Long Toothy Poems
Long Toothy Poems. Below are the most popular long Toothy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toothy poems by poem length and keyword.
As a kid, I had a brilliant plan—
Become a dentist! Be The Man!
White coat, big bucks, drills that whir...
Then I saw my cousin’s clinic—Brrr!
The smell alone could curl your soul,
I noped right out, no toothy goal.
Next up: Baseball! I had the swing!
A Little League semi-almost-king.
Parents cheered like I was Babe,
Though I mostly warmed the bench in shade.
Scouts? None came. (Shocking, I know.)
So I let that dream... quietly go.
Then hoop dreams rose in high school halls—
I could dribble, pass, and almost ball.
Varsity? I gave it a shot,
But turns out, talent—I had not.
Coach picked others, and I stayed sane,
Dodged early fame, and homework pain.
At last, I thought, “Let’s try the brain!”
Books, not balls, would be my lane.
Still played for fun, just not the pros,
(Except in dreams, where anything goes).
Years rolled on, life found its groove,
My hands got steady, found their move.
Not on a bat, nor tossing a ball—
But fixing bones from big to small.
From fractured dreams to fractured hips,
I made my peace with life’s quick flips.
An orthopedic doc I came to be—
Not rich from teeth, but hey—it’s dad’s son!
Cool raindrops kiss my cheeks
A warm breeze rises within me
As I recall the moments
Which linger in my heart forever
The pulsating sphere of light and dark
Polar opposite lovers in the circle of life
Encompassing magnificent visceral nuances
Infinite shades of gray, slate, and steel
With mauve interludes
An elegant intimate tapestry
Complete with tears of joy and pain
Sharing love and grief
Gazing upwards I join my brothers and sisters
On jagged bare branches
As cool wind rustles our feathers
The white hawks, eagles, vultures, and their tribes
The birds of prey who gather
Sharing tales of their journeys through time
We all stare out
Our senses prickling with anticipation
A silence hovers
A shared glimpse
A collective inhale
Our ears and hearts awaken
Virgin raindrops fall on thirsty ferns
Their limey tendrils outstretched
Quenched in gratitude
A low rumble
Footsteps below
A clearing in the forest
Created by children gathering
Giggles and dust rise
Excited young mouths
Speaking in pantomime
Gesturing with kind intentions
Young creatures of the world kingdom
Unconcerned with language barriers
Sharing evolving consciousness
A wink of an eye
Hands on chest - feeling our heartbeats
Laughter emanating from within little bellies
Spinning freely in circles
Arms outstretched wide, heart open and exposed
Vulnerable in delight and anticipation
A low cello vibrates nearby
A gentle breeze rustles leaves
Which float in the air embracing light rays
Mesmerizing all
Pine boughs perform shadow puppet dances
On cascading rock walls nearby
Elders lean contently against tree trunks
Smiles slowly emerging as silent tears flow
A young child skips over
Tenderly grabbing her grandfather’s arm
Opening his hand, she plants a wet kiss
On his age-stained palm
Then gazes up at his toothy grin
Before returning to the gathering
Wild beasts arrive and quiet
Kneeling by water’s edge
To drink and watch
Hands clasp
A sharing ensues
A vibration rises
As souls gather
Radiating light and hope to all
David Bowie told us, though I haven’t seen it yet
It puts it in your mouth when it takes a cigarette *
It’s important in the kitchen
It can even have a stitch in
Most of us are hoping for as much as we can get
*
Sometimes you have less than you need
For it can run out at such speed
You cannot inspect it
You cannot collect it
But wanting some more isn’t greed
*
You cannot have this on your legs,
your face or on your toothy pegs
An idle man stands
With this on his hands
His workmate for more of it begs
*
Albert Einstein had a really good trick
It will reverse if you whizz round real quick
I spun on the spot
Just dizzy I got
Was Albert Einstein a little bit thick
*
In order to gauge it man invented clocks
Each chronograph got a decorative box
I cannot say who
Made some go cuckoo
There’s one in my kitchen, it ticks and it tocks
[* ‘Time takes a cigarette, puts it in your mouth’, from Rock n Roll Suicide by David Bowie]
When the sun starts shining little longer
Perky, beautiful, round, yellow flowers sprout up
Being in deep love with the sun and its energy,
They appear anywhere even in small cracks of dirt
In gardens, behind rocks, on hillsides or on roof tops
On gleaming carpets of prairies and grasslands
With toothy green leaves deeply notched
Swaying merrily in spring breezes “Hello” say dandelions
Some call them pesky weeds,
Some call them stubborn breeds that never seem to leave
To some, they are edible herbs and treats
With various health benefits
Loaded with antioxidants, vitamins and minerals
Low in calories, rich in carbohydrates and fiber
After petals drop from ripen flower
Ball of parachute carrying seeds opens into a full sphere
Having rather gypsy feet after development is complete
Seeds of fluffy parachutes travel quite a bit
Gliding by air stream disperse to propagate
Turning into flowers after finding any little space
Charismatic, brilliant dandelions
Symbol of strength, optimism and eternal joy
Reminder to fight against adversities
And survive through challenges of life
While staying humble and upbeat
the monster inside
wants me to hide
it wants to come out
that’s without a doubt
it rears its ugly head
filling me with dread
it tempts me to spiral
the monster’s gone viral
it’s going to get me in trouble
I can no longer stay in my bubble
I need to tame the beast
like an exorcism and a priest
it sees me when I’m mad
it likes it when I’m bad
it comes out when there’s jealousy
it hangs around like leprosy
I see it trying to get nearer
every time I look in the mirror
it tells me I’m not good enough
but I’m about to call its bluff
I see its horns, I see its claws
it tries to point out all my flaws
I see it’s stupid toothy grin
and it’s scaly brick colored skin
i grab it by its feet and take it for a spin
it says “I’m never gonna let you win”
I throw it across the room and say
‘time to go outside and play’
I kick its butt on out the door
“don’t worry I’ll be back for more”
I say “idc I’m not keeping score
you can’t control me anymore”
We love this road,
it has trees.
