Best Tarry Poems
Somebody suggested I write the tale using the correctly spelled words because my story (below here in the Homophone contest) is simply too distracting to understand with homophones. Hope you will take a peek!!
When Harry Met Terry
Once upon a time in a wood, a very nice prince named Harry
met in the mist, high on the bough of a tree, a fairy named Terry.
The fairy felt low, for he was weak, and he was in need of some meat.
He bawled, “Woe is me. I can’t even stand here on my own two feet!
My poor heart is breaking, and I’m in pain. The last time that I ate
was days ago. You see, I’m in a haze and do not feel so great.”
I perish and long for wine and ham. Even better would be lamb!
But I would settle for a piece of bread with some sweet berry jam.”
Prince Harry knew he had some mints, some Tic Tacs that were in the pair
of new red jeans he wore. He took them out and waved them in the air.
“Licorice too I have right here!” Prince Harry told the fairy.
“It’s not much, but please do eat. Later on, we’ll dine and make merry.”
Prince Harry placed the fairy Terry on his pale white horse.
Then away the royal with the fairy hastened on his homeward course.
All day long they rode and rode. When the fairy started to groan.
Suddenly, from the horse, both the man and fairy were thrown.
Hungrily, they paced beneath the setting sun and through the night.
They pressed on until morning. Harry’s residence came into sight.
Prince Harry’s wife had supper ready, and she’d made a pie.
From utter happiness, the fairy thought that he might die.
She heated up their food for them. They both had grown so pale!
She listened as the fairy Terry told his tragic tale. . .
of how he’d lost his way and, for food, had not one crumb
until her dear spouse rescued him. At last, his prince had come!
Good morning, here's a book of photographs,
It has all the pictures, all you can see,
Families coming, they bring telegraphs,
Remember this one, it is just of me,
So long ago when I was only three,
Here's you, sitting under that old oak tree.
Taken at our grandparents home, your folks,
Here's you and grandpa, both on the tractors,
I remember grandpa sharing his jokes,
Then he reads the bible, quote some chapters,
In the morning we have tea and crackers,
Pictures, memories, that's all that matters,
Grandma used lots of egg yolks when kneading,
Cocoa, coffee and grandma's yellow bread,
At night you would check if we were sleeping,
Then you wake me up and I fix my bed,
Then we have breakfast before school instead,
Now we'll recite to you what we all said,
"We cannot thank you enough, love you ma!"
We're all here now, please wake from your coma.
Date: 05/09/2019
(Revised with new homophone added in. Thanks for the catch, Becca!)
*Wants upon **uh thyme inn uh would, uh vary gneiss prints named Hairy
met inn the missed, hi awn the bow of uh tree- uh ferry named Tarry.
The ferry felt lo, fore he was week, and he was inn knead of sum meet.
He bald, “Whoa is me. Eye cant even stand hear awn my own too feat!
My pour hart is braking, and I’m inn pane. The last thyme that eye eight
was daze ago. Ewe sea, I’m inn uh hays and due naught feel sow grate.
Eye parish and long fore whine and ham. Even bettor wood bee lam!
Butt eye wood settle four uh peace of bred with sum suite bury jam!”
Prints Hairy new he had sum mince, sum Tick Tax that **whir inn the pear
of gnu read genes he war. He took them out and waived them inn the heir.
*“Lickerish to, eye halve write hear!” Prints Hairy tolled the ferry.
“Its naught much, butt pleas dew eat. Later awn, wheel dyne and make marry.”
Prints Hairy placed the ferry Tarry aun his pail ***wight hoarse.
Then aweigh the roil with the ferry hastened aun his homeward coarse.
Awl day long they road and road. ***Wen the ferry started to grown.
Suddenly, from the hoarse, both the man and ferry whir throne.
Hungrily they paste beneath the setting son and threw the knight.
They pressed awn until mourning. Hairy’s residents came inn cite!
Prints Hairy’s wife had supper ready, and she’d maid uh pi.
From udder happiness, the ferry thought that he mite dye!
She *heeded up they’re food four them. They both had groan sew pail!
She listened as the ferry Tarry tolled his tragic tail . . .
of how heed lost his weigh and, four food, had knot won crumb
until her deer spouse rescued hymn. At last, his prints had come!
Written April 10, 2015, using homophones from various lists.
