Long Teasing Poems
Long Teasing Poems. Below are the most popular long Teasing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Teasing poems by poem length and keyword.
"Why do you love me, Dear?" she cooed.
"You're cuddly, cute, and sweet," he said.
"Your mama's cat is too," she cried
and made some distance in the bed.
"Just teasing, Hon! I wasn't through,"
he reasoned with his peeved young wife.
"I'd be a wretched, lonely man
without you to complete my life."
"Now, why do you love me?" he asked.
Her answer: "You're so good and kind
and very easy on the eyes.
A man like you is quite a find."
He smiled. "Such precious words, my love,
but you've described our pastor too
and other men we both could name.
Why was it I you chose to woo?"
"Your point is gently made," she said.
"My HEART chose you, and yours chose me."
Mere words will never be enough
to tell what eyes of love can see.
Date: January 29, 2018
Contest Title: Eloquent Banter: You Tease me So Nicely Placed 1st
Sponsor: Edward McCall
January 7, 2019, entered in Mark Toney's 2019 Poetry Marathon,
mile 10 placed 7th of 10
September 10, 2020
entered in the Strand Completely Your Choice (7) Poetry Contest
This was my entry for Milt's last contest, sadly he passed away before he could judge it.
My lines of romantic Sonnets open a window to my heart.
I write about lost loves and tragedies that trouble me.
Though not a painting on canvas, a poem is a work of art.
Each verse opens the cage door to set my emotions free.
I write about lost loves and tragedies that trouble me.
When melancholia sets in, scripting poems is a Godsend.
Each verse opens the cage door to set my emotions free,
I can be a soft breeze, teasing willow branches to bend.
When melancholia sets in, scripting poems is a Godsend.
Poetry draws my attention to more pleasurable things.
I can be a soft breeze, teasing willow branches to bend
or imagining I'm a snowy owl, soaring on outspread wings.
Poetry draws my attention to more pleasurable things.
There's splendor in a sunrise as it blushes in morning skies,
or imagining I'm a snowy owl, soaring on outspread wings.
I compose lyrical poetry with a chorus in rhyming reprise.
There's splendor in a sunrise as it blushes in morning skies.
Though not a painting on canvas, a poem is a work of art.
I compose lyrical poetry with a chorus in rhyming reprise.
My lines of romantic Sonnets open a window to my heart.
11/03/2022 Pantoum on Writing Poetry Contest
Written for L Milton Hankins, Sponsor
they sound like a bunch of squabbling bar patrons.
"tell them to get back to work!", they should listen
to her because she's the boss and represents the company they work for. The issue at hand is that the ranking floor manager and
the ranking assitant manager are in dispute due to the
managers having the ability to bully his once co-worker who
stayed sick and often was absent from work. for a year the manager
extracted his brand of revenge against his co-hort.
Once in front of visiting inspectors he said " the wood used to build
the pallets comes kinda cheap cause their's enough ***'s around, that we have wood readily available" he stopped and said "no pun to the assistant manager,".
When the assistant manager got him alone he cornered him and warned him against being rude in front of the gest, he asked him" what are you tryna do"?
well the assistant manager found through an anonymous source that a opening that required additional training would be opening once the Sales manger took her Pregnancy leave, the course would be three weeks and the only problem was he'd have to leave early for three weeks to get to the college on time. He wanted to keep the training a secret so he'd have to find away to let his boss, to allow him to come in early for three weeks. So he thought about it and came up with having to help his brothers girlfriend with her pregnancy class. The boss allowed him to come in earlier and leave early so he could make the class. well for two weeks he made the class and he put in for the job. Not knowing he qualified when word got around the warehouse, the fellows started teasing him. well he got the job and everybody under him started worring. the first thing he did was........
How I miss the sound of the lonely train chucketty chucking along
snaking rails
the eerie hooting of its horn cutting a path through unyielding darkness
that carries one's mind on a mysterious journey to places unknown.
