Long Pouted Poems
Long Pouted Poems. Below are the most popular long Pouted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pouted poems by poem length and keyword.
You're a beauty, his grandmother said. You would make a terrific catch.
Sheila did not know if she wanted to be caught.
She had been doing pretty well for thirty-two years by herself.
She had a terrific family, a great job, and she owned her own home.
He was handsome and kind, but boring.
She thought it would work out though.
Are you settling? Her girlfriend asked.
She sort of was, but he was a nice guy.
She did not want to hurt his feelings,
and her parents wanted her married.
They were of the religious belief that everyone should be for some reason..
She dated him for several months; each date a little more boring than the last. But he was incredibly nice and got his feelings hurt if she said no to the next date. He pouted too, he was great at pouting.
She ended up not hurting his feelings date after date after boring date.
Her parents were thrilled when she said “yes” at Christmas.
He had asked her in front of them, so saying “no” would be more difficult.
She resolved to go into this resigned to a life of “whatever”.
He was thrilled, laughing and kissing everyone in the room.
Her family liked him better than they had ever liked her.
He hung out with her brothers, they had all the same hobbies.
Her sisters began including her in discussions, she was “normal” now.
She thought she could get used to him, and her family adored him.
She was walking down the aisle with her beaming father when she knew….
She had been wrong. She ran off screaming, leaping toward freedom.
Her family adopted him and disowned her. Best day ever!
Called many a name
Sexual gem she is
Pussy galore
Man's bliss
Pouted lips
She's shaved
She's bushed
She blushes
She's juiced
Sent from Heaven
With Heavenly scent's
Touched
Kissed
Blessed
Sensed
Groomed, well cut
Shorn or long
Curly
Straight
Shapes adorn
Welcomed by many
Man, Woman and Toy
In their own way
She oozes her joy
Dampened and pulsing
Flesh pinked walls
Pierced, tattooed
She enthralls
Aroused through touch
Warmed and moist
This She Creation
Voiced.
Man's want
Men dream
To be taken in
Release their stream
In many positions
Her posture sweet
All loving partners she will greet
Passions shared, loving spree
This delightful flower
Between the V
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http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love.php
An unusual heaviness hung in the air.
The wind didn’t stir, no single leaf fluttered.
The dead weight of engulfing darkness pressed on.
It was a fateful night, horrible and stark !
As a monument of misery, walked Jesus
weary and distraught as never before,
with staggering steps to the Mount of Olives,
to the Garden of Gethsemane
For him it was the d a r k e s t hour of the soul.
He needed to be comforted by his Father.
Oppressed by anguish, pinned down
by the weight of the world’s sin,
He g r o a n e d and m o a n e d.
He wanted his disciples to keep vigil and pray.
To his great annoyance, he saw them sleeping.
Failed repeatedly by disciples,
callously deserted by followers
He knew he had to drink the cup of pain all alone.
He saw the demoniac hordes of hell surround him
He bowed down to touch the ground in prayer
His soggy eyes were lifted to Heaven again and again
At that fierce hour, sweat pouted out as drops of blood!
On the edge of a battle, he knew he can’t escape,
He prayed in all earnest, his soul writhing in agony
‘If it be possible, let this cup pass from me
But not as I will, but thou wilt’
The f a t a l hour came for him to bear the cross.
On his way to Calvary, many followed him,
not to share his pain or lessen his burden
but to enjoy this spectacle of disgrace and contempt
While the whole of his body sagged on three nails,
and his flesh, cut and peeled at every point
He didn’t scream in agony, but remained calm
and a prayer escaped his parted lips
“Father forgive them, for they don’t know
what they are doing”
Is there any other on Earth
who suffered the worst type of betrayal
and the excruciating pain of crucifixion
with such forgiveness and in such grace!
My love was wrapped into gestures
Instead of words
Into concerns and nagging
Teasing and smiling
The sigh I gave in fondness
Whenever you pouted over something
When I remembered what mattered
Beyond days and nights
The favorite coffee, the way you slept
Not the product name
But I knew your soap smell
My love was wrapped into doing
Instead of saying
Leaving an extra blanket
An umbrella, a small question
Sparing a smile when I did not feel like
Pulling you tight, it will be alright
Patting your head in praise
Letting you stay or go
Whatever will let your rise
My love was wrapped bittersweet
Instead of angel like
You had to look to find
The sugary parts
Taste it thoroughly before
Leaving a mark
It carried a tinge that will last
Beyond the first touch
Like a faded mingle in future
Of a memorable past.
you entered my world
through an unopened door
dazzled with my mind catering
to my thoughts I'd wondered
your extreme motive night and day
desperately trying to focus above the old man
whom desires attention unsettling tantrums
while throwing around muscle and mayhem
cautioning my every breath
the cold calm of meeting behind hidden cafe's
nook's of silence while you plot and planned
your next caper my eye's wide shut
I do not belong here an yet
your passion for control again
there I was weeping pleading
for serenity and peace among your wars
old disagreements while you earnestly avoided
conversations of truce among the families
hindering goodness you folded your small arms
and pouted as I glanced at the virgin mary
handing you a prayer card you quickly discarded
throughout your sudden inmmature haste dismissing
of your friends inviting your enemies over for espresso
and stale skoans again I bravely began to chip
my pink nail polish a quiet notion of controllable fear
I'd yet to allow you the pleasure of showing anxiety
really beyond your cold fashionist banned
I suppose simply because you enjoyed bullying
quiet calm helpless me why you found great pleasure
in tampering with my sensitive nature
I gathered I'd opened the door to some kind of debt
you felt the entire world owed to you
kindred malice I suppose as you racketeered
my prayers extorted my smile I watched your
uniquely small hands groping the stone ware coffee cup
eagerly demanding the waitress returns once again
just to endure another insult you tactfully
said under your breath before she nervously
messed up your order happiness was so very
far from you an yet you purposely put on
an artificial sigh of cheerfulness only to lure
more innocent bystanders to your evasive personality
for the sole purpose of owning the right to make
another poor soul completely miserable in you presence
The McCormick family loves wheels
We like bikes, trikes, mopeds and motorcycles
We like Fords, Chevys, Lincolns and Cadillacs.
