Long Trampolines Poems
Long Trampolines Poems. Below are the most popular long Trampolines by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trampolines poems by poem length and keyword.
Making love is like a trip to the bakery
Sweet like pastry without the calories
Use spoons over forks and knives
It is like a ship with sails unfurled
Stretched out in the arms of love at sea
It is like nothing else on Earth not even butter
If you have never done it don't worry about others
You can always start with yourself and work up
But never use hammers or cameras in bed
It is easier than riding a bike or horse
A second course is right around the corner
But wear a helmet at night for protection
If you are horny wear a horn
It is best when performed on trampolines
Avoid mixed company and drinks
Contortionists know how to please
Remember, sex is more fun when not twisted
Love making is a truly probiotic experience
According to nutritionists it is delicious
Good for your health and digestive system
When making love use the right tools
It is the formula for success
Safe sex is the rule
When I was really small, I loved my trike,
and then I graduated to a bike.
I also liked to skip, so mother bought
A jump rope that I used an awful lot.
It seems I really loved to hop around,
to have my feet come off, then back on ground.
I got a pogo stick I used all year
and wore out quickly once I learned to steer!
At 15, I was not the same small kid,
for there were other fun things that I did.
However, I still liked some childish things
like Sting Ray bikes and trampolines and swings.
That year appeared in stores a brand new toy,
a grand delight for every girl and boy.
And though a woman I had now become,
that Christmas I just had to have me one!
This last “real” toy of mine I won’t forget
because it brought me also some regret.
A toy once you start, you can hardly stop:
Can you guess? It was the Hoppity Hop.
This toy was just a big strong rubber ball.
You’d grip its handles so you wouldn’t fall.
I loved to bounce around the yard on it,
and all I had to do was simply sit!
A boy I kind of liked showed up one day.
I didn’t know he’d come and seen me play
until I got up off that crazy ball
and went to tell him “hi,” but that’s not all. . .
I learned the back side of my shorts had split.
The whole time he was there, I never knew it.
My sisters later told me. Well, that guy
simply stayed and didn’t bat an eye!
I felt so idiotic and was sure
he must have found me kind of immature,
a grown girl hopping all around her lawn!
But worse was how I felt once he had gone.
He’d seen my shorts ripped from behind, and then
said nothing. I could not face him again.
So silly! He still liked me after all. . .
but I abandoned him and that dang ball!
For Paula Swanson's "Childhood Memory" Contest
Do it without trying
Begin by swinging from chandeliers when home
Wear matching multicolored harlequin costumes
Equip yourselves with harmonicas and bazookas
Keep lubricants and trampolines near by for safety
Practice lunar landings in your room
Resume your activities in the great outdoors
Do sex in a car when speeding
Bring a partner or spare tire if desired
Avoid police if so inclined
Drive eighty miles an hour at all times
Watch out for sharp curves if they object
Narrow mountain roads are watching
Keep one eye on the road while inserting
Headlights and moon glow set the mood
Never use puppets when in an auto
Open highways are open to suggestion
Mating should only occur in flight
Eat oysters raw when in the air
Climb to greater heights by sneezing
Use Airplanes for best results
Jump from wing to wing
Wear a parachute and a pirates patch
Use only one to avoid catastrophes
Take lessons from cartoons
To find out who you are
Leave farm animals and zoo creatures alone
Plants and vegetables are out of the equation
Milking a cow is taboo too… Don't do it!
Wear rubber gloves if you must
Position yourselves to be lazy
In opposite directions as instructed
Never have sex face to face
Back to back is better
Jump on the bed for comfort
Apparatuses are optional for you and amateurs
Avoid them at all cost
They cost too much
Watch out for babies! (They snore)
Never run them over of course
It's against the law
And down right crazy
Such activity could lead to divorce
Pregnancy can be fun
Instructions are on the dashboard
But first you must buy or rent a car
Before you floor it
-Final Notice-
(*Don't use balloons as prophylactics)
(Too many colors can cause distractions)
BLUE MOON TREES
whistles and wings
love to cling
to branch trampolines.
like humans, they hanker
for adventurous voyaging.
here’s where the story takes flight.
you see, they wade and wander,
into the genius greenery of central park,
that is on the Oasis ship - docked.
