware...
For you approach the night's lair...
Crunch! Crunch! was the song
of the leaves beneath the explorers' foundation...
Khaa Pish! Khaa Pish! was the sound
of the mountains' snoring...
Gulp! Gulp! was the sound
of the river's gentle swallow of water...
Swoosh! Swoosh! was the sound
of the wind's night time blows...
Crunch! Khaa Pish! Gulp! Swoosh!
Together a tune is played...
As the night sings to its children
and caress their heads to go to sleep...
Tonight, the moon shall display a dim light
For those who shall explore the night
Explorers beware...
For you approach the night's lair...
For this moonlight is a lantern
that keeps you away from night's danger
and enlightens your way to nature's peaceful night
where its beauty attracts many eyes...
Nature's peaceful lair has...
a waterfall that slides smoothly
just like the ride on a carrousel...
a canoe drifts away from the shadows of the night
as it invites those who are eager to explore
and take them to valleys no one can imagine to be there...
But, when the ride ends,
everything is erased from one's mind...
those who took the ride
shan't remember how to reach that place once more
and what is left are the pieces of memories...
when put together...
a map emerges to one's eyes...
This place is always there
but it erases the path to reach
to see who's the one that shall remember
simple memories...
Tonight, the moon shall display a dim light
For those who shall explore the night
Explorers beware...
For you approach the night's lair...
It was a cloudy sky
Drizzle had just stopped softly
On this enchanting evening, I was lined lucky
As there was an ugly beggar who deserved care, swiftly
I stopped my car before that hotel
where sometime I used to visit for coffee
during my return from office, to home to dwell
Being pose area, side of it were shops selling toffee
I gone straight to that beggar
Enquired what he may desire to eat
He was holding one bit of an used cigar
Face to face, he was not willing to meet
I used to treat deserving beggar with food of his choice
Someone will ask for a particular dish
But this man didn't even raised his voice
Repeatedly I failed when I tried to ascertain his wish
Finally the shopkeeper guided and coded
saying he wanted only a matchbox to light his cigar
When I tried hard to get, every shopkeeper just eluded
As the increased anti-tobacco canvassing had worked clear
The beggar rejected money as well any dish
His world gets filled with just a matchbox
He stood firm and let me only to pish
As I too never keep such item in my toolbox
He loitered and left the place, helpless
Upset with this, I too lost my interest to eat
I also left without eating, as I became useless
Even in bed, with this thought, I felt my heartbeat
I get delighted to treat deserving beggars, stomachful
Or else with alms, to their handful
But above failure led me sorrowful
As I could not be fairly useful
It is the beggar who gives me a chance to serve
Of course, I had heartfully attempted and offered
Altogether, I sincerely strained everyone of my nerve
But he neither cared my efforts nor allowed to be adored
This miserable failure mows me miserably for the past two years
More so, whenever I used to cross that place every day
True to say, my eyes were about to cloud with tears!
What woes remain more for my heart to say?
Copyrights reserved
Though People think you are so soft
But I know in your veins is blood
Who want to touch you in the croft,
Whose heart submerges in zeal's flood
And your attraction makes them bleed
To hear, it seems cruel, indeed
O rose, your thorns always hurt those
Who want to pluck your soft flowers
You hurt when the danger is close
You leave when one quits your bowers
And in that way, you save yourself
And so keep smiling like an elf
But, I'm a man, I have no thorns
I have my hands to do my wish
In pleasant form, I am like dorns
And to catch birds, I can say pish
But I am more harmful, I think
I can hurt someone in a blink
I have a tongue to say such words
Which can break someone's heart to core
I soaked in blood thousands of swords,
All is for me, is not that sore?
Any rose never plucked a rose
Who cuts own heads, I am in those
I am not fragrant, that makes me
Think I'm not perfect, I should have
Everything, of need that can be
So, I can spend my life in rave
You are so soft but have no wish
And I need you, I'm in anguish
“no, it’s ‘pish posh’”
really? i heard it on this one program where i most certainly thought they said “pish tosh,” as if they were too snobby to say the words that they really wanted to say?
