Long Shamelessly Poems
Long Shamelessly Poems. Below are the most popular long Shamelessly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shamelessly poems by poem length and keyword.
Weddings most often take place in June because...
a. It's the traditional month
b. More flowers are in bloom then
c. Mother's coerce their daughters to choose it
d. As a little girl, it was the bride-to-be's dream
A wedding planner is most often used to...
a. Prevent the bride from becoming Bridezilla
b. give the groom an excuse to not make a decision
c. deal with overbearing mothers
d. take charge so the couple doesn't decide to elope
Choosing a wedding gown presents a dilemma when...
a. no one likes the only dress the bride loves
b. the bride's mother will only pay for the one she chooses
c. the groom is present and only wants a sexy gown
d. the bride cries when she tries on every gown in the store
There's nothing worse than a bride's mother who...
a. thinks she's the bride, living vicariously through her daughter
b. dresses like she's 20 when she's actually 50 and 'fluffy'
c. gives the groom's mother the evil eye
d. flirts with the groom's handsome father
In dealing with choosing a wedding party, there will be...
a. bridesmaids who refuse to wear a certain color
b. jealousy among them to be the maid of honor
c. fighting over who should catch the bouquet
d. at least one who will flirt shamelessly with the groom
The wedding day becomes a disaster when...
a. It's storming and no back up plan was made
b. the bride can't fit into her size 4 dress after gaining 20 lbs.
c. the couple realizes now that they should've hired a planner
d. the flower girl has a temper tantrum halfway down the aisle
e. yes, of course, this is the place for an "all of the above"
When it's time to recite their vows...
a. the bride blubbers so much she can't speak hers
b. the groom forgot to write his and ad libs, "Roses are red..."
c. the bride's ex starts speaking the ones he said to her
d. chaos reigns when two groomsmen take him down
At the reception, drama takes place when...
a. the best man's toast reveals the groom slept with all the bridesmaids
b. guests are complaining about terrible food, and no live music
c. the groom smashes cake all over the bride's face (hate that)
d. the bride, still holding the knife, threatens to use it
January 28, 2023
The Multiple Choice Contest
Sponsored by Suzanne Delaney
We'd made a dawn start that day, following in his footsteps, as
apparently Jesus used to get up early.
Our group had gathered for a reading, and to pray, along with
fruit and cereals our first staples of the day.
The good Lord had gifted us a painted morning of Coeruleum blue,
and a warm spiced breeze flossed my smile.
I turned and watched the city for a while.
Amidst the pink and beige jigsaw of the old city, the Dome of the rock
had caught the morning rays and was now bragging about it,
shamelessly blinging,
competing with the shouts of Minarets
and Church bells ringing.
Few things can compete with an Israel morning, but you did.
Perched like an Owl on a low wall, cross-legged, your head moved
from side to side, scanning the mount, sharing our glass,
drinking the moment.
You wore white cotton, an arm hung with beads, an evil eye bracelet
and what looked like a Kara, glistening.
Styled by the Gods, with three quarters of a straw hat
wedged in the bricks.
And then I found myself before you,
Lord knows how, and I was trying to remember how my mouth worked.
Your head cocked to one side you watched me for a while
then nodded me a soft hello, and finished with a smile.
Ice broken, we gathered intelligence- you, a 'gap year Guerilla'
on a global reconnaissance , armed with just a shoulder bag and a credit card.
Me, a lapsed Catholic with an empty soul, seeking a childhood faith long discarded.
A shout from the tour guide burst our intimate bubble and I retreated,
backwards, gesturing, as if in the presence of a Shah.
She waved back, almost lost her balance, and a gust of wind would
have placed her gently among the sleeping of the Kidron
if she hadn't grabbed her hat.
And that was that.
I went back to the wall that evening, and the following morning,
I don't know why- she'd be bathed in the rose of Petra by then.
For a short time I was bereft, and stood, fittingly, before the
Basilica of the Agony, and then sat on our wall,
to watch the chosen wake up.
I think my soul woke a little, just then.
For God had left me with a little bit of love.
Unrequited, but worth hanging on to ,
worth building on.
It's been thirty five years, and in those occasional quiet places
I still think of you
For contest 'Love in a far off place', sponsored by Frank Herrera
22nd July 2015
There is a saying, that there is nothing new under the sun, looking at the parallels all around us in these times, where no one wants to listen to the truth or reason with one another, or take into account the knowledge that science brings to the table, with years of systematic studies observations and test to help keep humanity safe.
laws are put in place for a reason, only the lawless find fault with reason, but truth endures.
