Long Banjo Poems
Long Banjo Poems. Below are the most popular long Banjo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Banjo poems by poem length and keyword.
Ukulele Gamma
007 Bandplace
Metropolis USA
00500-005
Dear Lois Lane
First thing , first Dame Banjo
and Rookie Wooliers experiments
Include bamboo and spray foam.
Some other things less worthy
Of mentioning. I showed her
the leather concepts,
she laughed at Both brands
And remarked who's or
Should I say what rightminded
Person who wear Elk leather
Pants and fish leather boots
Ellie Farlow had a baby with
Bleepin Task and Jock Ewing
sent him to Mexico, he meet
Mystiques Rakott and had three
Son and four daughters. While in
Havana he meet Pale Chopin who
Introduced him to Merian C. Cooper
the third.who Paul Are back smuggled
a meteorite and Kong's dna from a
Lab in Cuba to a secret place called
Galacta. We don't know much but
Dr. Wolfgang Sinister and Nurse Savage
Had files that included "Bird Bionic"
and " Travusphere" we saw a woman
Flying round Mount Ferris and a man
Walking on water. Badka told me it was
Black Manta and Mystique, I just thought
Lois and Jimmy should know.
Sincerly Yours
Ukulele Gamm
The sun doesn’t rise in these terrible skies
The world was in ruins once
Some kind of beautiful
Hell sat around us
Just you and me
This was the saddest
The truth could be
It was like yesterday didn’t matter
Only a banjo
A fiddler and untouched strings
Do you remember
It was some kind of beautiful
Lovely was a disastrous sport
And futbol was a feeling
Cigarettes ran from touch
Smoke came as a form of trust
And hope remained a potion of bad luck
Do you remember when hell sat around us
Tomorrow was unthought-of
We were fishing for the blues
Day light in sunny nights
A harvest moon
A picnic with apples
Oranges and tomatoes ripe
A midseason delight
Can you guess who’s home
We were just about human again
"metaphors, cliche's, & no one else"
Well Mom and Dad were going off
They needed a vacation
Told us to behave ourselves
A new car for motivation.
As soon as they were gone
We decided to invite some pals
Invited Hank, Bob, Bill and Jones
Told them they could bring their gals.
The word got around of party time
They came in at night
We had the curtains down
Didn't want neighbors to get uptight
Hank brought Vodka, Jones brought weed
I said we got to keep things low
"Don't use that stuff, keep it outside
Don't want anyone to know."
Jones turned up the radio
I pleaded, "don't do that."
He started dancing with a banjo
Looked like a cool cat.
Bob had brought a pet raccoon
It pooped on the cashmere rug
I asked him to put it an empty room.
But Bob just gave a shrug.
Hank's girlfriend flirted with Bill
Hank didn't like that at all
Got on his Apple iPhone
Made a couple of calls.
His friends came in downstairs
Left the front door ajar
Hank pointed out Bill
Bill ran like a shooting star
Bill crashed into the beer kegs
The were stowed outside
Policeman read us all the regs
I realized we were fried.
Parents came back quick
The HOA would fine them soon
Both of them looked sick
Then they noticed the raccoon.
So you teens out there, learn from this
Don't party when they're away
You might lose a new car.
And be grounded till judgement day.
The stars, they were shinin' when Harry came home;
And the moon, it was big and bright.
He quietly promised no more to roam,
So, we danced in the firelight!
When Harry came home, the people were singin'
As he playfully tousled my hair.
When Harry came, the bells were ringin'
And bluebirds in the air!
When Harry came, sweet scents of summer
Lingered all around us.
When Harry came home, the banjo strummer,
Like the night, so melodious!
When Harry came home, he kissed my lips,
As the brook moved through the trees;
And stood there, hands on hips,
With eyes that seemed to tease.
When Harry came, my heart beat faster,
And gave a sudden thrill!
When Harry came home, moon of alabaster,
And faint laughter from Blackthorn Hill.
Onset rumor today
Brave caped clown Gizmo
Dumps awful patron
After prank ended wonky
Never short fused
Clown Gizmo flips
Zooms while zings
Crowd cheer bravo
Later Gizmo calls bloke named Ralph
Guest plays fancy prize banjo
Until roars upset crowd
Sadly trash hefty jazzy amigo
Yikes! Vexed Gizmo jumps about
While oozes funky fresh skunk spray smell!
Whack!… Shout quick rapid magic
Throw given Hocus Pocus spell
Twirl aloud again Gimme Gimme
Sweet happy jolly smile Dozen jokes aside
Gizmo winks neath flurry haste
Saves promo story gusto style
Form: using only 5 letter words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on February 19, 2018 for contest A LITTLE LAUGHTER FIVE sponsored by EDWARD McCALL - RANKED 2ND
August the eleventh is a very special day
Because happy Jack Ellison is ninety today
A talented musician he used to play the banjo
With the Canadiana singers, many years ago
A ladies' man with a keen eye for the fillies
Makes us all laugh with his limerick sillies
But Jack he can write serious poetry too
He's a proud Canadian through and through.
I hope that he has a lovely birthday today
And hope that everything goes his way
I've enjoyed banter with him over the years
We've had plenty of laughs and shed a few tears.
So, raise your glass and let's have a toast
To a fine gentleman and poet that's no idle boast
He has lots of friends on here, so I hope you'll join me
In letting Jack know he's a valued member of this community.
