Long Whiff Poems
Long Whiff Poems. Below are the most popular long Whiff by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whiff poems by poem length and keyword.
When we were little twigs sprouting from the ground
I sensed something special in you I had found
Though we were different, I don't mean to sound sappy
Just a whiff of your aroma makes me so happy
As the wind blows your foliage in my face
My limbs long for your branches to embrace
Your curvy bough around my trunk weaves
Covering me with your beautiful green leaves
We live in the woods by sunny day and moonlit night
Although tangled together, touching your bark is a delight
As we continue to grow from our roots to the sky
We stand twisted forever together
Love is the reason why
A True Tree Story
(As told by Hackberry to Red Ash)
PS: As you look at us I hope you can see
God's beautiful creation
Was for you and not just me
Some smiles appear begrudging,
With the lips a zippered slit,
As if somebody were judging
If they’d part a little bit.
Some smiles seem quite ironic,
Slightly turned up at the ends
And though possibly demonic,
Still, some happiness extends.
Certain smiles are full of mischief
And it’s mirth they do convey,
Like when cookies bake, one bliss whiff
Tells us joy is on the way.
Other smiles are shy and quiet,
Not quite certain if they’ll stick,
But if someone else will buy it,
That will often do the trick.
But the best are smiles so sunny
That they light up someone’s face.
Those are worth much more than money
And not easy to replace.
You can always gauge a smile
By the eyes, the lips, the teeth
And determine what the message is
That’s hiding underneath.
The nose knows
A sight to make tired eyes blink
Skunks walking away from another’s stink
A simple fact not known too well
With one end they stink, the other they smell
A simpler fact that not everyone knows
One end’s the tail the other the nose
The stink they exude
Can be sexy, or rude
A scent that says buddy, I’m ovulating
The difference between just dating….or mating
So, if you inhale a whiff of their scent
Be sure to assess for whom it was meant
For they do not have the blue lit I-phones
They simply respond to unfurled pheromones
though they lack the talent to warble and croon
they do have the scent to make others swoon
while leaving a trail of their pungent perfume
they make quite an entrance when leaving a room.
John G. Lawless
©7/27/2021
The swoosh-swoosh dress, hips dalliance, smooth hardwood.
He’d like to take her out for a spin, but she’s not letting anyone in.
She can nearly feel the polish under cosseted soles; an angel.
His eyes don’t leave her side; he can dream of milky wings.
The tempo picks her up, lets her go, never drops her; he might.
His intent, palms around her waist, a pick-me-up, a whirlwind.
Without a care, even he won’t dare slide his shoes nextdoor.
She’s breathless, hair like a waterfall, graceful, frenetic.
He wants to put her in a pumpkin shell, make her his wife.
She goes it alone, on tiptoe, hands become rain clouds.
The tempest tightens his heart and abdomen; she’s his.
The knot he feels is quickly untied by her “bye, bye.”
He looks for her in the lot, in the moonlight-fantastic; glass.
Her reflection is best on the ballroom floor; he’s floored.
He can’t touch her fragility, not allowed a whiff of her perfume.
She flies high and higher; he shields his eyes; clouds brighten.
He hears her swoosh-swoosh; at long last, rose-scented petrichor.
He can’t accept her departure; she is the warmth of Summer.
He feels a tap on his shoulder; hopeful; alas, lights turned off.
As Far as our Eyes will see,
In a Vast, and seemingly
endless World
to the Future’s greatest of Extents,
in a little Hut,
Hidden in a Swamp,
Lies little Old
Ms.
Garratha.
with the few who Reside
alongside.
They Eventually found
a Beautiful spring,
during their driest of seasons,
although seasoning doesn’t matter --
when It’s Wet twenty-four --
Seven.
The Decision to have a whiff,
without a -- Sniffer, may Just have been
the primary decision
For
Why this whole
story
Started.
Beginning with Licks,
progressing to Great
Tastes,
Has Brought together,
the
new Holy,
Wooly Serpent.
As No one has
seen
A serpent of coat,
since;
How often can you
find --
one of this Kind?
They Just so Happened
to
Land this amazement,
as For the water,
was not salty
At All.
Nor Was it clean, of
every Potential,
creating the Monster, Seen.
An ancient Serpent’s hair,
clogged much of its
safety,
and this water,
had much of
serpent’s Father.
His scales and much
Rein.
Slithering Out of this sort-of Creation,
came
Serpent Himself,
Shining without,
armour.
Oh golly,the welcomed feel of that warm paper cup in your hand!
That aroma of both the cup and the paper, to me, is just grand.
The Barista made the coffee just so perfect to your liking.
You carry it down the street, and the morning starts to your liking.
,
That nice snug little lid keeps your coffee perfectly warm.
As you walk into your office, unaware even, there was a storm.
.
Such pleasant little things in life we take for granted.
Ah, that whiff of Starbuck's beans, each day by millions...wanted!!
