Long Tipsy Poems

Long Tipsy Poems. Below are the most popular long Tipsy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tipsy poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Oh God Soothe Us

Symbolic poetry communicating your vision. 
Also, a crowd, standing and shuddering. 
The world is as yet miserable; who solaces? 
Demise resembles water, then again. 
In their streams, what occurs. 
Abels relatives are the people. 
Cains children murder us for their seats. 
War and affliction are rising. 
We don't absorb what the significance is. 
The showdown is expanding. 
We don't have the foggiest idea of what it infers. 
At present, burn-through us. 
Who tipsy the messy bread? 
What else, who laments the misfortune?


Written: August 10, 2021

A Brian Strand 1 to 14 line Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member An Answer To My Prayer

I was traveling all alone;
Hundreds of miles from my home;
I stopped in the hotel bar to have a beer and watch the game.

It was a town in the Midwest;
I was a little down I will confess;
The town was small and the hotel bar, just the same.

I sat between two girls and a guy;
They’d had enough to no longer be shy;
Within minutes we shook hands and shared our names.

They were really happy folks;
We told stories and many jokes;
Before we knew it, the bar’s one o’clock closing time came.

I charged the drinks to my room;
Said my room number aloud, I assume;
We said, “Good-bye, hope to see you sometime again.”

I was in my room, five minutes, no more,
When there was a light knocking at my door;
I thought, “To my wife, how this, could I explain.”

I quickly said me a prayer,
“Oh Lord, please don’t put temptation there.”
I am weak, a little tipsy and totally lame.

When my visitor I did espy,
It wasn’t one of the girls, it was the guy;
Not what I expected, but my prayer was answered just the same.

He was harmless enough,
But I’m not into that kind of stuff;
I sent him back to his room without inflicting any shame.

The next night at the same time,
I revisited the scene of the crime;
It was only me, the bartender and a baseball game.

I was telling her my story,
She winked and said, “Oh boy”,
“I knew those girls liked you, or Rosie’s not my name.”

But I said, “That’s just the thing,
“It was the one with a ding-a-ling”;
We laughed so hard, you’d think we were insane.

When I got home to my wife,
The best friend in my entire life;
I told my story, but she found it kind of lame.

The one thing that this taught me,
Is that there really is a divinity;
My continued monogamy, answered prayers share the blame.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Dynamic Re Flexion Within the Restless Earth

Dynamic Re: Flexion Within The Restless Earth

Blame Neptune for unleashing
     Indonesian tragic phenomena
     just by his innocent wink
merely intended by regular
     casual reminder
     for Earthlings to think
seriously how (inhabited
     linkedin chain of islands,)

     yea kinda resembling a slink
key, within the ring of fire,
     a large 40,000 km
     (25,000 mi) horseshoe shape, -
     Yukon also envision
     a vague watery rink
encompassing basin of Pacific Ocean,
     where e'en the subtlest plink

(no doubt unintentional), thus
     absolutely necessary for inhabitants
     to catch the latest
     drift (albeit continental),
    he gave forewarning
     just days prior,
     possibly relayed after
     getting tipsy from overdrink,

hence warning not taken seriously,
     where majority resident didst
a practical joke got played,
     yet a coterie of attentive people
     accoutered in faux mink
(dressed to the nines
     fur a gala fete
     also taken by surprise,

     no one sensed 
     any sudden high jink
     then the cleaners),
and really the entire
     population sustained strong kinship
     with (what they believed 
     tubby) reasonable god
     (a carry over from Greco

     Roman Times font size 12),
     hence could never suspect,
     he would hoodwink
boy (and girl), whar
     they ever wrong, come
Friday, 28 September 2018
     at 17:02h military time,
     or 7:02 post meridiem

an earthquake measuring 7.4
     on Richter magnitude scale
     leaving Indonesian island
     of Sulawesi in total ruins,
     from said rat fink
and additionally webbed,
     wide whirling countersink
triggered a massive tsunami

     razing humongous chink
essentially wiping off the map
     in an eye blink,
whereat his lordship
     could not be reached,
     thus survivors bethink

sum man tricks brought
     water ship down, 
     ah buoy big boon
dog gull upon his head,
    boot nonetheless coon
    sitter ably less of Neptune!

