Long Wonton Poems
Long Wonton Poems. Below are the most popular long Wonton by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wonton poems by poem length and keyword.
blonde hair
an immediate impression
for some a happy, marvelous one
others immediately look for prissy, or a snob
Some think she must be a lively dancer
red hair
an immediate impression
for some a wild, crazy, wonton woman
others think she must be a liar, a thief,
some think reliable, dependable, trustworthy
brunette hair
an immediate impression
For some a disrespectful, mean-spirited wench
others think she must be loving and caring
Some think she’s probably got the best sense of humor
First impressions.
It behooves us to become aware of them.
We immediately have feelings that may in no way
make any sense at all.
Isn’t it time we gave everyone a fresh start
in spite of our first impressions?
Bowled over, kneading you, feeling sub-lime
from my head tomatoes. Hear my heart beet!
Eggcited, wonton you olive the thyme.
Donut you carrot all for me at yeast?
You’re one in a melon, sweet sugar pie,
forbidden fruit I find so appeeling.
Cherry on the cake, apple of my eye.
Has there bean love? Don’t berry the feeling.
It’s a big dill and takes two to mango.
I’d sacri-rice all because you compleat me.
You oat to love me. Peas, love miso!
Just food for thought. Chew that fat with your tea.
I have so mushroom in my heart for you.
A pizza your heart? Say yes, honey - DEW!
Dec. 28, 2017 for Viv Wigley's Food Fight Poetry Contest
Between the breathless dawn of glorious glow
and twilight's sensual soft moonlight
the wonton nectar of romance aches
to fuse with fervent lover's lips
in supple yielding and fervor's confession
this secret expressed to the mouth
searches the boundaries of longing
to find a pleasant burn, that melts time
and dissolves the world around
where eyelids close and hunger climbs
this braille touch of deep caress
fills the well of ardor, with a passion's wish
held between the tender palms of lovers
like a captured realm of bountiful beauty
that stirs the dreamy eyes of love
with each kiss
3/10/23
contest Writing Challenge "K" Words
sponsor Constance La France
Years ago on Turkey Day
My father, in a snit,
Let traffic get the best of him,
Announcing, “This is it!”
He turned the car ‘round in a huff;
My mom’s pleas were rejected.
My aunt had planned a massive feast
At which we were expected.
To soothe our wounds my dad declared,
“We’ll go out for Chinese!”
Our sullen silence shouted “No!”
To lobster Cantonese.
Yet there we were Thanksgiving Day
With shrimp in lobster sauce,
My father trying to pretend
He showed us who was boss.
But though he tried to cheer us up
We were a gloomy group;
We dreamed of sweet potato pie
While slurping wonton soup.
I often think back to that day –
Though we were so downcast,
We were together, and who knew
That magic wouldn’t last?
My parents are long gone
Yet every year in late November,
That Thanksgiving eating Chinese food’s
The one that I remember.
Shadows cast on yesterdays
Haunt her still, as she recalls
A time of impurity.
Masking her loneliness, she
Excelled at performing sex,
Fulfilling an inner need.
Uncertain of whom to trust,
Lust controlled her libido.
For when she sold her body,
Every pleasure was indulged.
Entertaining nightly, meant
Leaving little time for faith.
Inside her heart, love withered,
Numbed by a lifetime of sin.
Gradually she sought God,
Sensing His love stir within.
Repentant, she shunned sin, to
Embrace the life of a nun.
Purged of sexual thoughts, she
Eagerly denounced her past,
Never more to return to
The wonton ways of her youth.
Emptied of all, but her pain,
Dejected, she kneels to pray.
(A first letter acrostic poem spelling "Shameful Feelings Repented.")
Anyone can write a poem
I mean, they’ve never passed a law
and with the quick access to paper
and all.
Of course, the serial poet’s the danger
that keeps us up at night - someone lacking
the gene for rhyme control. Normal people can’t
imagine such wonton, naked promiscuity with words.
It’s best that we ignore them - to nip it in the bud.
A real collective effort is required - let us build
institutional archives - yes - we’ll call them libraries - to
lock such verse away - may it never again see the light of day.
If you catch a child with a pencil, slap it out of their little hand
because we cannot start too early in discouraging needless rhyme.
This public service announcement - pointing out this new “poetry”
trend - was made for the benefit of all.
*Vaaz= vase
You offered roses delivered thorns, blood drips and your body adorns ~
Slumped, soaked in crimson your heart forever mine, retribution has come, my bloody valentine—by Poet
Once upon a time lived Angel, an androgynous white knight
Diamonds in rings and pearls on strings, he’d often gift
The reddest of roses, bluest of violets, specifics delight
Yet cataclysmic are the blackened roots adrift
Blessed was I with a sultry kiss, my affection’s launched
Hijacked my love from the marrow of my bones
I blessed him with carte blanche
Mistaken for a gewgaw of wonton love on loan
Thrusting winds levitate revealing regret
The myriads of flowers in the vaaz, what cause?
This bleeding heart gushes the blood of violet blue scarlet
Prickly are the iron thorns between splayed fingers
Bittersweets, the Londor truffles
Cheating are the charred stars above, darkness lingers
Ionized is the taste of tears in wine, how it ruffles
like nails scratch it burns inside, nothing can suture
The arrow churns a void through the breast
Unbeknownst to me my future
To avoid loneliness and unrest
Kingdom of crushes what judgement have I begotten?
I curse the love blind night we met
As a forbidden love and now forgotten
My black knight you are Keats Bright Star
A sacrifice of Anayalation
Another scab, another scar
A token of my affection