The lonesome hooting of the owl filling one with premonitions taught to us as old
wives tales.
The high pitched singing of the cicada among the bushy trees while
ghostly shadows lurch unsteadily in the shifting light of the moon.
From the distance and echoing down the hills the plaintive cry of the coyote
bring a chill to the bones and fear to the hunter.
The drip drip of raindrops on iron roofs,....stacatto beats
leading us into dreams.
Even the creak of the old house as it settles down to sleep
fills me with comfort and belonging.
Then dawn that gentle tone of day when early birds set up a chirp and a song
while farmers milk and tend their flock.
The smell of a hearty breakfast of bacon eggs and ham
tickle the senses shocking the sleeper into wakefullness
another day bright and crisp as mist slowly ebbs and bright sunshine comes out
to play.
while cattle graze along green sloping hillsides, dotting the landcape like raisin
on bread
and horses, fleet of hoof, gallop accross the ridges,flaming manes fanned by a
teasing wind.
My home in the country is what I miss where everyday sounds is a symphony
unique so unlike city sounds .....a clash of brass... a chaotic symphony
I miss life in the countryside where all sounds fuse together in blissful
harmony.
School bus driver
Releases the squish of her air brakes
With a lurch from knees and chest
Clunks the bus into Park
Lowers her red head into the matchsticks of her dry hands
Rolls the meatballs of her eyes between her thumbs
And quietly says Help me God reaching for her cigarettes.
Out of habit she takes one last glance
Into her rearview mirror
Seeing the blond hair of a kid
Sitting in what should be the empty back.
The driver tears down the aisle to her own childhood
Kindergartner sitting with her precious hands
Balanced like tea cups on her knees
Her pretty dress that her mother picked
Is the color of bees teasing flowers
Her blue eyes dazzling
She has a worried smile drawn across her face
Squiggled there by dad in the morning.
She doesn’t speak a word
The driver takes her by the hand
And walks her to the garage to make The Call.
There’s been a terrible mistake
The driver’s boss says over the phone
To mom then dad both at work.
It hangs in the clouds
peeking between the blue white and gray
holding back the sun in its nimbo-stratus shroud.
The clusters trace a line, puffy, dark and ominous
blending passed the sun and flaunting blue away
with patchy sheets of scorched marshmallow cumulus.
A ray or two of faint sun light
glows bright and brilliant through the gaps
then slips through the oncoming dusk of night.
A gust of wind breathes gentle through the trees
teasing promises of needed satiated droplets
as dry and withered plants fall upon their knees.
August fluctuates unpredictble, cool, warm and hot
as storms boldly threaten but quickly fade
into an ache of humid bodies and grass burned spots.
Come wind, come clouds, come soft needed rain
spring to life the tended flower and vegetable gardens
with signs of life growing in each and every grain.
Release, fall soft and kind upon this earth below
sweet August rain, please come again
return the wonder that we know.
Quantum Duck Soup
On a quest not unlike the hunting of the Snark,
The physicist seeks his elusive quarks,
Those delectable nothings that come in fine flavors,
Dancing through the void like colored party favors.
Their elusive forms leave him vaguely annoyed,
Their lack of substance teasing his mind
With hints of possible future sustenence
Though the harder he looks, the less he finds.
At the last he settles for confining them to books,
Their invisible bodies hung up on invisible hooks.
Strangeness, Beauty, Charm and Truth -
These the four gifts of Spacetime's youth.
What a pity such flavors may never be tasted,
Save by such minds as are themselves roasted and basted
In the merciless ovens of Pure Mathematics,
Where Theorems be bred by eccentric fanatics.
Up, Down, Bottom and Top -
The merry quarks spin on, and never stop.
The bones and brains of their living hosts
Move ever forward, impelled by flavored ghosts.
Imagine a message in a bottle
That gave you all the answers about love
A full picture formed by Aristotle ~~~
Eros appeals to man's carnate desires
Physical gratification thereof
When a lustful passion ignites its fires.
