Long Bagful Poems
Long Bagful Poems. Below are the most popular long Bagful by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bagful poems by poem length and keyword.
Down in hell, that stronghold of sin.
strange things stir, but let me begin.
I'll get to the point. Some details I'll skimp.
I tell the tale of a mischievous imp.
Of two imps in fact, to be more precise.
If trouble occurs, it may occur twice.
If on earth bawling kids cause a terrible mess,
why should imps in Pandemonium do anything less?
The Devil at last said in a voice low and gruff.
'I can stand it no longer. Enough is enough.'
The Devil's secret agent went on a search
so as to place the imps in a suitable church.
'Lincoln cathedral will make an excellent choice'
said the wily demon with a whispering voice.
And so it was that the imps were sent packing,
a bagful of tricks and pranks never lacking.
At Matins and Vespers funny noises soon sounded,
pews, the lectern and even the high altar got pounded.
Such nasty smells could no incense repel.
In the belfry at midnight who tolled the bell?
Bad things increased, becoming day to day eerier,
till monks and nuns were slapped on the posterior.
The archbishop exclaimed 'Enough is enough.
Holy water must end all this devilish stuff.'
The church warden's face turned stony and solemn,
when he saw one of the imps perched on a column,
where he remains in full view to this very day
if to Lincoln cathedral a visit you pay.
There he squats, leg on knee all alone,
without any motion, now turned into stone.
The second imp sent a draught dank and chill
around the cathedral and, some say, does still.
This is a story of an old couple who had no children of their own.
One day while the old woman was washing clothes at a nearby river, she saw a large rosy peach floating downstream.
She got ahold of it to give to the old man.
Yet, before he had a bite of it, the rosy peach burst open.
It had no large seed in it, but a baby boy.
The baby ate the peach and became very strong and healthy.
The old couple took care of him as he grew to be the strongest and healthiest baby in the whole countryside.
The old couple named him 'Momotaro', the Peach Boy, a secret kept only to themselves.
One day, Momotaro asked his mother, the old woman, to make him a bagful of 'kimi-dango', a Japanese millet dumpling, for him to take on a journey to Ogre's Island and take their treasure from them.
He left the couple with the kimi-dango bag tied to his waist.
He came upon a monkey who says to him, "Kia, Kia!" Momotaro tells him of his task, whereto, the monkey said he'll tag along for a kimi-dango.
Momotaro agreed and off they went until they came upon a pheasant who says, "Ken, Ken!" Momotaro tells him of his task, whereto, the pheasant said he'll tag along for a kimi-dango.
Momotaro agreed and off they went until they came upon a dog who says, "Bow, Wow, Wow!" Momotaro tells him of his task, whereto, the dog said he'll tag along for a kimi-dango.
Momotaro agreed and off they went until they came upon Ogre Island where Momotaro reveals his plan.
The pheasant must flu over the castle gate and peck at the Ogre's, and the monkey must climb over the castle wall and pinch the Ogre's and the dog and I will break the bolt and the dog will bite the Ogre's and I will fight with the Ogre's.
A great battle then ensued.
"Kia, Kia!", "Ken, Ken!", "Bow Wow Wow!", was heard from sun to sun, ending with all the ogre's tied and the treasure was shared between the four.
Date: 06/16/2019
_______________
Zaahid sharaab peene de masjid mei baith kar,
Yaa vo jagah bataade jahaañ par khudaa na ho.
Priest, let me sit in a mosque with my pint,
Or show me a place without His footprint.
- Ghalib (1797-1869)
_____________________________
If you think you’re discreet on drink,
O my foolish mind, think
And show me just a single thing
Not intoxicating.
Everything has bagful of life,
Packing punch sharp as knife.
So should ye wish to celebrate
The festival of existence,
Each place fit for party,
As festive is every instance.
__________________
Reflections |26.12.2024|life, God, drink
Once upon a time
Once upon a time,
there lived kindest of souls;
In the trunk of a tree,
In a palace built within.
Illuminated the tree stood tall,
its fluorescence dripping in darkness;
As the sky pulled a black sheet,
sun calmly descended down the hills.
Thoughts rode on swift horses,
and travelled through the night sky;
Souls afloat amongst twinkling stars,
bathed in serene moonlit night.
With bagful of glittering gifts,
Fairies with a magic wand;
Granted all wishes and turned dreams true,
To unveil mysteries, heavens beyond.
As the morning sun rose,
desires returned and rested;
Embed deep in the hearts,
Once upon a time.
Written Feb 9th, 2017
For contest by Eve
In my remote village a long time ago
From town came a man of twenty or so
Set up a smart machine called gristmill
Times have changed but it’s there still.