Premium Member After the Party

ENJOYING THE PARTY

                                  Wow! Wonderful!
                                  Enchanting Excellent Enjoyment.
                                  We are party people.
                                  Interested in night party.
                                  Lots of ‘Drinks’, tasty ‘Dishes’.
                                  Licking, sipping, eating at random.
                                  And for tomorrow we won’t plan.
                  Ring the bell for the present.
                  Tonight for celebration.
                    Yesterday is gone, tomorrow we don’t care
                     Lovely party, crazy crowd.
                     Inflaming passion reaching peak.
                     Kindle candle to glisten emotion.
                   To-night is desirable most.
                                  Honor your feelings Dear, to get hot hotter hottest.
                                  Earnest eccentric emotion evolves.
                                  Right or wrong we don’t bother.
                                  Exciting! Overwhelming!
                                  Super-duper marvelous!
                                 To-night, too bright.
                    
     AFTER THE PARTY:
                               Romance should dance on our cheerful glance.              
                                Embraced couple with pressed lips
                                to seal love caressing        
                                under cozy comforter in single bed
                                 to enjoy mesmerized dreamy night 
             
                         BUT:
                                 We were tipsy drunk in full
                                 sinking in sound sleep almost senseless.   
 
      11/09/16
   
    'After The Party'  Contest By Anthony Slausin

Premium Member Euphoria

I fly over an eventide-oak -
the moon’s superimposed smile
illuminating my diamond wings
of euphoria, born from his proffered knee.

The moon’s superimposed smile
at tipsy heights, where bluebirds fly.
Of euphoria, born from his proffered knee,
the catalyst of uplifting happiness.

At tipsy heights, where bluebirds fly,
my heart flutters - I’m primed to be kissed.
The catalyst of uplifting happiness,
the clouds, like a trampoline, send me!

My heart flutters - I’m primed to be kissed
over this etched tree of ours.
The clouds, like a trampoline, send me
past our initials in its frame.

Over this etched tree of ours,
inspired by young love’s destiny,
past our initials in a frame -
rhapsodic fireworks, shaped like hearts.

2/13/2023
Writing Challenge - E Words Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Form used: Pantoum (Imperfect)*

*As per PS’s definition, an imperfect pantoum does not use the lines in the first verse.
Form: Pantoum


Premium Member I Accidentally Let One Loose

I accidentally let one loose -
I was tipsy and had no excuse
It happened at the rare breed’s zoo
When I decided to cuddle a cute kangaroo

As I crept into the fenced off enclosure
I struggled to maintain my composure
The joey leapt past me, I just couldn’t stop it
as it bounded away like a flaming rocket!

I tried to catch it by grabbing hold of its tail
but I slipped on a grape, and let out a loud wail
I could see the joey bounce away into the distance
It was clear I needed professional assistance

I got the attention of the kangaroo warden
She turned on me like a demented gorgon
and shouted at me, the air turned quite blue
as we both chased after that small kangaroo

The footloose joey demanded more intervention
His keeper spluttered words too rude to mention
The kangaroo bounced away at lightning speed
We needed to ensnare it, the keeper decreed

We were joined in the chase by the local vet
who used a long pole, on the end was a net
He managed to place it over the joey’s head
Soon joey was captured and locked in his shed

I tried to apologise until I was puce in the face
But they wouldn’t listen, said I was a disgrace
As a result of my action I’m banned from that zoo
I guess I won’t get to cuddle a baby kangaroo

I accidentally let one loose Contest
Sponsored by Charles Messina

7/7/18
Form: Rhyme

Seasons

He smells the passion and perfume,
the mild and manic moments
of a young love.

Here comes a ragged flight of crows;
he squints in the cold sunlight.
Blue shadows glimmer and glint.

He has a lover in mind;
a dead one,
the crows carry her memory to him.
The aroma of deep red wine,
silk stockings discarded
yet still writhing and tangling.
The clumsy sincerity
of sexual pantomimes,

Tipsy lipreading's of arousal
utter their naked words,
glimmers sculpture
tantric passions into recollection.

He wonders
did any of this change -
the girl, the crows, the tidal musk,
the surfacing ebb and flow
the sense of it all?

