Long Soiree Poems
Long Soiree Poems. Below are the most popular long Soiree by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soiree poems by poem length and keyword.
Hip hip hurray it’s our Christmas soirée
With Georgia and Mark and Hugh and Ray
This is the only time we meet
To kiss and hug and meet and greet
There’s Sam and Maureen and Fred and Doreen
And not forgetting our Great Aunt Flora
She’s unattached and lives alone
A favourite Aunt, the kids adore her
And then of course there’s Uncle Michael
Arriving on his brand new cycle
Not forgetting Freya and Joyce
Travelling in style in their vintage Rolls Royce
Of course our dearest Grandma Elsie
Who travels down to us from Chelsea
Boarding the train at Victoria Station
With a hamper of goodies from Fortnum & Mason
Dear Auntie Edna and Uncle Howard
Last year, too much food they devoured
They sat in the corner both turning bright green
With bulging great tummies ~ a sight to be seen
But for Phyllis and Jim who are both rather thin
We baked them a cake all scrumptious within
With sugars and spices and all things nices
They have now become vegans eating all things rices
My niece and my nephew Rosie and Jim
Were totally legless ~ what a state they were in
Whilst Jim with a grin drank a bottle gin
Rosie got merry with my bottle of sherry
Dora and Flora second cousins once removed
Are extremely outrageous even borderline rude
They talk about everyone else in the room
Like a coven of witches flying off on their broom
Flirtations ~ Frustrations ~ even Hospitalizations
all welcome to attend our Christmas celebrations…
Written 7th November 2018
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is there room for the Irish in the good ole USA?
room for the hanging of the greens, Hennessey O’Shay?
we will hang this flag over our tavern on Tuesday.
Irish parade will come by and leave a bit of Celtic our way.
will Father O’Leary listen to the confessions of Stephen and Clay?
will there be a mad dash to the Blarney Stone with a tiny sashay?
believe the hanging of the greens might be here to stay.
is corn beef and cabbage on the menu for Tuesday?
merry and gay, we will dance a lively jig, and Pat's pied piper will play.
famous leprechaun will disappear, with his crock of gold, far away.
paddy mcCullough, is there room for the Irish in the good ole USA?
we will know more on Tuesday during the St. Patty’s day soiree.
Let me bring you to a world where love has no limit.
The feelings of devotion lie in between you and me,
You are Adan and I am Eve on the first day that we'd met
We are formed by the prowess of love and faith.
The unconditional LOVE...the greatest gift from God above.
But this love that we have is something veins fluctuating.
We found love in most special ways.
Not in amatory form of fantasies.
Hugs and kisses in the world of black and blue.
Caring for each other without bond and sort of hues.
But often misinterpreted by those minds are less and few.
We twirled the world like roller coaster.--
Meeting up of two souls in soiree place.
Eye to eye we've met and the story begun to clicked.
Friendship that'll remain forever,love that exists 'til the end.
No vow and ties that bind together,
Just two sacred hearts adjoined.
Two people stay together,no pain 'til we get old.
Love stuck in the middle,platonic and bold.
Cocktail party, only we renamed them barbeques.
I still do not want to be here, dragged by a so-called friend.
It is free food, he had a point there.
He drops me immediately, heads toward the dazzling ones.
I am worse than common.
I sit in a corner, listening to music I despise, hoping no one talks to me.
I am on my third plate of food when someone plunks down.
What do you do?
I do lots of things.
For a living?
I am a writer.
Her face turns weird. She begins to laugh. Excuses herself. Wanders off.
No doubt looking for a lawyer or a doctor.
This is not a soiree’ for the unemployed.
Two minutes later someone else plunks down.
She does not stay long either. I am not interesting, not dazzling, not anything.
Just a writer, who writes. Nothing more.
If I did not have a compulsion to do it, I might do something else.
But for right now, this is me, and I am it.
I take out my notebook and begin making fun of them on paper.
Seven second serendipitous develop
Macro piano keys maestro, Lord
Ceiling laden with citrus psychedelic
Unsatiated homosapiens flawed
Ghost film fire eye-socket negatives
Kaleidoscope rolls in their skulls
Soiree opaque pink sequin sedatives
Scintillate wicked sinful impulse
Protein hungry industry herds herbivores
Apex predator caves to serpent
Coveted control position consumes pure
Curious article of cruel torment
Sacred score smudged in blood punishes
Hell or Heaven editors insidious
Emit charcoal chuckles, lit match judges
Bicker Bible's pixels ambiguous
Dusk draws hills, halcyon skied silhouette
God made man strive in shadow
Modified paradise prints timely pirouette
Gluttony grabs hanging mangos
22nd February
Sold Fables
We were accustomed to being in the military living in the
barracks, having inspections and following the rules.
