Long Babysitter Poems
Long Babysitter Poems. Below are the most popular long Babysitter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Babysitter poems by poem length and keyword.
She yanked Sue by the belly,
She pinched Lou on the nose.
She shoved us from the telly
And she trampled on our toes.
She went through the cupboards, snooping
And she stole our paper clips.
But the worst stench was her pooping,
Then she ate our potato chips!
I have had it, I told my siblings.
Go find a long rope, and scissors too.
We dragged her from her scribbling,
And we lost her saddle shoe.
She was screaming like a banshee,
Neighbors ran out to take a selfie
Nothing posed, nothing fancy
Quick shots, lean and healthy.
We marched her to a locust,
In our best friend Marco’s yard.
He ran out to help us,
His brother Beau stood guard.
When our parents returned home
From their little night on the town
They wondered where the babysitter had gone.
Luckily, for us, she was never ever found.
When I was young, I took a tin can to the lip.
Courtesy of my best friend.
I ran away crying to my mother.
(This was my first set of(flesh) stitches).
My cat(blue) had a fetish for crapping in the bathtub.
Dad got sick of the cat shenanigans.
So, I never saw that color of that blue cat again.
My second set was (broken spirit stitches).
It was past bedtime I was busy finishing up a war.
With a jar of plastic army men.
Dad warned me a half dozen times to pack it in.
He was blue-collar tired and took a heavy hand to my hide.
His guilt was just as heavy (a set of forever stitches for him).
One early morning I snuck out of our humble house.
Made my way to the farmer's field and freed up all of his cows.
As punishment, the farmer wrapped a dead corn snake around my neck.
There were no stitches, but it put an end to my cow-rustling events.
Brother and I once had an infamous butter war.
Tossing and smearing it all over walls and kitchen floor.
The fun and hijinks were well worth the licking.
My third set of stitches were deep in the belly from laughing.
Rachel was both babysitter and childhood phantom.
Details are scumbled, mixed, and quite unclear.
I think I acquired a few stitches made purely out of fear,
One night, Mother was screaming, blood smears on the sheets.
Brother and a couple of crow men were present, I think.
The crow men were doing unthinkable things.
Then everything went completely blank, thankfully.
I never saw Mother's pretty face again.
(My fourth set of stitches was of the mental type).
Sitting deep in the black of the mind.
The kind that stays with you for your entire life.
Repeated ups after second chances
Slipping in and out of the same dances
Fruiting both friendships and romances
Cuz they ain’t your ing babysitter
And can’t keep dragging you to your dirty mattress.
It’s always fun until one day, suddenly it isn’t.
You wanna party like a rockstar?
Do drugs. hit women, drive fast cars?
Whip it up around the in boulevard
Til you wrap yourself around a pole
And can’t remember who you are
Getting in a wreck by yourself is one thing
Sometimes in life though, the truth stings
Some bad decisions in a short string
Destroyed your car and life and gave your homies angel wings
Not to mention you’ll probably do time for it too.
Went from beers with the homies on weekends
To out at the bar making new friends
To alone in my room all night after my shift ends
To whatever I can get away with stealing
From the outlets
But then to the withdrawal
To suddenly no longer wanting to drink at all
To healthy abd sober and making good calls
Finally laying to rest inside 4 walls
This poem was an ode to my vices
And surely laid bare for me to see
All of the facts laid in front of me
I know this isn’t how I oughtta be
And need to make some changes
For me. And for my family
Changing Times
“The times they are a changin”
are lyrics in a Bob Dylan song
and I think that we can all agree
he surely wasn’t wrong
With Artificial Intelligence,
there’s no reason for us to think
and with robots replacing humans
we don’t need to pour our own drinks
I hear there’s an A.I. Jesus
who will forgive us of our sins
and drugs that when injected
will make our bodies thin
Driverless cars on the highways
packages delivered by drones
there’s no need to carry money
our cash is in our phones
Smart TVs and social media
have replaced the babysitter
and now we get all our news
from something we call Twitter
There’s no reason to go to the office
we can do it all from our couch
and now our mail comes to an inbox
not out of the mailman’s pouch
Old-fashioned dating is obsolete
now we find our mates online
and our babies are’t just conceived
they’re made to an explicit design
Our children have no childhood
They grow up way too fast
And before we even realize
Their future is already the past
Wer’e told that we should embrace
this ever changing world
But are we seeing real progress
Or our future being unfurled
`
Slandered wavelengths
from an old worn out speaker
cracking with each unbalanced bass note
Finding my brain on overload
and a slower heart beat
out of tune
Static becomes the union,
tuning dial gone, volume at high
glowing in the corner of cobweb melodies
lingering on a distant shelf
now sinking lower in this
roadside armchair (Where are the earplugs when you need them)
An empty bottled fortress
protects the pain at my feet,
brown glass soldiers stand guard,
bottle cap mementos flip
like dancing beans on a folding table
at El Mercado
One more for the road
(like I need this)
along crooked dotted lines, weaving nonsense
two at a time, smirking
snickering like children hiding from a babysitter,
mimicking the way
Still the static, white noise,
drowns out the joy and the trees cry,
when birdsong of night haunts with a sound
interrupting the dance of the
beer bottle chorus line
and I tap a painful toe
The Missus is angry, Rufous told his wife.
