Long Well hung Poems
Long Well hung Poems. Below are the most popular long Well hung by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Well hung poems by poem length and keyword.
Any foodie on the brink
Of getting moody thinks
Of the dear dairy panacea
The culinary kinks
The cultural links
Gourmet high jinx
Of no.. not Cullen skink
CHEESE
As drinks clink then sink
Where the nods & the winks
Go to the food of the Gods
The stuff that really really stinks
CHEESE
A noble global endeavour
Arty farty dolcelatte party
Comte & cheddar
Smutty nutty double header
CHEESE
Palette caged by a rare
Cave aged Gruyere
Who can forget..appetite whet
Heat light stand manned..expands..
Milky glue or is it silky Moo Goo
Fanned..hands pulling strands
Eat not..planned fondue
Best damned bet
Always get a Raclette
CHEESE
Prouder of Gouda
Or louder Parmesan fan
Even when its powder?
Tilting to the built in love
For Stilton.. never wilting
Hard the calling card
Or more a Roquefort sort
Taught soft held aloft
French can’t bench moulds
Aristocratic blue vein
Dramatic wench holds court
Emphatic stench & stain
CHEESE
Whatever floats your boat
Maybe Goat gets your vote
Or those in the know
Gloat..chose sheep & Manchego
CHEESE
Young or well hung
Given time in the cellar
But won’t sneer at Paneer
Mozzarella can be stellar
Even give a damn
About dear Madame Edam
CHEESE
If you're of that whining ilk
Got that dining disease
Opining it’s just mouldy milk
Having a dig..you big tease…
Well won’t try to appease
CHEESE
Wary of the not rated
Scary squirting lube
You squeeze with ease
Flirting fairy out of a tube
Ill fated.. pre grated or
Diced into a nice cube
CHEESE?
Or drastic vices
Plastic elastic slices
Could go for Dairy Lea
Fell under the Babybel spell
Or pray tell maybe
Its Le Vache qui Rit
CHEESE?
Always a winning wheeze
Ideal at the beginning
Or end of a meal
No ratty ways of thinning
Natty diets lose to fatty riots
Choose ways of sinning
A ruse to amuse..
MORE CHEESE PLEASE
He says grinning
P.S If eating cheese before bed
Gives you a crappy nightmare
So what if you have fed
On cheese in these dreams
No scrappy schemes in your head
Led to days with rays of sunbeams
Teams of happy memes instead
Well it seems only fair
Don’t worry about being thinner
Get yourself off down the pub
Then go home to a good British dinner,
Of British traditional grub
Delicious roast beef of old England
Served up with a thick Yorkshire pud
With roast spuds and cabbage and carrots
Plus gravy in which the spoon stood
What’s wrong with a good stew and dumplings?
Made with some prime neck of lamb
Or a thick slice of home boiled bacon
Instead of that wafer thin ham
Fried eggs and bacon for breakfast
A steak that’s surrounded with chips
Some mushrooms and beans or tomatoes
Can I hear you smacking your lips?
Give me pork chops with a kidney
A helping of wild rabbit pie
With carrots and peas and thick pastry
For which old Auntie Bessie would die
Kippers, smoked haddock or winkles
Mussels or soft herring roe
Jellied eels, tripe or pigs liver
I think I might give it a go
A thick slice of cheddar is pleasant
Coated with pickle of course
Or maybe a plump well hung Pheasant
Plastered with cranberry sauce
Blackberry and apple crumble
A dollop of cream on the plate
This is making my tummy rumble
Give me some quick I can't wait
A big lump of home made bread pudding
Or maybe a nice spotted dick
Served up with syrup or custard
Providing the custard is thick
A stuffed Sheep’s heart makes a good dinner
Or a nice deep-fried black pudding ring
On a slice of fried bread, did you hear what I said?
This is food that is fit for a king
When you’ve feasted on cabbage or brussels
Don’t ever consider you’ve sinned
Just be certain your close friends and family
Are seated some distance up wind
A plateful of boiled new potatoes
Dashed with salt taste exceedingly nice
If you give them a try will you no longer buy
Bean shoots or Chinese fried rice
Avoid all these kebabs and curries
They look like they’ve been eaten before
You’ll be finding them most Sunday mornings
On the pavement outside your front door
Don’t listen to these dieticians
Between themselves they can’t agree
Nobody mentioned cholesterol
Until nineteen seventy three
Make sure all your dinners are British
Now you know the foods that I mean
We never defeated old Hitler
Eating Pasta or Nuevo Cuisine
Form:
There was something about her smile that said something is not right.
