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absence abuse
addiction adventure
africa age
allah allegory
allusion america
analogy angel
anger angst
animal anniversary
anti bullying anxiety
appreciation april
arabic art
assonance august
autumn baby
bangla baptism
baseball basketball
beach beautiful
beauty bereavement
best friend betrayal
bible bio
bird birth
birthday black african american
blessing blue
boat body
books boyfriend
break up bridal shower
brother bullying
business butterfly
cancer candy
car care
career caregiving
cat celebration
celebrity change
chanukah character
cheer up chicago
child childhood
children chocolate
christian christmas
cinderella city
class clothes
color community
computer conflict
confusion cool
corruption courage
cousin cowboy
crazy creation
crush cry
culture cute love
dad dance
dark daughter
day death
death of a friend december
dedication deep
depression desire
destiny devotion
discrimination divorce
dog dream
drink earth
earth day easter
education emo
emotions encouraging
england environment
epic eulogy
eve evil
fairy faith
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farewell farm
fashion father
father daughter fathers day
fear february
feelings film
fire firework
first love fish
fishing flower
flying food
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for her for him
for kids forgiveness
freedom friend
friendship fruit
fun funeral
funny funny love
future games
garden gender
giggle girl
girlfriend giving
god golf
good morning good night
goodbye gothic
graduate graduation
grandchild granddaughter
grandfather grandmother
grandparents grandson
grave green
grief growing up
growth guitar
hair halloween
happiness happy
happy birthday hate
health heart
heartbreak heartbroken
heaven hello
hero high school
hilarious hindi
hip hop history
hockey holiday
holocaust home
homework hope
horror horse
house how i feel
howl humor
humorous hurt
husband hyperbole
i love you i miss you
identity image
imagery imagination
immigration innocence
insect inspiration
inspirational international
internet introspection
ireland irony
islamic january
jealousy jesus
jewish jobs
journey joy
judgement july
june kid
kindergarten kiss
language leadership
leaving life
light little sister
london loneliness
lonely longing
loss lost
lost love love
love hurts lust
lyric magic
malayalam marathi
march marriage
math may
me memorial day
memory men
mentor metaphor
middle school military
miracle mirror
miss you missing
missing you mom
money moon
morning mother
mother daughter mothers day
mountains moving on
murder muse
music my child
my children mystery
myth mythology
name native american
natural disasters nature
new year new york
nice niece
night nonsense
nostalgia november
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old onomatopoeia
pain paradise
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power prayer
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repetition retirement
rights river
romance romantic
rose rude
sad sad love
satire scary
school science
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seasons self
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september sexy
sick silence
silly silver
simile simple
sin sister
sky slam
slavery sleep
smart smile
snow soccer
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softball soldier
solitude sometimes
son song
sorrow sorry
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space spanish
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star stars
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stress student
success suicide
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sweet symbolism
sympathy tamil
teacher technology
teen teenage
thank you thanks
thanksgiving tiger
time today
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tree tribute
trust truth
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urdu usa
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vanity veterans day
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war water
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youth

Long Silver Poems | Long Silver Poetry

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

See also: Famous Long Poems

Long Poems
Long poem by Sidney Beck | Details |

WAITING FOR PLANE TAKE OFF

Dozing before take-off. Patients etherized and unable,
Evening  spread into the distance
Silly solitaire cards spread on pull-down table. 
I  hate toves with  imagined importance
Giving direction to momeraths who do not need  it. 


Through my window   
Ants -  like  small people  from 3000 feet.
Petite  stewardess's candy for pressure-reduction pain. EAT ME

          It’s food that makes my feelings small
          My feeling’s not so big  at all
          I’ve never felt a big and dizzy  love whirl
          But better to have loved a pretty short girl 
          Than never to have loved a  tall
 

One Jubjub  obsessed with  one minute’s lateness there
His last creativity was when he got up off  his potty.  
All in sync. Seat belts. Seats upright. Put cards away, sir.
Feeling dizzy from wine in the waiting lounge. DRINK ME.

           A liquor which can make me grow
           Is  not so very bad you know
           Taller guys make better dancers
           Taller animals better prancers
           Giraffes are fast and lizards slow

I have known toves, and listened, bored, and heard
Their drunken speeches at parties,  wary of the Jubjub bird.

