Long Andy Poems
Long Andy Poems. Below are the most popular long Andy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Andy poems by poem length and keyword.
just something fun....
ANDY THE DILLO*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In Texas town where sun brightly shone,
Andy the dillo lives, all alone.
He dreamt of a pretty gal,
one who lives in his locale.
Together the dusty trails they’d roam
When pillaging one starry night
he met Astrid, "Oh! you're outta sight"
A quizzical nose had she
“You're perfect dillo for me!
Let’s eat worms together, they’re a delight!"
With a twirl and a tap of her toes,
she showed dance moves that she knows.
'round and 'round she did spin,
with giggles and a grin.
Then he noticed her rather large schnoz.
“EEEGADS! Where did you get that nose?
With it, the ground you can bulldoze
You’re a dillo extraordinaire.
I’ll follow you anywhere.
Let’s go get some worms at Joe’s!”
*Note: Poem originally published in Poetry Soup in June 2025 (poetrysoup.com/poem/andy_the_armadillo_1738645)> I then deleted it. This is my original poem.
PD reporting live on the soup, with Worlds most wanted criminal poets.
Standing here with the POETS. MOST. WANTED. Tipsters Host John (What ?)
With an exclusive update on criminal poets, captured and on the run.
Switching over to you John,
"Thank you, Sid, let us give thanks to all the P.M.W. tipsters." alerting the poet authority.
Here we have our lovely F.B.I. agent Andrea Dietrich (Andy) & U.S. Marshal Shirley Harrison
(S.H.)
P.W. Tipsters helped the capture of one infamous fugitive Nikko Palmario, a poetess going
contest crazy.
F.B.I. Agent (Andy) ended the manhunt tracking her down in the Philippines.
(Andy), says" this convicted poet addict and comment crusader, gave us a fun run"
Christopher Brantley, still at large U.S. Marshall (S.H.) says, "This brilliant fugitive leaves no
trace."
A dangerous poet posting comments longer than his poetry. Leaving a distinction of
excellence
in any short form. PW. tipsters Demand him to be brought down to poetic justice.
A tip led Marshall (S.H.) to the most notorious blond bombshell on the soup.
Captured on her vacation Linda Marie Bariana, lost control of her blond moment.
Paralyzing her laptop with sand. Covering to other crimes with too much poetry rhyme.
Her # 1 crime, entering a dark poet contest, too bad for this SWEETHEART who has too much
shine.
Wanted in all nations Lynette Chachere a realistic poetic criminal against reality & dreams.
F.B.I.(Andy) Says"Our sweet Lynn, carries a weapon against all Enigma wonders."
A shameful crime to bring down a poet's spirit with an intervening of her intense poetry.
F.B.I. Most wanted poetic lunatics, Billy the Kidder, with a Mental Poet Disorder.
A maniac on the rampage, a poet who lost it, with a crime slamming himself.
It’s a five-hour round trip,
What with the ferry, shuttle, a
Twenty-minute walk, sometimes the bus,
Just to see him for a couple of hours.
Sometimes he’s not doing well
Or is sleeping while I’m there.
It’s been such a long time!
First there was the back operation.
They said it went well, that soon I
Could see him in the recovery room.
But then he had the stroke!
Those weeks in intensive care
When they kept asking him
Every hour if he knew his name,
His birthday, his middle name,
The president, the year!
At least he could answer, if
Only haltingly. When the pain
Was dulled, he slept,
So lethargic it was scary!
He developed pneumonia,
Fluid around the lungs, too,
And had to have a drain,
Along with all the IVs,
And so many tests! EEGs,
X-rays, scans, ultrasounds,
Over and over again!
Finally, release to a room
Out of the ICU, but still tubes
And tests and more tests!
We sat by his bed, day after day,
Watching him sleep or trying
To engage him in conversation.
Putting his bed up, putting it down,
Getting nurses to reposition him,
Wetting his mouth with sponges,
Taking turns to get a break.
Then, after thirty-one days,
At last, to the rehab hospital!
Progress, pain, setbacks, complaints
(Who wouldn’t complain?)
At present he’s making small steps.
He is able to swallow all right,
So no more pureed food!
He can stand for a short time
In the standing frame,
A little longer this week than last!
The physical therapy is slow and
Sometimes discouraging,
Retraining those unused muscles.
