Long Sweet tooth Poems
Long Sweet tooth Poems. Below are the most popular long Sweet tooth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sweet tooth poems by poem length and keyword.
Sharing hard candy with her best friend Shirley
Impossible task if deciduous teeth are lost prematurely
Although each child progresses in a different rate
My predecessor took its time as I came in a little late
I caused Chloé pain erupting—cutting through her gum
An icepack so frigid was chilling, making me numb
Chloés sneaky attempts to hide sweets in her room
Have cost her front baby teeth to come out to soon
Candy, I chomp up and bite down ‘til it’s in many pieces
Crunchy and noisy, sugar and saliva all over me releases
A child should brush us teeth, at least twice per day
And avoid sugary foods that promote tooth decay
A stubborn child who doesn’t listen to mom's wise advice
Needs to be told over again, more than once more than twice
A sweet tooth like me never gives in and so, I have a chip
Off to the dentist we’ll go, for a temporary behind Chloé’s sore lip!
We watched a movie called "Nonperson", so sad
About a nobody from Nowheresville, so dumb
The show was so excruciatingly bad
Afterward, we drove through the local homeless slum
Then we waded through the coldest stream, so wet
And lay upon the greenest grass, so nice
Then Mary said - we better not forget
so we ran to the store and bought a bag of ice
This was a weekend, a real nonevent
We had a splendid time, that's the honest truth
We felt sorry for the people living in their tents
So we handed out doughnuts to slake their sweet tooth
Somewhere in the world there is much pain and strife
Who knows what will happen next in this thing called life
The earth opens its hungry gut looking at us
The earth opens its craving gut laughing at us
The heat is twirling meticulously in the dust
And big eyes are popping out of the sky
with an appetite that says do or die
The earth is yearning and munching at its gum
Sweet tooth sweet corn rising from the bottomless pit
And a solemn appetite mingled with a desire that is unfit
The inner core burns with lust and a strange desire
you cannot trust creeps slowly upon us
As the heat burns the outer crust vibrate
and the trees struggle to hold their gravity
and the animals run for safety
I begin my journey looking for food
I pass through village and town chopping down trees
And digging up ground
catapulting houses all around
My search for food takes me round and around
My search for food pulls down cities and towns
Every time you walk upon the earth,
You come in contact with spirits and dirt
Someone had occupied that rigid spot
Someone made that deadly shot
Though the dust remains on the earth,
Their spirit and soul live inside the outer crust
You might weep and mourn their memories,
or build a giant memorial in the sky but the flesh
will never come alive again ,
The earth is where it all began
with the sordid penitence of man
Speaking to mankind’s conscience
The memories of yesterday hang on fallen trees
Holding chunks of earth in its roots
and walking around in water boots
You cannot replace the fleeting time
And hold memories that are divine
It’s you and me that is walking in the middle of the sea
It is you and me that is yearning for victory
The life in you still remains strong,
And the passing of time cannot be framed.
The good or bad that you do,
have their appointments in the sun, wind and the rain
While you celebrate the gift of life many more will have to die
The earth is a reminder that mankind must pay the sacrifice
I walked the earth for a year without shoes
and I could feel the pressure when I step on the ground
The bile is bubbling up in my gut
And the saliva in my mouth tastes bitter
The earth with cracks and holes
and giant size tectonic plates
Are waiting patiently at the gate
Take the narrow road through the village
and cross over the river.
The earth will regurgitate.
Lower gastrointestinal war civil declared
because sweet tooth (er...rather dentures)
craved absolute zero sum game yoking,
wickedly villainous, x'acting tummy
upsetting Pavlovian salivating, romancing,
quid pro quo woe pea pie us, orthodox,
conventional, nun habit forming (Lie),
mouth watering, lip locked, kickstarting,
Je Suis ill lust trios, hymn bracing, gob
stop ping, feasting immediate enema
inducing, decadent chocolate baneful
cake courtesy of adoring bubela, (the
same over stuffed ego freezer oft
mentioned counterpart), charming,
hugely overpowering tenderly loving
zee missus diabolically exuding
"FAKE" gracious humane insinuating
jabbering, knowingly loo man hating,
needful offal pestiferous quasi rip
snorting, tush under fire, violent
whooshing, expelling xyz lower
abdominal contractions, indubitably
kindling, jumpstarting instagramming
howling, fostering execrable, debilitating,
besieging posterior, automatically
clutching derriere, experiencing ferocious
gluteus maximus intractable jabbing, knifing,
lacerating, mutilating nameless oaf (me),
painfully quaking das simian, torturously
undergoing vicious wretched excessive
yawping worse fate than death!
