Long Witticism Poems

Long Witticism Poems. Below are the most popular long Witticism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Witticism poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Jimmy Doyle Wright

Jimmy Doyle Wright
Born: 7/29/1948          Died: 4/4/2016
By Tom Wright

Jim was a loving husband, father, and brother,
who will be remembered by most for his wit.

Jimmy’s life began like a breeze
whispering through thirsty grass, 
and terminated like a wagon wheel
that was two years dry of grease.

Warring with death, he became,
battled hardened as a Bois d’arc tree.
The bloodier his prognosis became,
the more abundant were his sharks.

Not once did his witticism submit to pain,
nor did he lose faith as he battled.
But when time runs out clock hands stop,
all things, too soon, come to an end.

2nd Timothy 4:7 

Jim has plowed his field,
and now his harness hangs in the barn.
Tom
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Puff Puff Puff

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Working out like a fool every day
Wait till the girlies get a load of this bod
My gorgeous physique on display

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Girlies will want to slurp from my bowl
Trying to get in on some of the action
“Hang on now, show some control!”

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
They'll all get a piece sooner or later
Really can understand their excitement
I'll soon be one pumped up operator

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Alway knew I had animal magnetism
But I've taken that to a whole new level
Complimenting charm with witticism

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Working with the weights, a real jock
Soon be on the cover of “Muscle Power”
Great physique and abs like a rock!


© Jack Ellison 2013
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member On Warmest Bed of Optimism

Charming and serious, communications between
the fairy and dragonfly, compete for a child’s attention.
—Poet

A rustic sky, out of bound;
Humans see ethereally.
Teeniest fairy, on sunshine round,
children find touchy-feely.
On warmest bed of optimism,
in her red-pink gown, wings sans sound.
She entertains, charms with witticism.
Steely-dragonfly’s profound.

Supernal what-ifs sifted.
Human children understand, for
the tiniest while, the world’s gifted.
Blue eyes gaze sunflower’s core.
Verdant leaves cocoon, sway in breeze.
Amidst the seeds, mobile lifted,
innocent, before the birds’ and bees’
fluttering lashes shifted.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Gonna Get Real Buff

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Working out like a fool every day
Wait till the girlies get a load of this bod
My gorgeous physique on display

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Girlies will want to slurp from my bowl
Trying to get in on some of the action
“Hang on now, show some control!”

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
They'll all get a piece sooner or later
Surely can understand their excitement
I'll soon be one pumped up operator

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Alway knew I had animal magnetism
But I've taken that to a whole new level
Complimenting charm with witticism

Puff! Puff! Puff! Gonna get real buff
Working with the weights, a real jock
Soon be on the cover of “Muscle Power”
Great physique and abs like a rock!

(chuckle)
Form: Rhyme

When the Inspector calls

Aren't many or any finer than Dan me ol mucker & china who now looks out for nightmare cooks or crooks making money off the books with rare meat on dirty hooks in filthy nooks but don't care want to give him a shiner for saying don't be hasty or cheat prepare pukka tasty tucker & succour...safe fayre to eat for every diner...


Owners booming hysteria at inspector criteria 

Kitchens so unclean like a war scene in Liberia

Zooming in you find they're grooming Listeria

Rightly fuming that it is blooming like wisteria


Hardly stellar told fella to have old mortadella

Rank covered in dank mould stank in the cellar

Dan who's a fan of Paul Weller is a fortune teller

Scores on doors stop more spores of Salmonella


Suss some are no faff or fuss a them & us schism

Despairing whiners cuss not caring about criticism

Cleanliness next to Godliness just an anachronism

Foolish witticism as diners get ghoulish botulism


Out of date food they buy deny do things on the fly

Just comply no treason and here’s the reason why

If duff stuff you season on the sly to try and get by

The Council’s the fall guy as folks do die from Ecoli


Hunch lunch or brunch scare dodgy ware of tupper

Owners get shirty but it’s so dirty can’t serve supper

Ask my man Dan this is not a masterplan to scupper

A public sector inspector would rather have a cuppa
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Acting Coach

The greatest teacher I have ever known
never worked in a classroom.
He was an actor and radio announcer of some renown.
A man of many talents, I'd assume.

He directed me once when I was acting in a play,
and he'd let me know - right away! -
if he didn't like the way I'd say
a certain line (sometimes to my dismay!)

