Best Long Haired Poems
A Tribute to Golda
It was a clear and bright sun shining morning in May.
As I came out my front door into the breezeway,
I saw coming toward me an enormous gray dog with eyes of pure gold,
The most exquisitely beautiful canine one could ever behold,
With a calm gentle presence and peaceful demeanor;
The look in his brilliant gold eyes assured I had nothing to fear.
It was love at first sight and I hoped he would stay.
Never mind the impediments; I’d find a way.
My toddler son climbed on him like they’d grown up together,
As I seriously pondered the prospect of whether…
Absolutely not, said my husband, a cat man,
And nixed the idea before it began.
Weeks later, a litter box and cat food mysteriously appeared
On the sidewalk, out of nowhere; we thought it quite weird.
With the next morning’s sunrise, we figured it out.
The same coat of gray and gold eyes left no doubt;
The same being who before as a dog had been spurned,
In a more acceptable form and presence had now returned.
Bounding out of the bushes with a commanding meow,
A little gray, gold-eyed kitten my husband had to allow.
In her life as a cat and formerly a dog,
She was my brave and wise Golda who would go on to log
More than one rescue of our subsequent pets.
In defending attack, this courageous gray, gold-eyed feline was as fierce as it gets.
Note: Golda saved the life of my Chow-Chow puppy when she was attacked by a big dog that
came at her from across the street. Golda came out of nowhere with claws out, sending the
dog scurrying with his tail between his legs. Another time she rescued our little Siamese
youngster, Meowli, from the neighbors' dogs by jumping on their head while Meowli ran for
cover. Golda stayed with me for 12 years, longer than the husband cited in the poem, and
then when her time and her work was done, she just disappeared pretty much as she had
appeared. She was a beautiful, long haired all gray Persian with brilliant gold eyes. When not
rescuing other animals, she had the same calm, gentle and peaceful demeanor as the dog who
showed up that morning and left when he knew he was not welcome to stay.
7th place winner in ~Somewhere A Pet Is Waiting Contest~ sponsored by ~A Rambling Poet~
Under the ocean where King Neptune rules,
multiple species of fish form schools.
The most fantastical fish you'll ever see,
is a mermaid in her long-haired glory.
Sirens of the sea are they,
their voices one with the ocean waves.
Half human with a fish's tail,
they appear to watch the ships that sail.
Known for their beauty and seductive ways,
their lives consist of frolic and play.
Sailors beware their beckoning cries,
pouting lips and sorrowful sighs.
Don't give in to their playful allure.
You'll regret it, that's for sure.
For if you join them in the sea,
they'll keep you with them indefinitely.
They'll play with you until they tire,
then leave you to King Neptune's ire.
So if you see a mermaid fair,
Enjoy the view but do take care.
11/7/15
For Julia Ward's Fantasy Fish in a Fantasy Ocean contest.
the rain fell
outside
dogs and cats
Sunday
was late in coming
rolled over in bed
played dead
until a red
long haired cat
named Fred
sat
on my head
and my face
turned red
then a stray
mangy yellow dog
named Yellow
decided to play
with me
chased Fred away
and decided to stay
his body heat
was hot
and I rolled over in bed
until a cool fat black cat
named Frank
chased Yellow
outside to the riverbank
Frank the cool fat black cat
started to scat
at the top of his range
at the edge of my bed
his blues
went straight
to my head
then Yellow and Fred
returned
with guitar and bass
and played backup
to Frank
while I played the bed
to save face
it was all
going swell
until my neighbors
who didn’t like our chops
banged a different tune
on the wall
and called the cops
they broke down
the door
and took away us four
along with our instruments
less the bed of course
into a paddy wagon
we sped
it was in a cell
with a cot
that we realized that we were hot
to trot
and started our prison band called
not
me two cats and a mangy dog
I’m writing to you this now because it has come to my attention that this is a serious issue.
You are so very beautiful,
so intelligent, caring and kind. And you have so much to offer.
Offering your talents is a scary thing. It means opening yourself up to a world that appears to want nothing to do with you.
But the truth is, that that is a big whopping steaming pile of baloney.
We all want the real, just like you do.
That girl you talked to on the street. The guy you shared a drink with at the party, the long-haired one with bare feet. They are tired of it too.
They just want the realness, like you do.
So give it to them, and trust yourself.
You know you deserve the best right?
You deserve a group of friends and a family that loves and cares for you.
