Long Snog Poems
Long Snog Poems. Below are the most popular long Snog by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snog poems by poem length and keyword.
You pop my heart so heavily to the rhythm of
“like a prayer”from Madonna.
You flare the stars at night
gleaming towards darkside.
You flame the solar sphere; before you,
I became ichor.
You wade your way into heaven;
you're a goddess.
Night with your scarlet lips,
is untamed.
A fluid from your cup is juicy
for it sends me
to cloud nine
dreaming of us in a canvass of artwork
made by rosy poetry
in a setting of dramatic show:
I, Suleiman
You, Ada
playing in Atlantics.
I come with a song,
make from it a dulcet medley
reciting how I found mathematics
at the doorstep to your heart;
my discovery of indices
sorting pleasures beneath your apartment
In a dark red light,
flaky as a clinker.
Woman, you must have thought the instruments
to twang at night
into something that crawls to the paw of the gale
knifing my ears.
call it an act of love
because at your feet
music ends and kick off.
My discovery of you is a quicklime
melding sacred love with holy kisses
over burnt and baked lies
without a draft of smoke
forming cloudburst of rue.
Allow me from your city stare
at roses crashing beneath your waist
affection that goest before your thighs
hallowed by thy bosom
into the gates of confession.
Allow me to snog thee gently
feeding on thy hipped blonde
to your gratification
lounging my spearhead along your riverside
to stir, montarily, moaning
like the touch of flowers.
Tonight woman,
I bring you a song.
Like the sun, crawling to buzz the horizon
I reveal to you the lips of a man
wearing the colour of red for the
eyes.
Do not go up
swinging between the stars
for I without you is tradegies of baked pictures.
Excel Chinagorom Michael
The last three weeks have been a seemingly endless series of welcome parties, get-togethers, receptions, meet-and-greets and cocktail parties - every kind of cheesy or ostentatious soirée my Grandmère can throw together, she’s dragged me to. It’s hard to match her energy.
“You have to meet people,” she insists, “and they have to meet YOU.”
“And why?” I asked, eloquently, but there’s no use resisting - she’s tireless.
The Prime Minister of France - met him. The mayor of Paris, met him, the CEOs of Paribas, L’Oréal, TotalEnergies, AXA, met them, the ministers of the economy, interior and foreign affairs - met ‘em. The US ambassador to France, met him.
In the play “My Fair Lady,” Eliza, meeting people frantically at the races, repeats “How do you do,” over and over and over to great comedic effect. That’s how I feel at these parties, “Enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté.” I say, turning in circles. I’ve met Emmanuel Macron before, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. I haven’t met his wife though - I’d love to ask her about that slap.. hhmm.
Is it shocking that I’ve now met anyone who’s anyone at Université Paris Cité? No, because that’s how crazy-lady operates. “You meet everyone, eye-to-eye,” she lectures, “you have to get out of your bubble, and experience the world as interesting,”
That’s her favorite saying these days. “I don’t HAVE a bubble,” I replied, defensively, but she’s left the room - she’s never still. She seems to know we’re on the clock, that once med-school starts, (in September) I’m going to be all about that.
It’s Monday morning. I’ve been at the Shangri-La hotel pool, where we have full privileges, and I’m coated, like a potato, head to foot, with SPF 50 sunscreen - when who shows up?
Peter (my bf). “You’re early!” I say, not at all displeased, but I’m SO conscious of my tacky skin and chemical smell that I face-palm him as he comes in for a snog.
EEuuww. I can’t make-out with a guy when I’m all greased up.
“5 minutes,” I assured him, heading for the shower.
“I’ll join you,” he offered.
“Well, ok,” I chuckle.
.
.
Songs for this:
Better Days by NEIKED, Mae Muller & Polo G
This Girl by Kungs & Cookin' On 3 Burners
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE [E]
[Dearest American friends... Gloucester is pronounced ‘Glosster’]
*
A sleepy old town in deep darkest Gloucester
A stranger in town must be an imposter
He doesn’t eat and he doesn’t drink
And he speaks to a man with his lips out of sync
The man said you speak with an alien tongue
The last word he heard... our invasion’s begun
The man’s dying thought as he went off to heaven
Was that was three words but his lips moved for seven
There is a lake with an island with trees on
And a real pretty woman appears for no reason
She’s stood by a man who’s incredibly ripped
He’s a scientist and to the waist he is stripped
He looks at the woman and gives her a gun
And he doesn’t ask why her shirt is undone
She aims at the stranger, why are you here
The scientist tells her, it aint for the beer
He said I’ve not seen him, don’t know where he’s from
But there is a planet I call Skoxalom
And as there’s some music to give us a scare
I think he’s a Skox and he’s just come from there
Soon there’ll be hundreds, perhaps thousands more
I know this although it’s not happened before
We could get some jets to nuke him real good
Or maybe just stab him with stakes made of wood
Or stick him with virus to poison his blood
Or bury him in that convenient mud
Or take and keep him caged up in my lab
To find out if maybe he’s really a crab
The woman said stranger I’m struck by your silence
I’m thinking that maybe you’re scheming some violence
The stranger then muttered through out of sync lips
I do not speak for its not in the script
And then it rained, it was just a light drizzle
The alien died as they watched his skin sizzle
The alien sagged and fell into a bog
The girl and the scientist went for a snog
A banjo man cheered at the Skox’s destruction
The words on the screen said...
‘A Netphlix Production.’
It will never bee
Humble knocked on the door to BlondeBee’s parents home
And her Mom answered the door.
Hi Mrs. Friendly, I’m here to see BlondeBee.
I’ll just give her a call.
BlondeBee, Humble’s here, are you nearly ready?
Just doing my hair Mom.