trees are silent at sea,
as little shuttles lift off,
as the vainglorious ship
departs port, and dark deepens.
lavishing love and holding hands,
wet whistles of whiskey and wine.
clapping and high-fiving wings,
in disbelief, of their uproarious adventure,
climb ever higher, as high as possible.
alight on the prime pinnacle
of their favorite trees, to fantasize.
one lone bird, closes his eagle eyes.
as the stars, billow away below,
he stretches his wings and soars,
at tremendous speed, a first bird
landing on the blue moon trees.
he preens himself proud. Evermore -
angels with wings, whistle and wish.
5/10/2017
[the Egyptians are extremely interesting to us today
for various reasons. How science today wishes to
understand the secret ingredients where that the Egyptians
used when they wrapped up dead people so that their faces
would not rot for innumerable centuries.]
LIKE SILVER BIRDS before the wind
enthusiastic looking religious people who sit in sky seats.
The germs breaking out of mankind with lumps of famous bronze.
They will clear up your guts.
Say, 'shh.' The corduroy forest is luscious and black smoke
of the lamp. Dots of red ants are upon the Letter we Opened.
They build trampolines in the dish but we have forgotten.
To not be able to shake the wrinkles off of time and memories.
How they watch and laugh!
Look, there is something we all want.
It has steps.
Here is the key:
"Shh."
The stoat jumps out of the fur and runs away to catch the scent.
Shh. -- only for a moment then from behind the awful gilt wings of a magnificent
palace of life shall be painted on the blackened door. And when it is done it will
be our palace of course. Bluebells, bluebells, bluebells of hundreds--like far-off suns--
hand strayed from that beaten path.
:: 03.18.2022 ::
It seems I really loved to hop around,
to have my feet come off, then back on ground.
I got a pogo stick I used all year
and wore out quickly once I learned to steer!
At 15, I was not the same small kid,
for there were other fun things that I did.
However, I still liked some childish things
like Sting Ray bikes and trampolines and swings.
That year appeared in stores a brand new toy,
a grand delight for every girl and boy.
And though a woman I had now become,
that Christmas I just had to have me one!
This last big toy of mine I won’t forget
because it brought me also some regret.
A toy once you start, you can hardly stop:
Can you guess? It was the Hoppity Hop.
This toy was just a big strong rubber ball.
You’d grip its handles so you wouldn’t fall.
I loved to bounce around the yard on it,
and all I had to do was simply sit!
A boy I kind of liked showed up one day.
I didn’t know he’d come and seen me play
until I got up off that crazy ball
and went to tell him “hi,” but that’s not all. . .
I learned the back side of my shorts had split.
The whole time he was there, I never knew it.
My sisters later told me. Well, that guy
simply stayed and didn’t bat an eye!
I felt so idiotic and was sure
he must have found me kind of immature,
a grown girl hopping all around her lawn!
But worse was how I felt once he had gone.
He’d seen my shorts ripped from behind, and then
said nothing. I could not face him again.
So silly! He still liked me after all. . .
but I abandoned him and that dang ball!
1/15/2022 for Natasha L. Scragg's Funny Memories Poetry Contest
Lately I've been a sh*tty friend.
I haven't been in therapy for a few months,
and I can tell need to go back.
I am so, so angry.
I wish I could pressure wash the thoughts from my mind.
It is 10:53pm on August 8th.
Yesterday, I had 6 of my broken teeth fixed at the dentist.
A year ago today,
My ex hit me in the face before bed.
I stood up to leave,
I tried to push past him,
and he screamed into my ear;
"DON'T YOU F*CKIN DO THAT. GET IN THE F*CKIN BED."
I got into the bed.
4 days later,
361 days ago,
He threw me on the floor,
Then he kicked me repeatedly.
I still had to stand at the BBQ and make dinner afterward.
I do not miss these things.
I do not miss him hurting me.
I do miss him buying me flowers, though.
I only miss the kind things he did,
and he only did those things after he hurt me.
I am furious with myself for this.
My rage is spilling over in all directions.
I feel bad for my friends for knowing me.
I wish I could direct my anger solely at him,
But I cannot do that when part of me misses him.
