Long Swiss Poems
Long Swiss Poems. Below are the most popular long Swiss by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Swiss poems by poem length and keyword.
Bagels have holes in, my garden has moles in
Some teeth have gold in and some text has bold in
Teeth, moles and text is a song no one sings
But holes must be some of my favourite things
Donuts have holes in, the ocean has shoals in
I’ve got a door that is letting the cold in
Seas, fish and doors to my life no joy brings
But holes must be some of my favourite things
Swiss cheese has holes in, a toy box has dolls in
It seems my TikTok has got many trolls in
Tik Tok, trolls and dolls do not give me wings
But holes must be some of my favourite things
When I get dirt
On a new shirt
Or when I’ve been had
I think about holes and the joy each one brings
And then I know I’m……. not mad
My hand was unhurried, I typed this unworried
Had I been fearful, I might well have scurried
But I shall accept any flak that it brings
When I say that holes are my favourite things
I secretly hope that I’ve driven you nutty
You only read this cos it might be smutty
Yet sometimes a writer has tongue-in-cheek goals
But I truly love to suck mints that have holes
I call them Polos; you call them Lifesavers
Mints that have holes in and candies; five flavours
When I feel nervous or fear what life brings
Those holes must be one of my favourite things
When I get dirt
On a new shirt
Or when I’ve been had
I think about holes and the joy each one brings
And then I know I’m……..
…………..
Not mad!
Hapsburg bailiff Gessler’s hollow kow-tow;
was a farce William Tell would disavow.
A hat on a pole! I'll never bow.
Such disregard tagged him, non-compliant
in a poem told by William Bryant -
William Tell was the one most defiant.
His snub of the snob gave reason to dread
Tell must shoot an apple from his son’s head.
"Now off to prison!" Boss Gessler then said.
Mountain man in prison swallowed his doubt
dreaming of freedom's well-followed route.
Swiss subjection he would soon hollow out.
January 15, 2021
inspired by William Cullen Bryant's poem, William Tell,
Legendary hero of Swiss independence.
Mountains of my life
never forgotten.
Rivers of my veins
flowing through my memories.
Green Swiss valleys,
far from my sight,
but always close to my heart.
My Alps where I was born,
bring to me the fresh air
to breath again.
I remember those summer days,
with my feet
into the shore waters
of the Rhine river,
or the long walks across
the charming countryside.
Oh, bohemian Basel...!
my birthplace.
Oh, my lovely Switzerland...!
you will always be my first steps,
my unforgettable dream,
a treasure in my mind...!
A perfect of delight the morning
a brunch for 20 people.
Delicious the word of the day
Dill, cilantro,garlic, cucumbers
,green onions,lime juice, cream
Cheese, chopped Swiss cheese,
Bacon and olive oil mixed smooth
Served with watercress
Cured salmon
Cured herring
Procuttio
Toasted garlic bread
Scrabbled eggs
Ribeyed steak steak loaf
With fried onions, mushrooms
Provolone, cream cheese
Peppers, bacon wrapped in
Pastry and served with cheese
Sauce
For dessert a
Glorious raspberry and strawberry
Pastry tarte with pastry cream
And Carmel pecans
Coffee, sprite and vodka infection
Yottia, Yottia, bleep bomb ooh!
Got me sangin!
Torrid pride consorts the wishing tree so swine and vines galoring vapid pines does bring recalcitrant openings for lurid cross-patternicities like ferns imploring for goes-a-dowsing the drowsy wolf sheepishly grins a piecemeal quilt now hereafter wins, and won a goodly row and the cause unslept in a tattered curtain wishes evergrain forest were smaller and spent. To make anew the wishing star, aglow the pew of solemn arts, the four-poster bed leeches the ceilings shadows now night is bifurcated and sunlight prances, the hasty parade of dismal greetings, swiss-chocolatiers readied for so-cast dearlings, and so the collar is abreast with fending cries that torture poets like sickly scythes pouring mock-endearment into the lover's crest a merry wake-up a darling chest. The wishbone has curved the day to the beat of the storming east, whereupon the western sun has created easts, so back-and-forth we turn the sounds away I guessed at mysticism and the mystic rays, so vetted foxes of fire sojourn, and free the reddish birds from empyreal homes. The wishing well has cared so deeply but honorable and well-fought are disparate seeds, so planted next to the wishing well in a garden of evil, is the flowers cast for all for anvils, that craft for wishes spent, the wishing well, the wishing star, the wishbone and the wishing tree, quail is a soft catch.
I walked down the stage with moisture in my faces and a subtle smile on which everyone could rely. I held on to the uncompromising truth that could not be denied from my youth.
I still hold the pen that was placed in my hand and held it firmly with courage and dignity to walk over the land and a special cup that was given to me to drink from is still in that secured place in the cabinet. Some things never lose its composure even if it is not gold. Some people can see it from afar and if you are close, you could examined it with a magnifying glass.
The stage was packed around me and as far as my eyes could stretch, I could see hands waving in the thick crowd and the people were shouting and screaming out loud. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or cry but it was a fulfilling feeling that I could not deny.
I stopped and pause for a while as the moderator made the introduction. It wasn’t Oprah Winfrey, Bouncy, Tina Turner, Adel, Lady Gaga , Taylor Swift, Dolly Parton or Abba on stage, it was a simple woman wearing a simple pair of shoes, it was hard to comprehend how I have survived so long in the lion’s den. The miracle that got me out made the universe scream and shout.