Every weekend I had to go there to share
A duty that for me became a routine affair
Take a bagful of fresh wheat grain to grind
In the mill that produced flour so refined.
The sound of the crusher was harsh incessant
The attitude of the man was equally indecent
For he made me wait a long while for my turn
The unseemly reason I could never discern.
Despite this touch of forced discomfort
My weekly tryst with the gristmill was of worth
For the floating aroma of freshly ground wheat
Dipped me in cool scent of corn field in summer heat.
When I’m crumbled now under the time’s wheel
I see me standing before the village gristmill
In the midst of cacophony and grinding strife
I can still smell the scent of the crushed life.
Posted : June 3, 2018
June 18, 2020
Contest : Crushed
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
My beautiful spring fresh flowers,
Budding after a rain showers.
Pretty butterflies are flying,
Flower to flower are spying.
The fountain was filled with water,
Did I see a swimming otter.
All the tall green weeds I must pull,
Now I have another bagful.
I am so tried and very hot,
All flowers are out of each pot.
Time to rest with a cup of tea,
Watch out here comes a yellow bee.
Date Written: 3/1/2022
Soup Syllable Count~All 8'ssss
Honorable Mention
A poem lovely as a Contest Judged: 3/4/2022
Sponsored by: Margarita Lillico
Hopeful
Whispers in the corridor heard louder and closer,
as security man asks relatives to leave,
In recovery room post operative patients wait,
docs are on their way for morning round,
many queries unanswered pop up in minds.
breathes freshness in air
a tender bird spreads its wings
squirrels hop around
Mother is apprehensive to know about prognosis
as her only child suffers cancer for last two years,
bubbly charm lost in deep ocean of pain,
if playful school days could be back again ?
teachers return with bagful complaints
Of the naughtiest one.
a bright new sunrise
buds in vibrant colours bloom
shines the morning dew
Hope like a colourful feather floats in air to tempt
as they humbly pick and hand over to the mother,
her eyes twinkle, tears reflect the dazzle,
grateful to God for those kind healing hands,
He sent from heavens nourishing many souls.
the perishing seeds
saviours water in time
green revolution
Written Nov 19th, 2015
For contest "Creative haibun"
By Charlotte Puddifoot
Awarded 5th place win
Entered for Russell Sivey's contest
"Choose a topic" on Nov 15, 2017
My chosen topic is C- hope
Nail walking down the street
Carrying a bagful to fix something
For the master who owns my dreaming
Storefronts lolling sidewalks asleep
Night quiet jazz, Erie, PA
The endless road breaking cartons
Locked doors being kidnapped jumping
fences getting spotted running away
Dreaming snatches of words in the air
Fine milky jazz boots on a roll a train
That passes at 10 a,m, cars with their vapor
Mist the chuga-chuga sound of a boxcar to
No-where the rattling of walls when you are
Alone hot tea Lorrianne in a skirt a poetry
Reading in N.Y. moving out with only the
Shirt on my back going down,back,out, taking
Chris to the mermaid bar covered in sand, no shoes
Living nearby close to the sea, changing
Having enough cool to chill sand enough to scratch
That you never itch life that you're full
Digging the Diz and jack going, back going, back going
Because you want to/needing nothing' nothing but a little
Taste now and again just being free doing it instead of it
doing you
The night before Christmas my 6-year-old grandson was elated,
for he knew Santa would bring him bagful of gorgeous gifts
and he would come at night alighting through the chimney.
So, if there was one in the new house he wanted to see.
He ran upstairs to look at the roof top, but couldn't find one,
in tears, he said Santa's visit his fate had surely undone.
I assured, Santa would come through the window of his room
that he kept wide open to the freezing wind blowing at night.
At morn, seeing all the gifts by his side he tried to shout in joy,
but his voice was choked, gripped by the biting bout of cold.
There's a shop down the street
where all the school kids meet;
a shop of wonders and delight
all wrapped up in one big bite
Step inside this tasty paradise,
take a bite of fudge, take another slice;
jars full of gobstoppers and pear drops,
and in the freezer icicle pops.
Exploding mouths full of tingling space dust,
an amazing taste and a sugar rush;
cola bottles, flying saucers, and lemon sherbets
white chocolate mice, drumsticks, and candy cigarettes.
Spending pocket money every day
not worrying about tooth decay;
a bagful of happiness just for a penny,
keeping close to the chest, not sharing any.
Time to go home and enjoy the feast,
just for a few minutes at least;
until tomorrow after school
to the shop we all thought was cool.