We are also racers.
Others watch the Indianapolis 500
We like driving like we just left the pit crew.
Our ancestors started us on this journey.
We were having a race on Wednesday
When grandma got on a moped.
I am going to outrun these cycles! She said.
“Let grandma win! Let grandma win! “ we all yelled.
Unfortunately, the little McCormicks are competitive like us.
They outrode, outraced and outran grandma.
The last one to the finish line, she pouted all day.
'TWAS 4PM yesterday, my daughter called and shouted.
"Did you feel the earthquake, Mom?"
Oddly, I did not, though we live near each other.
Last night there were forty aftershocks.
I felt so cheated somehow and I pouted.
Life must need a spark when a earthquake you must feel!
Perhaps become a man, like Caitlyn Jenner, would be more fun.
Wear lovely dresses and my hair in a man-bun?
Oops, cannot do that either?
The Woke-Parol demanded I may not call it that!!
I have the perfect answer.. Binary-Bun!!
Perfect for summer, as I race for Governor of California.
As my faithful followers, cheer me on!
In this most auspicious, political race.
Come on down, if you can you keep pace!!
7/9/2021
Caitlyn Jenner...running to unseat Gavin Newsom,
Known as "Lockdown Louie!"
she had no reaction as I entered the room my mother
had no clue I just ran up two flights of stairs
though she did gaze at me as if to say what’s your point
her words making a feeble attempt to pass through lips
that drooped and appeared quite numb
her wanting stare the polaroid of a child
gone now are the days when I would come as child
to her for guidance to my nurturing mother
I being naïve to the stepping stones before me and numb
to the task of climbing the steep stairs
of love and life while hiding behind pouted lips
that came from having no vision of a starting point
if I might add to this ample point
how life can include the transition from parent to child
child to parent a passing confirmed by the placing of lips
against the brow for her to understand my beloved mother
these final steps of ascension upon heavenly stairs
will not be wrought with the painful and numb
the challenge I now face cannot leave me numb
and never will it take me to a breaking point
though I may weep as I ascend these stairs
still the role I must play shall make me more than child
but never a figure as broad as her my dear mother
for to serve and defend her these would not be passive lips
my mind became dry and parched like the lips
of a thirsty minion as my heart examined the numb
cold sense that I might lose her my precious mother
for this crossroad of life has brought me to that point
of revelation where true love demands that I the child
find the strength to carry us both up these final flights of stairs
the strain of her final ascent upon these stairs
shall not bring a shred of doubt from my lips
I will draw my strength from being that loving child
whom she bestowed the gift of life but kept numb
the thought that I might have been a burden that blocked her point
of direction or dreams my beloved mother
and now my mother my friend a last kiss from tearful lips
for we’ve reached the top of the stairs and my heart though numb
knows full well from this point on the true love between parent and child
Tantrum
Pout?
Pouted?
Pouting?
To waste life…
To press others to your will,
and shockingly, in the end,
find they find less of you
agreeable.
Surprised?
Not very nice?
True.
Would you rather I was gentler?
I could use gloves made of down,
soft feathers at the tips,
and yet still, truth is always…
prickly, spiny, full of needles,
and above all…
painful.
Carry a mirror if you need to.
When the episode occurs…
whip it out and check it out.
Ask yourself…
“Is that me?”
No.
“Is that you?”
No.
Like who’s on first, a very old joke.
Step up, and take responsibility…
for “you” and all the things,
you do to others.
I was feeling grand like the leader of the band,
But you departed south to a Caribbean island; and it was
Just about the time I fell for you and was quickly set aflame.
I thought you would return, but back to me you never came.
Nevertheless, I got over you and never pouted or cast blame.
And then, after a long season, by chance, I saw you on a bus.
That's when I knew for sure; that was clearly the end of us.
So yes, you broke my heart, but I was able to make a new start.
Yes, I managed to overcome you, but I'm not saying that it wasn't hard.
You were very high class, but things started to unravel so very fast.
I had no reason to think that the joy we began to share wouldn't last.
No, you were not the first, and as time unfolded, you wouldn't be the last.
There were others who whispered sweet sounds into my ears and quietly passed. I'm no iron man, but this heart of mine became experienced in the school of aching, and it seems that each of my heartaches and breaks hurt differently than the last breaking. It hurts real bad when love ends so soon, striking at noon, and the flame is out by the entry of the moon. Maybe it was Memphis, or perhaps Sioux Falls or Chicago, or was it San Juan, Puerto Rico? The time came when it really didn't matter anymore; when I slowly closed the door and let it go. Funny thing about heartbreaks; they are unique but all feel the same, so filled with pain. I tell you, there is no shame, and I think that like the butterfly, I learned to fly from lessons 'in cocoons of strain'.
020121FBPSCtest, 'Break My Heart, Why Don't Cha', Edward Ibeh