Certainly it will be many weeks yet,
But now I can see a future when
He will come back home to us,
To me and to his beloved
Bernese Mountain Dog, Andy,
And his cats, Sweetie Pie and Sophie,
And he’ll be back to his old self again!
Rainy Days
On a rainy day, the kids can’t play,
But the farmer views it a different way.
As a cloud passes over he’ll anticipate,
That it brings the water which his crops await.
The rain falls from heaven and soaks the earth,
And the miracle of life is brought to birth
The seeds bear fruit and begin to grow,
However fast, however slow.
When harvest time comes he gathers what he’s sown
But he doesn’t view this miracle as being ‘home grown’
There’s plenty there to benefit others
He gives of his crop to feed his brothers
Fathers and Mothers, children too.
Each one of them receives their due.
They all receive sustenance from what they eat
It gives them the power to stand on their feet
It gives them the strength they need each day
To work, to preach and yes …even to play
So listen all you children, the rain isn’t bad
It’s just the way you view it that makes you sad.
If you’re forced to stay home, you can find much to do
There’s a wealth of activity so close to you
If you dare to turn about and take a good look
You may solve a problem, or even read a book
Don’t feel the rain restricts you, as it just isn’t so
In reality, it’s that same rain that causes you to grow.
If you look at life Jehovah’s way you’ll find this is true.
It’s just the way you view it that makes each day for you.
Andy Jarvis October 11th, 2011
Andy is a wheelchair racer from Stockport,
Born a 1993 kid on the 6th day of January,
Who has serious nerve damage to report,
Which affects him neurologically, physically.
He went to Brine Leas School in Nantwich,
Which sits in Cheshire in good old England,
He studied at S Cheshire College to hitch,
But took to athletes after the London hand.
In 2014 he competed in the IPC Grand Prix,
In Switzerland, sprint and middle distance,
But in Rio he secured a bronze very elegantly,
For the 100m, a PB in the short time of 17.96.
Along with two of his team mates and fellows,
Dan Bramall and Carly Tait, Andy received,
A grant to buy a new wheelchair - perfectos,
From the Manchester Airport fund, relieved.
Richard Hoskins, head coach in Andy’s club,
Said “The purchase of the racing wheelchair
enabled…members to train intensely [hub],
…in the lead up to various competitions,” [fare].
Jim Nabors always said "Shazam", that was his catchphrase.
Because of his contributions to television, he deserves praise.
It was hard for him to watch the opening credits of Gomer Pyle because many of those Marines died in Vietnam.
We always know that he's on Gomer Pyle or the Andy Griffith Show when we hear him say "Shazam".
We also remember him yelling "Citizen's Arrest".
All of his fans are sad and they're also depressed.
He also starred in some movies, two of which were Cannonball Run 2 and Stroker Ace.
His friends, fans and family have to say goodbye, his death is hard for them to face.
(Dedicated to Jim Nabors who died at the of 87 on November 30, 2017.)
Andy meets Sandy
Sitting among the crowed of workers
Awaiting the arrival of his Excellency
The executive governor of the promise land
The promise keeper;
I beheld angel, with a dark brown eyes
Conspicuously hidden among the crowd
I was overwhelmed by the beauty of her dark brown eyes
She looked so pretty and angelic as she stared beyond the crowd;
When I couldn’t take it again, I moved to her side.
Her dark brown hair shone in the sun light,
Her skin was soft as the velvet clothe
When I asked her name, she said sandy in a sweet melodious voice.
O sandy, don’t leave my side, don’t leave me alone,
O sandy I love you..... Don’t leave me alone.
Have got a big heart that can fill your love.
As long as I live I will always love you....
As she leaves my side to meet her friend,
I wrote her a love panegyric poem
I panegyrize Sweet sandy,
Then she collected the poem and wrote thank you Andy.
For; Sandy Joy
Coney,
Bologna,
Hogwarts knees,
Falcone “G... 3...”
Razor backs,
Diamonds,
Friend of everyone,
Wishbone,
Fishbone,
Ceviche,
Weepy Trees,
People pleaser,
Teaser,
Appetizer,
Wiser,
Sweeping dust bunnies,
Pixie dust,
Trust fund,
Guns,
Treaties,
Tricks are for kids,
Rap song says to...
“Get BIG!!!”
