Long Pom pom Poems
Long Pom pom Poems. Below are the most popular long Pom pom by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pom pom poems by poem length and keyword.
The balls of yarn are all lined up,
By color and by weight.
The knitters check them out, deciding
What they might create -
A sweater, scarf or pom-pom hat,
A blanket or a vest.
Whichever they select I know
I'm bound to be impressed.
For as in "Rumpelstiltskin"
When the straw turns into gold,
A skein of wool made wearable's
A mystery to behold.
I stare at all the choices
Though I cannot quite envision
The transition, via needles,
To the vest of my decision.
Still, at last, I make a purchase
And, will wonders never cease,
Once my aunt performs her magic,
I will wear my masterpiece.
Three cheers for enthusiasm.
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Shake that booty! Shake that booty!
Pom Poms tittering.
A smile on her perfect pom pom face.
Head cheerleader a white-blond flirt.
Her legs light up her lampshade skirt.
Three cheers for enthusiasm
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Shake that booty! Shake that booty!
Pom Poms tittering.
The chocolate-brunette with sun-drenched face.
She rallies the team to fight! Fight! Fight!
Her rosebud arms swing left and right.
Three cheers for enthusiasm
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Shake that booty! Shake that booty!
Pom Poms tittering.
Behold the spirit leader in his polo shirt —
He’ll lift one up - to the top. To the top. All the way to the top
of the pyramid. Personality and passion, he’ll exert.
Three cheers for enthusiasm
Rah! Rah! Rah!
Shake that booty! Shake that booty!
Pom Poms tittering.
6/20/2020
Caren Krutsinger’s Write a Poem
about Enthusiasm Poetry Contest
We drank cheap beer in a rusted-out shed.
Buzzing before our 8:00 AM English class.
Trying to be cool- to fit in with the "Ins."
Instead, we're becoming the wobbling outcasts.
Spinning further out from the golden Ins.
Ah, the golden center.
Filled with jocks, cheerleaders.
A chorus line of silver thighs and golden pom poms.
Smirking at my pimpled insecurities?
But your long bomb popularity didn't stop that tree.
From slamming into your popularity.
It didn't move aside as you passed by.
Like I used to move aside as you passed by me.
You were popular in that narrow hallway of slow death called adolescence.
Now your football helmet is yellow and cracked.
Destined for a garage sale. Bottom shelf existence.
At the very center of long forgotten.
You with the pom poms and patented dimples.
Nowhere near that cocky cute kitten anymore.
Turned plump, pregnant, abandoned, aborted.
What happened to that sweet cotton tail and golden lips?
That used to pip "you'll never be with me".
Finally, after forty-plus years.
You're lying with me...figuratively.
Spread eagle atop pom pom mountain.
An outcast on the periphery of everything.
Come with a smile,
come with a wink.
Come to the land
of pink, pink, pink.
Imagine
yourself
as a pale pink fairy,
wearing an earring
that's a pink clip-on,
and real pastel pink petals
held in your pinkie,
pointing to the pink chink
glow upon the horizon
at dawn.
The garden's dye this July
is floral pink blossoms.
And at times I do
have such pinkish dreams,
where everything is hued
in pink ice-creams.
Where I own a fine
posh pink cadillac,
parked in a pink chateau
festooned
with fallen pink lilac.
That,
overlooking
a pink sea
ebbing on pink pebbles,
where a pink moon
looks like big bubbles.
In pink colors,
if I could customize
'n'
personalize
my world:
so pink cushions all about,
and pink curtains unfurled!
My birthdays always wish
for pink balloons.
Oh, I love to decorate
and celebrate
with pink festoons.
And nature lovers could watch
salmon pink flamingoes
who stand upon one leg,
hiding
half their pink toes.
Or even bunny rabbit eyes
in bright pink glows.
Ah, pink's so feminine.