The anger trampolines its way back at me.
I want to tell him he's horrible.
I want to tell him I can't believe I ever thought he really loved me.
I want to tell him that he acted sadistically,
that he lacks a soul, or empathy,
and that I hope someone kicks him in the face while he's crying on the floor.
I want to say Karma's a way bigger b*tch than I ever was,
and now she's got your number, you prick.
I am angry that I cannot.
I cannot afford to have contact with him.
It would hurt me, not help me.
Regardless of this,
I draft him hateful emails.
I will never be able to hit send.
I have so much anger inside me,
It's making me a sh*tty friend.
Classic Poetry forms should not be transformed
by those who think themselves poetically charmed
Limericks are not trampolines to bounce around
Anyone who changes the form is not honor bound
If you want to allow syllables of another count
Give it some other name and use any old amount
But keep the form pure as did poet, Edward Lear
as it was sung in bars while drinking ale and beer
Variations in forms have been liberally adapted
the original remains from which they were extracted
It's been successfully done with Japanese Haiku
Now, branched into many... there are quite a few
No contest judge, whether an amateur or a pro
should alter Limerick line syllable count. That's a no
And then when questioned by not one but three,
The offender deleted all the comments... cowardly
There's no cloudburst of tears over a contest loss
when a know-it-all sponsor assumes he's the boss
Imagine Shakespeare writing one of his Sonnets
without rhymes as if he had a bee in his bonnet!
Being true to poetry forms is doing what's expected
Those who mess with tradition should be rejected
It's the contest that fails when the judge has no clue
and accepts anything entered, right out of the blue
No outrage or tantrums take place in that situation
The ones who bastardize should face condemnation
Original Poetic forms were never meant to be changed
Anyone who does, should be ignored and estranged
Stars are at their peak
Giving each other pecks on the cheek
Telling friends watching in fantasy land what they speak
How wonderful it is
Being in television movie making biz
Having a Bah calling like Lady Liz
Miles down below
Workers nobody know
Are painting the background
Taking pictures around
Capturing the scenic mountainous sound
Goal showing characters in the town
When the friendly blonde knight
Not looking for a fight
Came upon the exciting artistic sight
Nothing was going in was the problematic plight
And things were not all right
Was everything through?
For those from Vancouver
Using a special lens
Moving photography Fed Ex picked up for send
Overnight received in morning by Director Ben
Our faithful knight had five nettings
Throughout the postcard settings
Only issue
Everyone needed a tissue
Since the trampolines did not save ‘Coyote’ the family jewel
Protected the community was priority and rule
Filmmakers thought this visual was not cool
Thinking avalanches are
Exciting talk at the bar
And enchanting as a dip in the melting snow pools
They were acting like unprepared fools
High above
Stars still in love
Not worried about the potential danger
Relaxing back east was the summer time ranger
Hanging out nothing to do
Waiting for their theatrical cue
Sitting, loitering, reading the updated script
Being freeloaders on the studio paid vacation trip
While hiking in the wooded brush
Finding a husband after a quick crush
Mrs. Knight felt the deadly threat
Horrific visions she could not forget
Not a good idea to tempt with a dare
Or there could be a serious scare
Wintry rumbles
And loose frozen tumbles
Creating all sorts of trouble
In the hot A-Ga-Ming night
My wife and I skip the July 4th fireworks
At the sandbar down south on long Torch Lake
Start our own shoreline fire
Count the red electrified dorsal fins
Of the motorboat salmon swimming upstream
Migrating home from the explosions in the sky
20, 50, 80 a hundred 200 in an hour
Rainbow tsunami
Our dock leans rickety to the covenant
Lake soothes its wrinkles when the madness is over
Our souls sit back in decrescendo
Take a deep breath
To the cows mooing
Pastures away on Cairn Highway
Like foghorns from the lighthouse perched on the moon
While picking machines convulse in the cherry orchards
Tree by tree to trampolines
Whining mosquitoes if our ears were the hills
Moon slips behind the blueberry clouds
Campfire snaps its fingers for attention
A cricket chirps just outside our circle of radiant rocks
I planted decades ago
Every year he’s here too
Chirping
Chirping
To the embers of the universe
Until he isn’t.