Long Screwing Poems

Long Screwing Poems. Below are the most popular long Screwing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Screwing poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Somebody Clipped My Wings

I don’t know where resilience comes from
But it seems to be in short supply -  
There was a time when “true grit” meant something 
But for too many that idea died.

Complaining and playing the blame game 
Seems to be the new status quo -
“It’s not my fault my life’s a mess,
It’s his or her fault you know!”

Or its just dumb luck and I lost out
On every opportunity -  
Poor, poor, pitiful me,
Blame it all on my community. 

Or better yet it's those on the left
I mean really, the “Extreme” far right -
Yes, there to blame for screwing my game 
Along with my entire life.  

Don’t you see what they’ve done to me
Those evil political goons?
They’ve strapped a suicide vest on me 
Blowing my dreams up into sky blue.

They told me I could win every time 
I competed or took a math test -
“Everyone deserves to win because 
Everyone is trying their best.”

You know little Johnny got a ribbon
And I should get one too,
It's just not fair he’s better than me 
Boo-who, boo-who, boo-who!

So, it’s not my fault I’m lost in life
And can’t even find my bearings -
It’s not my fault I’m so depressed 
I lash out and resort to swearing.

At all of you and this whole world too
Filled with nothing but misery and pain - 
With a glass half empty instead of half full 
And nothing to venture or gain.

I can’t help it if I can’t tie my shoes 
Or go out and look for a job -
I tried that one time 
And nearly got robbed.  

Because the game is rigged against me
And has been from the start -
Every time I try to excel 
I get palpitations in my heart.  

Therefore, I’ll just go out and complain today 
About how I hate winter and spring -
Because birds and bees will soon return 
But somebody clipped my wings.

© Terrell Martin, 03/13/2025
Form: Rhyme


Contemplating Sewerage Pipe

I stand on the cliff’s edge and look down,
The falling stones, I hear their resound.
I close my eyes to feel the winds embrace,
I sense its touch all over my face.

I’m alone,
No fear...
The white waters pound the rocks below,
If I fall...
Who would know.

This is my selfish experience
My life is of little significance
The coward’s way out
I feel the wind moving about

Its blowing on my back as if to say jump
It would be all over in a minute with a thump
But like something invisible keeping me on
Though I see the happy things in my life all gone

I decide not to do it, to step away
Then a sudden scream I heard, aimed my way
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I slip over the edge with my face all screwing
I scream and start to bawl
“Urrrrrh!!!!! Arrrrrrrrrrrsehoooooooooole!!!”

The fear I now feel racing through me veins
And the pain I'm about to feel rushing through me brain
I helplessly lash out at the cliff edge 
And manage to grasp hold of a protruding bit of veg
I’m brought to a holt like a snap of a whip
Then snap, crackle and pop I’m moving again to finish of my trip

I hit the rocks with a promising thud
I punch the air and say “Thank you me Lard” 
Well I was air lifted to hospital with, a dislocated shoulder broken ribs and two leg bones,
If it weren’t for that hiker I would be ok walking home...

Ps some where amongst that bit of veg
If you ever climb down you'll see me teeth stuck on the cliff's edge
Form: Rhyme

Layers of the Onion

Meaning, ever bending, never ending-ly open to changing it's mind and opinions,
by moving around words and pulling and pushing in different directions,
until everything changes, rearranges pages in history
just for the mystery to begin again
with new songs, new players and these layers and layers
of summits and new beginnings. 
Of openings back to where we came in.
New meanings are foaming and forming 
within the fatted belly of doing and screwing until done.
Come watch a new one get sprung.
A new shape to take place of the old, behold
and believe in your prayers.
They keep coming these layers and layers 
and faces of women and men.
Turn around just to begin again.
© Even Flow  Create an image from this poem.