The manicured ladies
stand upon the lawns,
beacon with unwinking eyes,
scrutinize beneath shading hands,
pry open primped lips,
proclaim their fierce love.
We love this road,
it has folks.
Those maladjusted to suburbia
hear and move on
knowing they are not to be loved.
The road goes along
until it renames itself at a quaggy stretch
riddled with renters and other suspects.
We love to be just here
where everybody loves our road.
The mowers go chagigah here.
The lemonade stands go chug-a-lug.
The chemically clean love to be seen.
Minivans rage quietly as they bake,
and drive backwards into the sun.
Every day our love is green and yellow
and sprinklered.
In every way we testify
to the love we have for this
well-regulated wellness.
Neighbors slow-pass
gawk in their cars,
arms parading and waving
at the well turned-out children,
the small curly dogs.
A cavalcade keeping up
to whatever is better.
We love this place,
it has yards,
love to be this well situated,
planted and plotted, mail-boxed,
and groomed to be fixtures.
Buzzards whisper on high,
as the toothy and pumped-up
flex their love openly,
declare a solid solidarity -
watch each other closely
for any flaw in the matrix.
Lantern of the Shadowed Glade
In shadowed glades where spirits dwell,
Beneath the boughs of an ancient spell.
A pumpkin awaits, its fate foretold,
By tomes of old and tales untold.
Carved with care by children’s hands,
A toothy grin upon its face expands.
Yet, within those haunting, hollowed eyes,
Lies a deeper truth in dark disguise.
On Halloween, beneath pewter beams,
Wailing winds weave ominous screams,
The Jack-o’-lantern’s gaze ignites,
On ghoulish forms lurking in the night.
He sees the village, veiled in fear,
In costumes worn, yet souls austere,
For lurking ’neath the festive guise,
A darkness deep, where evil lies.
Children laugh with voices bright,
While shadows waltz in ghostly light,
Sinister secrets, whispers heard,
Carried on the wings of a devil bird.
But deeper still, the pumpkin knows,
The ancient lore, the forest’s throes,
For spirits rise on this cursed night,
To dance beneath the pale moonlight.
In solemn vigil, silent, and grim,
The gourd watches, a veil so thin,
‘Twixt shadowed realms of dark and light,
A sentinel of the Styx, in eternal night.
When dawn breaks o’er the ghastly glade,
The pumpkin’s light begins to fade,
In its heart, an ember of infernal lore,
A demonic lantern, cursed forevermore.
My earliest recollection was being placed in a Coca Cola cooler in a Barbershop in Virginiatown Ontario. I heard the sound of the Nickle being placed in the coin slot. Then an eager little boy opened the top and peered in with twinkling blue eyes. I wondered which one of us he would choose? His tiny little hand reached towards me and guided me through a metal maze and yanked me out. He popped my top with the opener on the side of the Red machine. I wonder if that is how I got the name "Soda Pop". He held me close to his chest brought me over to his chair and placed me beside a stack of comics. I watched as he jumped up gleefully onto his chair.
He grabbed me with his two little hands and put me up to his mouth. My orange fizziness passed over his lips, onto his tongue and then down his throat. A big toothy smile and an orange coated tongue. I felt his little tummy bursting until a big burp and a giggle gave him relief. Even after my orange had been consumed he seemed to enjoy the texture of my glass as he rotated me in his hands. I remember him turning me upside down and peering at the room through my base. He liked the way I played with the light. When he was done he placed me in a paper bag with his comics to take me home.
To be continued...
In a ho-hum town of grays and browns
of dreary skies and gloomy sighs
a gangly stranger came into town
with a peculiar glimmer in his eyes.
He tipped his hat with a toothy smile
to folks whose faces never changed
he looked all around for quite awhile
and people thought him kinda strange.
The very next day, the sun did shine
the townsfolk woke to a jolting shock
bright, bursting colors had come alive
the whole town was painted with polka dots!
A great commotion filled the streets
never before had they seen such a sight
young ones loved it, old folks shrieked
still others laughed with all their might.
Then magic of the polka dots began
to lighten hearts with happiness
with a carefree spirit of newness again
and hope for future pleasantness
...I wonder where that stranger went next?
Have you ever seen a horsey grin
They've got humongous amounts of teeth
Their dentist bill must be atrocious
It's almost beyond belief
Whenever they get a toothache
They feel it right down to their hoofs
You can hear their screams over in China
They just about hit the roof
Really feel sorry for these equine types
They're usually such amiable sorts
They never complain if you're 300 pounds
They're such amazing good sports
Named him “Toothy”, this friend of mine
Tell him, “Brush those dentures real good!”
The cost of a plate of false teeth for horsies
Is astronomical in all likelihood
© Jack Ellison 2013