Long Salivated Poems
Long Salivated Poems. Below are the most popular long Salivated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Salivated poems by poem length and keyword.
There was a sheriff, mayor, and Marshall.
Lots of saloons, pleasure rooms, and corrals.
Ladies of ill repute, and coward men
who feared the dreadful 'Cowboys' back then.
Lots of gambling, plenty of alcohol.
This western town had live stage-shows for all.
Tombstone had it all except a pastor.
I became the pastor who brought order.
I, Pastor Paul, prevented a gunfight.
Violence never made anything right. Tombstone was not a place to raise a child
in that ragging territory gone wild.
Dreams of fortune salivated the air.
With selfless ideas, I came to share.
01162019PoSoupContest, Movie Magic, Gregory Barden
The movie, Tombstone;14lines10syllables, exact rhyme6P
THE BALLAD OF CARLIN 2Fingers Mad Hatter Williams
Oh, allow me;
To tell you a story;
Bout a little toddler named;
Carlin Williams;
He’s a boy;
Carshra and Nathaniel's joy;
Some call him
2fingers Hat Matters;
Why you ask;
Cuz, he’s got more hats, than the Mad Hatter;
And if you’re at the kitchen or dining room table;
Don’t git up, or he’ll eat all of your vegetables?
Oh! And not only just that;
He’ll dare you to come back;
He’ll finish his plate first;
Then give you a dirty look;
As he’s finishing your desert;
Some call him;
2fingers Hat Matters;
While sucking on his two-fingers;
His cute button eyes, dares you to come hinder…
He has a hat for every purpose;
Ooh, and all that curly hair not an Afro, it’s just natural,
Why you ask,
What he sucks his fingers for,
Maybe his tooth itches…suck, suck, suck,
Maybe he’s sucking the remains of chocolate candy,
Maybe he’s sucking off salt from the butted pop-corn,
Or maybe he just wants to rub his salivated wet fingers on ya!!! LOL!.
He’s a boy
Some call him eatM up, some say don’t leave your plate on the table;
Or when you come back, won’t be nothing left;
He ain’t no Mikey whose know for not eating his food;
Carlin eat his first then will be eating yours too:
He’s a boy;
Carshra and Nathaniel's joy;
Some call him;
2fingers Hat Matters;
Why you ask;
Cuz, he’s got more hats, than the Mad Hatter;
And if you’re at the kitchen or dining room table;
Don’t git up, or he’ll eat all of your vegetables?
Oh! And not only just that;
He’ll dare you to come back;
He’ll finish his plate first;
Then give you a dirty look;
As he’s finishing your desert;
You see this toddler under three
Is the Grandson of PaPa James Edward Lee (Sr.)
10/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
Punch raised his bare fists high into the midnight sky
reached for the stars and was struck down by a comet
Knuckle busted on impact he licked his harsh wounds
Always one to wear his heart on his tongue he salivated
as the mix of metallic blood and spittle brazened the beat
He had always thought of himself as a courageous fighter
carefully planed his training regime and muscled his way
in between fascination and reason to applause of the crowds
who beguiled by his belligerence placed bets on how long
he would stay on his feet before biting the dust in the ring
To every one’s surprise he removed the padded head gear
‘A fool’s cap’ he shouted ‘there’s no need to soften the blows’
‘It’s all in the mind’ and on that matter his swollen brain jelled
with jester’s resolve and stamina of a mad man let off the leash
The countdown still ticked when he woke up deluded but calm
His heart pounded stronger than ever before and life support
tubes danced with electric convulsions and adrenaline rush
Through the one eye not bashed in he taunted the doctors
to switch off the machines now for his next fight was near
‘My heart may be foolish but life without passion is dead’
11th February 2021
Tasty newcomer, taco pizza is found only one place in our town
Once discovered, many of our teenagers ran there on Friday nights
Their tag-along-younger-brothers-and-sisters watched the cooks
Through a pass through window, which had them exaggerating efforts
We could smell them before they came out of the oven
Golden brown and piping hot. The cooks sprinkled them with cheeses,
And bits of freshly cut lettuce, tomatoes, and we salivated, waiting
Like dogs who had not been fed from Monday to Thursday
Our town is small; we were lucky to get one pizza parlor; we had two.
They both closed their doors, because the teens stopped going
They could not compete with the prizes at the gas station,
Which was also the only place we could purchase a taco pizza.
