Long Aaron Poems
Long Aaron Poems. Below are the most popular long Aaron by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aaron poems by poem length and keyword.
When a record might be broken,
All the fans are on their toes.
Will it happen now or later?
Well, nobody really knows.
So the Yankees are expecting
Aaron Judge to do to the deed
If he hits just 2 more homers,
Which is never guaranteed.
Roger Maris holds that record;
Back in 1961
He surpassed Babe Ruth’s achievement,
Sixty homers, by just one.
Judge has 60 at the moment
And each time he’s up at bat,
There’s a buzz throughout the stadium,
Just waiting for that stat.
But the pressure is enormous;
So far Judge has not come through,
Yet all baseball fans are hoping
He will do what he must do.
Though the Yankees won, most watching
Would have sacrificed that win
To see Judge tie up the record
So the breaking can begin.
My "FAKE" Genealogical Knighthood
Unbeknownst to me if royal
gilded crests comprised
my rusty dust caked coat of arms
hence, I take liberty successfully farms
productive crop to contrive fictitious
Medieval Age forebears
with favorable charms
strong agile hands
hurling crude accouterments
centuries prior to invention of firearms,
which weapons (of mass sieve construction)
privy to proto gendarmes,
this inventiveness of mine conjures
courageous knights in shining armor,
perhaps monogrammed,
hammered chain metal,
nonetheless such endeavor quite a chore
where love's labors not lost,
viz hub bully accepting, condoning,
and employing embellishments extempore,
whereby solar rays alight,
flickr, and glint glore
re: us astral motifs, the stellar
craftsmanship one (even a poor,
indigent destitute beggar
like yours truly)
could not ignore
exquisite baldric, exotic, and heraldic
trappings incorporating magical lore
aesthetically pleasing
fascinating, and appealing to one poor
uneducated disheveled rhapsodic bohemian
incumbent jibber jabbering, hallucinating,
and fancying deplorable basket case to restore
himself, the legitimate true heir,
who could double as
courtly jesting troubadour,
whose slain grand papa Aaron Harris
violently ousted during Uber Vodafone War
constitutes dreamy gotcha your
attention fabricated and
facilitated to Zoar,
an actual ancient city
anachronistically inserted here
thanks to Lot, whose Biblical reference
Google made me aware,
which ye probably care
nary a fig about, but
placename linkedin mere
to allow, enable and provide bare,
lee tenuous appeal dare
ring me to trump
poetic formality near
rolly returning full circle (one tough Job)
manufacturing prevarication
recounting "FAKE" heir
essentially envisioning, imagining,
and jimmying gallant
high in the saddle career
timeless lifeline chess piece
of centuries gone by
enshrouded with reverence by this air
rent considerably less provocative
then missives by Baudelaire.
Why spoiled misses princess...
never wishes to awaken from pleasant snooze
Appellation (with trailing switchback
and/or additional colorful turns
of phrases) emphasizing assigned
nom de plume "princess goldilocks"
hardly flattering compliment
gently aforementioned sobriquet mocks,
jabs, and stings painful as botox
analogous when the Daily's
(mean neighbors on Lantern Lane
out in vinyl city Audubon Boondocks)
hurled sizable rocks
at our then spry hybrid shorthaired
Boxer/Dalmatian, long since
pushing up bonafied daisies, when
I too sported crew cut,
versus choicest hardiest, meatiest... most
grooviest personal unorthodox hirsute
with unmatched socks,
yet parents, who (along with
paternal grandpa Aaron Mary)
scorned long hair donning
pencil neck geeks as laughingstocks
among cruel classmates,
add diminutive physique
topping off effeminate traits
oft times purposely mistaken
for a girl - courtesy beefy "jocks,"
which mine trademark lean
nonestablishmentarian
non mean mien
gave bullies free license
to rain taunts,
they feigned threatening moves
to clean out clocks
belonging to self
and other wimpy kids
even tormenting old folks
suffering dementia praecox,
our ladies of perpetual responsibility
this haint nun cents
(think Garrison Keillor
Prairie Home Companion)
took me under their wing
metaphorically inoculating yours truly
as against some deadly pox
at providential spiritual crossing
divine intercession really rocks!