Are you sure? She sounds like that a lot.
Her husband just flew off with the babysitter.
That young thing! What? His wife was outraged.
I think so.
The wife grabbed the binoculars.
That’s not the babysitter; that’s his son!
His son looks like a girl, Rufous said.
I have told you this time and time again.
Male peacocks are the pretty ones.
The plain ugly brown ones are their wives.
Rufous did not want to acknowledge his wife’s smartness.
So he kept looking, hoping something would happen to validate
At least a tiny bit of the story he fabricated about the neighbors.
His wife smirked, knowing exactly what her husband was doing.
life is a messy slurry
Tyson fury
an Olga tumble
an Ali shuffle
a low Cal rumble
in nuclear jungles
hammer and sickle
stars and stripes
a polka dot pickle
cocaine in the middle
PURPLE PEOPLE EATERS
a tsunami ripple
a wobbly foal
grizzly claw
napalm fronds
fishponds made by bombs
divorce court
building doomsday bunker
your first kiss
soccer moms
dodging pervs in the park
a cachexic dream
crack house society
butterflies sipping cream
OWLS FURRY DREAMING
grand slamming the babe
sand made into glass
back stabbers
section 8 scammer
just for kicks conceive
watch the tadpoles grow into nervous tics
where the hell is thAT bubble headed babysitter
It's 66 minutes past 6
life is jaws that kill
jaws that lick
kids wilding
the earth is far beyond sick
life is smartphone indifference
boomers and millennials navigating the river Styx
with floaties and a soggy boat made of paper prayers
life is a forgotten god
gaming in his lair
searching for us
in the muck
finding attic junk
a crucifix
a triple six
circles and cycles
tricycles and unicycles
flat wheels
banana peel religion
slipping
into
wiccan ditches
warlocks-angels with PhDs
living on the street
with lepers kissing pristine witches
life is one big blurry lake
sipping opaque
rolling of the dice
felt tables aflame
it's all a game
cardboard homes
the man tossing bones
convicts in nursing homes
brevity versus eternity
caskets and bassinets
golden years sacrificed to red hat enraged
under waged ogres...with no impulse control
what will be etched into my stone
"He was a self-centered prick of a father
couldn't be bothered with the kids
wielded a big cold ugly stick
long on criticism, short on compliments
but slick with the iPhone
knuckle-walking drone
E=MC I got Hammered
...all lives are too soon forgotten
even by the weeds circling pauper crosses
and the granite monuments of Avalon.
The pet peeves of a female tow truck driver
Please don’t hit on me
I’m here to tow your car
Not to date you
Don’t pass me your phone number folded up in cash
I won’t call you
EVER
Being groped while doing an unlock isn’t sexy
It’s assault
And I will assault you with the dolley bar on the back of my truck
Please don’t try to help me do my job
I have been trained to do this
You haven’t
If I’m not there in the time the dispatcher told you
Blame my dispatcher
I only got the call 5 minutes ago
Don’t hover over me while I do my job
My boss wouldn’t have sent me if he didn’t have faith in me
I don’t need a babysitter
Don’t give me pointers on how to do a recovery
You parked it poorly
It’s my job to un-park it
If you call us to change your tire
Let ME change your tire
If your ego is that fragile, don’t call us for assistance
It doesn’t impress me that you know my boss
Everyone knows my boss
And no, I’m not giving you a discount
When you see me working on the highway
Slow down and move over like the law states
I want to get home safe too
Death of dating started to happen on a Wednesday.
We had eaten a lovely supper at a favorite restaurant
Loved it going down.
Not so much two hours later as it came back up
Death of dating continued to happen the next Friday
When a disgruntled employee who was fired put shards of glass
Into the chunks of blue cheese that got put into my salad
At another restaurant.
Final straw which insured death of dating happened after we
Got married, had three children and realized we could buy a lot
Of groceries, diapers, and formula with the money we used
To use while dating.
Decided to bury dating and begin eating at home where we
Discovered neither of us was a bad cook; as a matter of fact
We like our cooking better than anybody else's
And we can stay safe at the same time.
Besides have you paid a babysitter lately?
Besides their pay there are Christmas bonuses and you
Have to pay their car insurance.
Who is last to be served a meal
Who tends to the kids when they fall and squeal
Who transports kids like they're on a Ferris wheel
.... a mother
We live our lives in the fast lane
The days whizz past so fast
Don’t have time to catch our breath
And we hope our good temper will last
We wake our kids in the morning
Make sure they aren’t late for school
Give them breakfast and a well stocked lunchbox
Although the Ninja Turtles box may no longer be cool!
Then we hurry to our day job
and we while away the hours
then its a mad dash home to greet the kids
Some precious ‘me time’ just isn’t ours
Somehow we fit in the shopping
And take the kids to social clubs
A little down time is so important
Spend time with your friends or your hubs
So get yourself a trustworthy babysitter
Maybe a grandparent or a reliable friend
A few hours with no parental responsibilities
Some precious ‘me time’ is a real godsend!
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7/27/18