Take a seat Humble. Would you like some honey?
No thank you Mrs. Friendly, I’m all full up.
What are you two up to tonight?
Oh, we’re just going for a walk.
Make sure that you don’t go outside the hive
And to bee back before it’s dark.
Humble and BlondeBee tried dating for a while,
But they never really made the connection.
Sure they were friends and could make each other smile,
But the relationship lacked any passion.
At the end of one night on the doorstep to BlondeBee’s house,
The kiss opportunity came along, but Humble feared like a mouse
And no sound came out, when he tried to ask her for a snog.
She didn’t ask either, for she wasn’t a believer.
She was starting to have her own regrets, knowing it to bee wrong.
So nothing happened, three nights in a row.
Then along came a whole new threat.
BlondeBee cancelled a date, after turning up late,
And Humble walked home alone feeling bad and fell into bed.
Little did he know, BlondeBee was not alone.
She went dancing with a bee from her past.
They shared a kiss and BlondeBee did confess,
That Tiny Dancer was the one that made her laugh.
Humble thought maybe he should forgive her.
When she was around, he could still act the clown,
But there was no way he could ever bee her lover.
Humble was happy for BlondeBee, but he still felt so let down.
(C)2019 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Bugger
17th July 2015
Last night my missus gave me some oysters for tea
Was I in for a night of rip snorting whoopee?
I showered and shaved trying to smell like a stud
Her half dozen oysters must have all of been duds.
Things were desperate so I engaged in foreplay
What old men do when they want a roll in the hay
I groveled I pleaded, even whined like a dog
But for all of my efforts all I got was a snog.
So should she ever give me a little blue pill
I now know it sure won’t be for an evening of thrill.
Her response
So you’re disappointed
That all you got was just a snog
How about make an effort
Stop smelling like grog
I don’t care for begging,
And sexual wee stirrings
Have a shave and a shower,
That'll start me concurring.
Now take your hand off my breast,
Just help me cook the kids tea
Grab the vacuum, do the house,
That’ll be enough foreplay for me
Hang out the washing,
Then feed the pets.
Do homework with the kids
Please now go make the beds,
Scrub all the pots,
Make sure you do the lids
Thank you my dear,
Your help was just great,
It's nice just not to nag
What! What do you mean?
You’re too tired for a shag?
28th September
Silent One's Competition
In response to my first poem
Tonight I shall call the shining stars
To descend down by your side too soon
And have it engulf the gloomy darkness,
Faintly the light shall snog you,
There you will behold me near you
Invisible in the darkness
For I am a shadow galloping with you
I shall be present as a shadow
Loving you with unabating power.
At mid-night I shall came crawling
Too silent unnoticed by the sleeping world,
No humans nor ghost can trace me
For I am like a clinging dew drops
Flickering upon the rhythm of moonlight
So uncertain of its existence on grass tip
For a ghastly blow can dismantle all,
I shall be present in your dreams
Loving you with vacant dwindling.
At dawn I shall come hovering
Riding on the undulating rays of the sun
Waving and greeting from heart of love,
Steadily I shall pearch on you
For you bask the morning rays too usual,
I shall unhitch the warmth you wanted
And I shall chase the coldness
Back to its snow capped mountain,
I shall Love you always.
Stepping out, the smell of smoke hangs in the morning air,
plastic cones and tubes and sticks are littered everywhere.
Another Guy Fawke's night has gone, bombarding all the senses
the night sky sounds and looks just like the Moscow air defences.
All year we're told be clean and green for the environment
but every November the fifth, I don't know where that went.
Keep down the noise, respect neighbours, can't say fairer than that
but once a year under the bed I try to calm the cat.
If laws are put in place that we can ignore once each year
then maybe, come this New year's eve I can, and without fear,
( although my missus likes the fact my love for her I hog)
go find some boozy ladies for a real good drunken snog.
The river runs it's course, pumping like a vein.
It's a lonely lake's water main.
It doesn't stop to cry, doesn't feel pain,
Just goes and flows, not hearing my woes.
The lake bides it's time, it's in no hurry.
And doesn't share the rivers raging fury -
Nor a drying pond's dying worry.
It sits and waits; rain and run-off it baits.
The rain looks with it's eyes covered in fog.
It cries upon church tops and down in the bog.
Washes the hog while wet lovers snog.
It's tears relentless, an old man is tentless.
A sunny day comes, the lake does shimmer.
Even old goats come out and glimmer.
Young mares suck in to see who is slimmer.
Don't need a Hummer to enjoy a good summer.
Bogglers, (consumption, distraction)
The snog bogglers of lower snoop
are really rather dull
a spending time smoking duur
and eating till they're full
Bogglers ne'er read to pass the time
but engrossed in snog delusions
fascinating really the boggle mind
it's said, a tad confusing
We all boggle up and down
sometimes side to side
we'll fill our days with wacky-woo
or feel frightened, petrified
But it makes no matter, boggle or no
duur or rue'd distractions
the beating drums of life's snoop
are nought just damned abstraction
Ere the next time you meet a boggler
and feel a need to comment
remember they be like inclined
so shush, enjoy the moment
Bogglers, (consumption, distraction)
The snog boggler's of lower snoop
are really rather dull
spending time smoking duur
eating till they're full
bogglers ne'er read to pass the time
but engrossed in snog delusion
fascinating really the boggle mind
if not a tad confusing
We all boggle up and down
sometimes from side to side
filling our days with wacky-woo
feeling frightened, yes petrified
But it make no matter, boggle or no
do-be-do or dumb distraction
the beating drums of life's snoop
is nought but damned abstraction
so the next time you meet a boggler
and feeling a need to comment
remember they be like inclined
say nothing, enjoy the moment