Long Rear end Poems
Long Rear end Poems. Below are the most popular long Rear end by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rear end poems by poem length and keyword.
I traveled to a land I always wanted to see.
I was on the slopes of Vesuvius in Italy.
Here I was among ancient ruins alone.
There was something strange carved on this wall of stone.
I called the tour guide to come over right away.
“I do not read Latin, so what does it say?
This looks like a poem on a wall here in Pompeii.
What did this person write on that fateful day?
Whoever this individual was, he or she was alone.
They had nothing better to do but to inscribe on the stone.”
Lena and I were now apart from the crowd.
When she read the inscription, she laughed aloud.
“We are among the remains of an excavated latrine.
What you see is graffiti that is rather obscene.
This writing is about a boy describing his girlfriend.
She had very big **** and a fat rear end.
Perhaps the gods were angry from this episode.
That is what may have made the mountain explode”
snow turns to ice floor
ice skating with reeboks on
she falls and takes me with her out of sheer love
the price we pay are her shoulder and my rear end
we laugh without smiling
i help her with her things and open the SUV door for her
she thanks me kindly and then to work she goes
i slide and glide uphill feeling blessed
after making it back to the house, i look for the heating gel and the heating pad
i then pray for the sun to hit all of the slippery spots this time (knowing it won't)
ferrero rocher and valentines day are both in my mind now
i smile and shake my head....thinking about the future devouring
i go the the garage, oops, i mean STORE-AGE ROOM, to look for the snow shovels
i then wonder if the mailman knocks on our door again if we should start charging for tickets (hmmmmm)
i am ThankFull for what i have while SHE IS HERE
as usual, Joni Mitchell never lies
till tomorrow.......y así sucesivamente y así sucesivamente......
FROSTY
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
A Stock Horse… High Country Bred
Dark Palomino with white patches on his body and head
A solid well-muscled body and sturdy big boned legs
With strong shoulders and a massive muscled rear end
…
Sure footed FROSTY would go anywhere
A gallop on the marshes through creeks and river beds
Up and down steep and rocky hills, through thick bush and scrub
Nothing would impede his progress, he never gave up
…
He would carry heavy loads of Kangaroo and Deer
A friend to so many on the regular weekend hunt
Not fazed, never flinch when the guns went off
Work all day in the bush from dawn to dusk
…
Working with the dogs to gather sheep from the hills and plains
His rider sitting comfortable and on a loose rein
Picking his way around the fallen timber and rocky scree
Nothing would stop him no need of spur or whip
Stock horse competitions he would excel and prove his worth
Trail riding he was hard to beat in manners and stamina
DUSTY was loved by all who had the chance to meet him
His reputation admired and known by country and city people alike
…
But on a cold windy winters, morning, FROSTY was startled
Rising from the rough and ragged ground where he lay
His leg got caught, snapped his shoulder, struggling to get up
A sad time next morning when he was found, there was no hope
…
FROSTY was put down
Buried on the wind swept plains where he was born
And close to another legend of the High Country
His Mom
…
Such a legend FROSTY was gone before his time
But he will be remembered for his nature and strength
For on the high country his memory lives amongst so many
And round the camp fires FROSTY story will be told
Penned on the 23/01/15
This is the legend of Jack’s father
and to brag about him Jack won’t even bother
‘cause truth is not a virtue he inherits
and integrity’s a trait beneath his merits
Jack’s father takes the tip off every table
and parks his car in spots for the disabled
yeah Jack knows he’s a gambler and a liar
(not the mentor he was hoping to aspire)
If he can get away with stuff he WILL try
and he’s always at the ready with an alibi
Like the time he told Jack’s mother he’d be working late
when he was out with his mistress on a dinner date
But Jack’s mother’s oh-so-clever in her own way
she tells Jack “your dad will pay the piper someday
his lack of love and character will soon show
and there’ll be nothing of a legend left when he goes."
Her prediction was quite evident that weekend
when Jack’s father tried to steal from his best friend
but he couldn’t out run the Pit bull that was inside
(the neighbors just stood filming him as he cried)
“Oh help me please I’m really not a bad bloke”
but he became the 'butt' of every lame joke
‘cause his rear end bears the scars below his britches
(Jack's mum can't help but smile while doin' dishes)
I’m sitting by the river.
It’s a warm and sunny day.
It’s lovely to be out here
Just relaxing in this way.
My jacket is unzipped,
My brand-new book is on my lap,
When suddenly a dog squats down
And takes a mushy crap.
The owner was right next to him;
The dog was on a leash.
I shook my head and silently
Admonished with a “Sheesh!”
His little pile of doggie doo
Was inches from my feet.
It wasn’t what I’d hoped to see
To make my day complete.
Although the owner scooped up
What his rear end had been spitting,
With just one tug they could have moved
Where no one else was sitting.
A gorgeous day can suffer from
A blot upon its beauty
When someone inconsiderate
Ignores her civic duty!