He began recording for Sun Records until his contract was acquired by RCA.
He was the King of Rock and Roll and his life ended forty-five years ago today.
He died at the age of forty-two and Elvis Presley was his name.
Abusing prescription pills led to his death and it was a shame.
He recorded such hits as "Jail House Rock", "Hound Dog" and "Way Down".
Presley was born in 1935 and would be eighty-seven if he was still around.
Certain people couldn't accept the fact that he didn't survive.
Those people thought he faked his death and was still alive.
Since he died four and a half decades ago, Rock and Roll hasn't been the same.
He died at the age of forty-two and Elvis Presley was his name.
[Dedicated to Elvis Aaron Presley (1935-1977) who died 45 years ago today on August 16, 1977]
Memory houses soul asylum vestige...
where complex edifice once anchoring
venerated Glen Elm demesne once stood,
now nothing except vinyl city!
I recall breathtaking, expansive, incredible
numerous, tremblingly awe inspiring views
billion miles (slight exaggeration) heavenly
sights comfortably ensconced, while perched
high atop sadly long since demolished complex
edifice anchoring Glen Elm demesne – summer
mansion property captain Leiper (circa early
nineteen hundreds) more'n century ago once
encompassing hundred plus acres whittled to
approximately 2.42811 hectares upon purchase
February twenty eighth ninety sixty eight by
papa Boyce Brandon Harris, insync with help
courtesy paternal grandpa Aaron Harris, the
former who invested blood, sweat and tears,
when not yoked, tethered, obligated... to
incumbent duties consonant with assignments
linkedin, when gainfully employed as top notch
mechanical engineer at General Electric, he
slaved away gentrifying neglected fixer upper
(matter of fact single handedly reshingled roof)
that same exterior hideaway offering solace
against imprecation, ostracization, ultimatum...
damnation, humiliation, laceration, (albeit verbal
lashing against yours truly), when exhibiting no
motivation to work (courtesy thank debilitating,
immobilizing, paralyzing anxiety/panic attacks),
now though still plagued with same understood
as congenital (possibly in utero) malady, yes an
abominable, execrable, implacable..., nemesis
which unpleasant memories haunt me even to
this day, whereby nothing but utter failure cast
dark shadows analogous to edge of night oft
times accompanied with suicidal ideations,
whereat damned, continually bereft, abysmal
bereft legacy testimony marginally functioning
as the token "scapegoat" throughout twelve
torturous years yielding absolute zero aptitude
unable to comprehend, (I strongly suspect die
hug noses along high functioning autistic
spectrum - case in point youngest of two sweet
progeny (both daughters) afflicted with yepper
aforementioned cognitive learning disability,
she benefited social services since birth, and
can attest to much more positive academic,
and socialization endeavors well on her way
living clear and free empowered at twenty
orbitz round the earth.
What sad fate does all of these celebrities likely have in common?
Aaliyah
Aaron Hernandez
Abraham Lincoln
Amy Winehouse
Anna Nicole Smith
Bob Marley
Brandon Lee
Brittany Murphy
Bruce Lee
Buddy Holly
Christopher Wallace - Notorious B.I.G.
Elvis Presley
Frank Zappa
George Washington
Gianni Versace
Grace Kelly
Heath Ledger
Jeffrey Epstein
Jim Morrison
Jimi Hendrix
Joan Rivers
John F. Kennedy
John F. Kennedy, Jr.
