Long Autographs Poems
Long Autographs Poems. Below are the most popular long Autographs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Autographs poems by poem length and keyword.
I want to be an Actor, My shyness has hampered me thus far
My Credentials however are worth looking at a STAR
To this day I remember my lines in the 6th Grade Play “King Lear”
“LOOK!! There He is now." For those of YOU who are not Actors
Please; It’s not as easy as it Looks, for instance it took nine weeks
To Perfect the Emotion it took to convey this simple Line
Take One : “LOOK THERE!! He is now, teacher ask What is Now
Take Two : “LOOK!! There he is, NOW, teacher “Is the Castle in shambles”
Take Three : look there HE IS now, teacher “What was he before
So when the day comes that a Great Producer picks up that 6th grade Program
I will speak my POETRY to YOU on the Silver Screen, no, Autographs until
The Sequel
What image does the word magic conjure up,
a prestidigitator or mystic spell?
Some say sorcery always needs a backup;
for wizards are tricksters with something to sell,
pretending to master the secrets of Hell.
Though illusionists' tricks deceive the eye,
hidden mirrors can't make real disappear.
They claim to levitate and seemingly fly;
honing their art for another grand premiere,
hawking their autographs as a souvenir.
Enchanters can enchant susceptible souls,
into believing their magic is real.
By exploiting reality's hidden holes,
they can manipulate how you think and feel;
turning ordinary into surreal.
Seemingly achieving the impossible;
magic and miracles share similar traits.
Both stretch the boundaries of what's possible,
contrary to what reality mandates;
and both have sparked philosophical debates./center>
Expecting the Best
She knew she would be a movie star signing autographs.
A ballerina magically pirouetting and preening in the best ways
When she was four, five, and six.
At eight she expected to be a fire chief.
Wearing the red hat, saving lies, climbing into hot windows.
She would save everybody in this world.
Being a professional rescuer.
She was perpetually upbeat, and positive.
No matter how many tried to knock off her crown,
Even when they boxed her ears and made her sad,
Accusing her of things she would never do,
She retained her optimistic attitude, and
Expected the best of them the next time.
Always looking forward to finding their good.
Expecting the best.
But accepting the
rest and gracefully.
Her attitude landed her wonderful jobs,
Gave her a church who loved her, a minion for a husband
Who begged her to order him about.
She never would. He knew this, it is why he fell in love with her.
She was a rescuer, blessedly expecting the best in everyone.
Usually finding it too.
Her children grew up marveling at their mother's
Ability to listen to others, pay attention, and care.
To do the right thing, and stand up for each and every underdog.
They learned also to expect the best.
They were not disappointed.
Being taught by two of them.
Super Turkey with his super gobbling vision and walking sticks,
Asked how he could help fix the crumbling skyscrapers in apocalypse
Good right now, the armed soldier said, attempting to send him away
He found some children who needed cheering, and he made their day.
Gave autographs, and he strutted down the runway making them laugh.
He’s almost as fun as our pals Super Elephant and Magical Giraffe!
Where will you live? He asked their parents, being concerned.
There is a village in the hills, where firewood is warmth, as it is burned.
Walked them through streets of rubble, careful not to step on glass.
Shards were everywhere, each burned out doorway that they passed.
How did you find us? Grandma Jo asked as he offered her a ride.
Her frail looking husband held on to his feathers, walking by her side.
I knew something had happened, Super Turkey told them with a bow.
I have, a sixth sense; something that works, yet I do not know how.
Piled quilts and pillows on Grandma Jo’s ample lap; she held tight.
Walked them to their destiny, then flew to Mars to help others that night.
Super Turkey, how can we ever thank you? They asked with love.
Just look at the stars and honor them; they are always up above.
He was humble and sincere, and made them feel better for sure.
For Super Turkey had an empathetic heart that was amazing and pure.
I am going to be rich and famous,
everyone will know me, my name in lights!
Great! Where will you start?
Will you be a singer, dancer, artist, basketball star? Quarterback?
Not sure yet.
But I will be grandiose and brilliant; everyone will be calling my name.
I will wear dark sunglasses, and people will fight over my autographs.
I will be the utmost!
When will you start?
How will you begin?
What is your plan?
What talent will you pursue?
It is not clear yet, but when I begin, watch out!
I will zing through this world with zest.
I will have so much zeal, it will electrify guitars.
I will be on magazine covers, I will be the best.
I am sure that you will, honey.
When will you begin?
What can I do to help?
Not sure yet. My plan must be perfect.
Of course, sweetie, but honey, you are already sixty.
Do you think you could start with a nonperfect plan and tweak it?
Absolutely not mother!
...
Worst of all was when I noticed
while I was watching a ball game,
the home team’s pants are mostly white,
with a single stripe that’s not plain.
A lonesome strip of color that
represents mere tokenism,
I never thought to see baseball
through such a mind-changing prism.
It says that whites carry the blacks,
it couldn’t be more obvious,
the white fabric does most of the job,
the stripe is throwing a bone to us.
And given all the black players
who are then made to dress in white,
the message couldn’t be more clear,
you must white-wash to play the game right!
I thought it was a simple game,
but however wrong could I be,
baseball was evil all along,
the game is white supremacy!