In recent daydreams, I bemused
trekking the wild African plain -
herds of hippoes and elephants
petrifying prey with their might.
Envisioning the behemoth
I recall a story about
behemoth’s strong powerful tail.
So my reverie is confused.
An elephant’s tail I see as
a bottle brush, skinny, floppy.
I had heard, read, or seen somewhere
“the behemoth’s tail sways like a
cedar” which immediately
brought to mind the elephant’s trunk.
This trance has the power to amuse
I ponder the thought of a writer
who mistook the front end for the
rear end of an elephant and
in typical dream fashion had
created a new fantasy -
the legendary behemoth.
At this point my head went on cruise
drifting to comic books of old,
where behemoth is a monster
set in the tales of Atlantis.
I recall a trip with puppets
electric eels, whirlwinds, quicksand
from the brilliant minds at Marvel.
For writers impelled by a muse
to pen our imaginations,
dreams make perfect sense while dreaming.
Sweats, rapid heart beats are the proof
when we awake in frantic haste
to get it all down on paper
before our mind reverts to truth.
If minds could be seen,
we could take them out for a walk,
show off a bit.
Although we would have to
leach and muzzle most of them
like dogs.
There would be, with luck,
a few cool cats
but most minds would be
clearly rabid.
Many surreal artists
have attempted to paint a mind,
but their depiction's
all end up as a set of dentures
bolted together
with animal parts.
Some mindscapes are cute
like Disney movies
(they are the worst),
some resemble the rear end
of an equine nightmare.
Greater minds would show up
off-leash and of their heads,
the lesser thinkers
tending to gather around to sniff,
but then (disappointingly),
they belly up for ego rubs,
or spin like drunk dervishes
chasing their own tails.
Best to keep our minds
behind a thick mask -
monkey masks are popular.
When you want to get me in the mood
You strip down to just your boxer shorts
Tell me that I look so hot tonight
Then strike poses of various sorts.
Sometimes I could almost laugh out loud
We have been married for thirty years
You'd think you would know to drop my pants
You need to entirely switch your gears!
Do the dishes for only one night
You will be my most studly old man.
Run the vacuum, dust, or cook a meal,
I will gladly do you in our van!!!
I find it funny that you can hear
My bra unhook from way down the street
But you can't hear a child crying
When right underneath your own two feet!!!
You want me to wear some lingerie
And act like a dancer at a club?
But all I think is that’s one more piece
Of dirty laundry in the wash tub!!
So here it is, my sweet other half
So efforts are no longer thwarted:
Get off your rear end, take out the trash
That's sexy, and will be rewarded!!!
Revised November 17, 2018
Once exclusively for sailors,
Often after lots to drink,
Nowadays it seems that everyone
Is branded with some ink.
On an ankle or a shoulder,
Peeking out from neck or chest,
There are symbols, words or pictures,
Anything you can request.
I’ve seen butterflies and rainbows,
Angel wings on someone’s back;
And, quite often, patterns near the waist,
Above the rear-end crack.
Sometimes decorations cover
Every inch of someone’s arm.
Though to me, it looks grotesque,
I’m sure to others, it must charm.
When those sailors had exclusive
Claim to most of the tattoos,
Other people shied away and thought
They had too much to lose.
Yet today, tattoos are common.
Young and old give them a whirl;
But the only ones I never see
Are “Mom” and pin-up girl!
Early in the morning as my feet hit the floor, I jump in my britches and I’m out the door.
Down and around the corner is a mighty fine place to eat. So I hurry down to the diner at the
end of the street. Falling out of my drawers and stepping out of my shoes, I finally make it
down to the diner to share the good news. By the looks of those folks, they weren’t very
impressed and wanted to know why it was that I couldn’t stay dressed. Quick on my feet, I
began to tell my story of this new diet and all of its glory. It’s a liquid diet, I explained, and
they quickly wanted to know what the diet was named. Thinking of the night before and all
that I could recall, I gave the diet the name “Alcall”. When I finished my breakfast, I was off
again. At this time, I head to the house to see the love of my life, my wife and my friend. I
make it to the house and step through the door and I quickly discover that the place I call
home was no more. Greeting me at the door was a woman with hair that was snow-white;
with a rolling pen in her left hand and a shotgun in her right. She loaded the gun and shot me
in the rear-end, I quickly come to the realization that this is not the love of my life, my wife
and definitely not my friend. I run down the street with my drawers to my knees and my
buns on fire; calling to the Lord in a pitch that is getting higher and higher. I didn‘t make it
too far down the street when low and behold it was the law that I did meet. They slapped on
the hand-cuffs and threw me in jail and it was only until later that my wife came with bail. As
she looked at the surprised look on my face, it was the grin on hers that she couldn’t erase.
She then laughed and looked at me knowing and asked how my diet was going. It was then
that I had to declare that my new diet obviously wasn’t getting me anywhere. Due to the
convincing series of events that occurred that day, I vowed to give up my diet of “Alcall” in
every way.
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