Long Willies Poems
Long Willies Poems. Below are the most popular long Willies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Willies poems by poem length and keyword.
Busy bees, honey please,
fuzzy golden brown seas,
displeased feverish breeze.
I've tried so hard to keep
the bees off the three sheep,
but these bees seem to wheeze
on by the trees and tease.
Gee whiz! Don't they know where
there hive is where they share?
Don't they care birds in air?
Bees full of nectars joy
chasing past a young boy
not the slightest bit coy.
Around the sweet fillies
a garland of lilies;
Millie, Billie, Gillies,
and Willies all whinnies.
Indeed, offspring hinnies;
took heed of the queen bee's
swarm stings, fast run to flee.
I'm runnin , pumpin free
on the edge of the quay.
2-9-2018
Each book in my library must be read, each one, each and every one,
vagrant, homeless papers must find a forever home, I must
edit, amend, revise, reword and condense a poem-
Rattled, I search for my keys, oh collywobbles!
Yearning for tranquility instead of this constant dither and tizzy, and
daunting days of jitters, willies, shivers and heebie-jeebies,
and my heart in a knot of anxiety!
Yes, I have days of cliffhanging moments!
Inside my soul, I just want to dilly-dally,
silent, I want to make each day count, but
apprehension and anticipation always keep me on tenderhooks.
Consternation, worry and anxiety, creep, creeping, and
like an unsettled butterfly, I flutter befuddled.
Inside my soul, I just want to lollygag!
Fearful, I face each new day undaunted, taking
first one step, then another and on and on and on . . .
hoping my distress is unseen and undetected.
And I step off the cliff that is my life each morning, oh
no one can escape some anxious days, of
go here, go there, get this and get that, oh collywobbles!
Edit, amend, revise, reword, and condense a poem, but really,
really I love my crazy, hectic, unpredictable, anxious life!
__________________________
February 24, 2017 (re-post)
Poetry/Acrostic/Everyday Is A Cliffhanger
Copyright Protected, ID 17-1217-135-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into the contest, Strand Select 12
sponsor, Brian Strand
Honorable Mention
He zings through tall grasses and lands on my knee
I try my best to pull this sticky legged insect off me
He chortles and chuckles and pings off in the wind.
This hopper of grasses surely has annoyed and sinned.
Another one of these pests zings onto my shirt.
Giving me the willies, I scream at my cousin Bert
Get the lightening bug jar, let’s catch this foul creature
This grasshopper gives me a wink; he’s the double feature
Why are they so sticky? They are as tricky as glue.
And why, Bert, do these creepers never land on old you?
I guess I’m not as sweet, he says, with a wide smile.
Another one lands on me, says “Hi! Just call me Lyle!”
Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s hiding in the dark.
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something out there wants to get me! I am losing my sang-froid.
Something wants to disappear me. I’m not being paranoid!
I used to have a neighbor woman--We cannot find her anywhere.
When I called for some patrolmen. They did not show ‘cause they don’t dare!
Something outside isn’t human-- or at least not anymore.
A cannibal or psycho axeman, or just a clown covered with gore.
I’ve got the willies something fierce. Those shivers just won’t go away.
I’m not ready for the hearse. Too scared to run…too scared to stay.
Someone’s walked over my tomb, or given me the evil eye.
Something’s out there in costume--Trick or treat, it’s time to die!
Something’s out there by my window, so why doesn’t Fido bark?
Something’s lurking in the shadows. Something’s waiting in the dark.
Well-established wonder-stricken wayfarers will work with wizards,
who worry worm-eating warblers will wander by with Wyandottes.
Witchdoctors wallowing with Weiss beer will widen willowy wonky
widow’s walks. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Wonderful wearisome woolly Willies whose wrinkly wiggly whatchamacallits will weigh whizzing wingfish whipped wildly within Widow Williams’s whirlybird’s window wells. Who? What? When? Why? Why not?
Why wayfarers? Witches? Wizards, Wolverines? Witchdoctors? Well, woks, workbenches, wobbly wickiups, were wildly wanting whiffle ball’s wishful wildcats, which is why we were willing to wind up wolves, women, and worst-case woodcocks into worthy wayfarer’s winter wineglass widgets within wonderful, wise-cracking
woodland’s wee-folk who reside within wizardly wigwams.
Who? What? When? Where? Why? Why not?
Warm whoopee wayfarers welcome willing witchdoctor's whizzing whatchamcallits on Wednesdays with wonderfulness.
He was a one who liked the bums, who filled the blanks in
Others puns.' He took the literary litrally..And lauded all the
royals most librally' he was into his cottaging i beleive?
He kept some tricks, in his long old sleeves! He shook his
Spear at many a lad..And the upper crust he made real
Glad, he'd trowl on praise like no one else, leaving Anne truly
On the shelf.) A thespian he trod some boards' old willies
Wiles oft had them floored' an actor like so many others!
Lauded and praised he has yet; his lovers.' Theres a solid line
Of similar rakes wilfred bramble of the latter dates' bill
cosby, puff the daddy to' and then there was the wacko
Who sang of it blue (of men and mirrors) it gets me thinking?
