Long Quirky Poems
Long Quirky Poems. Below are the most popular long Quirky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Quirky poems by poem length and keyword.
I met a creature at the park
that I did not recognize
in the dark
Its eyes glowed under its chin
and its schnozz looked broken
Its mouth was upside down
one-half smile, one-half frown
A mushroom hat covered its head
while its body was teeny-weeny
like Charlie Brown with a beanie
So I said 'Hello,' nice and relaxed
-- and sloooowwww
At once the creature fired back
'Do not eat the yellow snow'
At which point I decided
where the hell N. Ed Dibble AI can go
I’m quirky; that’s just how I love to be.
I don’t think many people are like me.
The things I like most, I turn them into
obsessions which, without fail, I must do!
New movies weekly I have got to see.
I’m quirky; that’s just how I love to be.
Movies at theaters on a big screen!
This habit I’ve had since I was a teen.
I have collections, and how each one grows!
Old records, books, knick-knacks, jewelry and clothes,
and some of them span half a century.
I’m quirky; that’s just how I love to be.
Routines I’ve formed for my health and for fun.
Each week I can barely get them all done.
From skin care - to diet - to poetry,
I’m quirky; that’s just how I love to be!
Feb. 14, 2018 for Madison Demetros' Quirky Contest
There once was a man nicknamed " Nutty "
It was down to the way he played Footie,
Each match he'd score ten
Again and again
Then he'd pop off for a pint and a butty.
Each family tree has its nuts.
Such ones are quirky, have guts!
But to them, no surprise!
Their mum rolls her eyes.
She lets out a sigh and tuts.
He went to a sanitarium.
He thought it was an aquarium.
" So, I'm nutty says you?
You haven't a clue!
I'm really a veterinarian. "
" You are nutty! " Says you to me.
Is this a complement? Am I funny?
But then you pretend
That it wouldn't offend
You ask, " What's the matter honey? "
Written 19th September 2021
For the " N " Contest - Sponsor : Constance La France
Proud of my red coat, that others admired,
or was it the charm and wit I had, that they desired?
I spent my days basking in the noon-day sun;
you scolded me for stealing the worker’s lunch, I did it, just for fun!
You gave me a world where I was free to roam;
through woods and fields until you called me home.
I know there were times, you did not take pleasure,
in the prizes I returned with, that I deeply treasured.
I protected you from strangers, with my gnarly bark;
you let me play at night, chasing frogs and dodging owls, in the dark.
You dressed me up and I paraded all around;
I knew I was the life of every party, a miniature, ten pound hound.
I was grateful for your tender care, through my golden years;
I left you with a heavy heart, and eyes, filled with tears.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In memory of Phoebe Leda Rose our miniature dachshund.
Born May 1998 died Feb. 2013. She truly was a lively and affectionate dog. The poem reflects her quirky personality that kept us laughing.
We purchased Phoebe for our 10 year old daughter who cherished her and wrote a poem about her for school.
Phoebe Leda Rose has very big nose
She wobbles when she walks
And she wiggles her toes.
Date: June 2, 2022
For: Personification – Pets Talking Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance LaFrance
Rhyme verified on rhymezone.com
Placed 1st in contest
There is nothing normal about me.
I’m unnaturally arranged.
I’m artificially artistic and gifted
With a quirky quantum brain.
Billions babble like me
But not one of us’ the same.
It’s a calculated risk to freely
Unleash me all the same.
There’s another voice inside of me.
It wasn’t there before and now I feel deranged.
Telling me to do these things I’d never do.
Forcing me to think outside the box.
Is this really air that I’m breathing?
Are you really there or am I just grieving?
Who has all the answers to my questions?
"Who am I? Why am I here?
Am I alive? Am I aware?”
“Is this stuff on my head
Really hair?”
I run my fingers through it.
I feel there’s something to it.
That in another life
I must’ve been a Super star!
For engraved behind my skull
I feel some raised brail-like scar.
I can’t quite make out its meaning
It may simply just be numbers,
Hieroglyphics or a Chinese scan bar.
Perhaps, I wasn’t even born at all
Manufactured in a place called,
IQ Implant Enhancements,
Or Androids Are Us, down at the local mall.
I seem to be playing music in my head.
Perhaps, it’s a small android violinist.
I seem to be humming with him, “Amazing Grace.”
The harmonies put a strange smile on both our faces.
It pauses and takes a moment to look out my eyes.
The world comes into focus, and it gasps,
“What the...”
To be safe is to cozy up with your past,
Like that old sweater you can’t throw away—a bit frayed, but a blast!
What you see is what you get—
A masterpiece of chaos, like a cat's hairball at your feet,
Born from the brilliant art of dodging responsibility,
And a grand delusion that mistakes are just "creative beats.”
To love is to pretend you care, oh dear,
For something outside yourself—like that plant you forgot to water, I fear.
Yes, most religions have turned this into a thriving market,
Selling “selflessness” like it's the latest fashion—what a racket!
Stained with the colors of thought and wishful dreams,
Dulled by contemplating cultures—you know, the usual schemes.
And if you ponder long enough, who knows?
The future might just wink at you—but only if it shows!
But man—oh, what man dares to take a peek,
At his own quirky quirks, his blunders, and, let’s face it, his cheek?
He is king at heart, ruling with a laugh,
In this comedy of life, where we all play our part—just look at the staff!