“well why the **** would they do that? goddamn man, it’s ‘pish posh,’ i tell ya---and i wouldn’t lie to ya---what would be the ****ing point of that?”
well, i’m just saying what i heard. come to think of it, it might of meant, in the way that they were using it, that “pish tosh” meant something ridiculous…you know, like saying “that’s just ********,” but without referencing the excrement of a bull.
“ok. i figure that it’s as stupid as ****ing “posh spice” was, you know? or like when the English talk about something all snazzy…something really expensive…something rich ****s do, ya know? yeah, that is probably what “posh” is---**** if i know what the “pish” part is about though.”
i think the English really say “pish tosh” & that dumb **** Americans like yourself say it the other way.
“well, if that is the case, “dumb**** American,” then what does “pish tosh” mean? if it doesn’t mean “pish posh” and you insist on saying that the Brits use it in a different way, then you tell me what it means, genius.”
**** if i know. i thought i knew, but now i just don’t care.
“that makes two of us.”
With inspiration born from noted malcontent
I composed, dismayed at the reason to vent
In defense of poets, I am inclined to defend
I'll wear a blue dress to commend, not offend
I've been waiting for an auspicious occasion
Putting it on took not a smidge of persuasion
for there is a cause requiring a special dress
a situation with which you may acquiesce
It's been hanging in my closet for over a year
Perhaps a titch too tight and much too sheer
Not the kind of thing I often wear, I confess
Not a fashion statement; my symbolic dress
Garbed in blue silk, my sentiments are divided
for innocence and impishness have dually collided
I'm championing those who were rudely slighted
and call "foul" to the action of being shortsighted
After discovering the facts, I cried, "Oh, my gosh!
What poppycock is this disrespectful pish posh?"
No poet should be subjected to such degrading
It's never kind to disparage in a public upbraiding
I had no plan to wear a garment of blue, and yet
I've zipped it without a smattering of regret
to give a thumbs up to poets who were spurned
by an insulting rebuke that none of them earned
Lives wasted with foolish dreams,
of love and kindness.
I hold no grudge, nor Envy.
But I say, Pish Posh!
Love in Life is gone
and nothing True comes of it.
For Love is gone... for Love is gone...
I do not mope, so do not judge me.
Do not portray me, as an envious man, who cannot fall... in Love.
For I've travelled through Hell and back.
And I've seen, what I've seen.
Horrific things, and Devilish, and damnation temptation,
that swallows my soul in Godly ridden fire balls.
Once you've seen, what I have seen
you'd feel the same as me.
See me now walk, through the shadows
of wanting relationships and kisses on park benches,
that mock me... and I slowly die.
I want that! I WANT THAT!!!
I shall shout from the rooftops,
of the evening skylines of purplish and orange skies,
Oh, how I desperately want that...
But I hold no grudge, nor am I Envious
of my fellow brother in Love.
I go to him, hold his hand and congradulate him,
on his beautiful Maiden.
... Then I shall turn my cheek,
and walk the path of lone riders.
Starving to be Loved...
.
Br'errrrr
scraaape
scrape
scrape
scraaaaape
scrape scrape
scrape
okay
ber
BAM
BAM
BAM
riiiiiiip
BAM
BAM
riiiiip
BAM
BAM
BAM
ug
flick flick
flick
snap crick spss crack
chrishh tish crack pish crackle
crack crackle shhhh tish
tish
tish
tish
Breakfast iz ready vooman
Yeah you are so unique,
Walking down the street oblivious of you conceited stench,
Different you say, irreproducible, pish posh,
You walk with self entitlement,
Loathing the people on the street begging for change,
Cynical of there intentions,
Expecting them to have a vulpine scheme to overthrow your thrown,
But do they not bleed, or cry? Animals you say? Where are there cages?
You would rather them have nothing,
So you can admire yourself with your accomplishments, but what really is accomplished?
Nothing for you are unhappy you and live off the sorrow of others,
Unique you say? I see kinds like you every day.