Note: I did not use letters, for example, U for “you” ; they were not on the lists I found.
Neither was “hee” which I was going to use for “he.”
The main list used was The HOMOPHONES LIST of John F Troutman and Joy A Miller
* these are a few more homophones I found on Wikipedia’s list.
** these homophones appear on Homophones.com, perhaps the most comprehensive one.
*** These homophones, perhaps antiquated, are from Suber & Thorpe British English
For The Love Of Coffee, I Tarry
Just one more cup of coffee before I have to go,
the weather is bad and the boss will surely know.
If I tarry along and fail to clock in on time,
no mercy there, excuses aren't even worth a dime.
Yes, one more of the black-Joe if you please
it settles my worries , sets my mind at ease.
I need to drink this hot coffee in a minute
my job is to drive a truck, I'd best be in it.
One last cup just for the snowy covered road
work tis' awaiting, I'll not be late or so bold.
Black magic, it damn sure hits the sweet spot,
cranks my brain, gets me going like a rifle shot!
Yes my fair lady, please pour just one more,
I need the boost to race out the front door.
That tastes so like goodness in a great kiss,
love my black coffee, morning Joe I never miss.
Yes darling, I promise this last cup for me,
I have many miles to drive, so much to see.
Few more drinks to blast me into the big race,
to deal with those crazy drivers I have to face!
Sweetheart, brew some more, that pot I drank
woke me up fine and I have you darling to thank.
Please, this cup of black magic will be my last
I'll bolt out that door, you'll see how very fast.
Just one more cup of coffee before I have to go,
the weather is bad and the boss will surely know.
If I tarry along and fail to clock in on time,
no mercy there, excuses aren't even worth a dime.
****** ******* , 02-08-2015
Entered in Rob's new contest.
The twenty-first son born with a brat his caul and three sevens in Gaelic knot once apon a fairy tall Upon the distant drum seven clocks ring as a banshee the kenning she does sing Morriganus looking through the gallowglass Laughing hooligans interrupt the sweetbriar lass The galore of whiskey erupts in the shebeen A Irish rose on with the tall brave little colleen all dressed in green the leprechauness spins a dream from the corrie a turlough of the fairy ring What of the lad of fate and the fairy godlover Let your imagination sing have your druthers How coming of age he must drink the poteen of four-leaf shamrocks a glass slipper it seems Chasing rainbows can do you no harm but beware the gift of gob its golden charm
Couldest Thou Not Tarry
As I think of the night that Jesus suffered
and the disciples He chose to pray by His side….
but they lay sleeping while Satan’s plan now was unfolding
as Judas was leading the soldiers to take Jesus all because of lies.
It was no ordinary day as you can be sure
but one of anticipation for the tension seemed to hang in the air,
and although the day was filled with Lamb preparations
you just knew something or someone needed an extra time of prayer.
Yet, with all of the noise and clamor of that busy city
children crying, barking dogs and people begging for just another touch,
“I’ll wait till later”! Cried Peter – You understand don’t You Father
for I know You can see here is another man hobbling on a crutch.
But there will always be needs we feel that we must meet
but then where do we eventually draw the line?
For we absolutely must take time with our Father God
or how else then is He able to keep us so fine?
Would you rather wait until you have lost complete sight of Him
and then and only then fall down on your feeble knees,
crying and wailing with a very loud voice
“My God, what now is to become of me”?
Tarry dear child of God for spending quality time with Him
is certainly no waste of your most precious time,
and He will come and fill and refresh your weary and overburdened soul
while you hear Him say, “I love you dear sweet child of Mine”.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
Very Scary Toil and Tarry
Trump at times seems so scarry
Much more also may become very
From reality he is always far
From politics we should bar
While we work, toil and tarry.
Jim Horn
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
THOU WONNA TARRY WITH THIS, IS THIS VAPID?
I THOU AMAZE AS WHO CAN BEAUTIFY THE MEAN DAYS.
CHILLY WINTER DAYS ARE TO ITS ALMOST ULTIMATUM.
SPRING IS ON AND IS TRULY SHALL RADIANTING.
EVEN IN NOT LIBERTY AMAZING QUEEN DOTH
RADIANTING, AS GOLD THE MOST EXPENSIVE METAL DOTH.
