Long Upscale Poems
Long Upscale Poems. Below are the most popular long Upscale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Upscale poems by poem length and keyword.
Hello? Yes, I do have a Ford for sale!
It’s listed on Autotrader today.
There are lots of options, it’s quite upscale,
I can see it from here in my driveway.
Yes, it does have a lot of miles it’s true,
But gosh it’s never ever let us down!
Pardon? It’s a very nice shade of blue,
My wife chose the colour, I preferred brown.
She’s gone now you know, my wife died last year.
I miss her so much, she’s still in my heart…
She was so happy I bought it for her!
What? Oh the Ford? Yes it’s easy to start.
It shines like brand new, it’s washed every day,
It always runs great, and stops on a dime
It’s darn decent with gas on the highway.
I keep it tuned up, it’s still in its prime!
You know what? I think I made a mistake!
I’m hanging up now, of my own accord.
Why would I sell? That car will never break!
My wife would kill me if I sold her Ford!
At the foot uv Pikes Peak sprawls the old minin' town uv Cripple Creek.
They wuz nigh on fifty-thousand folks thar when minin' wuz at its peak!
Ol' Bob Womack, a cowpoke, struck gold in Poverty Gulch stakin' his claim.
'Tis said he sold out fer 500 bucks and a jug o' booze - whut a pitiful shame!
Others with more business acumen moved in and made millions off'n them hills!
Platoons uv gamblers, soiled doves and saloons wuz thar fer the miner's thrills!
They wuz even a few preachers and churches to tame them rowdy souls!
The Ladies Cultural Society strove to guide the rabble to reach more noble goals!
To the west, Mount Pisgah, bare and bleak, stood sentry over the raucous town,
Located thar is the cemetery containin' the bones uv some uv dubious renown!
But it must be said that thar is some decent souls sleepin' on that dreary hill.
Thar lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Pearl DeVere is buried thar, 'madam' uv the classiest cribs in Cripple Creek!
She catered only to upscale gentlemen, those with clout, men uv wealthy clique!
The undertaker done her up right smart and the town turned out when she died.
They saw her off in style with a grand parade and finest hearse fer her final ride!
'Doc Susie' Anderson is also buried at Mount Pisgah and wuz the inspiration,
Fer "Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman" and is remembered with great admiration.
Saint and sinner, lawman and desperado lie side by side on that desolate hill.
Their lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Sit and buy me a pale ale
while I regale you with
a tale written in braille
by a man stale in jail with
no avail to raise bail.
Curtail the detail ~ suffice it to say
how a frail male whale wailed when
again and again failed dislodging
a rusty nail impaled in its tail.
Not to derail but meanwhile
across the vale, a snail and quail
hightailed it but strayed off their trail ~
Once all were put up for sale,
t’was the female who tipped the scale.
It’s not much of a tale but
thanks for the ale, it was tasty.
Inhale ~ now let's enjoy an upscale cocktail.
Lineku: 3 stanzas of 5-7-5 lines ~ each line has 5 or 7 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Upon purchase, I am so pretty, delightful and brand new,
I come in thousands of colors – red, beige, yellow, pink and blue.
I am worn ever so proudly in the beginning of the day.
Some women happily wear me for years, until I start to fray.
I don’t know what I’d do without her, they will pleasantly sing.
When they lose me they go berserk, and their men’s necks they do wring.
I had her in the car, they’ll tell their men, pulled her out of my sleeve.
When they find me in the back seat, they are so immensely relieved.
I can be purchased at Cats, an upscale boutique or at Macy’s.
My cliental loves me black, sleek, shiny, and sensually lacy.
Women use me to hide their credit cards, cell phones, and bits of cash.
Madonna wears me on the outside, which shows she is truly brash.
I’m well-loved, and have been historically hidden from most of your views,
But my loyal, appreciative, owner loves me better than her shoes.
New York City at night,
Is like an upscale carnival filled with lights,
Message boards and fancy advertisements,
Keeps one’s eyes in perpetual excitement,
Call a taxi, you’ll go exceptionally fast,
Like the gravitron that’s spin makes you gasp,
Walk a mile or two,
And the volume of brightness will illuminate your view,
On some blocks you feel like you’re in outer space,
Bridges are the stars, that from a distance, stunt your pace,
The buildings begin to possess Saturn’s rings,
Streets look like the universe drenched in colorful strings,
New York City at night,
A giant meteor shower of visual delight.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written: 1-14-12
Contest: Lights at Night in a City
She had played down her house, had never mentioned its glory.
We were amazed when we saw it, knowing it would be quite a story.
It was not a mere house, but an Arizona hacienda on an estate.
We had to press a button to enter, at the upscale security gate.
Had my friend changed? Would she be prissy or snooty today?
With dread in my heart, I followed the well sculptured walkway
The crepe myrtles were in bloom, I noted them and the white deck.