That Day In ‘73
That day in ‘73 was as clear and pristine as glass ice,
Torched by a brace of smitten souls falling in love.
There was no lush music to be heard in this duet,
No swiveling rhythms or conga lines for the long dance,
Nay, these two lovers found quiet shade and a fantasy,
Parked intimately beneath a black walnut tree in August.
I saw the sun peeking at us through rustling green leaves.
You and I made constant eye contact and talked
Incessantly in the dallying breeze as the hours
Strutted forward like a striking drum beating silence.
Our eyes and mouths salivated with each salty utterance.
You talked with a Texas drawl showing white lusty teeth
As you sat cross legged showing bare brown gams,
Slender and shining as polished chrome on a new statue.
Who could have known then it would end up a naked failure,
A meteoric plunge from utter infatuation to the deep abyss of
Dysfunctional love, strangled by fiascos of precision and symmetry,
Of heightened expectations canceled in the sweating darkness,
The inability of breaching the sweetened walls, the ripe walls,
Of this nineteen year old mansion hidden below the tracks, with
This well-shaped Saturday night walking around with nothing on.
That day in ’06 was as cold and overcast as icy black dirt,
Casting a pall of paralyzing grief the size of a granite temple;
There was subdued string music emanating from a boom box,
As the mother and her living sisters stepped up to see the body,
The sunken tan face that once spoke with a sultry Texas drawl,
Once lay naked in the breast-kissing darkness with eyes staring up;
Now the shining statue sleeps with Cancer there, being kissed again.
I found you on the humbled wheat fields,
Out in the dramatically flattened open
They used to stand so tall, and now,
In only a moment…all fell before you
So very little, in contrast,
You towered over their severed stalks
Your light radiated and pulsed from your frame,
Leaving rainbow-electro ripples in the sky
You beckoned me closer and closer,
And as I glided toward you in terror and wonder,
Life itself became pleasantly unclear
The word, how
Remained on my parted lips...
Instantly, all that mattered was your existence,
How you swayed back and forth so enchantingly,
Teasing the wheat that bowed before you
Your eyes, intelligent, dreamlike, and wide,
Having seen beyond my every capability,
Knowing answers I have died over every night…
I was drawn to you like the honey bee to the giant hyssop
Though instead of brushing against fragrant petals,
There was a looming gloom of potential doom
Marvel drowned out all such fear as I drew ever near
As questions, so many questions, ached to be articulated
This inquisitive soul salivated in your shimmer
With a prayer for all humanity to see what I see…
When time became merely a silly story rhyme,
You answered every question like a parent to a child
The awe of your wisdom burned my stubbornness,
For in that moment, learning was living
No science, no reliance,
No fact, no future to fumble
Only truth today
Was fed to a child who once thought she knew all
Screaming and pouting in hopes for victory
She knows nothing until she grows taller than the earnest wheat
To fall effortlessly at your strange, alien feet
Inspired by the song “Tiny Alien” By Katie Melua
“Just how far can you fall,
When you still feel so small?
Will you love me through the sorrows, tomorrows,
Whatever the future will bring?
Tiny alien”
And for the contest sponsored by: Silent One
I had never been in a house before but about a week ago I fell onto a straw hat, and rode her into the house. The straw hat was not edible, so I tried to get comfortable in a small sewing box, but I kept running into pointy things after I burrowed in, and they hurt. Ouch!
Next I climbed up a green wall and sat in a glow-bulb. This bulb went from cool, to warm, to hot, to unbearably hot in a short amount of time, so I climbed out of the glow fixture and made a slow methodical climb down onto a bed where sat a cloth doll. She looked nice and cozy, but on first bite I knew this was not something I could latch onto and enjoy.
I soon discovered a yipping thing. My cousin had told me about dogs. It looked promising, but I knew I would have to wait until the yipping thing was asleep. I salivated as I thought about how tasty a dog is reported to be. It seemed to take hours for the dog to go to sleep. Delightfully tasty my cousin had said, but have you ever tried to take a bite of curly thick fur? After six tries I gave up.
A large snoring giant was next to the yippy thing. I had heard about giants, but I had never burrowed into one. It took me almost all night to go from the feet to the head. Once at the giant’s scalp, I burrowed in, and it was delightful. A taste of paradise. Shangri-La!
Luckily, I was not discovered for three glorious days; best vacation I ever had. A feast for the gods, and I could eat whenever I wanted until a few minutes ago when the giant did a tick check, and found me. I was promptly put onto a soft white fluffy thing. I am right now taking a raft ride down a swirling river. A fabulous week! I would recommend this to everybody!