Otherwise ass hide from irritable bowel
syndrome this second July Sunday 2019
quite yawningly wonderful, uneventful,
sedate, quiet, ordinary, mundane, languid,
joyously humdrum, fabulously drab
characterizing local buffoon, i.e. yours truly.
Shall I cut thee a slice of outrageously
luscious, keister heavenly gourmet deluxe cake?
On a passing fast-moving train, there was quite a scene.
I smiled and waved with the feel of warmth in my bloodstream.
Two white tankers had words in brown saying, 'Vanilla Flavor'.
They did not realize they were hauling my sweet-tooth savior.
I assure you that I consume other food colors, even green.
But I think I'm getting weaker concerning sugary themes.
It won't take me long to tell you what I mean.
Never have I consumed more ice cream.
I'm wondering if there's a 'sweet scheme',
Because I think it's getting to be extreme.
There's something drawing me subtly, it seems.
Although I wish that it was, this is not a dream.
Could it be the additional taste of the vanilla bean?
I have from childhood been in love with anything dairy.
For sure, it's neither the chocolate nor the strawberries.
And I don't like ice cream mixed with candy, cookies, or cherries.
But I do love vanilla ice cream mixed with black walnuts and pecans.
Perhaps it reminds me of Mama's snow cream when I became her biggest fan.
090723PS
It’s a cold coffee kind of month.
It’s a day when I stare down at a cold liquid in a clear plastic cup and think about that day so long ago when I met a girl near the window.
When we had a conversation while she drew shapes and smiles in the condensation on the window.
When I saw her again, occupying the last booth near the frosted glass.
When I saw her the third time with a blanket around her shoulders and a red beanie covering her short curls.
When I saw her for the unknown time,and this time invited me to share the warmth of the blanket that had quickly become a staple of our friendship.
When we were huddled together listening to Jack Stauber and Cavetown.
A friendship based off of a red blanket, a frosty cold window, and iced coffee.
When I saw her time and time again.
When she called me ????ts? ?af?
And I did my research and her nickname became ?e?µ????t???? f????
When she laughed at my sweet tooth and how much sugar I put into my iced coffee
When I became friends with the girl by the icy window.
When I became more than a friend.
It was a cold coffee kind of month.
But now it is spring.
I see strands of a red blanket in the booth near the window.
The beanie I had received as a gift, customized with ‘ always my ????ts? ?af?’ is chafing at my neck and is uncomfortably warm.
I look down at my coffee, no longer cold, no longer sweet.
And I look out of the window, no longer opaque with ice.
Though it is already spring, I wipe off some residual frost off and watch it melt on my arm.
I look at the window.
Frost melted and gone.
And with it, the girl near the frosted window.
Remember years ago, when you were fit
Now you can't stand too long, before you have to sit
And all the times that you ran to catch your bus
Now it just passes by and you stand and cuss.
In the days gone by you'd eat like a horse
Now when you go out it's only one course
And much smaller bites when you do eat
Because your sweet tooth has cost you your teeth.
And the beautiful body you had as a young teen
Now when you go to the beach, you hope you're not seen
And tying your laces it's hard if your tall
You have to rise slowly because you might fall.
You go up to your bed feeling alright
Chances are you'll be up in the night
Having an accident is something you dread
So you put plastic sheets all over your bed.
And your eyes are not as good as they used to be
So you have to wear glasses just so you can see
But it's not all gloom there is the odd perk
You can stay in bed later, because you don't have to work.
And you've been through life you're wiser too
When your family need advice they'll come to you
So burn the candle both ends, just have a ball
And enjoy your life until you get the call.
Written 1ST February 2018. ( POTD 2/2/2018)
For POTD Poetry contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux.
I remember receiving a comment congratulating me and I must be honest was gobsmacked to receive the honour of POTD.
From the comments I received I could see that many on soup could identify with some of the things I had mentioned in my poem.
