Long 3rd Poems
Long 3rd Poems. Below are the most popular long 3rd by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 3rd poems by poem length and keyword.
As I turned in wonder, my shoe caught big
Stared at the tree who got me, possibly fig
Slid on my feet, lost a side of my wig
Imagination gave my heart a sharp dig
Where do puppies go at night on the howl?
Do the coyotes and wolves make fun of their bow?
My muse gave me a smile, and a classy meow.
I ran toward the moon, trying to regain my cow.
Creativity grabbed a hold and gave me a fast shake.
You are still sleeping, and I want you to be up, awake.
I had harsh words but kept them back for my own sake.
Now I am dancing, hip hopping to my sleep’s clever break.
As I turned in my slumber, a voice said hooray!
It is time to get up, greet a fine, happy Tuesday!
I was not ready yet, but I cannot fight the fey.
A faerie and three elves were coming my way.
Where do the children who cannot dream turn to now?
Do they know how to dazzle? Can we give them a wow?
I looked at the moon, where my muse was confronting the cow.
What can I do to help the world? It seems to be a big ow.
You have passed on, distant and silent, o departed soul,
you are no longer here; life has left you whole.
You have been laid to rest in the cold, unyielding ground,
and where your voice once answered, no echo can be found.
Oh, O re tlogetse o hlokofetše—
You have left us, erased, wiped away,
breathing no more, cold as if fast asleep today.
This letter carries no spirit,le hloka moya,
it reaches for a shadow that was once my moya.
O, how the heart has turned into stone Pelo ye thata
severed feelings, emotionally detached, left all alone.
To feel nothing, go hloka go kwa, in this silent place,
unresponsive to the tears that fall across my face.
Go senyegile—all is broken, ruined, and still,
motionless paper resting on a frozen windowsill.
Whose time has run out, go felilego sebaka,
a page deprived of joy, drifting into the dark.
Oh, but I write to you ka nnete, in complete, unvarnished truth,
remembering the living one, yo a phelago, from the days of our youth,
when feelings responded, warm, empathetic, and bright,
filled with delightful joy, radiating pleasing light.
I kidnapped a faerie the other day,
she looked lively and happy, and I wanted to play.
We took the neighbor's mail out of the box,
We tore it up, and we ate some lox.
At first I had her on a tiny leash,
so she would be attached to me. Capeesh?
I was terrified I would be caught and jailed.
For capturing the faerie, and tearing up what was mailed.
My faerie got loose, and she told, and I lied.
The faerie detectives came straight in, eyes opened wide.
For I had captured six other faeries, who had not been released,
So they put me in handcuffs, sent up river. Capeesh?
I kidnapped the wrong faerie the other day.
I guess I will forever now have to pay.
High above the clouds, a
magnificent, giant rainbow
named Roy stretched across
the sky.
Unlike ordinary rainbows
made of light, Roy was made
entirely of delicious, fruity flavors!
His bright red stripe tasted like
sweet strawberries, while his orange
gleamed with zesty tangerine.
Children looked up with watering
mouths as the yellow stripe rained
down lemon- drops.
The bright green band tasted
like crisp sour apples, making
everyone twist up their faces.
Sailors on the blue ocean licked
the air, tasting waves of refreshing
blue raspberry slushy.
The deep purple stripe at the
very bottom wrapped the hills
in a rich, grape- jelly mist.
Birds loved flying through Roy,
coming out with feathers smelling
exactly like sweet watermelons.
Whenever the sun shone through
a light rain, Roy would host a giant,
sky- high taste test.
He was the most popular bridge
in the world, bringing delicious
smiles to everyone below.
A kiss from my mom each night on my forehead,
A smile and a hug when I fall, from my dad,
Forgiveness from my brother when I play with his toy-car,
or from my sister when I eat the last candy from the jar,
A lick on my cheeks from Max, my new dog,
Miss Piggy, together with Kermit The Frog.