The waiter who forgot my fries,
the clerk who carded me for beer,
the law office that turned me down,
the ex who left me here in tears,
the cop who said I was speeding,
the gas pump that ran out of juice,
the player who gave no autographs,
the crossword in the daily news,
it is not me who has to change,
I’ve never seen it more clearly,
every single thing I do not like
is due to white supremacy!
If you don't like this poem, it's white supremacy.
waiting
with diaper on
for this woman to get up
off the kitchen floor and
stop bleeding while a man
hovers over her with grimace
and clinched fist
waiting
for our first-grade teacher
to stop crying
over the P.A. announcement
that the president
has just been assassinated
in Dallas
waiting
on the spirit of Christmas
to return days after the news
that mother's favorite song "You Send Me"
had just been shot and killed
a few blocks from our home
waiting
in the backseat of a Packard
for the policeman to stop screaming
at my father as urban soldiers
toss fire from their hands
in our neighborhood just outside of Watts
waiting
at LAX for Wilt the Stilt
to come back and finish
signing autographs after
some idiot just called him a freak
waiting
for the bowtie and scowl
to let go of my arm so I
can shake the hand of
the Greatest of All Time
as he starts his comeback
with an exhibition bout
in East Los Angeles
waiting
with eighteen-year-old trembling knees
for that sheriff deputy
to remove his pump action shotgun
from my temple
waiting
in the delivery room
for the wrong woman
to have my child
waiting
at a motel
for the right woman
to find the time
to slip away
waiting
on the side of
the ninety-one freeway
for a motorcade to pass
shortly after the funeral
of a former president
shamed by the Watergate scandal
waiting
and looking
while holding onto
the entry gate at 875 S. Bundy Dr.
for some sign of what really
happened that night
waiting
along with F.E.M.A. and the Red Cross
for the distraught woman
to come with us to safety
days after the Northridge earthquake
leveled her million-dollar home
waiting
at the hospital
for my first grandchild
to be born while her father
who's been convicted of battery
is nowhere to be found
waiting, waiting
seems like I'm always
waiting
I thought about this long and hard
In fact I thought about it all the time
What would happen to belly button lint
If you set the stuff on fire
I collected more than enough
Over the years to see this through
So I went and invited a few friends along
The word it spread and the crowd it grew
All the folk from the town came out
They'd been collecting belly button lint just like I had
Not quite as impressive a pile as mine
I guess I'm the biggest belly button lint dust collecting man
That's (B.B.B.L.D.C.M.) if you want to simplify who it is I am
You might think that's something to be proud of
And believe me when I say that I am
After I got through signing autographs
We proceeded with my grand plan
The crowd stepped up one by one
To toss their lint onto the pile
Coming close to blocking out the moon
As the pile grew ever higher
(Finally the time had come to light up
the famed belly button lint dust fire)
It was Frankie who spoke up first
And said he'd be honored to flick his bic
That was the very last time we saw any of him
Frankie and the lint lit up like a rocket ship
When the shock wore off I turned around
And saw the whole town up in flames
I've had a lot of great ideas before
I'm not quite sure this was one of them
I now live in a hippie commune in the woods
Since my towns no longer there
It's kind of lonely without Frankie around
Although there's still that lingering hint of burning hair
I no longer collect belly button lint these days
I sure learned my lesson with that
Haven't worked out the details of my next grand idea
But I can tell you it involves a big ball of my ear wax
Joop Goes Hollywood
Joop goes Hollywood on the boulevard today
Gold cape and cane in hand, sunglasses made of diamonds
We don’t know why, since it has no face or eyes
Signing autographs for all the fans
In a stream of consciousness that lasts
Like a warm stream of urine nice and clean
On the street with all the celebrity it can be
Joop comes from another place and time
From outer space, and though it has no talent
We are charmed and reach to touch its hands
It has so many, we don't understand which ones to shake
Trying to figure out; is it animal, mineral, or thing
Perhaps vegetation that is bringing peace on a laser beam
It does not matter; we are on vacation, with nothing else to do
Joop goes Hollywood today
We are Americans and don’t discriminate
So what if it’s not from the human race
It is our kind of being or thing on the street
Joop is our celebrity, very cool, very keen
Gold cape and cane in hand strolling along the boulevard
We string along with it and applaud, the new foreign king of a thing
Couple coding : she combined the two first names to
create one name. Fans of this character often loved
these two people.
While their characters were hot: they would often
tour signing autographs,
making a lot of money selling merchandise and
meeting there fans.Key frames in animation often
bridge the gap: between keyframes. It's a term called
inbetweens. The poor siblings that close the divide
between characters. Poor to pose characterization
where a script is poor due to the building up
of intensity: to build
suspension between two charters.
The creation of interest so the audience can take part in the excitment.eliminating the separation or difference:
where there is no romantic tensions between the two
characters, there might be a rivalry but not always,
it's just two . In the creation of "Spira Tanto " is both
a soap opera and cartoon.
It's about an Orange farmer in Italy who's
Orchard was invaded by a mythical moth like spawn.
Until a meteor from
space landed on his land. While removing the space rock
So to did some of the moth creatures who to on humanoid form
and began destroying the oranges. Spira began wearing
promessa fabrics that were strengthened by the mutations
of the space rock.He began flying, he could lift large boulders.
Women began loving him.He could perform the chores of 20 men in one hour. And he began fighting the super strengthen and super intelligent Moth Spawn and their leader Piu Pormento the super mutated spawny moth humanoid.
He is a mutated creature. A super powerful person.