Mad Enough Too Scream Sad Enough Too Tear

Sat here again screwing over what I’ve lost 
Mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
Inside I’m annoyed heartbroken and cross
as of the point of no return I’m well clear

I was in a place isolated in pain 
Comfy in a social group to then stray
those faces consistent in my life never changed
but the friendships they represented went strange

When I was needing and weak 
labelled pathetic attention seek
after their broken legs and heads lost from reality 
for years I’d been looking outwardly 
but I didn’t see it come back too me

It was all about them and I’d been naive aiding
self centred, I learnt when I needed saving
hypocrites judging any wrong in how I was behaving
telling their opinions spread too see me then cave in

Refusing to acknowledge my situation
they were selfish 
but telling everyone put eyes on me
and suddenly they’re selfless

It was all about reputation not friendship
those whom I befriended left me friendless 

So I’m sat here again chewing over what I lost
mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
Inside I’m confused heartbroken and lost
mad enough too scream sad enough too tear
© Nick Trim  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Double Talk

The gardener said once I’ve chopped down this tree
Perhaps I could tidy your bush for a fee 
Where the girl hit him is covered in bandage
He’s stood in the dock charged with suggestive language 

The gardener issued a not guilty plea
He said she had asked me to fell a big tree
But seemed to think I couldn't cope with just me 
So I told her I had a big tool she should see

The judge pointed out that misplaced sexual chatter
In these modern times is a serious matter
Besides said the judge, once the tree had been downed
She asked you to work, not just stand around 

But Judge, said the gardener, I’m not a linguist 
I can’t speak like you because I’m not distinguished
Besides, when she said there’s a sign she wants hanging
I only said that might mean screwing and banging

I told her that later (and I’m not a fibber)
I might sow my seed when I get out my dibber
Don’t know what possessed her to go get a copper
When I was just standing there holding my chopper

Epilogue...

The judge said I’m going to lay down the law
(A young police woman tried not to guffaw)
I’ll hand you a sentence for what you have done
The girl shouted give him a really stiff one
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Self Assembly

Well the left bit’s connected to the back bit
And the back bit’s connected to the right bit
And it all fits together on the base bit
Then you turn the whole thing over for the top bit

The bit that goes inside looks like it might fit
So stick it in and hope that it’s a tight fit
Then these four little round bits, each a floor bit
Must be said at best they are a poor fit

This bit must go somewhere but it won’t fit
And this bit is apparently the door bit
There’s a bag of little bits they call a screw kit
The leaflet says there’s sixteen screws that you fit

No wonder nothing seemed to be a good fit
Now I’m feeling stupid and a right nit
So I took it all apart and grabbed a screw bit
Screwing screw bits where I need a screw fit

Oops, I see the top bit isn’t well fit
I think I’ve used the top bit as the shelf bit
Now I think I’ve gone and lost a floor bit
And the hinge bits will not fit into the door bit

Now I’ve got to fit the little latch bit
But it seems it hasn’t got the catch bit
I’m at the point at which I wanna burn it
So I’ll take it all apart… 

and then return it
Form: Rhyme

Judgemental Fools

"Judge not lest ye be judged yourself" Matthew 7:1

That phrase is appropriate.
I am who I am.
I am WHAT I am. 
I make no bones about it.

I am a poet.
I write when I write.
I write what is in my head.
I write what is in my heart.
Some is fiction, some true.
Some of it is scenarios in my busy head.
Some is a dark. Some light.
Some perverse. Some nice.

I am a friend.
One who stands for what I believe. 
Even if my friend is wrong, I stay

I am a lover.
Not in a physical sense.
But a lover I am just the same.

I am a child of God.
Just because I am NOT
A bible thumping, card carrying
Member of a particular church
DOES NOT make me any less 
A daughter of God.
He knows my heart and 
He loves me just the same.

I am tired of people looking 
Down on me because I do 
NOT live their way!!!
This is my life!!!
God gave it to me.
I refuse to be beaten anymore.
I  refuse to have a husband
To take what is supposed to 
Be a act of love and have it
Whenever and however he likes 
It, no matter the hurt.
I refuse to be punching bag!
I refuse to be the wife that smiles
For all the world to see and pity
Because her husband is off screwing
The cute young woman that batted
Her darling eyelashes at him,

I have tattoos.
So what?
So what if I want to 
Date a younger man?
I am a good person.
Take me as I am.
I am me and for ALL 
Of you that judge, I am 
NOT committing any sins.
The only sin I committed
Was believing I am worthy.
I know I am not.
But just because I am
Unworthy does not mean
That I can not have a life.
I will answer to God
In Heaven when My 
Time comes. 
He is the only one 
EVER allowed to judge me.