They made the introduction and the voice of the roaring crowd thundered in the sky. It shook the birds from the trees and sends them flying back to the calm sea. I move from town to town with the vessel of love spilling on the ground. Here I was with the object of truth covering my face as we worked on the final round to complete this phase.
All the naysayers and soothsayer, don men and Hench men, flatfoot man, pimps and hustlers, religious dons and gangs are all gallivanting around the town holding up their faces to complete the final round, and as the burden of truth begins to sink in the devil, and his agent begin to sing a petrifying hymn, leading them all to the altar of truth.
I could see behind the curtains, pearls, gold and diamond, dangling in front of me and just across from there ruby and sapphire standing in Juxtaposition staring at the Swiss chocolates piling on top of the dish and the appetite of truth dripping water from their cracked lips.
The crowd went wild, the city came alive and everyone was in agreement with the new crown.
My mind a project of hesitation;
draw an oval maze of meditation.
Enter penciled lines, make them squiggly,
then paint it yellow for Mr. Wigley.
Squeeze a few lemons for it’s sometimes sour,
then let it dry for half an hour.
Stick here and there some golden stars,
before you inscribe my memoirs.
Use a hole punch or glue on swiss cheese;
for between my ears, sometimes a breeze.
Last, but not least, cover with cotton;
for the time it's fuzzy and things forgotten.
Then tear it all up, this art you’ve designed,
because suddenly Hon, I’ve changed my mind.
Written: 2/25/18
Contest: Mind the Wet Paint
Host: Viv Wigley
Electroconvulsive therapy,
a last ditch avail
able effort optioned, aye bewail
as desperation if standard
psychological measures peter
out leave ving paul tree
(paltry) choice, and blackmail
ling Doctor Frankenstein
out of the question, cuz
accidental discover re:
visa vis could yield (ahem) grave
zero APR, hence bad
(bon jovian) medicine
sought as precautionary
measure to countervail
undesirable repercussions
hoop fully curtail
ling any unexpected derail
ment, thus every nitty gritty detail,
asper my treatment plan
made purposely intractable
courtesy Matthew Scott Harris,
to flummox decrypting
this daunting task, whose
hair brained scheme didst entail
hatching with Sam I am
(of Doctor Zeus fame)...Oh...My...G___
egg gads no fail-
safe recourse, should shell shock
Electroconvulsive – formerly electric shock
therapy even slip an infinitesimal jot
offsetting requisite
exactly predicted results
yes, even if precision errs
by a mere clipped fingernail...
the sought after outcome
(devised on the fly - by night
Reddit writer above named author)
must absolutely dovetail
with The Elements of Style
or very close
facsimile thereof, anyway
strict requirements quality controlled
with results tubby
sent as email
to Strunk and White,
who will flail
like some GMO gone awry
(if patient accidentally electrocuted)
finding them to become
instantaneously petrified and frail
looking analogous to
witnessing the Holy Grail
shattering into a bajillion pieces,
whereby the heavens,
would reign hail
scaring every last man,
woman, and child to hightail
donned in heavy duty boots
studded with many a hobnail
with duff feet, sans long arm of
law and order on their heels,
and if any scapegoats nabbed
definitely consigned to jail
without chance of parole to prevail
no matter guilty might sail
to some tropical island awash
with countless carbon copies
of Euell Gibbons doppelganger,
and Swiss Alpine like mountains to scale.
At the sound of the bell, you rushed on the floor and as the morning breaks you push through the door; the screens are filled with numbers the phones are lighting up and you just don’t know who to trust.
The news anchor arrives on the scene with a report that is not so clean, he leaked the secrecy on air and turned the market in frenzy far and near; electronics are selling but guns are sinking into the ground, there is no appetite for Swiss cheese but Americans cars are still speeding in the breeze.
The penguins are walking hand in hand, some gather in small groups conversing with each other and embracing one another. I can see an anxious man standing in the corner grinding his teeth and shaking his legs, and numbers keeps going up and down on the board and he looked at it with intense precision
The woman on the side kept her smile real wide, her numbers keep climbing her support kept growing and whole town is embracing her. I felt a warm feeling inside as my stock, bonds and shares has landed wealth in my hand and trading was just right for a lengthy sacrifice.
The theory of the East is simple, you must buy and sell in and out of season, keep your price at a normal rate and when it’s time to go, get up and walk through the gate; don’t hang around when the market is closed
Don’t talk with your competitors before the victory is won; the Arabs and the Asians are one of a kind and the Jews and the gentiles knows what is divine
I gather my team and build an entourage for the summit. Horses and mules trotting along as the delegation heads to the east singing a merry song. That’s where the oil is flowing and the goat meat is stewing and hens are laying eggs.
Jewelry is expensive and diamonds are raising havoc in the skies, emerald, rubies, Sapphire and Jasper shall be with you for the rest of your life
The African merchants are raising the heat but the Chinese are holding on to the beat, the prices are high and but value is what counts. I have more that what money can buy.
The Male Belgium Blue
Spieciem #.0009-280
and Female specimen
Brown Swiss--290
( a deluxe wool Hat)
Swiss Maids Uniiform
west cotton that rots
but new she's a doll!
said Bisser Daned to have
the calf in the spring
but his wife wished it for
Christmas thyme and
all the joy it would bring.
Thought the cold winters
harshness
werst the chances
of success.
The newly built insulated
barn
was ready for the test.
He shall feed these cattle
the feed should last
until spring.
The joys of a new calf
and all the milk the calf
will bring.
Eggnog for Christmas
a rummy cultured drink.
Caroling and cigar
smoking.
While nature does
it's thing!