Yet, at summer's zenith, my sweetheart and I and our two
friends left behind the Ft. Myer base in Arlington, Virginia,
to spend a Saturday night at Lady Bird Johnson Park. We
had such exhilarated feelings being in our early twenties.
Fireflies lit the pathways, the freedom of that festive nightfall.
Our youthfulness and our revelry shined in that humid
July gloaming.
We drank to the joys of Navy life with Jack Daniel's whiskey
and Boone's Farm strawberry wine. We soon became
inebriated, quoting Poe and Hemingway. What a starry
jubilant soiree, a mirthful moon-blessed eve. All four of us
vowed to keep in touch, then we fell asleep on the banks
of the Potomac.
My love and I strengthened our union, our "Navy Baby" was
born on a late November morning. Our friends we spent so
many joyous times with were gone with yesterday. Years
have passed. My love and I had a cherish of each other,
but there were troubled times too. The decades since that
carefree and heady midsummer night passed too swiftly.
My husband is neath white marble in the Veterans Cemetery.
He passed suddenly and unexpectantly at the age of
fifty-nine. He lived long enough to enjoy our two precious
grandchildren for a few years. He loved them, our daughter
and son-in-law so very much.
I reminisce, I gently dream some mournful nights when
the moon is bright and nigh-
we fell asleep on the banks of the Potomac.
Chalk Full of Great Lines
The body has been removed
To my place of sanctified worship
Where all is quiet and piano soothing
I am Ernesto Cortazar
Your Coroner and host for the evening
Here is my creation and story
In the docket I bask in my glory!
She in her balcony
The opera on their dram of the second half
If only she knew
She to be
Behind the curtains with me
The final act of the soiree
The expression she gave oh screaming pleas
As I slit her throat in a lustful three
The blood of our love
Gushing and gushing for only me
Her love and bloods devotion
Only chalk lines point now to me
The detective goes "Ernesto"
Another like all the ones before
I smile and fain sadness
Yes detective, any tell tale signs?
None that I can see Ernesto
He seems to be a silent one
A ghost who comes and goes
With no humanity or heart to show
Are the chalk lines all drawn detective?
Yes Ernesto, you may take possession of the body now
I whisper "I have taken possession long before you arrived senior"
I and the detective play the same dance
He is mystified at these crimes
As the blood of love dances, drop by drop, into my mouth
She is with me now
Alone and with our coronary desires
She is cold, and silent, and icy
Welcoming my final intrusions
The dance of the dead
Her blood drained
I drink the wine of my lustful crime
I so enjoy the mystery
As they all stare
At my beautiful chalk lines
She was all of nineteen
She was always mine
I Ernesto
Drank the rubies blood wine
Of thee virtual netherland...
courtesy one spellbound wordsmith
within apartment b44
nestled within a manor
(and manner of writing)
atop nondescript Schwenksville highland.
All gibbets zing aside
I got noose for you,
yours truly enjoys harmless chide
ding even kibitizing about,
when cessation of consciousness occurs
leaving terrestrial plane
frequently incorporates divine spirit as guide
absolute zero escape
regarding death to override.
Oft times ('specially
these latter unsainted days and nights)
death doth haunt me atheistic zeitgeist
which thoughts of my demise
crowds out purposeful thinking
in the twitching mind kempf
paradigm of this atheist
hence, he betook himself
to this MacBook Pro,
while swiss side dull ideations
for professional intercession,
deadline could not wait
asper affecting s cathartic,
emetic, harmonic tete a tete
and providing a meaningful surrogate
to expunge morbid mental state
accessed Open Office
and let fingers (of left hand)
do talking heads
to an imaginary therapist
across this qwerty keyboard
allowing, enabling, and
at the quickest typing rate
striving to cap cha dismal, gloomy,
and ill lust tree us deplorable
mood aye equate
with pitching into
a bottomless abyss where pate
fed ceaseless diet of NON GMO –
a last repast
the grim reaper did orchestrate
gluten free, an extra heavy dose
of monosodium glutamate
which ingredient doth
BuzzFeed thine appetite
for total mortal exterminate
'thou no need fermi to rush,
where angels fear to tread,
cuz tis better late
than never, the apothegm,
credo, ethos...foreign ha Kate
the caterer maintains
an open exit from life,
and cares only
that each soul doth feel elan,
joie de vivre, and psalm times
a leaper chants, ecstatically finally
gustatory humming don't jubilate
for your final homecoming, or else
the mailer daemon lived
a devilish life will instigate
a de coup age d'etat,
but such extreme
measure for measure heed doth hate,
yet exceptions always made for a date
particularly when henchmen to die for
golden opportunity
to snatch a generic guy a create
an underground soiree will cease,
when ashes master
of hell raising circumstances
twill use as bait
let underground missionary be advocate.
