Long Titter Poems
Long Titter Poems. Below are the most popular long Titter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Titter poems by poem length and keyword.
.
yesss
dark
yourn latch 'to
mine
yourn tuck
'neath mine wing
yourn tuck to thuh
'most
stow away
yourn
taut titter
tough
glisterz
every moon
'gainst your flesh
'gainst
'gainst
'gainst mine
freely
in thuh pitch
and not just at
night
*titter: 1610–20; compare Old Norse
tittra to quiver, Swedish (dial.) tittra to
giggle
The roosters are filling
The air with their insistent crowing.
A train in the distance is competing for
The sound waves.
The roosters get louder
Except for an intermittent bird
Song, there is nothing to break the
Silence.
Beeping begins, it is the sound
Of heavy equipment backing up.
The construction crew is beginning
To organize their day. Harsh pounding
Now.
A quick yell back and forth.
They are getting closer.
This is the country, so sound
Travels fast.
The roosters sound a bit less frantic.
More muffled.
The drone of the air conditioner
Captures my right ear, and takes it hostage.
A tittering bird has made
Herself known, titter. Titter. Chitter.
I watch two squirrels chase across the yard.
The day has begun.
I HATE THAT WORDSWORTH
“I wandered lonely as a cloud”.
So starts the famous Wordsworth ode
My teacher makes me read out loud.
To me that Wordsworth is a pain;
For, if I stumble o’er his words,
The teacher says, “Again, again.”
While children in the class all titter,
Enjoying my predicament.
No wonder Wordsworth makes me bitter.
The poem’s silly and here’s why.
How can there be a lonely cloud
When there are hundreds in the sky?
And though some daffodils are fine,
I think it’s overdoing things
To see ten thousand in a line.
My heart does not with pleasure fill
When oft upon my couch I lie,
To think of dancing daffodils
So, sorry Wordsworth, I’m afraid
Your daffodils just bring me pain.
I simply hear my teacher say,
Go back and read it all again
14th April 2019
Quirky Tercets Contest
Sponsor - Nina Parmenter
Strollin' thro' the park the other day I chanced upon to meet,
An old feller sittin' on a bench and he invited me to have a seat.
He looked somewhat disreputable and I was hesitant at first,
But he proferred a fifty-cent jug of wine for to sate my thirst!
The hootch loosened him as he disclosed his monetary philosophy,
So I sat back to listen, thinkin' maybe I could learn a thing or three.
"Son, you see that brand-new Cadillac a-sittin' over there?
I'll tell you how I got that and how I became a millionaire!"
"I check under every cushion lookin' for loose change,
When checkin' into a motel, but my wife thinks that mighty strange!
I even pick up pennies off the street, savin' all I can find.
People titter and gawk at me but I pay them never mind!"
"You see these duds I'm a-wearin'? The best Goodwill has to offer!
Shoppin' there leaves more pelf to fill my bountiful coffer!
I get free pop from Goodwill when to them I grudgin'ly donate.
Of course, I require a receipt for my annual tax rebate!"
"Each Wednesday I take my spouse on a jolly spree,
To dine on ninety-nine cent hamburgers, a bargain don't you see!"
Well, I learned one thing from that old geezer I suppose:
You can never judge a feller by the cut of his clothes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Oh dear, what can the matter be?
Why do ladies wink and titter when they glance at me?
At the office party I stood beneath a sprig of mistletoe,
Hoping some gal would upon my lips a tender kiss bestow!
For the party I wore my new suit and a matching tie,
Shaved my mug and fragrant Old Spice I did apply!
I brushed my teeth and sweetened my breath with Listerine,
And polished and brushed my shoes to a dazzling sheen!
I applied underarm deodorant so as not to offend,
Got a haircut having the barber fashion it per the latest trend!
I stood there looking, I thought, rather suave and debonair,
But not a gal approached me - none of them seemed to care!
I happened to glance down and was shocked at what I did see!
My fly was unzipped! Oh dear! That was what the matter be!
I hear the rhythm of the rain
on my rooftop,
pit-pat,
tit-tat,
titter-tat-tat-tat.