 
Our silver bird’s rolling now.  And we
Switch off cell-phones. No more calls that
Say nothing to no one.  In the ethereal world of electro-chat,
We need items marked  SMOKE ME.

            Horizon seems with puffs to bend
            The sunset seems  to never  end
            The silver wings  can  lift us  all  sky-high
            Where snow and rainfall  disappear with sigh
            As through the clouds of smoke we wend

Caterpillar clouds with  hookahs  on  a mushroom bed.
Be careful:  one minute late  into Stansted -
Queen of Hearts  will  off-with-my-head. 


Through the glass I see  ground  -  those  people in sight
From 3000 feet are in fact ants: for our silver bird is still grounded tight.
A cabin-sign lights up, saying    KICK ME

            Too  long  I tarried in this field of fools
            Where each  one follows some imagined  rules
            Wonderland  characters  are notably oblivious to logic
            Their dramatic,  wordy isolation is patently ridiculous and loquaciously tragic
            The drool of mules fuels the rules of schools.

I  delight to have my  part of the drama  said: 
If you’re too old or inflexible for the job - off with your head.
Kick me for  tolerating it too long and hard.
I have said they’re only silly cards;
But in my game of solitaire void and null
I should have been more forceful.


Long poem by Walter W. Safar | Details |

SILVER STAR

SILVER STAR

I have long since lost Hope,
because my paths are so endlessly long and aimless,
as if sculpted out of my restless spirit
in the long nights of reverie.
You know, Lord... I used to have my Hope.
It was so nice to stand next to the Christmas tree
with my mother,
and look at its proud top,
where our silver star shone,
my favorite Hope. 
To me, a child who never decorated his own tree,
it was the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and the brightest star beyond the heavenly dome.
Each night before Christmas we would return to the same place
with the same desire and faith,
until our terrible companions, the long, cold nights
have invoked death
and stolen my mother.
I am motionlessly standing and staring into this dark, cold night,
like an avenger yearning for revenge,
and a thin woman in rags is passing me by,
whispering warm words into a child's frozen ear.
The child is looking up with the same gaze
like I did when my mother used to show me the silver star,
whispering into my frozen ear
that someday I shall touch that silver star too,
silvering all the orphanages of this dark world.
Her warm words are still crossing my mind:
„Son, always stand on your toes and look up...
and you shall touch your star!“
My eyes have long since stopped sparkling
and they don't look up.
They used to be the big, bright eyes of a child,
that shone in the dark,
like two young embers that were just set afire,
but now... oh, now my eyes are but burnt out embers
in the squeezing fist of the cold world.

You know, Lord, how much I wanted to stand on my toes
and look up,
but life always threw me back to my knees.
I admit that I haven't been standing on my toes for a long time,
but I am not kneeling, either,
I am only looking down
into the dark reflections of people's characters,
and my Hope is once again so far away,
as if it's afraid of my faithful squire,
which is standing at the bottom of the silky net,
not like a flym
but like a master of many a fly big and small,
because Death has that justified purpose
to come for its flies regardless of their size.
I am not looking at death like a fugitive,
but a penitent man,
who wants just another chance.
How strange it is, Lord,
that even a man abandoned by Hope wants his chance.
Yes, Lord, I admit
that I would like to stand on my toes once more,
below the biggest Christmas tree in the world,
and touch our silver star.
  
 ©Walter William Safar

 






Long poem by Neal Freeland | Details |

In the March of Dreams this way . . . once more, never before

I’m marching in the dream 
It’s raining heavily and the sky is dark and flashed with electric white
Silver shards gleam down from the sky
To shatter the still and calm I love so of the rain
In the dream I am young as I am now
Full of life
Strong and full of grace like never before this moment
When I dream within dream of you standing there in the sunlight
Of the sighing of day light waning beneath the whisper of night cascading 
Like the dreams of yesteryear come once more to pass this way

Dreaming in the dream of another dream born of memories long and old
Lost again am I amid the rains pelting my skin briskly, warmly
Like your voice in my ear of when we spoke to clutch each other fast
To hold one another close within the span of memories
Needing to feel alive and whole and with one another
For the space between us still of the yawning days and nights falling softly
Lingering here and then as we lay spent, smiling, laughing in the echoes of pleasure
And I march on; I march on toward the East where I see you standing 
With your head held high and arms holding out to me
A bright smile somehow shyly kept across your beautiful face like a river
Fresh from the mountain of days reborn in the fullness of spring