Of richards and parnes and glitter and even sir saville stinking' of
liberace and even
da'vinchi.' With machinations contravening convention' opening this subject thats
My intention! (anthony kidman?) but not Jon Wedger..' Now
We have a man of a differentt feather.' Yet we never really hear
Of him!! Still alive but his profiles dimmed.? Mel Gibson
Also an honest agent' yet vilified in many pages, jim calviezel i rate him well 'and sound of freedom' what happened pray tell? Oh yes I remember!! An old plan-demic came, and couple of wars.)
And threats to life..Have we been there before? They let
The days accumulate; the decades form, to cover the cake
Maybe we'll sleep? ( yet not to dream?) While a nightmare
Continues along with humanitys muted screams!
Something about liminal spaces gives me the willies in a scary way.
They raise the tiny hairs on the back of my neck by my C2-Vertebrae
I feel like an ominous evil spirit is going to whisper in my ear and startle me
There is a quickening of my heart, and I feel threatened in some tiny way.
There is an acute expectation of being murdered or of being hurt.
I cannot explain it, there are no words sufficient to show you my feelings.
I am an empath, perhaps this is the price I pay for it.
I don’t understand these feelings myself, they are just there, unbidden, but alert.
Smelly scary city stairwells are creepy to me; I avoid them at all costs.
They are all smelly to me for I can smell the people who have been on them.
There is an incredible feeling of undeniable discomfort that I cannot explain.
It comes from deep within the recesses and the hairy hair hairs of my soul.
Liminal spaces give me anxiety, feed my fears.
Empty schools have hallways that remind me of coffins.
I feel like I am in a tomb if there is an absence of children.
No talking, no skipping, no giggling, no humanity.
My most feared liminal space is a hotel hallway at midnight.
I expect to be snatched, shaken, stomped or slapped.
By a spirit, a vampire, a demon, something.
I avoid this kind of space by being locked into my room by nine.
It’s Cultural hypocrisy,
Like monks selling books on oxford street,
Like a political debate on your screens,
Like when Donald lost Queen Lizzy.
R.I.P to lil peep!
And the other 2 million that died this week,
*** faked his own death,
And it only matters if you’ve trend-set.
It’s cultural insanity,
Like Grenfall tower’s insurance fees,
The 3,000 suicides a week,
And the worst one; Love Island on your screens.
Meghan Markle’s family send their best,
Kanye says he loves Kanye West,
Like doing the floss at a dentist,
It only matters if you’ve trend-set.
It’s cultural satire comedy,
Like playing Fortnite for 2 weeks,
A hobo getting mad cause you gave him 10p,
Proudly sharing your insecurities.
I’m a vegan but sometimes I like to eat beef,
But don’t get mad, I have ADHD,
I love labels, in fact I’m obsessed,
And it only matters if you’ve trend set.
It’s culture clarity,
Like watching **** and not clearing your history,
And thinking you're as safe as safe can be,
And then seeing ads about small willies.
But none of that applies to me,
I’m obviously talking theoretically,
Changing subject... Can Ant survive without Dec?
Too soon? Or simply the latest trendset?
It’s cultural spirituality,
And I achieved enlightenment when I was three,
And then forgot what it all means,
And now I’m depressed.
It must be cause I read it on the news,
And in the papers so it must be true,
Or was it fake? I sometimes forget,
Too distracted by all the trend-sets.
It’s culture profanity,
Like your mum telling you it’s avocado for tea,
Like your grandma offering to buy you weed,
Was that just me?
I totally detest avocado for dinner,
And parents who buy their kids fidget spinners,
My patience I admit, is on the edge,
I’m sick to death of all these trend-sets.
Since when was an opinion as valid as a fact?
Since when was it ok to believe the earth is ing flat?
And we sit and wonder why we’re all so incest,
Its cause you only matters if you trendset
Yes, this culture is distracting me
And stopping me from finding peace,
By making me want to make money,
And tempting me with comedy.
So I’ll end this poem with some advice,
And I’ll try my best to make it nice,
To have a nice life, and live the best,
Do everything and anything, apart from trend-set.
It’s cultural.
Come we're gonna have a party wear a costume bring your cat
The cauldrons ready so don't tardy bring your Hocus Pocus hat
Grab some munchies at the door moaning sounds all that gore
It is Aldo playing Rambo, with scary spiders, hiders , ..more
Watch my red horns battery start they are bought in WallyMart
Go ahead scream or screech but for heaven sakes don't fart !
Moon is grinning ear to ear but don't fear, its eyeball leer
Zombie stomps and gettish romps, Halloween is here to peer
Riser ghosts in scary training with their chit-chit chitty fangs
Bow to Satan and his laughs, he's a bad ass dude with bangs
Come on join the party, we got so much willies and dillies
we're gonna get drunk on red koolaid and smoke ciggies
Grab the coffin shaped candy from the grab bag join the clomp
gonna take it to the limit and do a Michael Jackson swamp ....
Come were gonna gave a party and we're gonna scare a ton
Be the door nails and the hinges, of this Halloween of fun.
October 25, 2018
There's something spooky about that place,
So no one goes in there.
It makes chills run up your spine.
There's something in the air.
The yard is overgrown with thorns,
Dead trees are dark as sin.
All the windows have been boarded up.
To keep someone out? Or in?
Seems all the birds won't fly over,
And the local hounds won't howl.
It made every dog I ever owned
Shiver, whine or growl.
It's a source of urban legends-
Nobody knows truly why.
Rumors of murders or suicides.
We avoid walking by!
There's something spooky about that place.
No one ever gets out of there.
That house gives us the willies...
It must be something's lair.