January 22, 2020
6:30pm PST
You're poetry that rhymes even in prose
Melody of your sound everyone knows
Who's seen the beauty of a gifted rose
And heard the lyrics of the wind that blows
You are the fragrance fresh flowers reveal
Like the gentle whiff of a tender kiss
And in your essence is joyful appeal
That evokes the charm of genuine bliss
You are the music from apex of thrill
That resonates wishes of every soul
You are a sweet dream of romantic will
And in its corner happily you stroll
Oh, how enchanting is glow of your fame
That ignites a blaze in sound of your name
March 9, 2019
Placed 2nd: What is love poetry contest. Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 3rd: 2019 best sonnet contest by John Hamilton
HM: Strand choice M contest by Brian Strand
Magick
It's Not A Trick!
To look through your Mind's Kaleidoscope
To give you hope
And in the dark you don't have to grope
Magick
It'll cut you to the quick
And wet your wick
Make you mighty sick
Magick
You should learn
Or your fingers will burn
If from dark and light you cannot discern
Magick
Always exist in the light
Where you have second sight
Where all is and is right
Magick
Will help you realize
What you can see with your eyes
Inside your mind, you'll find the dreams that you've mined
Magick
Is a Rhyme
And you will find
Yourself lost in time
As the second hand unwinds
Magick
Find a needle to stick
Choose a finger to prick
Cause it requires Blood
From the Full Moon and the Sun
Magick
Just a little bit
In your life
Can cause a lot of strife
Magick
The Mystical, Magical it
Have a care
You must beware
Magick
Flies Swift
Your head around
Lifts your feet up off of the ground
Magick
The odd oder that you whiff
Have a proper good sniff
Not too much, you'll get stiff
Magick
Have a swig
Swig some Booze
A Witches Brew
Magick
Smoke a Cig
It will grow you big
It you will find groovy and dig
Magick
Give voice to it
While wearing a Black Hat and Suit
It's Toads Tongue and Eye of Newt
Magick
Your wisdom and witt
When your Magicks done
It was all just a jest for Fun...
Copyright ©? Jeff W. Watson, August 7, 2026
I was a woke shrink, I sadly write this verse.
My patients came in bad shape, ended up worse.
Today there was Cohen, who thought he was French.
I told him either way, his privilege gave a stench.
I told him skin color made him an oppressor.
He got so upset; he jumped on my dresser.
There was Jane who when I said she was a man.
transitioned, then wanted to undo that plan.
I had told she can be any gender intersection.
But she stays in a state of permanent dejection.
Annie once hurt her head falling off a wall.
Her frantic husband first gave me the call.
I said her deranged thoughts were dealing with life's pain.
No such thing as crazy, a new way of being sane.
Hiroshi believed a film spread across the land,
His scandal on the screen, completely out of hand.
I told him he couldn't change, just accept the shame.
He committed Hara Kiri, it's me his parents blame.
Then came Gino Posca, crying like a child.
He said the Mob sprays him with drugs, the story was so wild.
I really couldn't take this tale; I was having a bad day.
I said I believed him I'd follow up straight away.
Gino was so grateful; he told all his amicos
I was wrong to strengthen his delusions, I suppose.
I drove home, increasing fear, two cars behind me all the way.
Dead bird under my mailbox, an odd whiff of skunk spray
Maybe my being woke was being asleep at the wheel.
I can't tell truth from fiction, can't go by what I feel.
Maybe all I was taught, contradicts common sense.
And who just threw that dead fish over my garden fence?
Sunday cockcrow nascent
aural essays reveal
laissez-faire raptures.
Enigmatic silken piece compost ushered in by
trenchant trademark tremulous signature.
Doe-eyed instrumentalist’s strident brass ensemble,
wakey wakey for the pier gazing loiterer whose blasé
sashay amble’s out of kilter.
Maverick antennae on a radio safari,
hawking hourglass heritage lodestone.
Closet Peter Pan’s astride transistor, literati goggle eyed and glued.
Silhouettes of wistful mint leaf tract,
navigating hoarse throat shellback allegory.
Earnest weekend welcome mat to madcap jester, laureate, bohemian.
Religiously the listener’s transported
from a humble tepee sanctum
to alluring levee inundation area,
far flung folly edifice,
nomad siren hymn sheet to mount Half Dome.
Long wave bounder in my dreams,
I limb skip oe’r fiction world simulcast entanglement,
snoop beneath rogallo-wing parachute in a Middle East plot,
“twin peaks” would be awestruck by this labyrinthine concourse.
One can flit invisibly round medieval black market cobblestone arcades,
ghost novelist’s ethereal penchant for pinch and pilfer retro-fit infringement.
Melting pot cinnamon dispenser, whiff stick fix antidote to kettledrum ennui
the blight of urban jungle setting and rural folklore.
Otherworld contortion with a shard of drama for magic carpet flight of fancy broadcast
Lineage derived from ancient epochs now assumed but for an inkling, icons I become with card shark sly booth legerdemain.
Maybe I’m that fictile clueless hiker, destitute, indigent