They are off and are not of your choosing,
not always, and always, share DNA with you,
and positively are yours to attract.
It is a simple game of metal and magnets.
Trust the game. It is fun once you learn to play, but it does take practice.
We’ve been playing it for millennia, and the rules and clues are all around you.
Patience and Faith are two of their names.
So offer your talents up to them, share that part of you that allows you to sing shamelessly in the shower, go dancing in the rain, and lay naked on empty beaches.
Every moment we find ourselves amidst the showers of life and with sand between our toes.
Why worry about those stuck in the parking lot?
They will always be there. But that doesn’t mean you need to.
So why not, extend a hand, say the thing they wish they could say
when it is from here, from this place,
of truth.
There is so little needed to give from a limitless love, and so much of limitless love to gain.
More at : http://brendenpettingill.com/index.php/2017/10/12/limitless-love/
Another Gold
Far from profit’s crass allure,
At a place somewhat obscure,
A poet sweeps his shepherd’s lyre;
He sings of gold, of heaven’s fire.
No. not of gold that Midas stores
Behind fast-bolted treasury doors
But of gold, that, eve and dawn,
Touches sheaves of ripened corn.
More emeralds than all wealth can gain
Has to these eyes the verdant plain.
Without the mind all precious stones
Have lesser worth than dead men’s bones.
The original prompt for the last poem was one I wrote on being requested to resign from a computer company.
Far from profit’s crass allure
At a place somewhat obscure,
Gordon preaches now Cobol.
Fortran and, I believe, Algol,
Unto flocks of Gaelic birds,
Black-faced sheep and long-haired herds.
In Acton’s fleshpots, in his den,
The spotlight first is beamed on Ken.
Beware the luscious woman’s wiles
Or you’ll forget your disks and files.
It would clearly be a sin
To make no mention of dear Lin.
May married bliss attend thy way
And commensurate be thy pay.
Sandra’s performance sets the pace
Robin’s too a similar case.
His hunting prowess earns him fame
In matters that concern big game.
Flower power propels this happy throng
Which means that little can go wrong
As long as Rose your leader be.
May rays of fortune shine on thee
On yon high Olympic mountain
Where Gord and Mary have been scouting.
There beneath the royal wall
Our Ted flogs bangles on his stall.
My ditty now has reached its span
Remember me, the also-ran.
Purple leather turtles
Smoking hippy rats
Gastric glands
Secrete Orange Juices
Leave my stomach
Swim in land.
Cauliflower hairy clouds
Pouring purple rain,
Heavy inches
Salt dry water
Sad the clown
Drowns again.
Mushroom confusion
Stop long haired ants,
Angry bitten leaves curse
Paparazzi popping plants.
Slow feline drivers
Married canine sky divers,
Jump outside
Hot left shoe.
Cell phone starts ringing
Soprano liver singing
Strange writings
Because of you.
Hush rush
Drink liquid Ink
Flamingo thoughts
Dream is pink,
One pill
Black rainbows will
To purposely get lost.
as brave strong smart
kind long-haired
comfortable unhappy creative
warm encouraging inspiring
memorable
who writes with abandon
lives with abandon
and no plans
late is on time and schedules -- ha!
the nerve of suggesting I'm
the one who is crazy
call me every letter of the alphabet
I'll give you a word for each
one and count the freckles
like stars
on children's faces
and wish each
one were my
child freckle alphabet
soupy sky with clouds and
it's raining hard today.
In the solitude of night,
comes drifting,
the long haired beauty,
silhouetted by the moon,
stars shine from her eyes,
like pixie dust falling,
a sweet sweet sting,
I need her,
to see,
See me from that sky
I want her,
I want her,
as I call to her above,
wishing to hear the song,
through the window of her eyes,
I fly…..
up through that sky,
to the moon of golden light,
to capture that beauty,
as stars shine from her eyes,,
like pixie dust falling,
a sweet sweet sting,
I need her,
I need her,
to see me…
like a song,
like a kiss,
like a breath,
on her lips
through the windows,
the windows…
of her eyes.
I was sleeping and right in the middle of a good dream
Like all at once I wake up from something that keeps knocking at my brain
Before I go insane I hold my pillow to my head
And spring up in my bed screaming out the words I dread
I think I love you (I think I love you)
Lyrics from I Think I Love You (The Partridge Family)
over and over again
with premature penmanship
i write your name, right next to mine
they share a pillow before i do
my first and maiden name
your first and our last name
my first, your last
Mr. And Mrs.