Spilling from sky
silver globules leap
onto the thirsty land
and I am lulled into
a relaxing bliss.
Fresh scent of ozone
curling, unfurling
through my nostrils
while the trees
gulp their drinks.
Crystalline orbs
knock upon my windowpane
singing, “hello my friend,
come out and play!”
I recall the days when
I was a kid,
splashing about in the
summer showers to cool;
tasting refreshing rain drops
upon my tongue;
my dog rolling,
splashing about puddles
beside me.
I celebrate thirst quenching,
cloud nectar for all!
They laugh, they giggle, they titter and they toss.
They jump, they dive, they swing and they sing.
Their exuberance runs around the room, chasing whatever.
Energy boings out of them in all directions.
They are the children of course!
We watch, remembering, loving those days.
Our aches and pains and bowel problems take a back seat.
They are the show, and we are the onlookers, feeling blessed.
There they go – crashing and dashing, breaking things.
Apologizing, and then breaking something else.
We do not care. We are loving the show.
Remembering a time when we were astronauts and ballerinas too.
Our old dogs and cats are in hiding, terrified of the energy in our house.
We clap along, sing along, and ride along, loving the ride.
No one is more joyful that a child.
Two children? All the better!
The Showing of The Ankle
Now dashing Sir Giles was a smarmy old geezer
Bold with the women, he knew how to please ‘em
Money no probs and endowed with good looks
It was easy to get into ladies good books
He cast his sights on one such maiden
Her fair curly hair was heavily laden
Her cheeks were like rose petals, soft and pink
Lips like moist cherries ready to pick
He decided to ask if she fancied a stroll
She nodded assent and put on her shawl
The day was windy, her dress was billowy
She succumbed to his charm with tresses flyaway
A look of coyness encouraged his ardor
He couldn’t wait to get her back to his parlor
The path was uneven and hard to traverse
Poor Nancy wore shoes unfit for the course
With fine strong hands he steadied her gait
A freak gust of wind caused her frock to inflate
She shrieked and screamed but it was much too late
To keep the dress in check, instead it flew up
Her rosy cheeks now a reddish pulp
He gasped in horror, she looked a real sight
His beautiful Nancy now not a delight
The hem of the skirt was right round her waist
Her frilly bloomers were not to his taste
But worse he saw her ankles and legs
Mottled with veins, ungainly old pegs
Like trunks and all covered with hair
Nancy looked down and started to stare
At the feet of Sir Giles which made him glare
He’d forgotten his socks, it was plain to see
She started to titter with excited glee
At the finest ankles she had ever beheld
Eyes affixed she continued to marvel
The man with (not from) fine ankle in view
To show one’s ankle was indeed taboo
They call me a silly old jester
A title I'm proud to possess
Love making people titter and giggle
Some dribble all over their dress
Don't mean to cause embarrassment
If some of you can't keep control
Numerous trips to the little boy's room
Heading straight for the porcelain bowl
Hope it's not causing mental anguish
If you soil your tighty whities
Or when you ladies start squirming around
As you sit there in your nightie
Forgot to tell you, got your place bugged
I can see right into your home
You know up there on your mantelpiece
There's a camera inside that gnome
Some consider it an invasion of privacy
But it's good for this old grey noodle
Watching you giggle and wiggle about
Having fun like a frisky young poodle
They call me a silly old jester
A title I'm proud to possess
An honour I'll cherish till my very last day
Make 'em laugh, that's my lifelong quest
© Jack Ellison 2012
You can’t. You don’t. You won’t. You dare?
If you really knew me, you would not have asked.
You would have known but I am a chameleon.
What you see is my demure, discreet, sedate side.
The one I bring to work; not the one I live in nightclubs.
Of course I am kidding! I titter, and we both laugh.
She laughs, relieved, because the thought of a wild me
is too weird for her dendrite field to fully handle.
I laugh because at a primal, guttural, ugly, selfish level, I am a secret.
Taking my true self out on weekends, daring Mr. Goodbar to get me.
She gives me a hug. Says something bane, boring, prim, prissy, ugly-normal.
My evil, devil-may-care, raunchy risk-taking side smirks, making fun of her for that.