(Here's one of Jack's poems)
Once was a folk singer back in the sixties
It was surely my time to shine
Along with the great Peter Paul and Mary
They seemed like good friends of mine
A group of six, The Canadiana Folksingers
Appeared on Canadian TV
A couple of albums and a number of performances
Played banjo, sure looked geeky
Hi Jolly was our biggest success
Wherever we went they clamoured for it
Did I tell you Bruce played a one string bass
It added some charm I'll admit
Wife Linda was one of the two girl singers
Sure prettied up the group I'll say
Didn't make much money but that didn't matter
The joy hasn't left me to this day
Not everyone can say they were part of a group
Twas a very special time in my life
Wish I could go back and live it again
A great time for me and my wife
Jack Ellison.
A is for Accordion, squeezing air with bellows
B is for Banjo, five strings plucked by bluegrass fellows
C is for Clavichord, keyboard with a metal sound
D is for the Drums which percussionists will pro-pound
E is for the English horn, using a double-reed
F is for a brass French horn, three valves is all you need
G is for Glockenspiel, metal bars arranged in rows
H is for Harmonica, both in and out she blows
I is for Ingoma, on which skins or hides are drummed
J is for Jinghu, just two strings that are bowed not strummed
K is for the Keytar, keyboard guitar held upright
L is for the Laser harp which plays on beams of light
M is for Maracas, their rhythm shaken by pros
N is for Nguru, Maori flute blown through the nose
O is for the Oboe with a mouth-piece that looks bewitched
P is for the Piccolo, a half-sized flute, high pitched
Q is for the Quena, a notched flute from the Andes
R is for the Rattle, maracas for the babies
S is for the Shofar, a Jewish horn hard to blow
T is for the Tuba, largest horn and tough to tow.
U is Ukulele, four-string Hawaiian gee-tar
V is Viola, a fiddle tuned a bit deeper
W is the Washboard, just for rhythm, understood?
X is a Xylophone, a glockenspiel made of wood
Y is Yotar, a guitar with four strings grouped in threes
Z is Zither, played on the table or cross your knees
This alphabet of instruments just breaks through the top
The're hundreds more to know, but Z's a good place to stop.
March 11, 2013
Allright Poet's ABC Poetry Contest
A pregnant lass with eyes of glass had never learned to cope;
once set adrift her fall was swift, she slid a slipp’ry slope.
She fled the curse of worlds perverse by shooting shots of dope,
and stalked discreet’ Asylum Street her daily horoscope.
The stray was struck by passing truck which was her only hope.
Well, Banjo Boy, with little joy, he strums her life entire:
“The wayward waif was never safe; her stars were dark and dire
(born midst the rues and avenues where lack and want aspire)
for no one heeds the childish needs that little ones require;
though faith survives in tempest lives, a swirl within the briar,
infinity grinds as time unwinds, until the winds expire.
Her last caprice? The final peace that no one could deny her -
whipped by the flood, stray beads of blood are spattered on the spire;
though beads of sweat are cool and wet, cold clotted blood is dryer.”
Though broken there, she’s fled the snare with dying thoughts serene.
And now she’s dead, the rumours spread: her age? a sweet 16,
with child, unwed, her soul stained red, her body so unclean.
A place is sought where she can rot, avoiding churchyard scenes,
in limey pits, as well befits, behind forbidding screens;
and all the while a dirge is styled on tattered tambourines
which echo through the human zoo in valleys of the Queens.
Without rejoice, in hissing voice, near soil that’s seldom trod
“In pious role, God bless my soul”, was mouthed with mitred nod,
(the twisted grin seemed dark and thin behind the robed façade).
“She’ll burn in hell with sulphur smell”, spat Priest and man of god.
Well, angels sweet with cloven feet, they sing in girl’s attire,
but Banjo Boy, he’s playing coy while chanting in the choir:
“The clueless search within the church to find what they desire,
but near the nave or gravelled grave, there is no Rectifier.”
And when he’s through, without ado, he stacks some stones nearby her.
Me pay cheque is wounded, they gave it the axe
And these vampire politicians have drained 20% tax
Credit cards are all crunched to the max
Bailiffs keep knocking, won’t cut me some slack
Dam credit crunch has hit me hard
We scraping dad’s toes to use as lard
Granddad’s pluckin and a pickin’ the banjo with his teeth
Humming “I’m sure there’s some chicken in between these strings or underneath
To travel the bus is £1.20; it used to be a pound
There no such thing as free sex around
I ask the misses give me some; even she bleeds me pocket like a bloodhound
What’s wrong with the world it’s turning into a credit crunch breeding ground?
I whispering don’t make waves and they water skiing trying to make me drown
Can’t smoke
Can’t poke
This is a joke
I’m sure all of this of just a hoax
Well I have to go it time to munch
We having mama’s toe nails for lunch
jalapeno peppers
parading their truth proudly
making the fried tortilla laugh
oranges and the brightest azure blues
the sizzle of a skillet
my mouth salivates
strumming of a banjo
bluegrass music and cotton candy
my food hot against its cardboard sleeve
glitzy pink neon lights
smell of hot popcorn
laughter from all over the midway
Iowa state fair magic
carnival barkers screaming for my attention
fireworks will start in an hour
reading of my palm
her eyes are wizened
I am intrigued, her predictions magical
enjoying this day
in an innocent way
excitement extraordinaire
alive at fifteen
flirted at by sixteen
memory that still makes me smile at sixty-eight