He taught me the value of silence and being still.
Economy of movement was an important skill
that I needed to learn
and although he was not shrill in his criticism
he could be very stern,
never the kind to use witticism
to make a point.
Indeed, his best instructions were often unvoiced.

My performance in that comic play
turned out quite successfully,
and to this very day
it is still a fond memory.

In all my years in theatre
he gave to me the greatest education.
Eventually, I'd realize that under
his tutelage I learned much about dedication
to the craft of acting, 
reacting and interacting.
I learned that it's all about communication,
and though he is long gone, 
I remember him fondly, with great appreciation.

Thank you, Denys.
© Jim Healey  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Tongue-Tied Dispatches

 In the realm of self-interest, a curious soul,
Could not adhere stamps, sans wit owning a role.
 His tongue, like a rover in arid terrain,
Lingered on whimsy, a scoffing refrain.

 Precision eluded, in blindfolded dance,
Tongue franking an effort, missing each chance.
 The stamp, a library of lore unbespoke,
His tongue still meandered, lost in each stroke.

 Like giraffes when they strain ~ reaching treetops,
His sealing endeavor was a clumsy hopscotch.
 The stamp lay there mocking, a coaxed witticism,
Tongue still missed the mark, a terrible tourism!

 Metaphors clung, but not on the letter,
A longing unfilled, his tongue never got wetter.
 The envelope sighed, craved wit's lifting brew,
Yet his tongue frolicked, having wandered no clue.

 He licked and he slurped, as though miming delight,
A grand postal crime, a federal plight!
 Metaphors piled up, unsent missives distressed,
His sense of himself was a bewildering behest.

 In the spirit of levity, a story confided,
A stamp unadhered, a metaphor provided.
 When engaging with mail, overcome by caprice of,
Just leave the attempt and go buy self-adhesive.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Jimmy Doyle Wright

Jimmy Doyle Wright
Born: 7/29/1948       Died: 4/4/2016
Written: by Tom Wright

Jim was a loving, husband, father, and brother;
Who will be remembered by most for his wit.

Jimmy’s life began like a breeze
Whispering through thirsty grass,   
And terminated like a wagon wheel 
That was two years dry of grease.

Warring with death, he became,
Battle hardened as a Bois d’arc tree;
The bloodier his prognosis became,
The more abundant were his sharks;

Not once, did his witticism submit to pain,
Nor did he lose faith as he battled.
But when time runs out clock hands stop,
All things, too soon, come to an end.
* 2nd Timothy 4:7

Jim has plowed his field
And now his harness hangs in the barn.
Tom
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Dream Kingdom

This haven is where possibilities 
                                And wonder perfectly blend.
                                     Oh, the tranquility!      
      
                        A most beautiful escape; don't wake me. 
                                   On bed of roses, I sleep;
                                       A delightful repose

                           So tantalizingly close to heaven; 
                                Let me sleep forevermore,
                               Please, do not wake me now.

                       There is no key to unlock this kingdom 
                                  The door is always open
                               To those who dare to dream!



Date written: 06/07/2018
Form: Kimo

Premium Member The Sixth of Daniel

*Image of Daniel in the Lion's Den by Peter Paul Reubens.

The Sixth of Daniel

Walketh I, thy path of righteousness, beheld His glory,
Lifted me upon thy pedestal, godsends didst overflow,
Name I lord overseer to a third of the Medes kingdom,
King Darius favor astir cohorts to envy, concoct ruses,
Deceptive intrigue dupes, prayers to induce him alone,
Ruling ricochets both together King Darius and myself,
Unbeknownst I, exploits hands didst seize my person,
Thy servant wast bound cast down into the lion's den,
Constant pray I, Grace abideth with me, I fear no evil,
Occasion thy beast that they'd hunger naught, assert,
Oh Father, thy will be done on Earth as it is in Heaven, 
Art denied am I thy countenance, 'tis yond lion's den,
Faith I apiece well-sprung eyes, obliged glad tidings,
The hour steadies, a lion's den notably stable, bestill,
My presence overwhelms one joyfully, two confused,
Witticism replaceth tomfoolery as similar fates a pair,
Restoreth bliss as a kingdom praises my deliverance,
Redemption's always confirmed in steadfast prayers,
Tenacious faith that placeth the wealth of me in Him.

2022 February 23

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