John Lennon
John Todd
King Leopold II of Austria
Kobe Bryant
Kurt Cobain
Lee Harvey Oswald
Lou Reed
Malcolm X
Marilyn Monroe
Martin Luther King Jr
Michael Jackson
Otis Redding
Paul Walker
Pope John Paul I
Prince
Princess Diana
Ritchie Valens
Robert F. Kennedy
Robin Williams
Sam Cooke
Seth Rich
Stanley Kubrick
The Big Bopper
Tupac Shakur
Vince Foster
Whitney Houston
XXXTentacion
NOT BASELESS IS
Not baseless is the ocean’s roar, the build up to that bass before
it all comes crashing into shore, foaming it draws back for more
I’m sure that there are high notes too, perhaps too high for our purview
but to the sound of rock and roll, I find that sea has taken soul
By Aaron Davis
Not voiceless is the ocean's roar, crescendo notes rise off the floor
it all comes waving on the shore, rising up to meet me at the door
I'm sure that there are treble clefs and flats but heh! what I adore,
is when Maestro strikes a pose, it makes my soul, begin to roar.
By Mystic Rose
When my journey finally comes to an end
I’ll rest for an eternity
Ransom Elementary, my introduction to this scholastic life
Baskin Junior High any seduction kisses the plastic night
Crowville High School, the big green kennel
Franklin parish high school, Mangham high school
It was all seen and mental
Dark House Productions, my inner sights
The only darkness that kept me above the lights
When my journey ends, I’ll rest for an eternity
From C.D. and Mrs. Mary Smith
To my worst foster homes vary with this wish
My Closest Acquaintance, “June”
Carl was only suppose to sanction us to doom
Neal, Willie, the entire family of Eatons
Change my stars
But this misery I am forever keeping
When my journey ends, I’ll sleep for an eternity
Michael and Jamie, Aaron and Nicole
I swear, I’d want you all around forever, watch me grow old
From hustling to get back and forth to football
To working 3 and 4 jobs
Pushing my way through college to witness the soot fall
Pam, Jennifer, Eke, Ernest, Paul, and Chris
My birth mom, Miss Dianna Townes
It’s the memories we recall in this life we miss
To every I didn’t mention, you all know that
When my journey finally ends, I’ll rest for an eternity
Form:
It was just past midnight. Another sleepless might. Wide awake, sifting through the memories, I felt an aching deep in my heart and soul. As I listened to the you tube playlist I had created for you.
First came Aaron Copeland's "Fanfare for the Common Man" not so common transitory reflection of what was your life. Sped quickly by in those last pain filled brief moments that still impact mine.
Play Evanescence "My Immortal" how ingrained was your life embraced by mine.
The unheard solemn cry of Terence Stamp singing Billy Joel's "Goodnight My Angel." It was here the tears did exude and inundate my eyes with sobbing whispers of our final goodbye.
The haunting melodies and words resounded a song sung with innocence by Libera and the hope to be held once more by "I Am the Day" followed hypnotically be Mary Fahl's "Going Home."
Let the songs play.
Let the tears flows.
Let your memory return.
Let me dream of what we had.
Let life continue although it be without you.
Close the book, end the poetry, let it rest as I give in.
Dan Schutte's "Here I Am Lord".
Marilyn and Elvis, iconic, and well-loved, cherished, beloved.
Loved and beloved in the same sentence? Only for these two.
They both have a vulnerability and a tragic back story
Elvis had to live for his twin, Aaron, who died in the womb
Marilyn had to reinvent herself, so someone would love her
Both unaware of how beautiful they were; neither understanding
We who grew up in the sixties wanted to fall in love with them
They were both edgy, a bit out there, classically unique, daring.
They both caused parents to shudder, and talk.
Anyone who can make Ed Sullivan blush is okay with me.
They were sex symbols, without trying to be.
Okay, Marilyn tried. All Elvis had to do was give you his look.
That smoldering look that made you gasp
They were our beautiful people, our icons,
The ones we all wanted to be; the ones we would be
When we grew up. We all aspired to be Marilyn and Elvis.
Better yet, Marilyn and Elvis.