Long Quickie Poems
Long Quickie Poems. Below are the most popular long Quickie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quickie poems by poem length and keyword.
she pips in fear for lateness like her peers,
hauteur cloaked with reticence,
her-boo-boo-vague, though walled around and palpable
official Narcissist disguised in rude affronts
Bravado of naughtiness in candor yet tacit
“Free me free me”, rants in melancholy
as ignorance upsets sorts of sort
Insensibility of differentiate as angels often tastes the gall
By routines of cataract long glare
Sends nostalgia down their spines
Though forgetting the milk and candies of supposed rivals
Doubling as friends in conning angst beggarly in their nature
Nagging and ganging a gang of gossipers
Finding Mutual grounds for their victims
Causing higgledy where there exist no war
For a suspected compromise of morals
Or a hunting taint of a past paints on Z walls
Where decorum is not a schoolmaster
As official time wastes in visits to motels at un-break break time
With holy bible at desk view to mask hypocrisy
First venerable “Etis” Migrants tasted buds of vinegary as noised by witnessing chauffeur
And guilt cautioned not her thigh with avalanche of showy attire of a seductress
advertorials of “buried innocence”jagged in curved carbuncle front and back
Banging shoes in unending visits secreted in kitchen
double faced, loud calls to clients for managerial gratitude
as empty office fill vacuums of fast quickie (sharp-shap) appointments arranged or rearranged
Ill mannered, bad tempered not marriageable, never listen, never patient making enemies
Commandeering, verbose, self-conceited, presumptuous, stout and arrogant
Form:
she pips in fear for lateness like her peers,
hauteur cloaked with reticence,
her-boo-boo-vague, though walled around and palpable
official Narcissist disguised in rude affronts
Bravado of naughtiness in candour yet tacit
“Free me to free me”, rants in melancholy
as ignorance upsets sorts of sort
Insensibility of differentiating as angels often tastes the gall
By routines of cataract long glare
Sends nostalgia down their spines
Though forgetting the milk and candies of supposed rivals
Doubling as friends in conning angst beggarly in their nature
Nagging and ganging a gang of gossipers
Finding Mutual grounds for their victims
Causing higgledypiggledy where there exist no war
For a suspected compromise of morals
Or a hunting taint of a past paints on Z walls
Where decorum is not a schoolmaster
As official time wastes in visits to motels at un-break break time
With holy bible at desk view to mask hypocrisy
First venerable “Etis” Migrants tasted buds of vinegary as noised by witnessing chauffeur
And guilt cautioned not her thigh with an avalanche of showy attire of a seductress
advertorials of “buried innocence” jagged in curved carbuncle front and back
Banging shoes in unending visits secreted in kitchen
double-faced, loud calls to clients for managerial gratitude
as empty office fill vacuums of fast quickie (sharp-sharp) appointments arranged or rearranged
Ill-mannered, bad-tempered not marriageable, never listen, never patient making enemies
Commandeering, verbose, self-conceited, presumptuous, stout and arrogant
A friend of mine and Me
Accustomed to things done quickly and without time
Because we're retired
We just attended the marriage of convenience
Of another friend of ours
Who married a married woman
From the Dominican Republic
In the chapel of the Monastery of San Juan (Burgos)
Whose husband was left waiting
At the entrance to the Monastery.
The ceremony was officiated
By a city councilor
Applauded by the small audience
Jumping with joy
The Dominican woman's new husband
Upon receiving the three thousand euros
Of the agreed-upon arrangement
Longing to have a honeymoon with her
Even if only for a little while
And she very happy to be able to obtain
Her residency papers on the spot.
From there, my friend and Me
Because the bride and groom didn't invite us to anything
How stingy!
We went for coffee, a croissant
And, perhaps, a quickie
At the Halo Paris Café
Very close to the Monastery.
There, we were served very kindly
By a Moroccan girl, Jalila from Marrakech
Who, without knowing me at all
Addressed me after serving us
Saying hopefully:
-I see you as virtuous and noble
With a good salary to take care of my mother
Who wants to come see me
And get Spanish citizenship.
I'll give you three thousand euros
If you marry her.
To this I replied:
-That sounds good to me
If I marry her at the same time
With you
That way I can have two glories
That your Allah allows there and here.
She replied disappointed:
-Not that. I don't like sharing the churro (prick)
And you enjoying our toast
Which is blood relatives' and tastes like nothing.
Think about it, and tell me
Another time you come back here.
I told her a little before leaving
Touching her breast without realizing it:
-Jalila, when I'm about to die I'll let you know.
Bring me your mother
So you can give me the three thousand euros
And she can show me her nest of Moroccan falcons
Which will do my soul a lot of good.
It has been low, dim, and heavy,
heavens part, light swoops onto open waters,
the overflow of recent torrents
glittering sky-fish skim.
Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails.
Right and left window worlds out of synch
peripherally bifurcated by speed.
The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams,
smudges unravel. Light pushes
into the open mouths of surface breathers.
The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes;
it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter.
Left and right small animals un-plod
from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors
expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways.
Pick up a cup of instant noodles,
a 6-pack from the quickie mart.
On the lot heavens are opening
one acre at a time,
light lowers like a faded wedding gown
marbling concrete
dressing the cars in lacy.
Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer
while heavens knit together
with a last twinkle of silver needles.
Flames of passion so overwhelming,
So hard just to be friend.
Emotions that can be twisted,
Attractions that are more than feelings.
So much unwanted desires to live for,
Still timid and not too sure.