Gorgeous cow tongue’s prickly pear plant….I was straining my neck.
The wide tile walkway stated wealth, elegance for sure for my friend.
Who would I find at this gorgeous hacienda at this journey’s end?
She opened the door and ran toward me, throwing me into an embrace.
She hugged me like no other. Yes, this was still my friend Grace.
Your house is gorgeous I told her, and this of course was no lie.
Come and see it inside, she said. Then you’ll know why you’re here, Sly.
The inside needed a bit of work, I have to admit. But it was so much fun!
Because we did it together, my friend and I. Together we are still number one!
An Artist’s Dream
NYC Culture Collective August 2018
The SoHo District – imagine –
Art center of Manhattan!
Trendy upscale boutiques and
Restaurants, “Ms Yoo” in this plan
It was in August when the art show
Daughter and friend designed it all,
The friend had her book signing,
Daughter kept the event oiled
Watercolors placed artistically
Realistic florals and landscapes
Imaginary scents of roses and lilies
Lined the wall of plenteous space
Ellen and Michael there to sing
Keyboard, guitar and pretty voices
Heightened the evening’s experience
Music softens the day; one rejoices
Thirty or more persons from over the world
Some met for the first time as music played
Many were art knowledgeable;
Friends and guests came, mingled and stayed
It was amazing to think of artwork
As being viewed, discussed and praised!
And, yes, a few originals were sold
From the very spot they were displayed
A thank you to Lance the owner,
Lisa, the daughter and planner,
Patti, the author and friend, and
God our Father, the master designer-
The evening was magical
A make-believe came true,
An elder, budding artist-
A solo art exhibiter sharing anew
Vincent Van Gogh said, “I dream
my painting, and I paint my dream”;
On that night in New York City,
A thought, a dream –blended it seemed
I own an upscale Jewelry store
Exquisite gems on the third floor
But on the fourth, I did explore
A secret door A secret door
Once, I turned the key in the lock
I opened it, without a knock
There was a wall of cinder block
It was a shock It was a shock
No one has guessed my nom de plume
so when a client starts to fume
I take my leave and quickly zoom
To the back room To the back room
For fast escapes from my affairs
or when my makeup needs repairs
I rise a flight, by way of stairs
I leap in pairs I leap in pairs
What good's a door that goes nowhere?
Don't ask if you really don't care.
Only I know what's hidden there
I will not share I will not share
*A Monotetra
Shadow Mandrake loon,
mine-mire in your touch of airy witches broom.
Silhouette your herbal remedy,
dramatic flair for the dramatic melody
moon-, child, solar fare
anaerobic night-moves felled for an Angelic messengineer, scowl to tell, red,
gold, green and blue,
from mid-flight of broom, mid-night of craft's huerenics divided by two.
O Holowight,
serenading shadow puppet
gasp of fausteered light.
Where none may sight thee near.
Not truffled or snorkeled or treaserr'
mount either, ether, eter?
In silverstaped ionospheric wish-sprites,
patterning upscale-smirt-poseys,
spells, it all, to stave, clear, a counts,
fanged mouth
of font to one stained beeten so dear, Briar Rose, risen magnetogentic verbosity, account received by oral tear.
Before the dull-ward becomes
worldly tomb,
gate, western declination, malady,
heroine against doom.
Be it leive, being it, as it may be.
Gambit byte scalar, square to table all bets-off the chart-northstarelectricboarding like a pulse czar of spellcraft, theater,
theatrical, truth at the root, noding.
Sylphstream synth choir, dawning, the hour nearer to see, what we can
See.
Full title:
LIFELONG, MEANINGLESS MUSINGS MEAN EVERYTHING OF NO VALUE
aka
OFF THE WALL RAMBLINGS
After upscale meals, I know no relief
until I somehow pick my un-fancy teeth.
Serve me good food in my own home
and these same teeth leave me alone.
At work, when I am approached by someone
who wishes to run some questions by me,
I silently laugh at an image most fun –
question marks toting briefcases as they run.
When my hands are dish-washing sudsy
or toting a large box for some distance,
an air fairy enjoys itching my nose nutsy
until I concede and scratch it roughly.
Any new clothes I hang up that are white,
closet creatures beat with yellow chains
and their marks will not wash out of sight.
The more I love it, the more yellow remains.
Things do grow legs and then walk away.
I tend to nest surrounded by my stuff.
I will not move, but my stuff will parade,
decay, migrate, and evade me, sure enough.
There exist an invisible, rude agitator
who throws dirt inside my refrigerator.
Every week or so, this frig mini-meanie does put
grime, spots, ice-hard raised trails and odd soot.
My air fairy, closet creatures and frig mini-meanie were all to me, assigned.
I know this because I often move and still, it is where I go that they find.
... CayCay Jennings
November 24, 2016