Or that I am a pigeon; or that I am not totally on task or very bright.
But I am slow on the uptake, so I said I would meet her brother Low-grr.
I did not realize until he appeared with roses that he is a green ogre.
Not the color difference that surprised me and made me cringe.
But the predatory twinkle in his brown eyes that gave me a hard twinge.
I felt him looking me up and down, and I felt a tremor for sure.
I knew at the end of the night I would be lucky to remain chaste or pure.
He is more handsome than the ordinary pink and brown guys I date.
More entertaining too; I knew I had truly met my glorious fate.
I took him home to meet the family and my grandma let out a scream.
The best lover I ever had was the same color as his green!
She was almost never this honest, so the family began to laugh.
Except, she added, that one time I dated a very well-hung giraffe.
My father’s face got dark and redder than I have ever seen.
Grandma is something else now that she’s an Alzheimer’s Queen.
Lighten up! My mother said. She is open to all kinds of stuff.
Being a doctor has made her much stronger, kind of tough.
Daddy could not stop blushing, but Ogre made him feel better.
He said, “Tell me about your best-looking Christmas sweater.”
Low-grr and I ended up being best friends, not lovers at all.
But we walk around the town and talk, and our talk is not small.
He asks about my grandma from time to time, because he is a great guy.
He truly is the best listener my girlfriend Jean said with a sigh.
So, I set them up on a date, and she married him straight away.
They both liked the set up; their wedding was happy and gay.
My grandma came and said some stuff that embarrassed my Dad.
But it was still the best time as maid of honor that I have ever had.
Control Your Tongue
We mix words then throw ourselves into the flames
At first glance it's but a vapor then to proceed with a mere whisper
A clause to complain to get upset again won't you help me my friend
Control your tongue in the midnight hour through barrowed pews
We look inside having every bit to realize the disguise
A word spoken in the dark has come to the fullest of light
Never relent to ever give up on the fight
You may have to use duct tape for heaven's sake
A sorrowful mystery has been soon discovered
Is it any wonder we have to much time on our hands
Hope you will understand the flight of an eagle soaring in the wind
A new discovery to tell you where you need to begin again
We use our tongues to start a bar room fight
Each of us gets lost in the sauce at the edge of the night
Let's reach inside to find the grand design of a caged barbaric premise
With fire we can egnite the flame of passion with the tongue
The lonely cowboy summons his cattle to come home
Silence falters the beckoning cry for freedoms call
An angelic wish to pause for a kiss this should sweeten the soul
It maybe well hung in the state of fun still control the tongue
At funerals let's use it to stay wise & pause to reflect upon the deceased
In the battle field a soldier has a choice to use it on his knees
Many jails are filled up with people that let loose when they should have melt
It sets on fire those that haven't tamed it's control or desire
Let's embrace love when choosing words fresh out of the midnight air
Gene Simmons from Kiss will use it but that's just entertainment
Control your tongue through every facet of life amidst all strife
Eye do not mix my peas and corn in my potatoes as is the wanton some mix fruit
with meat and it always spoils the taste the fruit is better drank the potatoes left
alone to get some salt to get some flavor even pepper added later the man was
clearly well hung over his hazy perceptions ruling waivering muscle bound
thoughts in clearly peripheral patterns perhaps the hair was bound too tightly in
the manner of the druggies of the sixties nappy aint the word the word is clearly
undefined unless it’s twined even eye have never seen twined hair and eye have
seen a lot of heads a lot of hair there some of it in popcorned rows some of it as
missing transplanted on the top from toes. The unwashed clothes is next he
never learned his layers and the eye is never perfect but it goes to show you just
who it is that cares. Eye still care some about my public image the impression
that eye make on public eye the looks eye get in the lieberry as eye type this work
of fabelistical
importance is so nice they see just what it is they wish to see consider the
source when a man sleeps drunk behind a dumpster on the ground he winds up
looking much like a hound a dog perhaps the underdog.
He never had the luck
nor the down of an evanescent duck,
in this world where the dice is thrown
just another gamble which side of the track.