Autumnal flares
restore a late warmth
to cooling images.
The long-lived
out run their dreams.

Ardor awakens once more
between scarlet lips.
It's a kindred, half-living
kind of being.

The seasoned
shelter such memories
under concealing crows feet,
or beneath
chameleon-lidded eyes.

Premium Member Nadir

The paths of my mission would be rows of roses, I thought.
To my shock, in tipsy turvy twists and turns, I got tossed
Didn't I desire to know the known to know the unknown?
Each wish of mine, like worn-out shoes of a nomad, got torn.
The moon of joy in my gains should have been at the zenith.
Struggles, like palms, tall-grow. Bliss, like dried grass, peeps from beneath.

Like iron-rods in saline waters getting eroded
The weakness of my will, like pumpkin buds, is unfolded.
Virtues, as fallen scaffoldings, are disintegrated.
Absurdity, like the blood red moon, is reiterated.
My vigour, before my puniness, like a dewdrop, fades.
Apprehension and anxiety, like gems, I adorn.

Pessimism lifts its head like boom-slang cobras from burrows.
Coffins and graves compose knells. The deceased have no repose.
Death and decay have become the blessed norm of the day.
Despair and disappointment, like thorns, pierce through every way.
Self-confidence is erased like mud paths during monsoons.
Will the Times, like the rainbow chromas, bring multihued boons?
Form: Rhyme

Poet laureate Sappho

The crowd bows,murmuring praises,I wear their borrowed wreath,
Ink still wet in their trembling tongues that seek to canonize passion,
They crown my silence,yet my words outlive their marble-
laurel blazes like Gin!Gin!I Love You.(1)

Call me Fear Fokol,(2) oligarchies crumble under verse,
Maspalas (3) fade into dust while marimbas (4) endure,
They misquote me all the time,vorstaan vokol, dololo (5)
Still I forgive them

I did not write for cabinets,but for fevered hearts,
For the silenced whistleblower humming my forbidden name-
My Laurel burns bright like White City Jabavu (6)


Explanation of click sounds of my home village:

1. Gin!Gin!I love You!-This is the safest way for friends visiting to pronounce uMgungundlovu District Municipality in KwaZulu-Natal Province,South Africa. For God's sake leave the pronouncing alone if you're tipsy and you're walking on a slippery road. 
2. Fear Fokol:  means Fear Nothing and  is what the honorable ministers like to call themselves when they intimidate each in their sardine rush to see who can loot from the public purse in record time,as soon as they are appointed to positions of power.
3. Maspalas: Municipality/Municipalities in disguise but in reality crime scenes of assassinations,etc,etc
4. Marimbas: Musical instrument you want played day when you marry or go on a hot date.
5. vorstaan-understand/comprehend
 vokol-nothing
dololo-like previous.But ask the Nigerians/West Africans
6. White City,Jabavu-There' an ongoing beef between me and W C J if explain now that exposes my location to my ex and somebody will lose big time.

Premium Member Two Guys

It’s a fine summer’s evening
for your annual wine tasting shindig;
home-grown fruits in home-made fermentations.
We stay up half the night
washing down the terrible wine with weak beer
doing what guys do best, bull**iting and philosophizing
solving the world’s problems
as wives relax and children play all around.

Being twice your age
I figure my job is to offer some words of wisdom.
And I seem to do okay until the conversation settles  
past the general woes of this world and mankind 
to the woes of us - two guys - sitting under the stars,
the women and children all long gone to bed,
and all I can offer is the barest hint of what I have done
and still do as I stumble along coping as best I can.

Eventually we call it quits,
past feeling tipsy and tired, to real and raw at rock bottom.
Walking home in the moonless night 
I think about the weight we all and each carry,
a private weight no one else can share or really ever know.
It’s clear I haven’t been able to impart any advice let alone wisdom,
and the fragileness of the moment and the challenges you face 
weigh on me as if my own.

In the dark 
considering how everyone everywhere
carries their own grief, dealing with it
at whatever stage and intensity,
I think we did about all two guys can ever do
talk and listen, find and open our hearts, 
and know in our bones
we’re not alone.

(for Patrick - 9/4/23)
Form: Narrative

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