I SEE LIGHT WHITE BULBS ON THE HALF-NAKED TREES,
AND THIS ENCHANTING SEASON THE EASTER RED
TULIPS WERE POPULAR SWATHED IN CREME PAPER
TIED WITH A KNOT. WHAT A YET FEMININE AND
BOTH ATTRACTIVE AND SOME TIME
LASTING VESSEL SURE REMINDS ME OF
AMSTERDAM, THE QUEEN OF FLOWERS, DUTCHLAND.
O SURE, FLOWERS ALWAYS ARE MY THINGISMS!
do not tarry
but
do not tarry
somethings
are not of this earth
to worry about
now listen
my son
just bring me
my holster
and
bring me my gun
while
just to keep one foot out of the grave
and
do not tarry my son
Should you ever tarry, for even the briefest of moments,
Amongst the quiet of the pre dew-drenched grey dawning,
And, wiping away just one hesitant, lingering tear,
Fancy you might hear my soft footfall moving steadily through
When gently brushing aside those thin veils draped as if they
Were the great sorrows
Which hung from the ancient walls of long-vanished Nineveh,
Feel a fleeting, but heartfelt, pang of remorse at my passing...
Know then I will have touched you as a slowed finger traces
Across the deeply ingrained lines upon a tired lovers
Aging face.
Mama Earth I beckon unto you,not to turn your back on me ,I am your weary child but I am
still smiling. In the morning I want to go to your beautiful garden ,where the breeze is
light and the sun shines through the trees softly glistening, Mother are you listening? I
want to Tarry while birds still sing, after the torrent rain; And mother ask Father Sky
to forgive us here. In your garden I do grow... you have woven me a garment anew. I
deliberate in your garden: Where the Eagles rest and the Robins nest; As I put on my
garment of dew...I want to tarry for awhile in your garden, in my garment so befitting.. I
love you Mother, before and after the torrent rain; Then suddenly my heart runs rapid: I
hear Father Sky's loud thunder,ask him to forgive us for the plunder! I look up to see my
brother the Moon; My Ancestors are the stars. So I tarry in your Garden Mother saturated
in your wet kiss,The only sacred place for me; I am fulfilled in your perfect Bliss .
End Poem
Tristesse fell in love with a Duke
The Duke thought their love was a fluke
But tonight at ten
All over again
They both fall in love with a spook!
As the night tarry on,
I sit by my table with pen in my hand
and my shoes on,
Stitching and sewing with needle of don't give up and thread of you can make it,
I just thought about the world that's going Helter skelter,
If only we hold hands together,
We could make it better.
Kids dying of starvation,
Mommies becoming childless because of abortions,
What a world, we always speak of corruption,
But to leave them is not even our intention,
We speak words that set Hell chaos loose,
We run no competition,
But we pray for others to lose,
It's 3:00 AM,
But the rooster has not crow yet,
Running our mouths like a raucous jet,
Helping others can't be on our agenda,
Making money is our key agenda,
What a world,
Eloquent speeches but different deeds,
In the assembly we sow not a seed,
In public places we stand with pride and recite the apostles Creed,
As the night tarry on,
© Gabriel T. Saah
Fearing a turn in the wrong direction
he stands still..
Frozen by his lack of confidence
he lost hope.
All directions
lead to failure.
All directions
are frightening.
Yet standing still
he is torn apart.
He wants to move
but defies himself.
Shamefully crying
he weeps alone.
*TARRY NOT A DECADE*
Why am I not beside you right now
Why did you have to wait that long
Why did you kiss me
You live in me, breathe in me
I still perceive your scent
Your smiles are supposed to be mine alone
I don't know how you did it
But still can't share you
I wish I could put this together and crest it in silver
On a dark clouds of the silent night
Crest them deep in your heart
There they dwell even in the lonely hours of the night
When you sweat profusely from the myth and strength of the known stranger
When you kiss him deep and confess your eternal love for him.
When he sips from your bosom
That same fountain I once clung unto
Holding firm like i would never let go
He kisses you like he owns you.
He's wrong
You know where and for whom it beats.
May be some day somewhere
For somewhat a reason, you may find your way back into the vine yard
Stay not behind too long my love
Tarry not a decade
For the gate keeper may soon fall asleep
The gate opens at dawn but may not be open till dusk