Think of pink hair pins,
pink lips 'neath two pink
blush cheeks,
right above cute
chinny chins,
or as buds in a rosebush
take pinkish peeks.
I see as well baby pink
frocks
and frilled pink socks,
and pink pom-pom caps
upon golden locks,
their pink sashes behind
them upon the walks.
Ah, I've always believed,
and still I think,
that pinkish is girlish and
girlish is pink.
Wrapped in long white as if married to birth
In a plastic box, with wheels on the bottom,
There she lay, unaware of her worth
Unaware of the sheer amount of hats she’d wear topped with a pom-pom.
The taste of burger king and torn nails seeping from my lips.
Burger King? Is that seriously what I’m talking about?
First, you’ll care for princess mountaintops and intergalactic spaceships.
Fast food? On a much later date – when we first pass one on a roundabout.
You’re not my responsibly, not one bit.
Those two unfortunate buggers next to me are.
But I can say that I’d feel just slightly bad if you were to fall down a pit.
A fantastical situation but one in which I’d search for you far.
In every hole, crevice, nook, cranny, crack, in every bloody place I’d look.
Sorry for the twisted love but give me a second and I’ll read you a book.
In the hospital you lay, yes, peaceful as of yet.
Our mum, recovering (to say the least) and our dad – a bit of the same.
And this is only the first time we’ve met.
Just waiting on the nurse to send us back from where we came.
Terrified of cracking your neck, I cradled you in my arms so tense.
The nurse does her rounds and makes a pitstop at beautiful old you.
I wish I’d sat an earshot away – I would’ve if I had some sense.
She told my parents “to put a sock on it you two.”
What a way to end the visit.
Well that’s a lesson for you little sister,
With them two it’s never quite normal, is it?
Don’t worry I know it may seem like a disaster
but I promise crude jokes are worth more than Burger King
and if they ever do drive you up the wall well just give me a ring.
I was a successful, fashionable florist, in mild green days of elegant gardens,
When an orange sun beamed its pleasure, like locales where lavender begins.
I formed arrangements for many occasions, drawing beauty lovers from afar,
As pretty planets arrange for a meeting, after wild rumors of the newest star.
And crowded hours were filled with summer, like pearly dews crowd morning,
Until ruby butterflies are playing tag, and gemmed damselflies are swarming.
Friends felt I might always be found, in some area of flush bloom fragrancies,
Like raven midnight's march to daybreak, with its warm, varicolored agencies.
Fond family held festive feasts, in fading hours of sparkly, fuchsia sun falling,
As whippoorwill songs clashed with red robin's, midst magenta stars gawking.
I lived in the house of tangy, saturated noon, when flowers were in full glory,
Like the most beautiful day of a woman's life, when a bride she's come to be.
Scarlet, saffron and other hues glittered, within the soulful sector of summer,
As starlings sang songs along my street, and sun rose and retired, a stunner!
Neighbors were nomadized at times, as honeydew moon nestles in new night,
When visiting me on eves of silk and satin, when fresh June was at its height.
Silver clouds were saddled with summer sun, in suddenly days of sweet rose,
Like grey encumbering smoke from autumn fires, when in plum mists it flows.
Raven noon was in green treetops, as the inarticulate ravens were squawking,
And fading time seemed to stand still, but ephemeral moments kept walking.
One day I woke to a gorgeous view from my window, daisies pink and yellow,
In the wide field right next to my house, glowing in the rich, sunshine mellow!
It put such a smile on my face, oh my! Like flocks of pretty blue jays going by,
And I kept seeing daisies everywhere I went, like a pearlescent moon on high!
I beheld African daisies and shasta, and pom pom-like chrysanthemum ones;
Along with fine lustrous gerberas, in all colors found, in wild green kingdoms.
I wondered at my strange, good fortune, in seeing beloved blooms anywhere;
Like the young, butterscotch days when Mother said, 'We're going to the fair!'
For awhile, I saw sweet daisies by day, and it seems I dreamt daisies at night;
Like a brief mystic spell of rapture, when hidden beauty's freed from its plight.