The hands of my grandfather throwing me up high,
The grandmother's pear compote or her sweet apple pie.
Lucas, my neighbor when he brings me his cat
Olivia, my cousin, letting me borrow her beautiful red hat.
The rain when we jump, just for fun, in the mud,
A soft blow on my scars, bandages for blood.
He is a Benscar, a burly, beastly, bellowing, befitting ugly bug troll.
This was said by my older cousin who fibs, his name is mean mole.
I do not believe you, I said, because I was aware cousin Ruth.
I think for once in his life, Grandma said “He might be telling the truth”.
We all tromped down to the river to meet this troll named Benscar.
He was taking the carburetor out of grandpa’s 1972 red and white car.
What are you doing? Grandma asked, “To Leroy’s Four Four Two?”
I thought I would clean it up and give it as a gift to the two of you.
Not so mean I told Mole, who looked sheepish and sick.
He had been hoping that his relatives would be a little more thick.
Neither grandma, grandpa or I ever believed Mole after that.
Neither did Benscar, who stayed around to play with our farm cat.
Who wrote this song? The king commanded.
I lied through my teeth, when he demanded.
I knew if he hated it, it would be off with my head.
So I gave my sister full credit instead.
Will you be my official songwriter? He asked with discourse.
I was shocked and horrified, mad at myself, of course.
I’d rather you chose my sister, she said, she’s the writer.
He gave me a sharp look, my girdle felt tighter.
So you wrote it? He asked, staring a hole through me.
I admitted I did, thinking he looked like Simon LeGree.
Off with your head, he said, as I began crying.
It is your punishment for standing there, lying.
"The only way to have a friend is to be one." according to Ralph Waldo Emerson.***
'The only way to have a friend is to be one."
How can you have a friend unless you are one?
What will you do if no one has no faith nor
trust in you? You will be as lonely as can be.
Lost forever in a dark deep sea of misery!
And I am telling you it will never do.
Why not let Jesus Christ become your very closet friend?
When he is a true friend you can honestly depend upon.
He faithfully promises to never leave nor forsake you.
In times of trouble, whenever they seem to come. You
can place all your trust and faith in Jesus Christ, God's
own special Son.
Are you feeling lonely, lost, afraid and blue?
You are not alone, I am really telling you.
I have really felt that way too a good portion
of my life. When I was younger I never knew
how to have a friend. Much less even keep one.
I even thought, you see, Jesus Christ had even forsaken me.
Are you really angry all of the time?
Could all of your good thoughts be placed upon a thin dime?
It is not worth it all. And it is all a part of Adam's and Eve's fall
from God's ever lasting grace. They tried to run away and hide.
Do not try to become like them. Jesus Christ wants to be your friend.
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
January 17, 2020
When I was in my personal cell, I heard a low ring tone from my cell,
Actually it was the weakness of the cell, The buzz made a vibration in my body's cell, It remembered my pet dog's bark,
when the storm had broken the tree's bark, The noise caused the flight of the bat, Finally, I fashioned the bark into a cricket bat.
An art party! Hooray! The second grade teacher tells her class.
You have earned it for good behavior. Everyone likes to color, right?
Everybody likes to paint. It is relaxing!
“I don’t like to,” says Bobby.
“I hate it,” says Em.
“You will love this art party,” the teacher tells them.
This one will be different. It will be wonderful.”
“What about a bowling party?” Bobby asks.
The other children start shrieking that they want to go bowling.
“Or a snowball party?” Em suggests.
She has almost as many enthusiasts.
“This is a REWARD party,” something you have EARNED, for good behavior,”
The teacher tells them. “I have already ordered the supplies. This is an art party.”
“What if I take some of them outside and have a snowball party?”
the student teacher asks.
“They would hurt each other,“ the teacher says.
“What about a bowling party?” the student teacher asks.
But when she sees the teacher’s mean face, she backs off.
An art party it was. A huge success for all but two.
Normal day in second grade where they are once again the odd ducks.