Long Pizazz Poems
Long Pizazz Poems. Below are the most popular long Pizazz by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pizazz poems by poem length and keyword.
The Crescent City
Ancestral roots are calling me
to Crescent City near the sea.
A city with its past displayed
where long ago the pirates played.
The glowing lights of Vieux Carré;
Café du Monde’s belov’d beignets,
and Creole foods prepared with flare;
it’s been so long since I’ve been there.
The Cajuns live life with pizazz
and everywhere sweet sounds of jazz.
These dreams are where I long to be,
this Crescent City near the sea.
December 19, 2022
Vieux Carré (pronounced VOO kah-RAY) translates to “old square “ in English. The French Quarter, the oldest neighborhood in New Orleans, is referred to as the “Vieux Carré.”
Beignet (pronounced bin-YEAH) is a French pastry.
What music are you
What notes do you do
What songs will ensue
What words make it true
Are you Jazz
Full of pizazz
Are you Rock
Played up the block
Maybe Classical
Elegant and beautiful
Or maybe Pop
At the chart top
Perhaps you're Country
With music so sunny
Or maybe even Punk
With all of its *****
Maybe you're Disco
From San Franscisco
Or are you Funk
Not at all like Punk
Whether Jazz or Punk
Disco or Funk
Country or Rock
Or Classics like Bach
You can always be you
When the music is true
So be true to your part
And listen to your heart
For the music you are
Is, for both near and far,
The thing that's most true
For the who that is you
Whose smile and behavior are more devilish than Tom Cruise’s?
Naturally cast to play Maverick, daringly bending the rules.
Putting himself and his bestie Goose in danger, over and over.
They both are enjoying US Navy’s elite fighter weapons school.
Maverick is conceited, cocky, and super believably over-confident
As is Iceman, his nemesis, and major competitor, played by Val Kilmer.
The two together carry this movie to an exciting fruition.
Maverick's flirtation with Charlie, astrophysics instructor adds pizazz.
I do not think you will be bored if you rent this one dated 1986.
Thirty-seven years later, it still makes me smile.
Of course Goose’s death will always be sad, even now.
Every artist knows
Their canvas is not complete
Without a pop of passionate red.
Every stop sign knows
They will not be honored
If they are not the right color
The flag would be blah if it was only blue and white
If you look at the world flags, most have courageous red.
The Irish have a form of it in their orange.
Glossy blue-red lipstick gives us a feeling of the fifties
When women hid their blatant sexuality
Saving it in the bedroom, when they turned into hungry tigresses,
Tearing their men apart with pure sensuality
Restaurants use joyful red lavishly, understanding she encourages eating.
Unsuspecting victims devour food at rapid pace, taking home seconds.
Children see red and think of the circus, popcorn, or a fire engine.
Excitement, pizazz, a happy ending to a blah day.
Red was once the color of an angry old-maid teacher’s pen.
My theory is that she was no tigress
because she had no man in her bedroom.
Red is for the passion, sensuality, and warmth.
Red is for sexuality and pizazz.
Amberfest Ambiance
Ah, the orange-gold, I behold in things,
Such as the amber, in my wedding ring.
Invitation to a classic, zesty brunch.
Heart-pounding for this splendiferous lunch.
Let's begin shall we, with aromatic toast,
Slathered with orange jam and golden,
Hawaiin honey.(Tis the most)
Gratefully, we do have enough money,
To eat oudoors, and the Pacific Coast is a honey.
Oh, my eager taste buds start to roast!
Eggs Benedict with perfect golden orbs!
Having breakfast on the azure Pacific Shore.
How could I ask, for anything more?
The scent of fresh California orange juice,
In an amber goblet, ah, turn it loose!
This is my divine amberfest breakfast.
Divinity~full of color and golden pizazz!.
So very blessed and extraordinarily, first class!
1/27/2024
I was driving with my friend Delia in my brand new Honda Civic
It was noon and we were on our way to see my Auntie,
she’s my mum’s sister, we call her Evil Olive!
Suddenly I swerve to avoid something in the road and skid on some dumb mud -
Was it a cat I saw?
Won’t I panic in a pit now?
Sadly last year there were ten animals I slam in a net.
I was distraught; I don’t want to step on no pets.
Delia saw I was ailed, do you need a drink she asked?
“Rum… rum…” I murmur.
Silly me, I redden, I mustn’t drink and drive
Delia takes over the wheel and pulls up at Walmart’s tram law
We get the trolley passing the fruit and veg, no lemons, no melon.