Have I ever told you about my friend,
a mechanic by the name of John?
Oh, the countless stories that he can tell
of the hunting trips that he’s been on.
He’s taken down many a whitetail,
but most people would be intrigued to know
about the time that Johnny tussled with
and then ate a god-damned Wendigo!
It happened about ten years ago,
up north in Maine’s ever-rolling green pines,
Johnny was up to bag himself a moose,
figured it would be one hell of a time.
But on his hunt he got turned all-around,
though he still won’t admit he was lost,
soon he had eaten all his beef jerky,
leaving him starving in cold, northern frosts.
It was then in this desperate state
that a bizarre sight came to his eyes:
A beast that stood on two feet, like a man,
though it towered, at least ten feet high.
It had clawed hands, and the greyest of skin,
on its head huger antlers spread, upturned,
its muscles were ropy, not an ounce of fat,
canine teeth sat beneath eyes that burned.
“Wendigo,”Johnny said at the sight,
calling up on all his folk wisdom,
a monster that natives once greatly feared,
a beast born out of cannibalism.
Some say they were men who ate fellow man,
and were then cursed with madness, living death,
others said they were beasts, roaming around,
every hungry for more human flesh.
Johnny could see, even from a distance,
that this monster had never been a man,
as the beast salivated, Johnny brought up
the hunting rifle, right into his hand.
He felt his stomach gurgle, still empty,
then looked at the monster in his way,
Johnny said,”Mythical creature or not,
when you’re hungry, a steak is a steak!”
He fired four shots, straight into it’s chest,
turning grey skin into a smear of red,
the monster looked shocked, more than angry,
then collapsed to the ground and lay dead...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
8/29/21
If I knew
Why did I do
What I knew
I shouldn't do
There's been a lot of damage taken
The devil continually advocated
I've successfully acclimated
It's gone beyond being infatuated
I've been addlepated
Taking medicine that is encapsulated
Off the THC and liquor I'm activated
Really animated
Until I overdo it and am incapacitated
Deep down feeling aggravated
And agitated
Because for too long, I've been captivated
It all needs to be recalculated
In order to be calibrated
In life losing interest or fascinated
Stories holding truth or being fabricated
It was accurate or poorly translated
At odds or for a better cause they amalgamated
It grossed them out or they salivated
Meanwhile limbs being saved or getting amputated
The terrain bone dry or still saturated
The winner lived another day, the loser got decapitated
The target got taken out or was not assassinated
Areas spotless or thoroughly contaminated
Buildings that are pristine and others dilapidated
The droplets of water remained or evaporated
All this focus on who is and isn't vaccinated
It's spot on or exaggerated
What's been done was not right
Occurring outside of work or at the job site
R.I.P. to another lost life
Too many people think they're godlike
Obsessed with the spotlight
When they're soft and sweet like a Klondike
At times had to use the fog lights
No fun experiencing a vicious dog bite
Always getting plastered
Is as useful as a fat turd
You've got it all twisted and backwards
What's the password?
You're really getting on my last nerve
Time I Knock you into Saturn
None of it really matters
Going on with changes in the pattern
Born a bastard
Skills that have yet to be mastered
The pastor's sermon was quite clear on the matter of temptation.
He held our attention - no one went to sleep in that congregation!
As usual, it was an inspiring and masterful presentation,
Leaving some folks (and me) in a state of nervous trepidation!
He talked of The Master's temptations and how them He overcame,
Telling Satan to buzz off, and stop playing his evil game.
I took this admonition to heart, vowing to do much better,
To toe the line and obey the Ten Comandments to the letter!
Alas, I faced temptation ere I even left the church.
My roving eye got me in trouble; good intentions I did besmirch.
The faithful deacons had laid on a most delectable spread,
Of scrumptious cake, cookies and tasty banana bread!
I salivated as I pondered, "Should I or should I not?"
I sensed the devil was tempting me in this nefarious plot.
Whispering, "Go ahead, have a hunk of that devil's food cake;
I'm sure the Lord and the preacher will overlook one mistake!"
I must admit, to that crafty seducer I did succumb,
Even snatching a few cookies, eating every crumb!
I later mused on this, wondering, "What would Jesus have done?"
I suspect He'd say, "Would you share some goodies with me, My son?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)