And so I dream as I march under the raining sky and shatter spikes of silver gleaming
Of when and where I stand before you with a quiet smile of wars fought and won
When across these shoulders I carried the sum of world’s worries, 
Pains and lamentations deep and plenty folded 
Like the crystal I gazed within your eyes
When whisper of meaning deep as the sky unfolded within the stars above us now
Did you from across the chasm between 
And still under the thunder of time and when I hear you so close
I dare to reach out and stroke your face with a feather light breath
From jaw line to lips so sweet I weep in the pleasure of knowing you deeply
But I am marching, still marching and into the East I find myself cast
In dream and still more I dream as I dreamed and dreamt never of you before this
For never having dared to dream such as you, 
Could not for never seen such before have I . . .

I am marching in the dream
Under the raining sky that kisses my body briskly
Like the dream of your voice in my ear in the birth of day
When wrapped within you I did, was, and will be, I am to be once more
For the first

I am dreaming and in the dream I am marching
Marching under the silver gleaming sky I march


Long poem by Sabina Nicole | Details |

12 days of Christmas Remix

On the First day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
A starfish from the vast sea
On the Second day a Christmas my true love gave to me...
Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Third day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Three dolphins dancing, Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Fourth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing, Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Fifth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Five pearl rings,Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing,two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, Four whales waving, Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling, and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Seventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, Four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Eighth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Eight eerie eels, Seven seals swimming,Six silver dollars,Five pearl rings,Four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the ninth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Nine Norway lobsters, Eight eerie eels,Seven seals swimming,six silver dollars,five pearl rings, four whales waving,three dolphins dancing, two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the Tenth day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters,eight eerie eels, seven seals swimming, six silver dollars, five pearl rings, four whales waving, three dolphins dancing,two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea
On the eleventh day of Christmas my true love gave to me...
Eleven teeny frog eggs, Ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters, Eight errie eels, Seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, five pearl rings, four whales waving, three dolphins dancing, two crabs crawing and a starfish from the vast sea
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me…
An aquarium to keep them happy, Eleven teeny frog eggs, ten tiny turtles, Nine Norway lobsters, eight eerie eels , seven seals swimming, Six silver dollars, Five pearl rings, four whales waving,Three dolphins dancing,Two crabs crawling and a starfish from the vast sea.

 "remix 12 days xmas song"
BY:Sabina
12/11



Long poem by Joel Lee | Details |

Chapter 2 Of The Askance - Eirian The Befallen Part 2

And so it began…
{The war between good and evil were never ceased
Souls of the lost were never enough for the Darklord to be pleased
Mortals, men or women were destine in time to be warriors of holy
To vanquish the dark, till the very destruction of evil where in turn bring Heavens victory
It was a time when tears were unknown for one to weep
Where nights were in chaos of bloodshed and dawn a refuge for the weak
Yet in the land of Ancients
There exist places so pure, it was untouch by not the slightest evil
And due to my love for nature, I was appointed to one as a Guardian Angel
The land I’m to ensure, the growth of green shall never turn grey
To bring hope to fallen mortals, promising peace they’ll come to live one day
And flying with feathered wings, I bless the evergreen around
Until one morn, I discovered an intruder had lay wounded upon my ground
I hovered over him, daring not to come too close
Is he dead or alive, yet what I knew of those?
Descending beside the unconscious knight, I saw his ghastly wound
Bleeding still, from mayhaps a battle beneath yester’s moon
With a power invested in me, I will the comforts to his injury
Tending to him till days after, he was awoken finally
And always at a distance I remain, fearing to defy the laws of Heaven
For mortals, one must walk alone and not be aided by whats forbidden
In time he will move on, not remembering if a miracle was ever perform
And soon I must continue what’s neglected with him begone
Days after, why he chose to remain I wasn’t to know?
Yet I cannot abandon my task, shall come another morrow
I must gather courage to confront and cast him away
But when I came to him, I saw a feather he held since his awoken day
And he said,
“Beyond this age of Ancients, death is but a relief
If you were a mortal to be, is there but a life to believe?”
He turned and walked away, leaving his silver sword behind
And I was torn by his words, simply to a truth I never thought to find
I began to see this battered world with eyes anew
If it wasn’t for him, I never would have understood blood was meaningless to spill
Days as a Guardian was dis-spirited and I despair with my land turning grey
Holding on to his silver sword, will he once again come my way?
By the waterfall, the last crystal droplet fell… I was lost!
Soon the minions of the Darklord will hunt… and miraculously there he was