The general feeling to sum up was ( GETTING ON IN YEARS SUCKS BIG TIME )
so we really have to make the most of what time we have left on earth.
P.S. have read your verse 'Broken People'
At the kitchen table
Sat still like stone statues – petrified.
A sick game of musical chairs
Sat waiting for the muted music to play again.
Saplings uprooted early; replanted in rows
seated in toxic soil – a stunted growth.
Wooden faces: no smiles or frowns.
Emotions set in stone from eyes set on Medusa’s head.
The slim cracks in plates a widening schism
Where we sit stranded on one side.
An earthquake leaving never ending ripples in the water.
A word or deed, seen or heard. On repeat.
Chairs with no more legs to stand on. Everything and everyone on edge;
Braced to face a world turned upside down.
Sliding plates and tilted tables; fallen trees and twisted broccoli.
A seismic shift from foreboding calm to unnatural disaster.
With shattered glass come shattered dreams
Shards bursting imaginary balloons of hope – slivers of normalcy.
Promises smashed against the hard cold walls;
Fragmented, strewn and lost forever.
Reflections in the broken glass show broken faces –
A blackened eye, a frown mistaken for a smile.
Sliced lips hiding wobbly teeth; a stern and stoic jigsawed face.
Hiding years and months and days and lifetimes.
Ketchup splattered walls dripping fast past congealed blood
From last week, last year. Running parallel to tears on faces.
Races with no prizes for the winner once the finish line is crossed.
Blunt knives, sharp tongues. In a colour red
To go with black and blue and green and carrots, beets and peas.
Sealed lips, bitten tongues. Tension cut like a rusty knife
Through sweetest bread. Through gullet, throat or neck.
Heart and stomach; guts and innards without the glory.
Sweet tooth lying bloodied at the head of the table.
Unseated from its usual place. Yet no crown in sight. No coronation.
A King without kith or kin. No heart; just jacks and jokers
Pummelled hard with clubs and spades. With withered spoon for humble pie.
A cry for just desserts fit for a King: The final serving is a bag of frozen peas
Applied to faces with a frozen look - chiselled art with eyes still warm.
Tears like ice – shaped like shiny diamonds. Sat on tired cheeks –
Semi-permanent. Sure to thaw well before the King is overthrown.
The Jewish couple
I have written about this before, but somehow
didn't get it right
My perceived brusqueness made them think of Cracow,
they had fled, their relatives lost in the turbulence
of a war where they, as civilians,
but Jews had their life made into nightmares.
There was a small sweet shop near my café,
selling my chocolate with nuts, so
one day, I walked in there to buy a bar of chocolate
The man behind the counter bent down and changed his hat.
His wife reached out and tried to give me a sweet.
The man wore a Panama hat
I spoke English to them, which eased the situation,
this tall Nazi-looking person was not a ghost from the past,
just a person with a sweet tooth.
I bought the chocolate, and we shook hands, told them I was in business to
had a café near them,
The sweet shop had visitors,
and the chocolate I bought had been in the shop too long; it was green.
But when I left the shop, I felt they didn't want me to come back,
I reminded them too much of the horror of Cracow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There once was a sprightly squirrel named Shane,
From stealing candy canes he could not abstain.
From the porch, he did rapidly dart,
With a sweet tooth and not-so sugary heart.
These holiday treats are the best, his paws red-stained.
Shane stashed those canes in the stump of a mighty oak,
Making it the perfect sweet, secret, sugary cloak.
The children all sighed and cried,
For their treats he constantly did hide,
With a Grinch-like grin, Shane stood his ground and spoke,
These candies are mine, you kiddies understand?
Me share? No way—I have the best Christmas loot in all the land!
He continued stuffing his cheeks full and tight
With peppermint candy canes red and white,
But something happened for which he had no plan.
His sugary addiction made him quite plump,
So plump in fact he got stuck in the tree stump.
The reindeer were called to pry him loose
But his derriere was as big as a caboose.
We’ll come back when you have a smaller rump!
Alone in the stump, poor Shane felt like an idiotic chump
Christmas Eve, Santa dropped by, Son, you’ve got to take your lumps.
Wanting to help, he Googled the problem, and
He said with his voice quite clear and solemn,
There is no apparent solution so you best call Donald Trump.