Ace of Spades up my sleeve,
Still, I cannot breathe...
I have to sit still,
God, please!
I did my time and paid my fees,
Yet, lost my wallet and my keys,
I bought some Campbells and Wheaties,
Yet, drank a handle and did NOT heed,
The warning of the mourning and the decrees,
That Andy Warhol stalled by calling Saul another chief,
Until he realized he was NOT the pilot for the silent,
But really still blind with disbelief,
Yet, believed in himself,
So, we must say, “good grief...”
With some relief and begin to speak these things ourselves,
Do something for our own health, wealth, and begin to take stealth,
Because what we felt, smelt, and held,
Was worth more than anything we could sell,
We just needed some of them seashells,
That fell out of the hands of that pretty damsel in distress,
With a very beautiful chest of treasure,
At any measure...
If it were her, we were after,
We would probably never catch her,
Yet, to put it past her,
She would still end up being the master,
Just like the Catcher in the Rye,
Leaves one with a log in their eye,
While the twig is in yours for sure...
toward thee spunky gal,
whose impregnation and debut appearance
way to brief a tale for Aesop
cuz, (umpteen iterations recounted),
out the birth canal aye did bop
analogously compared
to a mealy mouthed measly crop
a spindly tangle of arms and legs
radiated (starfish like)
dangled and would uselessly drop
like a raggedy ann male counterpart
(raggedy andy - how original)
with limbs that didst flop
and tis no small wonder, thyself as one
newborn baby body electric
easily confused with bony glop,
which skimpy weight
leant convenience as sigh grew older
to alternate jumping
(ala pogo stick mode) and hop
from one skinny spindle shank leg to another,
and manifold orbitz whip
sawing round the sun
bore witness to puny laughable specimen
of a nerdy lad, who (in hindsight)
grew long straggly hair,
which NO ONE (except me) could touch,
nor most definitely NOT lop
off (this fetish) compensation
for very slight physique
in dewed time begot
pencil necked geek milksop,
now at an age prowl lix sing viz
dragging, crawling, battling...
slight abdominal bulge
unlike widower octogenarian biological pop
whose once strapping superman
like build atrophying (sad sight)
since grim reaper put objectionable stop
upon head of harriet harris,
whereat two and a half score years
her longevity did top.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
now, comb may tooth how zen,
sans eight plus ten
'twill be thirteen yars
when me late mum agonizingly relinquished
an indomitable loo ving life,
which strong fighting spirit
(spittle and vinegar) yen
reached a juncture,
(sans metastasized ovarian cancer)
forewent heroic measures, which ken
not avail bottled anger within this sole son
telling thee, he didst love ye
never communicating NOR often!
Frenzied anguish precipitated Matt chew
Scott Harris, with
unrelenting, unescapable,
and unbearable despair, grew
wing by leaps and bounds,
which fraught gloom didst hew
mindset equalled nought
(Gordian knot) i.e.
zero ambition tubby
alive, and concomitantly
brought if only you knew,
wrought unbearable toxic brew
to pinpoint the exact clue
how being penniless I do
attest, this compounded zilch money
agonized by quite
a stack - more'n a few
monthly bills past due,
thus aye rue
min hated, the least loo
pee, and most painless
final solution of this Jew
wish atheist, (these
utterances absolutely true),
no "FAKE king," trump
petting, yawping foam
minted psychosomatic ague,
whereat mine mental state hue
mon gust lee off kilter,
with hum moo
zing thoughts of
palm lee strangling myself,
(or hiring sum
handsome fist responder to slew),
me the way - no
cho king) till I go
totally tubularly blue
in the face, em
barking on undo
wobble decision, said permanent
exodus from life,
this scribe dost view
as last saving grace,
this self woo
man eye zing,
(nada so amazing),
ye might poo poo
such drastic desperation,
non heroic measures stew
pa head and er ration
hubble grim foray
exacerbated predisposition
to panic/ anxiety attacks,
the alluring temptation
hi with Andy Lee drew
to bid bid adieu
to hard scrabble existence,
and in summer re: goo
winter becoming cremated powder,
(with urn nest to dog -
un woof hoot
table Sirius ness), wharf few
if any tsuris -
(Yiddish for aggravation),
NO ash lee zero distress,
would upend resting
in a bajillion pieces.