At the right time,
Trying to reach out and connect.
Like a love poem so hard to write,
A long life full of drama with no end.
Waiting for more than a quickie,
Feelings of wanting more than a relationship!!!
More than one's loins to long for;
So vain and still not too pure,
Wanting more than a crush,
Stopping all the doubts,
A fever that is so hard to stop,
Heated from bottom to top,
Desires with no playing or messing around!
The pain of staying,
Even worse than leaving.
So rare and unique......
Fit for a queen and king,
So easy to get lost in,
Even harder to get out of!!!
Worthy of all efforts,
Still wanting to belong!
Still wanting to stay for the long run,
Just waiting is no fun.
More than a treasure to admire,
More than all the consequences to be desired!
milestones to go before I sleep......
More promises to go before I sleep!!!
Absurdity walked this path of a whorish lane,
Dauntingly decked in a dark seductive garb
Egregiously seeks the thrones by craftiness,
Nebulous transverse for the wayfaring man.
Illusions of a well worn thigh concealed with facial mascara.
Killjoy bipolar nagging for control, demanding dominance by demonic antics,
Eccentric public commodity makes it the brothels for quickie.
Acrimony well taught from the market square by “Iyaloja”
Damaging defiance conscripting father to “garri Ijebu” and Fish
Egomania derailed from home and deprived of morals,
Sagged and perforated lurid frame perfumed for a prey
Offensive forlorn factious feigned facades
Lacklustre and noxious mien seduced the prey by lewd bait,
Absurd Incentive the goal, merchandise of greed, A week of affiance.
Lily White was in the mood for sweets
Walking the streets
Came across pastry treats
Modern Royals pull out a dessert spread
Enough that armies could be fed
Magpie this Magpie that
Oh mag pies get Lily White fat
Picking up one in the first half
Modern Royals snickered with a laugh
Preparing Lily White to be a wife
Since this was a get Ritchie
Pitch me
Quickie plan
Evening up excited the fans
Until Kane went double dipping
Hoping for a newspaper clipping
Lily White deserved tipping
Making all the hats removed
An action gentlemanly and smooth
While the wolves needed a tasting of wine
Burnley was chosen to dine
A casual meeting
Level competing
Less than fifteen to go Wolves put the score into the show
But before the curtain dropped
A piece of wood got hot
Penalty was assessed
Goal awarded to Clarets a success
Draw was written into the book
Climatic ending was a good hook
Mr. Bourne who had a mouth
Met with the citizens who reminded him to get out
Public’s two pences were heard
Mr. Bourne’s cherries curled
Showing some respect
They let him have one avoiding the train wreck
Tomorrow is another day
Peaceful play
That is recorded winner in every way
Florid banshees recoiled, neck and hankering sneer.
A succinctly exuberant suggestion when selective.
Came on, fell flat with laconic ornamentation.
A miniature jaunt, interment; glove comparted.
Pin-striped foxtails attuned tune maddening clairvoyants.
Precisely predisposed, wine-flavored latten tobaccos.
A wooden-tipped juxtaposition, stilling waisted.
Bygone midge nonguarded, slunk olive drabbing on bayou.
Thicken handkerchief lightly dabbing brow.
Darkness entrapment, fiat practice gymnastics.
Money management, coinage magnet, honored in mathematics.
Backflipping,
Backtracking,
Backpacking.
Super-Soaker moisture, quickie; quickly, socks on prickly.
Sloped incline, inside Mount Saint Helens' Slip 'n Slide.
An old man from Caribou Hill
Fancied a bit of a thrill
His care worker, Sandy
Was willing and randy
And slipped him a little blue pill.
***
If only the coach would have told him
If only he’d bothered to scold him
My footballer son
Just might have won
And maybe I wouldn’t have sold him
***
Adam was not taking bets
When Eve turned up wearing fish nets
He told her stand back
I’m feeling less slack
And I don’t know how big this thing gets.
***
A dog lover called Timmy Tupp
Was laying a lawn for his pup
The sods were high piled
His neighbours all smiled
And one of them yelled ‘green side up’
***
A randy lass from Billericky
Left Sherry, mince pies and a biccie
Don’t be too dismayed
Christmas is delayed
For tonight Santa fancied a quickie
***
Tarzan tried hard not to cough
But his loins were in need of a cloth
Jane said at a pinch
You’re nearly an inch
And Tarzan was really hacked off
Everyone’s ranting about this A.I.
They’re hopping mad but I can’t figure why
It’s just for the best
That things have progressed
I know it’s true… I’m a real modern guy
Tell me what’s wrong with machine written odes
That someone’s phone drafted in binary codes
It really don’t matter
If romantic patter
With no human touch, is just one of loads
I ain’t losing sleep like all of you sheep
Whingeing like somebody killed Miss Bo Peep
Synthetic emotion
Should cause no commotion
I’ve got other hobbies so I won’t weep
I enjoy painting pictures of winter
Take my time; when I paint I’m no sprinter
My techie mate Ricky
Just Samsungs a quickie…
Which will spew from his full colour printer
Went to the races where I placed a bet
Armed with the best tip I’d ever had yet
But my horse was beat
By some sneaky cheat
Who rode not a horse, but a high speed jet
Got a call from my agent and mentor
And she mentioned the novel I’d sent her
“We’ve read lots of those,
The one that we chose,
Is a book written by pressing ENTER.”
I now comprehend what I hadn’t seen
No point in poems writ by a machine
So please don’t mislead
By making me read
Poems, if penned by an iPhone fifteen