Reindeer racks, huffing and chuffing - smokestacks
longing, like huskies, to run with shining
red sleigh. Commercials over, indicates
to Nick, in his hip black and red plaid, matching
fur-rimmed hat, pom-pom and whiskers, “Let’s go!”
Colorado Reinbeer to the rescue. The swagger
and lift of spirited gifts to neighbors.
Santa moves with the covid times, to cheer
up the down in the mouth, even the kids
with suds of their own - root or birch beer floats.
Sleigh bells and holiday harnesses play
in the steep mountain snow with “Ho! ho! ho!”
11/28/2020
Loosely based on a segment I saw on the news.
Smoke ‘em if you got them.
Save the bottles for return.
That hippie needs a haircut.
What the hell’s a Lady Bird?
My Christmas tree had bubble lights,
My watch lit up at night.
Four-bits for my gasoline
And Cassius won the fight.
Music was a wall of sound.
A Stingray running fast,
Footsteps left upon the moon,
War’s ended, "Peace at Last".
Paychecks from the mills and mines,
From Ford and IBM.
Farming amber waves of grain
That’s how it was back then.
From all around on Friday nights
The hometown crowd, the football lights.
The pom-pom girls would dance and cheer,
I saw you there far so near.
And though my odds were slim & none
I had to try to make my run,
And never look back on the day
I had my chance and walked away.
The party went ‘til midnight,
Coors and California Dip.
The Ventures playing “Pipeline”.
You said “Let's do The Twist!”.
We dated first on New Year's Eve,
I looked into your eyes.
We tied the knot in April,
We made love until July.
But the world and I spun faster then,
You tried to be my rock.
Me, I acted like a fool.
You said “Its time we talk!“.
I thought I was your shining knight
And you my Perfect 10.
Why can't we get back to be just
Like we were back then?
Throughout time there’s joy and pain,
We can't expect things not to change.
When it was time to leave our mark,
Time after time I broke your heart.
The Texas sun goes down again.
A long day's work about to end.
Forty miles to drive back home
Flip on the light and drink alone.
Damned if I know why it all changed,
Wish I could tell you when.
I only wish that I could make it
Like it was back then.
She is the super girl of poetry soup a cute
who through her limericks renders us mute
How can I resist a giggle when she writes
or helps me to sully my new tights
She is a lovely presence and I wish her well
if anyone here objections it won't jell
We are a site of beauty not one of snooty
so shake out your pom pom, give a hooty
Its Christmas a time for love words of essence
Jan, I'm glad your here and that you got presence
Lets give the girl a cheer today write a limerick
for her that is funny one with kick,
"FANCY SCHMANCY"
One day I met a fancy schmancy girl named Jan
and when it came to the funnies, oh how she ran
like an underwear on fire
yes, she's the girl for hire
if you want poop in your underwear then read
her crunchy lines, she leaves a laughter seed
for all....
xoxoxoxxo
Dec 10, 2018
Just like kids, kitty’s and bunnies, can be spoiled by
a constant onslaught of attention. Ooh, kiss kiss,
rub rub, hand feed and lots of toys. Oh boy!
But leave those buster browns alone for too long,
with pom-pom or twisty tails between legs,
where their only encounter with two legs
are the strangers, that feel like intruders and thieves.
No wonder they hide. Whiskers frown, almost
teardrops hit the ground, and fear feeds the sweet beasts.
You return to mayhem, anger, cold shoulders. Your pets,
now need, a shrink, a ghostbuster, the police! You thought
they would survive while you lived it up at the beach.
Furparents, you should have trusted friends and family
with them from time to time. Now the furbabies are
sheepish, gun-shy. Each creek of the door, like fingernails.
Now, you may never leave because you feel ashamed,
lame, not the same. Oh yes, those cottontail eyes
will tell you lies, and the suspicious cat will squint.