Long poem by charles hice | Details |

A Whiff of Canterbury Tails

85
 Feedback comes to those who apply and post and expect to receive the same 
when you place a silver dollar in your mouth you scratch it with your teeth to see if 
it is real a man bites down upon it and then looks and frowns or looks and 
smiles upon the quarter he has found not silver or even golden but just metal of 
some kind its zinc and copper mixes made in Betty Crocker's Kitchens. She has 
a tray of circles all lain out upon her divine divan the tails side up for luck she got 
this from the JESUS man who tossed his penny in an arc and tried to hit a mark 
a line drawn in the sand and made his feet go march to live a different plan a 
lifetime being mended his only love he found she makes the things he feels 
inside brand new. She stirs her better batter up with a long and spindly spatula 
she marks each coin with edges with the cheese garter greater. She takes the 
grater to the table and turns each coin by hand she makes four of them for every 
dollar in this land. They asked her who is on the image of the coin she laughed 
and dimpled smiling she said it must be Dollar Bill.  The George Washington 
Dollar is the image used for the quarter he gets to be on two. When yew become 
the President Of America you can be their two. She stamps the quartered dollars 
on the side that just says heads with the handy dandy stamper set she got from 
her Uncle Jed for Christmas Past. She turns the coins at last and makes the tails 
with her old eagle eye she uses her new leather set to scritch and scratch the 
bird the lines formed from habit of making millions in a set in just one day she 
filled the Island of Manhattan with 24 additional sets they said they needed them 
to buy Manhattan again the previous treaty had run out from the statue of 
limitations set back in Washington against the law must be obeyed by every 
man. When eye am making a bus ride and eye find a lot of pennies eye ignore 
them when eye find a quarter eye do a little more than dance in place eye jig eye 
jog eye trip on every log in my haste to find three more it costs one dollar just to 
Board the Tran. Betty declined to speak just to the press for she is very shy she 
said she knoes now who the image is on the flip side of her coin and eye did not 
keep a dry eye when she smiled at me and said without a tremor or a miss it is 
Washington, D. C. 


Long poem by Princess Corazon | Details |

Eternity of Silent Suffering

These castle walls are cracked and moonlight seeps through, i hug my knees to my chest as
a sob threatens to break out of my throat. My skin is pale and thin; my bones stab through
my skin-nearly breaking it, I would look like a scraggly porcelain doll if I ever looked
in the mirror, but being trapped in this damned place for however long I have no access to
such a luxury. 

My eyes are wet, my hair is tangled and knotted-unbrushed for at least three weeks. My
fingers resemble the bone underneath. I hear wolves call from under the ten foot tower, I
shake in my corner and wish to get a nights sleep that I know would never come. The marks
on my back from the whip stings like hell. 

My limbs hurt; feeling stretched as if they were pulled by horses. A pain in my skull just
behind my eyes pounds rhythmically like hoofbeats galloping drunkenly on the hard
cobblestone streets of London. 

The silver glow of the moon glows brighter as the silver orb centers itself in the sky.
The pain in my limbs grows more intense, the urge to scream in agony is tempting, but I
don't. I should, but do not. It will get me nowhere, and it will not help me. So, I sit in
the corner and suffer silently through such torture. The moon rises higher toward the
center, the pain grows; soon enough, I am unable to hold in the screams.

I scream. 

Granted that citizens below can hear me; do they come? Do they wonder what or who could be
enduring such torture and pain? No...they do not. Never have. 

I go through this for six centuries, no one looks up at the thin, slanted and dark window.
No one comes clambering, clumsily up the stairs of the tower to where my screams grow
louder and are the dominant instrument in this dark, cobblestone hell. No one comes-some
may wonder, I do not invade their minds-nor have I tried. 

But, I fear not that they do wonder, probably are just afraid of what dark, evil creature
awaits them to their death. I am but a nightmare, not exactly a dream, but neither a
nightmare shrouded in shadows and hidden in scraggly, ugly branches like long, clawed
fingernails. 

So, yes, I am nothing but what I perceive myself. What others perceive me as, I know not
what to think; I scream, no one comes...yet, my life is lived more for me as I am living
locked up in this hole. Locked up, and suffering. No one to hear me scream. 