In his mission statement, he declares
is my love wasted?
A love never returned
yet oh so tired of giving,
in this his life down half way lane
where constantly with love he finds a “Cul de Sac”
his groundhog day,
oh where the embarrassment is just too much.
So life you’re a b*t*h
casting each day unjust spells this condescending witch,
on the net he tried oh God for years, tried
to workout the plot
but i’m no po*no star, he says
well hung i am, not.
So to you, my fair lady, keep your glow on
I’m looking forward to this our first date,
although history reveals, i’ll come across like a fly in your soup
restricted there, where i cannot swim,
hoping it will not be a disaster,
just, another plunge into love
what is your name, i declare my ignorance
Fate she says, and i am aware of your plight
there is some one for every one
i am here to guide your way into love!
© Harry J Horsman 2013
My friends have every sympathy
For the lack of romance in my life
but promise everything will be fine
All I have to do if I want to find a wife
is use their favourite chat up lines .
Are you a parking ticket '' cos '' fine is written all over you
Seemed a little corny to me
How do you like your eggs in the morning
gave me a warning
Those chat up lines are not all they should be .
Do you have a map '' cos '' I am lost in your eyes
Almost made me giggle till I cried
If you were a burger you'd be a Mcgorgeous
was said the day that romance died .
I'm gonna have my teeth pulled to make more room for your tongue
Or kiss me so I know what an angel kisses like
Do you believe in execution ''cos '' I'm really well hung
Would have me riding home on my bike .
So I thanked my mates for their best wishes
and their girlfriends smothered me in kisses
as I said I was putting those ideas on the shelf
I'll have more success with the misses
and perhaps get lots more kisses
If I am prepared to be myself.
It’s A Stitch Up
I struck a match and the gas cooker did me
So a chap called Sidney gave me a kidney
I didn’t steal it and I didn’t beg
But a fellow called Clegg gave me a leg
My best mate Paul gave his left eyeball
But my uncle Jock gave nothing at all
Thanks to Steve there’s an arm up my sleeve
And the fact I can breath is hard to believe
But the praises I’ve sung cos Burt gave me a lung
Fall short of Fred Young who made me well hung
And so I thank Fred for my prowess in bed
But if it wasn’t for Ted, I’d still have no head
When I walk again I hope I will meet
The geezer next door who gave me his feet
Nobody knows who gave me my nose
But a guy up my street gave me all of his toes
Old Bobby Tutt gave me his gut
The rider from Pizza Hut gave me his butt
But how can I ever thank young Tommy Green
Who gave me his heart and his liver and spleen
But it seems all those people I never shall greet
For when the gas blew, it blew up the street.
When I come back I will be a warhorse
Twenty one hands high
I will ignore my mistress, taking no direction.
I will run toward the valley
Where I will be free with no bridle or saddle
Thundering through, amazing other creatures.
My coat of many colors will dazzle the mares.
I will be a stallion
Well hung, and proud
Unless I choose to be Irish-setter red.
Irish setter red might be the best.
Then I could blend in with autumn and the fire sky.
My name will be Beauty Thunder
I will be followed by magnificent faeries
And sneaky, mean elves will despise me,
Putting raisins in my oat bucket.
Yes, I will return to my mistress's stable in the evening
To have a formidable bucket of oats.
I am not a hillbilly after all.
And I love running water,
I will win the Triple Crown twice,
Showing up all the other horses.
Yet with no training at all.
None can break me.
For I break myself,
Always in charge
Even as a warhorse.
eye to telescope all night long,
she looks for the Goldilocks zone,
her young new husband six foot strong,
desires her soft flesh on her bone!
married in love just few weeks back,
astronomy gets attention,
muscular torso full six pack,
from her gets no passing mention!
passions are different when young,
for her extra terrestrial,
being male hormones flushed, well hung,
his plans more territorial!
late one night exhausted from her search
she said “ you know Goldilocks zone?”
“Not G zone”! he said from his perch,
“can show you G spot when alone!”
Thanks to the weather in England,
cloudy nights came to his rescue,
he shows her stars now with his wand,
she is in Goldilocks zone new!
Written 18/March/2021
Goldilocks zone poetry competition
Anthony Biaanco sponsored
8 syllables each line 5 quatrains!