Long Treacly Poems
Long Treacly Poems. Below are the most popular long Treacly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Treacly poems by poem length and keyword.
Alas ample alliteration available?!
True (terrific) title: Trump's truckling tutored troopers...;
wily word wizard worried,
where world wide web wickedly wends.
Triumphantly tenaciously (try to) trample treacly
traffickers target timid testifiers traducing,
their traitorous tractable toxic troglodyte:
today transition toward
totalitarianism tidily trends.
Quasimoto (querulously) queries, quivers, quakes:
queasiness quotient quarantine quelled qualm;
qua quacking quaffing quota quips:
quicksand quits quagmire quashing:
quintessential quarrelsome;
quintillionth queued questioner.
Numbskull noodles notorious nonsense:
nincompoop netizen nimbly navigates;
nowadays nauseating news necessitates
nameless nervous negativistic nattering nabob;
Nome nomad nudges, numerates,
nurtures... narcolepsy.
Knowledgeable knave; kindhearted
keen, kooky kvetching king kibitzer;
kindles kickass kinskip (kaffeeklatsch);
kneading Keats kinfolk karma.
His highness, herewith hooligan;
helpmate hermit hamstrung Harmit Harms;
humiliating, harried, ho hum humorous hokum;
habitual half hearted hookers happily hollow;
hallelujah!
Exceptional exertion earnest endeavor exercising
especial expending energy excluding essential/
exact entities even everyday eminent eccentric
experienced exhaustion - epilogue.
A nascent hodgepodge
of gobbledygook from me,
or alternatively yours
nada soo true lee,
this incipient harm
less bumbling in das scribe
hubble wordy monster prithee
lee, nonchalantly, and lovingly
enjoys generating inscrutable mish
mash vocabulary,
which vapid unsolicited
largesse - from this dip see
dude dill ling, jabbering, dee
pull hoar rubble casket base,
and quacking rub bush pre
mere ring this harried
styled and swiftly tail
lord gibberish - dee
lib writ lee doth
write play full lee
to maximize obfuscation, dee
fie interpretation, and que
zook lee (quizzically)
silently ha...ha...ha
dis Matt chew wing,
chuckling, unremarkably
lamb baa sting king, she
push lee, dauntingly we
sill lee (weaselly) undermining
comprehension, whar ye
dear reader feel trapped
without a turn key
continually sliding into this
old rotten Goth theme be
have (behave) Ural
sink - as aye blithe lee
undoubtedly matter hoof
act corroborate with (be
leave me you) this
"FAKE" sniveling dee
mean nor (demeanor), the least
bit concerned if ye
unfairly find mine cumber
some harried style i.e.
spooner than later
lore or mess free
dissociation, viz parched
stream of consciousness me
thinks meandering into
an oxbow lake hee
ping (by Dickens) yar rye
ha (Uriah), where yar
tried patience probably
didst syrup pass smoldering rage
against this may pull leaf tree
cooly le (treacly)
slap dash helter
skelter brash poppycock
bereft, devoid, and fee
bully, sans ex tolling extra help
pings of gibberish glee
fully - totally tubularly
gloating how thee
moost experience
utter frustration re:
garding figuratively wading,
thru thicket of faux pre
tent shuss verbiage
omitting even so mooch
as a fore warning from
this one percent nee
and dare dearth hull
(Neanderthal) - as re:
veiled from genetic test
23andme, an
endeavor taken by me
eldest sister, - whose
first name iz a male lee,
Harris - hyphenated with Mug gee
Hen (McGeehan).
Treacly sweet is the juice of summer berries,
enervating me to anticipate it upon my lips.
Savoring the confection of melted chocolate
is a delicious flavor to lick from my fingertips.
Intoxicating my palate, is a decadent wine.
Ripened grapes leave me in a euphoric state.
Bacchus would claim, "It's simply divine!"
To slake my thirst, I'd not choose to abate.
But there are other flavors, not so appealing...
salty tears that have coursed from my eyes
or the taste of goodbye from a lover's kiss.
Bitter is the sapidity of a soul's sorrowful cries.
After tasting pure honey of unmitigated love,
there can be no substitute for the syrupy mead.
When sipped from lips, once tenderly kissed,
the desire for more becomes an obsessive need.
He caught the faint scent of perfume as she walked by
The treacly fragrance of gardenias caused him to sigh
She moved with grace and poise that caught his eye
Her sultry wink made him quiver at what it might imply
She walked towards the beach, near Harper's Quay
He followed at a distance on this sunny Summer day
A bit of a stalker, he seemed to me, looking for prey
Should I warn her? A quandary to me. Yay or nay?
This sort of thing never happens in this quaint town
I watched him; and on my face, I imagined a frown
Wind ruffled her platinum hair, her eyes, soft brown
That guy moved in, and I was going to bring him down
She welcomed him with a flirty smile of recognition
Seems it's a game they play; the seduction rendition
where he offers a proposition; she nods in submission
Do I deserve a penance for my erroneous suspicion?