In the hidden realm of forsaken souls,
Where echoes of long-forgotten hopes fade,
I wander among dreams seeking their eternal place,
Beneath stars that seem to gossip about their cold neighbors.
Their intangible silhouettes, like leaves shaken by the wind,
Struggle in a world where smiles appear to be rented,
In the endless game of hide-and-seek between desire and reality,
They live their existence, with the regret of an irretrievable time they've missed.
I stand beside them, wrapped in their blanket of unheard sorrows,
And feel how the echoes of each ancient heart reverberate endlessly,
They whisper tales of lost love, of glory and ruination,
Souls sliding gently into the tide of oceans of melancholy.
The sky darkens, and the tired daylight goes to rest,
Amid the night's unrest, thoughts are torn between being and not wanting to be,
In the depths, fragile hopes tremble, each battle, every defeat,
Memories of a past which, like a river, has changed its course time and again, now lies cursed to wander alone.
The moon pierces their gaze with its inert silver rays,
Drawing upon the sea's floor transient and uncertain memories,
Vibrating with the vibration of the sky to catch a spark of luminescent wonder,
Their silent scream is a hymn for those who have loved, lived, but in the end, are absent.
The gate to the morning of another day seems a brick wall,
Lonely nights stretch out, oozing thoughts without rhyme,
With each breath, we find fleeting wings, shards of ephemeral freedom,
Yet somewhere amidst it all, we glimpse the hope of the self from yesteryear, even in these sleepwalking, ephemeral evenings.
And I, a shadow among shadows, have joined their tacit procession,
Listening to the heart as it sings a serenade for the nights in which I have dreamed,
In the rhythm of autumn rain, lamentation envelops, tightens around me, tirelessly,
Bringing with it the echo of a belated "farewell" that time has long awaited.
I lose myself in the length of this soiree, where each drop pulses with its own weight,
A tacit symphony, rhythmized by slides of emotions and unexpected silences,
In search of a tomorrow that doesn't reek of an unhealed yesterday,
I let my thoughts slip, to fall, until they themselves become the morning I once dreamed of.
H-E-L-P!!! N-e-e-d s-o-m-e b-o-d-y!!!...
Spouse booby trapped husband!!!
Homicide courtesy munch
house zen by proxy
immediately suspected hunch
police, K9 corps, and ambulance
nearly lost their lunch crossing over divide
yellow crime tape
cordoned off homicide
booted feet did poetically crunch
while leashes untangled,
viz braided bunch.
Law enforcement officers i.e. they
Perkiomen Township precinct tidy
as... executive attache
case headed by narcotics
mod squad trooper Amelie
Beth knew address of scrivener brother
immediately quaffed mouthful Schuylkill
downing requisite with "FAKE" sedative cray
zee that seems giving
judicious punch to allay
time and again marital altercations daresay
put Schwenksville neighborhood
under immediate lockdown
Bay of Pigs in comparison childsplay
summoned rookies re:
instant karma coldplay
witnessed unusual display
officers, paramedics, and trained
German shepherds on faux pas did pray
(canines formerly under religious sway
nsync with neutered saint Matthew Scott
sacred church fathers and mothers
panglossian benevolence ne'er betray
loved spouting doggerel pay
Canis lupus familiaris obeissance
oh... I got scent tum mental anyway
kit and caboodle - women in blue,
plus aforementioned cod ray
regarding medical technicians
braced themselves steely, fiery, burly,...
former career recruits, thus okay
toughened courtesy green beret
fearless motley crew did sashay
gingerly, nimbly, softly... treading listening
faintly hearing sauntered without delay,
whence plaintive bent down on haunches
analogous to plie (plea yea)
including dogs ready to spring,
where overly curious inquisitive nee
bores asked to take selfie oy vey
afterwards quickly made bee line
discerning most strategic way
to enter apartment and rescue
a scene no stranger Giacomo Casanova,
to Rabelais, or Marquis de Sade
chaos theory put thru paces
mind boggling utter disarray
courtesy the missus
floor to ceiling clutter, perhaps soiree
gone awry with personal paraphernalia
strewn helter skelter hodge podge
bajillion potential accidents away
one misstep to temper and disable
garden variety trumpeting popinjay.