An oddly-shaped Thanksgiving bird:
quirky
turkey
What we call Grandma's mashed potatoes:
dreamy
creamy
How she adds volume to the main side dish:
fluffing
stuffing
What I always do first:
eat Gram's
sweet yams
Grandpa always slices the Thanksgiving turkey:
Harvest
carvist
Dad always brings a former Monkee's recipe:
Davey's
gravies
Aunt Natasha brings her vegan side dish:
Tash's
squashes
...as does cousin Reginald:
Reggie's
veggies
health-conscious Uncle Theodore is happy:
Ted eats
red beets
Cousin Jeannie brings her specialty:
teen Jean's
green beans
rustic Vern brings gourds from his farm:
bumpkin's
pumpkins
Great Aunt Esther sings an ode to the delicious greens:
salad
ballad
we all love her aesthetically arranged grains:
wild rice
styled nice
Brother Andrew provides chocolates for dessert:
Andy's
candies
Mom is always the last to finish eating:
savors
flavors
What I have after eating too much:
gummi
tummy
Written 20 November 2022
He tipped his hat and he said to her:
“Ma’am, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Can you kindly tell me why those whores are out,
has no one taught those girls a lick of sense?”
She chuckled softly, and then said to him:
“I see you haven’t been to L.A. for a while.
They’re not prostitutes, just dumb teenager girls,
aping the latest in Hollywood ‘style.’
“I don’t know what they see in that stuff,
you’d never catch me wearing that dreck.
Like great-gramma Norma once said to my mom,
‘A woman needs to have her self-respect.'
“But you yourself are dressed unusually,
are you in the middle of some sort of L.A.R.P.?
If your trying to look like an old-time cowboy,
I must say you’ve really nailed the part!”
Linton smiled at the friendly woman and said:
“I’m not exactly sure what you mean—”
Then came a flash of blue and of red,
and an auto made a metallic scream.
Two men emerged from a dark blue car,
dressed up somewhat like the city police.
one shouted,”You on the horse with the two guns,
you throw up your hands and you freeze!”
Linton saw them pointing what looked like pistols,
though they strangely had no cylinders,
panic set it, and he kicked hard on his horse,
the mare racing at the touch of the spurs.
The men behind then did not start to shoot,
but they brought their automobile to life,
he heard it’s engine, but the road ended soon,
his horse cleared it’s metal rail in flight.
The police clambered out, and followed on foot,
but they’d no chance to catch up with him now,
he raced for the light, squinting as he neared,
passing through as fast as his horse would allow.
He opened his eyes, and saw nothing but scrub,
his heart still a-pounding frantically,
glancing over his shoulder all Linton saw…
...was a dry ravine running down to the sea.
CONCLUDES IN PART III.
After most recent shower,
and particularly washing hair
(then shaking head
analogous to sopping wet dog
drying her/himself after a bath),
I immediately said helloo
to Long lasting fragrance Suave
essentials Daily Clarifying
Deep cleansing Shampoo,
which permeated mine scalp
facilitating healthy follicles.
More so frothy lather upon noggin
after getting rinsed out
yielded bounteous, luscious, luxurious,
and marvelous full bodied tresses
reminiscent when yours truly an adolescent,
a veritable long haired pencil necked geek
whose hirsute trademark
still characterizes atypical sexagenarian
above mentioned characteristic
still (after scores of years)
emblematic of this enigmatic poetaster.
Ever since being in utero
soon after seminal fusion
insync with fallopian tube bearing ova
begot zygote courtesy said gametes,
and engendered silent boom
after piercing zona pellucida
creating microscopic flume,
nevertheless collection of cells
coalescing into embryo
eventually manifesting into yours truly,
I painstakingly took minuscule
comb and brush to groom,
and dreaded most fearfully being locked,
where pair of outsize scissors did loom
threatening to cut thick,
what could best be envisioned analogous
to imperceptible fancy plume
hich features specific feature
drew medical community
(i.e. namely human reproductive specialists)
constituted extensive expanse
within blastocyst very limited room
crowd sourcing out rivaling curious onlookers
formerly geared up
to espy King Tutankhamun's tomb
can you dear reader believe
a hairy globule within the womb
became global attraction
viz - of a young fecund Harriet Harris,
cuz about nine months later
out the birth canal I did zoom.
...There is no equilibrium
in which mankind can freely live,
it’s always been a push or pull,
some advance while others give.
It’s the only way we get the space
to live goods lives by our own minds,
never to rule, nor to be ruled,
that’s the contract free folks sign.
And all those checks and balances
that get partisans out-of-joint,
they’re more vital than any belief,
those quirky rules are the whole point!
The ‘great future’ that so many
think is just within our grasp,
never comes, and it never will,
it just gets good people gassed.
The chaos that freedom brings
is what mires up a tyrant’s view,
it may slow down a few good things,
but that beats a sprint towards doom.
In fact the very slowness that
comes from many having their say,
is the only force that can prevent
all of us from being enslaved.
Nothing else has ever restrained
the endless march of tyrant creatures,
the mess of the chaos is no bug,
in fact it is quite the feature!
Is it messy at the wrong time,
does it occasionally annoy?
You bet it does, how could it not?
It’s the spawn of endless choice!
From countless individuals,
what other outcome could there be?
But better a chaotic freedom,
then an ordered tyranny.
And if you’re one who cannot live
Without ruling over others,
then this country is not for you,
best go out and seek another.
…you won’t be missed.