O the cursive kisses
before we met, there was a psychedelic bus
adventures of a long-haired voice
though not my idol choice
still the romance with his superb notes
he passed them to me
i ate up the heartbeats, ooh Bandala—
he’s coming for me, and i hold
that pillow to my brain
i think he loves me
i think he loves me
i wear his wedding band
their bands of gold
with leaves
i leave behind a fantasy
to fantasize my life
with thee
2/13/2022
Bella's entrancing green eyes
stare wistfully into my own.
She's a windowsill jumper, bounding with grace
whose taken over my apartment as if it's her place.
She's such a pretty little kitty, a catnip dancer
who seems to see herself as a feline, divine.
She charmed me on the day I found her
but as a rescue, she needed time to come to me.
I know this is where she was meant to be.
Sweet girl with a history that remains a mystery
She never meows with sass when corrected,
and her purrs are soothing whispers in the night.
Bella brings me hours of great joy
so, I reward her loyalty with a toy or two.
Wearing a long-haired burnt umber coat,
she sidles up to me, anticipating a petting.
Bella bestows love that I'll not be forgetting
A lap-curler when she chooses to be social
but aloof which proves the theory to me...
'Sometimes cats just like being left alone.'
Jasmine Flower Peddle Gorgeousina
This poem was created for the PoetrySoup contest
“Tell Her Story”
By Ross Levan
Pink flowers adorn her beautiful face,
She looks into my soul with amazing grace,
Beautiful brown eyes with perfect skin,
Her stunning stare sees into me, she can see what’s within,
Jasmine Flower Peddle Gorgeousina is this girl’s name,
Her inviting lips provoke thoughts of sweet kisses and mid-summer rain,
There is a curious expression and a glimmer in her gaze,
Her appearance is intoxicating in so many ways,
She doesn’t party but loves to have fun,
Her past lovers say she’s a real naughty one,
She chewed them up and spit them aside,
Many broken hearts in a trail from behind,
Long black hair reaching down the length of her back,
I’ve always loved long haired beauties and that’s a true fact,
She is a treasure for any man to keep,
I bet she’s more attractive while she’s asleep,
Jasmine Gorgeousina with flower peddles at the core,
Her amazing good looks keep me yearning for more.
Abigail Kirk lived in outback town Burke,
A hotel receptionist, she had a slight quirk,
Her rather long ponytail stretched to the floor,
After a few years it had grown much more,
She sold it to ten bald men and retired from work.
A stretch and sprawl of plain and hill
Where stones survive the coldest clouds,
You’re jars and trails and scars
Rebuilding your shattered face
One hammered bullet at a time.
The heart of Laos beats here,
Desperate as a bush-meat market
Of endangered beasts
Hungry for change,
Weaving adversity into opportunity.
You’re a place where
The long-haired goddess of Hope
Is always itching to leave, but she’s
A good daughter who always finds
One more chore she’s needed for,
Who never quite makes it out the door.
A lazy long-haired packer in a shop,
Lent against a wall to have a quiet stop,
He felt a scraping on his crown
Waking from his nap upside down,
Someone was using his head as a mop.
Hear my baby! I am your dad!
Kissing you here and kissing you there…
Your flowery face, your little chin,
Your eyes, eyebrows, fingers and feet.
Hugging you softly hard,
Rubbing tenderly your tiny head.
My eyes are filled...!
And I am feeling heavy at heart,
For I feel I cannot carry on any more
Like this!
I give in! Weary, with the faith,
Now my sickened soul shall find its solace
In the God’s garden-abode.
My dear babe! I’d wish I live long…
At least as long, you grow into a tall man.
And you marry
An Arabian singer-dancer;
Or a European noble lady
Professing Art.
You write what I couldn’t,
And you write in an unknown—
Harmonious meter and rhyme.
And I take my sweet grandchildren walk
In the dew-wet mornings
To the forest-side meadows.
And you my baby doll!
You shall set up a farm in the country
In the fir-forests’ lap.
And rear goats and sheep.
You work dreamy day-night
In the company of old saintly shepherds;
And you marry the one you clandestinely admire—
Who comes into your dream
And plays with your tress.
The widower shepherd’s only son—
Long haired, honest and brave,
Has almond eyes and the aroma of roses.
(under construction...)