February 12, 2021
Mind Your P's and Q's Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Taking Today's Tumblerful Tea Time
This teetotaler turns to tea
torquing temptation
towards tippling
thankfully, though
that tremendous tugging
teasing tendency thirst trumped,
thru teaching this totally tubular
toothless titular Texan thuggish tyrant
(titled Tsar Terry Troutman)
transcendental theology
tenets taught transferring
torpedoing, taming threatening
titanic tsunami tempest
tastefully tickling temperance
testing trying taut tenacity
together teaming (troika)
triumvirate torchbearers
transsexual therapist
(Tony the tiger)
tough trailblazer theoretician
toady treacly Tory
(Tommy Two Tone),
thence thirdly Theodore
"Tornado" Tornetta)
themselves trained to tamp
twerking tremens triggers,
their tripartite treatment told
tattooing thorny transforming
took this then truant teenage turtle
through time traveling
to those truant tumultuous tragic,
toxic, tipsy twitchy, touchy, tetchy
typhoon terrible two times two
times two times two tantrum
throwing, thieving, threatening
taxing textured teen tinder times -
tossing, tilting, taking tankful tolled
throaty, thoroughly,
thickly telltale temblor
toured terrible tournament
testing taupe tumbling termagant (Thaddeus)
tangling (Tangoing) tiny Timothy,
the treacherous tarantula
tying tussling travail – tata!
"The Heart’s Eye"
When the heart’s eye
speaks to you,
you listen, just as
when the heart’s eye
sees how it all is,
you feel, touched
in the mind
the heart’s eye
is an overworked muscle
working overtime
a pearl of wisdom
eating you inside out
like a carnival eats
its exposed clowns
eventually it stops
tick-tock
tick-tock
no one truly suspects
the depths of its
depraved covert nature
incognito, it’s a time bomb
some Lewis clock
on a well-lit fob watch
down the rabbit hole
we go journeying
with smiling hatters
who are really Jabberwocks
the heart’s eye is a Red Queen
residing inside
Love, exists, resists,
concedes for all its worth
light and dark treacly stuff
it’s a messy business
it ain't clean,
all said and done
when heads
roll off
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
S ubsequent period of flashbacks sunbath my heart
Acccosted my adjourned remembrance: got me intermittent
More laughter in disguise not to divulge the obscure
Stormed me in the cloud of memories that trigger apparently
Oh until those seem concerned appaer treacly
Nagging in the hospital of less or no patient
At your own best, your presence were felt to a fault
Krugerrand in making with no jetney-like behaviour
In no reluctancy of delegating resp. to Ina
No one has the great and genuine love shown after demise
When will there be menopause?
Ullage of good turn around preserve us
Most awesome possibility equisitely manage the emotional tug-of-war
It will take exceptionality to discover them in my treasure chest
OLABOSOYE_RIP
Potent grief exists in the paternoster
recited by exiles each break of dawn —
and they never cease to mourn with drums.
Exiles are men
with two lives,
and they often fast,
preferring to sip gently the treacly sap
dripping from the eyes of fortitude.
Riding the thin line
of the horizon,
they seek truths underneath
receding rims of the atmosphere —
the truths
of a desolated homeland
atrophied by distance.
They do not pray
only to return home,
but to meet their mothers’ funerals —
Mothers harassed to death
by ruthless authorities
whose diaries speak of languor.
How do pirates with their eye patches
count the stars,
and how do feathers of thinning clouds
react to the invasion of rioting storms?
Exiles are native drummers
gone for a festivity yonder.
Like the dead, they live in the
hearts of those who truly love them.
You were sweetly seduced by my treacly scent
to come a little closer and take a daring peek
Then, tears spilled down your crimson cheek
and a drop of blood from your finger was rent
My hero, Thorn, pierced you in a fit of pique
Did my curvaceous stems hold supple appeal
Were you enticed as I danced with the wind
I will forgive your touch, although you sinned
when you leaned too near to fondle and feel
the delicate beauty of my ephemeral skin
I am called Bougainvillea, climbing up a fence
Protected by the thorn that caused your abrasion
A hefty price you've paid for a personal invasion
The pain you're feeling is called a recompense
You got the 'point' of my unfriendly persuasion
I roam about in gardens, but my life span is brief
I enjoy the invited company of busy buzzing bees
and butterflies that flutter by in Summer's breeze
I beg you not to become a snippety flower thief
by clipping me to wither and die in a vase, please
Originally entered in:
The Flower, The Thorn or Both Contest
Judged N/A on July 11, 2020
At the hour of mercy,
Morning, and dewy —
when rising comes with the
remembrance of school-assembly
hymns and humming —
before Sunday breakfast,
at the hiding corner of a lonesome,
autumn-infested path
strewn with flowers of pelting
romance,
she handed me a lean hamper
so fat with lipstick-red apples —
twenty or twenty-one —
the number matters not,
but her love counts, for each
apple, with the size of Edison’s
bulb, and unsullied with the light of
day,
shone in my eyes, which
have now looked into her soul
and discovered a cavern of love
and all hidden paths leading to sweetness.
Just one scraping bite of the treacly essence—
white and wallsome —and I begin to dream.