Oh drat! mom had asked me to take some fruit to Auntie Olive
I’m a vegan, ew eat a ewe - eating meat; the thought is quite disgusting
I wonder when they are killed do geese see God?
I grab something for tea, Ya! Pizza zip pizazz! I pay.
Palindromes II Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
10/9/18
He wanted stark, she wanted mess.
Bareness irritated her, he insisted on no paintings.
He loved their boring black and white life.
She wanted color, pizazz, flair. He did not.
But wait, she lived here too, right?
She dragged in an orange vase and a turquoise box.
Tiny, unnoticeable items, placed them on the mantle.
They were gone by the time she returned from work the next day.
They did not fit in with our décor, she was told sternly.
She knew better than to insist, for he was a pouting man.
He was into minimalism. She was into pretty.
He did not want children, for they are messy. She did, but kept this her secret.
Not wanting him to become angry with her.
He threw out her bed pillow once because it had a hair on it.
It had been her favorite pillow since childhood; he did not care.
She thought about the colors that she wanted, she dreamed of the paintings on her walls.
She could think of nothing else as they ate their black and white foods, the ones he approved.
She could focus on nothing else. Giving up her friends had felt okay at the time.
Eliminating her family ties had made sense to her, for he had insisted, and she loved him, right?
One day she brought home a red lamp. It was pitched into the snow.
She started walking toward him and could not stop. “It’s my turn!” she yelled. She could not stop.
“My turn! My turn! My turn!” She pushed him out the door.
Minimalism had never felt so good.
Written: 12-17-2018 Contest: Minimalism Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
Emotions stir eternally enchanted,
each hurricane fades to a black sky.
The listless poet’s quill drips,
corralling every vibrant sunset.
Writing as old lyrics catch the air,
Say it to me again.. ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
Strawberry-orange flavored orchestra,
citrus pizazz on your senses;
Each note meticulously blended,
what a sweet tart of a smoothie.
The next verse begins with ‘Sweetheart..’
Say it to me again… ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
Featherweight feelings floating
in the air are gingerly swirling.
You want to capture them
right then they pop,
translating into something else.
Say it to me just one more time. ‘Freefall!’
I don’t want to be disappointed
but I know it’s the truth;
Nothing will ever feel as good as you;
It’s a welcome free fall you talked me into.
Autumn ultimately unveils it all,
Basking in bold bohemian design,
Pastoral poets’ inspiration shrine -
Enlivens lavishly before the fall.
Winter ultimatum trumps with chill swing -
Impetus frozen by a frigid muse -
Sublimating into slumbering blues,
Melting away under the spell of Spring.
Spring’s ultimate pizazz wafts in the air,
Awakening the passions of pristine -
Romance’s timid touch from hues of green,
Blush to blossom under Summer’s hot stare.
Summer struts with an ultimate demand -
Party for all disciples of the sun -
Sweet sweat of dog days in the languid run,
Til Autumn takes a precedented stand.
March 24, 2023
The Apple of His Eyes
reflected in the pond, the fruit
held precious in the lady’s hand.
polished by mistake; the loot
gathered with a serpentine backhand.
the limbs of oz took hold, as
the man held out his unwise hand.
the cleaved, in juicy bite pizazz,
forsook their love, served up bland.
reflected in the mirror, the duo’s tears
shattered their perfect life, untouched.
day after day, the wrinkles rage; fears
of losing one another; their hearts’ clutched.
discovery of their nakedness, a shock.
they tried to cover up with leaves of fig;
not good enough. Like a bomb, time’s ticktock.
God slaughtered, clothed them with a sacrifice, not a sprig.
apple looked so luscious, and to have knowledge
seemed so precious; Adam and Eve drew a curtain
between themselves and the Creator (his foreknowledge).
Every other fruit, not denied; with a bite death was certain.
Indeed, their eyes were opened, to shame, shamelessly.
Terror of the darkness, made their pupils expand.
But they couldn’t take paradise back. Carelessly
they acted recklessly, now all generations in bad land.
Oh, but the LOVE of GOD, all seeds are the apple
of His eyes. We don’t understand the suffering.
Whys in abundance, feeling sorry for ourselves chapel.
All along a plan - of scourge, betrayal, and crucified buffering.
To justify, to mediate, to keep us from the Father’s wrath,
the Son of Man, descended from heaven; a babe in flesh.
Look at the bronze snake on the tree, the sign, His path.
Healing symbolized, realized by the final sacrifice thresh.