Philia is friendship, part of a team.
Terms of endearment include "chic" and "bruv"
Setting the standard for what teamwork means.
Storge, the kind holding deeper connection.
You hear people say they "fit hand in glove"
Creating the most lasting affection.
Ludus is playful, fun and exciting
Toy fighting, teasing and giving a shove
Learning the boundaries while you're delighting.
Mania is obsessive so beware!
This can be an unhealthy kind of love,
Abnormal behaviours behind said care.
Pragma endures, is always supportive
And such quality outshines the above
For it is there for as long as we live.
Philautia love is important too
Even acknowledged as high up as gov
It's vital for you to learn to love you!
Agape involves us all, the whole world!
By this we symbolise peace by the dove.
When we harmonise, such love is unfurled.
Touch. Service. Giving. Time. Affirmation.
Are the five languages you learn in love.
A life of love needs full dedication.
“Would you have wanted me to kiss you?” he asked
Behind the screen, she trembled
Teasing was her best defense
To calm down her beating heart
She typed…
“I let you hold my hand… what did that tell you?”
How could she know?
That the 15 year old boy at camp
The one who had pursued her relentlessly
Had awakened in her stranger fluttering sensations
Throbbing realities of a feeling
She hardly understood
How could she know
That the 45 year old man he’d become
The one behind the screen
Had never forgotten her
Still wanted her
After all these years...
“It thought you wanted to cross the street," he shot back.
“A sense of humor? I don’t remember that,” she countered.
Still unsure…with feelings raw
They joked
Back and forth
A volley of questions
Comments
Cut from the fabric of their hearts
Reconnecting
Picking up where they'd left off
Unresolved questions
Tentative players
In this game
Typing away
Hearts aflame…
“Yes, you should have kissed me...
Now I will never know what it would be like”….
Her fingers flew across the keyboard
Serving the fireball of a comment
That had been searing her heart
All these years
Why hadn’t he kissed her?
Heart pounding…she now waited for his response
The man she never forgot
For a moment
They were back at camp
Summer sun
Sand and fun
Beautiful Mediterranean beach
Sizzling heat
She 13….he 15
What had they known about love?
About passion?
“I didn’t know how you’d react…
I wasn’t man enough."
What could she say to this man?
Her first love?
The one whose hand she had held
Behind her brother’s back at campfire…
After all these years…
She’d found him
After wondering why
She had her answers
He’d never forgotten her
That kiss…..
Hung between them
Throbbing with pain
Trembling with promise
Now driving them both insane…
What would it have been like
That kiss….
Would it have changed....destiny?
Sealed their young love in a forever pact?
Now…they’d never know
A chapter they could not reopen
Perhaps, it was never meant to be
But how those memories had stayed
To haunt them in the night
What might it have been like
Had they shared
That gentle sweet
Wispy and tender
Light as a young lover's dream...
That ONE kiss….
Eileen Manassian Ghali
A Crown and my battles
My crown is there far away from me
The way to reach is too hard and risky
Many battles are going between me and to it
Obstacles and barriers are more and more but
I am walking towards my crown
Though there are many wounds in my body
I am steadily moving to wards my crown
It is in my vision and it is nearing me
I n between me and to my crown many battles are going on
My legs are moving consistently towards it
There may be many thorns and pits on my way
My will is so strong to swear that crown
Thousands or lakhs may scold and tease me now
Millions will wait to that moment to greet to my success
My crown is there far away from me
The way to reach is too hard and risky
I will be their emperor from that second
Shedding blood from my body is nothing and
Shedding tears from my eyes are nothing
Everything will be come scars of my victories and
Everyone will praise my success
There I will built my empire and
There I will occupy my people
Scolding enemies will be first admirers of my court
Teasing friends will write my story of success
My crown is there far away from me
The way to reach is too hard and risky