"Judge not, lest ye be judged yourself" Matthew 7:1

Premium Member A Tale of Two Decks

25 years ago we built a deck in our back yard…
It was a project that still astounds.
I remember picking up 50 pound deck blocks
I remember placing them in the ground.

I remember screwing down each deck board
I remember feeling blessed 
I remember working for hours an hours…without needing a rest.

I remember Deborah burning in our names and the date.
I remember thinking this was fun!
I remember the satisfaction 
of a job completed…a job well done

But that was 1994 and yesterday…with a frown
We decided our deck was too old and weathered…
and it was time to take it down.

I remember building this old deck
I remember completing it in November…
but as I started taking it apart…
there were things I don’t remember.

I don’t remember working at a pace so arduous and slow
I don’t remember everything being this heavy 25 years ago… 

I don’t remember breathing so hard
I don’t remember… did I wheeze?
I don’t remember how difficult it is 
to crawl on my hands and knees.

I don’t remember having as much trouble bending over.
I don’t remember stopping to rest as often.
I don’t remember after only one hour thinking…
Please!…just put me in the coffin…

I don’t remember waking up the next day
with every body part painful to the touch…
Isn’t it funny…how in 25 years
that deck would change so much?
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Waiting For Nothing Is An Arduous Task

A confident man I used to be,
I was content and settled but still not free,
some spark I caused set alight to my soul,
as I moved towards a happier goal.

A father, a husband, a soldier and lover,
things now in my past, but not all quite over,
guided by warm smiles and the opening of thighs,
from the young blonde succubus that secured my demise.

I thought her an innocent but she knew what she was doing,
even in bed, it was my mind she was screwing,
pretended to love me and hold me up high,
but I did not fake it, I did not lie.

I need to talk to her still, I must appear weak,
but no matter what method I try she won't speak,
it is not fair as she was my best friend,
now no one can console me, and I want it to end.

We both had a love but now hers is shattered,
and I'm treated like I have never mattered,
Christmas and New Year spend alone in tears,
fetally curled on the floor, shaking, surrounded by beers.

I was such a confident man, and strong and true,
but I just don't know anymore what I should do,
I know dwelling on the past is bad for my health,
but somehow now I don't even know myself.

So I am blank and vacantly hold no expression,
I hurt so much and it's all I took from this lesson,
and I will hurt for ever as I don't know who I am,
but I do know it's her fault, she broke this man.

I still eat and still breathe and I know I could stop it,
but if I did that no one would profit,
so I wait, although hopeless, just in case,
she proves me wrong and shows her true face.
© Jon K   Create an image from this poem.

Evanescent Pastures

Vanishing souls lies in death's pastures
Fleeting joy, incurious in my surroundings 
Shades of green glistening in glory 
An unpredictable breath that barely measures
A destiny that lies and vanishes through the Death Valley

A heart's main glee 
Shines peaceably... passing above a wave of sparkling envy

Bliss sinks in my marrow 
Pensive solitude, 
Splitting it into a rejoicing vibe 

Joyous in its company...we could have a blissful sleepover until 
tomorrow
Together we'll make a strengthening converse 
Piety fitting in these periling times 

Wandering over vales, evanescent life screwing my infancy
A jocund soul departs from a burden--too cherished in disobedient lies
Childish features blurring my uncertain future 

Incessant in my trespasses
I draw near through deathly shadows
Moping in ceaseless torment 
Roaring as a monsoon in abstract movement 

Vacant in thought...wealth filling in our evanescent humility 
Dodging arrows of inevitable death
Bound to track us down, 
Chopping down the Weeping Willow tree 

Driven mad in knotting triumph 
Hoarsely placing us in a shady asylum 
Numbed by flustering anxiety 
Cursing down this greedy society 

Whirling us back to 
Evanescent pastures
I'm dependent in this unordinary place
Though it leaves me with only disgrace 
Discontent by the isolated misfortune 

Vacant in thought...wealth filling in our evanescent humility 
Dodging arrows of inevitable death
Bound to track us down, 
Fogging our interest of society, 
Doom crafting our fate...soon we'll be too late 

Whirling us back to 
Evanescent pastures
Denying our repents out of revenge 
Unsuitable to reconstruct chastening renewal 

Superb for a 
tranquilizing solitude

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