Remember "Moses" when he went to the mount to pray, when he came back only to see how little faith his people had, after all that they had endured, had turned their backs on "God" but his faith endured
like "Job" and his family even though his wife's lack of faith caused her demise, his faith endured through all of the calamities and adversities that came his way, he continued to endure and by faith walked with "God" and he was blessed abundantly.
Remember the great women in the bible, by their faith they endured, just look around you and see the great women leaders of today and by their faith, they will get us through all the calamities and adversities of today.
"Women are the embodiment of reason"
were as the persons that practice the dark art of deceit, lawlessness, lacking reason thinks that they have fooled "God" and continually defrauds their fellow men, shamelessly because they have the power to do so, thinking that they are mightier than "God"
and that "God" does not see their untruths.
Butterbrickle ice cream in a sparkling Waldorph crystal dish.
You~feeding it to me on a long, silvered spoon, is my fondest wish.
Our shoeless feet with socks, shamelessly play footsies on the shiny,
black and white. polished floor.
When finished will walk so in love, to that windy, autumnal door.
Hands in my angora covered gloves, that you so gently hold,
Even the inside of your car is way beyond the forecast's cold.
Let our loving breaths,on the chilled windows steam.
Being in love in autumn....truly, a Butterbrickle dream!!
11-4-2020
Notes. Butterbrickle ice cream....contents:
Small, crunchy of golden-brown pieces of toffee in vanilla ice cream.
At request, hot fudge can be added. If you ever tasted a Heath Candy Bar,
......it is similar!
Ethel Hurst
1889 – 1918
I saw the town rise up
Like a single blade of grass after a spring rain.
I played a multitude of hop-scotch games
With my best friend Hannah on Penn Street.
And sipped a hundred ice cream sodas in the Mercantile at sunset.
My mother took me to Jacob’s Grocery every Monday
And it was I who picked the plump oranges
From the big rickety crate.
On Saturdays we worked the fields at Strong’s Ranch,
Harvesting the pampas in the walnut fields.
And on Halloween I was the girl in the moon-face costume for five straight years.
When Christmas brought its luminous lights to the town,
Mother dressed me in red with a bell on my bonnet.
And father sang the carols with a guitar and a tambourine.
I graduated from the big high school in 1907
And in celebration,
Rode my bicycle to Bassett
Still in my starched graduation petticoats.
Jesse Forbes,
He being five years younger than I,
Was the love of my brief stay on this earth.
But when he ventured to steal a kiss that day in Black Canyon,
I used my calloused hand to convey my stern disagreement.
But what wild regrets I’ve entertained since Jesse drowned that day.
In the wild currents by Pio Pico’s crumbling Adobe,
His body bobbing like a sea bird
In the punishing plume of that old deep river.
Beyond the muddy banks and the wild flowers,
Jesse Forbes left this life with a surprised frozen grin.
Why Jesse? Why?
You never knew the truth, my love.
You never really understood what I meant
When I said nothing.
I said No to you when I said nothing that day in Black Canyon,
But I really meant Yes.
The influenza incinerated my heart and soul
With a 106 temperature in the winter of 1918.
Twenty nine years I dare say
Is nothing in terms of eternal life!
I had so much more to do!
I had so much more to dream about!
I walked and talked on the streets of my town,
And on the funeral-dark avenues of my innocent days.
And I planned and I schemed
And all for nothing!.
Indeed, I felt the pulse of fleeting time
And the never-ending,
Ever-turning circle of endless days.
But now I rest here in Clark Cemetery… a virgin corpse
Flirting shamelessly with the bow-tie worms,
Still wild with regrets.
And forever haunted in reverse
By the same recurring memory
Of Jesse Forbes holding a rose.
Under the old oak tree in Black Canyon..
The pandemic unfolds, relentlessly
Hiding here and there, shamelessly
Guerilla tactics in the crowded jungle
An uninformed battle line can only bungle
So we are back to commodity trading
Peddling wares whose glamour is fading
Selling systems which worked in yesteryear
Declaring of home-grown innovation, real fear
Mentally and emotionally we are at the ceiling
Tomorrow may bring the unknown feeling
Living in the past, we go back to school
Trying to see, who’s the bigger fool
When AIDS hit, we rallied our front line forces
MERS and SARS followed the same courses
The text book on this one has not been written
So with Hydroxychloroquine we remain smitten
A MODEL PERSPECTIVE OF THE PERVERSION OF LIFE
(Apropos Models on Parade)
Mocking humanity and the children of death—
Hunger and starvation—
Her frail skeletal frame of a body
Wrapped in cloths of richness of life,
Strode and glided across the flushed runway.