Long poem by louise nelson | Details |

10 pieces of silver: a treasure restored or Stella had a house party

alienated and separated has become society
disenfranchised and distant are now the state of families
all of those systems designed to make us feel connected
have fallen short and now we feel rejected
we're just a bunch of numbers and no one even knows our names
we're just a group of digits and that's a darn shame
but we're more than pieces of silver for we do have hearts
for we are the blessed children of the Lord Of Lords, Our God
and it's only in the church where we've kept our sanity
for out in the world it's just total anarchy
we're more than just objects to be used and misused
we're more than just bodies who by our bosses are being abused

dehumanized and desensitized is how we've been treated by the status quo
but we are treasures in the eyes of the God we all love and know
God loves us and it's time we loved ourselves
Jesus loves us and died to give us an eternal wealth
yet people are more concerned with amassing monetary hordes
no compassion for each other and no love for the Lord
we need to seek the word of God with a desire to be changed
for now is the time for our spirits to be rearranged

no longer to take each other for granted but to treat each other with respect
to see ourselves as more than pieces of silver as more than just objects
to be like that woman who lost her coin and diligently searched until it was traced
and then to rejoice upon finding it for her treasure was now fully replaced
to diligently seek the treasure that is the word of God
and then to apply it directly to our hearts
to comprehend the true value of our fellow sisters and brothers
and come to understand that we need to treasure one another
for at some point in life you will need someone's support
for life is like a basketball game you need a team on the court

10 pieces of silver, Stella had a house party
a single coin restored, a parable about rediscovery
for whatever it is in life that you feel that you have lost
just take it to Jesus and lay it on the cross
let Jesus restore it, let your treasure be refound
let God reform you and place you on higher ground
to look high and look low for that which has been misplaced
to seek that treasure of the spirit, God's saving grace
and once it's restored to rejoice and celebrate
Stella had a house party upon the restoration of her faith


Long poem by Elaine George | Details | . You can read it on PoetrySoup.com' st_url='http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_devils_tide_66331' st_title='The Devil's Tide'>

The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
 
~~~ 
 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.

~~~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place





Long poem by Owen J Thomas | Details |

The Little Sky-Fall Man (part 1)

He fell one stormy midnight clear,
His feet upon his head,
He deaf of mouth and blind of ear,
All purple, green and red.

He dined politely on a rose,
Then with a speckled hen,
He quickly drew himself a nose,
And put it on again.

He paid the hen all shiny pound,
Then gave his ear a flick,
A tiny thought leapt to the ground,
And scurried up a stick.

"Hello there little sky-fall man,
A bildog, blain and ned.
I live inside your gumble mind,
That's right, inside your head".

"My name is wonder where and how
And who and what and why,
And what you're wondering right now?
How fell you from the sky?"

Down trouble eye our little man
Shed single Silver tear,
As off to forge some further plan,
Thought flew back down his ear.

So down he stood and set he off
To answer up his quest,
His head puffed out, his feet aloft
And walking on his chest.

He walked through woods where gilbroks played
Upon the purple moss,
With trees all trunked of plasticine
And leaved with candy floss.

For three long days but not so long
He walked on through the wood,
Until he heard a silver song
that tickled 'neath his hood.

The song it came from purple rock
Amid the Numbum trees,
Upon the rock, the Dandy-dock
Sat singing to the bees.

"All hail the Dandy," our friend cried
Before the purple stone,
"Hello there!" Dandy-dock replied
"My haven't how you've grown!"

"I am afraid I cannot help"
The Dandy softly groaned,
"You must search out the Bollynelp
Near the lake of Sollynoad"

So off he trekked to find the stream
That led out to the lake,
Across the lands of pink ice-cream
And plains of chocolate cake.

The stream ran on and skipped and played,
And sang it's tales of old,
But in the lake the waters stayed,
All tinged with green and gold.

High in a tree beside the shore
The Bollynelp sat chatting,
He talked a little then some more
Of chalk and cheese and matting.

"I'm sorry," called this strange old bird
To our hero down below,
"A quest like yours I've never heard
But the Dumble dog will know"

"The Dumble dog I'm sure you'll see
Upon that distant beach
Where our fine land does cease to be
And the jelly ocean's reach"

He thanked the Bolly with a sigh
And turned towards the shore,
And off he walked, still feet held high,
And chest upon the floor.


Long Poems