As she faded away like smoke of a dying fire,
Thunderous applauds echoed throughout.
Across the parched desert-like clods, bloated bellies
Wearily trek alone the barren trail that seems to lead nowhere;
Overhead, winged angels of death glide to and fro—patiently.
Dry winds echo over the exodus of the walking dead.
Strange how the rich pervert starvation and parade themselves
To a distorted mocking beauty of lush living;
While bloated bellies are fatal victims of starvation’s perversity:
Shamelessly paraded as “Breaking News!”
God didn't make you a great beauty,
but I adore your glow of feminity;
charm me with those smiling eyes,
start the passion in me before it dies!
I can make you feel beautiful inside
and erase the doubt of uncertainty...
when I could start to flirt with girls shamelessly,
take me down from my heaven and face reality!
Would I love another who's more irresistible'?
Could ever I trade you and your fidelity?
If I did that: I'll be coming down too quickly,
and the hurt I'll cause would be unforgivable!
I can male you feel beautiful by holding you close,
never feel unworthy of my manly tenderness,
never miss my touch in moonlight or darkness...
when I search for your lips with the aroma of a rose!
A NATIONAL EPIDEMIC
If you saw those lusty nasty faces, you see it engraved in their hearts,
Even those trusted public officers, no longer bother to weed the vice,
They plant the evil, water it in every season, they have become infectious,
It has become contagious, even to the minds of the unborn,
It sprouts in plenty over the land, darkening the future of the nation.
The law officers lead the lane, in screwing and churning the law,
They shamelessly spit out justice and trample over it with their feet,
It has taken root in the state, over ages, helpless patriots feed the pigs,
Public servants are not excluded victims, the virus runs in their veins,
They love the flesh of the poor, they are their easy prey.
Ministers of state have made it their game, they hit headlines each day,
Its stench stinks in their cloaks, it shouts wherever they are,
The corrupt hungry veiled wolves, that now bite even in the day,
With ever thirst throats, heartlessly sucking the helpless patriots,
Betraying the sacrifice of taxpayers and trampling over national dignity.
It has taken root in the land, it no longer shocks to hear of it,
Funds embezzled, funds misused, dummy projects or enormous allowances,
Have made the common news of the day, it shocks if they lack,
The sober stand and watch helpless, with empty lonely ecstasy,
The epidemic is rampant in the nation, and victims run away from the cure!
In a Romania of shadows, where the dream crumbled under the weight of history,
Under the leaden sky, our hopes broke and departed in silence,
A nation mourns its soul with tears hidden deep within its being,
Searching for a thread of light among hopes vanquished by time.
The annulled choice, a painful echo of a tumultuous and unforgiving past,
In hearts struggling with the desire to ignite a bright flame of hope,
The elites devour themselves like beasts in a never-ending, restless arena,
Feeding on the fear of losing all they had, all they loved and dreamed.
In dark corners, puppets silently dance on invisible strings,
While citizens, prisoners of anguish, silently scream their despair,
On the streets, a wave of souls gathers, in search of a ray of light,
The only ones still believing that in change lies the divine salvation of being.
But the oppressive silence is a heavy cloak that kneels us in forgetfulness,
Between dreams that fade and generations that leave at noon, never to return,
The young pack their bags, seeking a new land of dreams and freedom,
Leaving behind a country that denies them any comfort, any hope for the future.
Cardboard institutions and shamelessly visible hypocrisy,
A government weaving from lies an illusory wealth and power,
But in the nation's soul, an unappeased and boundless longing shines,
To be, one day, pure, to be, one day, honest and just again.
In the face of this tragedy, we must gather and rise,
To give voice to silence, to no longer capitulate, to fight for truth,
From the tumult that surrounds us, to find a new momentum and beginning,
To no longer be patients, but to rise triumphantly, healing ourselves.
Among the ruins of democracy, to find a new beginning and a righteous path,
To no longer be prisoners, but to free ourselves from the clay that holds us captive,
Romania, even so, with deep wounds to heal and endure,
Has in its blood the power to be reborn, from dream, a pure and bright truth.