Long Blondie Poems
Long Blondie Poems. Below are the most popular long Blondie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blondie poems by poem length and keyword.
Amanda said I was a real “sketch”
I'm taking that as a compliment
Not some colourful cartoon character
Wonder what it represents
Hope I'm more like Superman
Than that scatter brain Daffy Duck
Old Dick Tracy kinda makes sense
Or Sylvester running amok
Can't be Blondie but maybe Dagwood
Maybe Terry of Pirates fame
Perhaps one of the Katzenjammer Kids
Or The Torch to set hearts aflame
Always thought I was more like Batman
With that fairy like Robin by his side
Actually wasn't cut out for super hero-ness
Seeing trouble I run away and hide
(Was really into comic strip characters
as a young 'un!)
A secret angel follows me, and observes my life, she looks like a guard
A guard, a guardian angel, an invisible heavenly life, she is a heart, love
She is here with me, in my room, and inspires me, she is a so great heart
She is visible, just for me. Tall, blue eyes, blondie, amazing, attractive, thin
She is talking to me, just talking to me, she asks me about black magic
Yes, I do that, I answer to her. Why? she asked. That’s my gun, I said
That’s bad, don't do that, she warned me. No, I can’t do anything, I said
Why? she asked. Because I haven’t any choice but to protect myself, I said.
In my life, prayer no longer helps. Only black magic, conversation closed.
Secret Angel
Don’t follow me
But be with me
Come to me often
And live with me
Terry said I was a real “sketch”
I'm taking that as a compliment
Not some colourful cartoon character
Wonder what it represents
Hope I'm more like Superman
Than that scatter brain Daffy Duck
Old Dick Tracy kinda makes sense
Or Sylvester running amok
Can't be Blondie but maybe Dagwood
Maybe Terry of Pirates fame
Perhaps one of the Katzenjammer Kids
Or The Torch to set hearts aflame
Always thought I was more like Batman
With that fairy like Robin by his side
Wasn't cut out for super hero-ness
Seeing trouble I run away and hide
I'm being silly really sorry about that
I'm unique and a one of a kind
If you still want to call me a Super Hero
Just call me the Hulk, that's fine!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Macabre stairs that creek horrendously beneath her feet
that creepy little girl descending owns hair as fine as wheat
Shadows play on the wall like evil puppeteers of old
they are silhouettes of gloom, exploiters of the underworld I'm told
With gutterish ***** she calls out to the old Master of defeat
" Trick or treat give me something good to eat "
Cognizant of goblins, ghosts and Satan's world now feared
Halloween is but a darkness seized by living creatures geared.
Hybrid breeds of children well disguised with brawl
Open doors left ajar walking mongrels staggers call
"Trick or treat give me something good to eat"
Grap a costume meet the blondie with the gory purple lips
its Halloween with all its dread, here have a bag of chips!
"Trick or treat give me something good to eat"
Oct 29 2022
Sponsor Emile Pinet
Contest Name Halloween
Music has always influenced my mind
it was something way down inside
my musical girls I would see every night
full-size posters on bedroom, I could confide
Olivia Newton-John following on 'Country Roads'
I felt 'So Hopelessly Devoted To You'
having seen 'Grease' on many occasions
so 'Physical' it felt 'I Need Love' too
Kate Bush rises me on 'Wuthering Heights'
such a haunting voice makes me 'Wow'
follow this beau 'Running Up That Hill'
dressed in black so stunning wets my brow
Debbie Harry made me always 'Dreaming'
'One Way Or Another' was of Blondie fame
'Heart Of Glass' stunned me to 'Rapture'
this New York babe made me never the same
This was me in late teens to early 20s
effected musically by my poster girls
even now love their voices to hear again
just memorising fills me with thrills
(I am going back in time to write a poem about my music collection that affected your life growing up and they were my poster girls.)
.
some people like it most do not I drink mine blended . with wiped cream drizzle and an extra shot .the cars are lined up two by two .because it is the start of pumpkin season at seven brew. the lines will be long all that day because pumpkin lovers can not wait to get their favorite drinks .you can hear them grip you can here them moan. as they are waiting. as the line moves rely rely slow . at 730am I am 4 cars back I'm starting to sweat and get pains in my back .at 740 I'm 3 spots away oh my god I can not Waite. I'm getting a headache and starting to shake .I look at the clock its a quarter to eight oh hell ya I am moving again .now I am wiping the drool off my chin .its finally my turn I get to the window and order my drink I am starting to tingle from my head to my feet . blended pumpkin blondie with drizzle and wiped cream and don't forget the extra shot i almost screamed . I paid the girl and she Brung me my drink I slammed in the straw and took a big drink. I drank and I drank until it was gone. I opened my mouth but could not scream .got out of my car and dropped to my knees looked to the heavens and died from brain freeze that's the forth one today the manager screamed .so pumpkin lovers no need to thank me but i must say they have pumpkin drinks here now every day .yes every day at the brew of seven you can get pumpkin drinks just like me here in heaven . HAPPY PUMPKIN SEASON . COPYRIGHT 2025. GLEN PUGH
Our dog, Lucky, died on a Thursday.
I decided I could be sad for years,
for months, for a week, or for hours.
So what would alleviate this utter despair
and sadness?
A new dog, of course.
I searched the internet, and discovered
Sophie. Coaxed Joe into meeting the
people at a public place for me.
"She has papers," they told me on the phone.
"She is a purebred cocker."
Sophie is the only dog I have ever met
who was afraid of me.
Afraid of us..
She was a black cocker who looked
like she was starving, and was shaking profusely.
I did not want her around the grandchildren,
but Joe said, "We'll take her," and began handing
over $120 in $20's. That was the price for a pureblood.
I held her on my lap, and we were off.
Sophie reminded Joe of Blondie, a little cocker spaniel
who had been mistreated when he was a little boy.
A cocker spaniel his parents had rescued, to pamper and love.
Sophie has now become Sophie Helen, after Joe's Mom.
She adores me, cannot get enough of me, wants her
butt next to my lower back at all times, especially if
I say, "Night night, Sophie."
Joe held the phone to her ear this week when I
was in the hospital for ulcers and an inflamed colon.
"Go night night," I told Sophie across the phone wires.
Joe said she slept on the top of the couch, looking forlorn,
staring out the window, waiting for her Mommy.
Best $120 we ever spent.
By the way, her papers said
she had shots in January.
When I look back in time, I recall the 1980’s;
I fell into the Rubik’s Cube and still have not escaped.
Not even upon hearing of, John Lennon’s killing, could I escape the thing, in fact, it kept me from diving into a mournful funk.
I celebrated “ET’s” visit by treating myself; I bought the video, along with Michael Jackson’s, “Thriller” and was ecstatically, thrilled by both, many times.
Then, I went to the, World’s Fair, for the first time.
I celebrated the new holiday, Martin Luther King Jr’s. day along with everyone else and the discovery of the wrecked, Titanic; a tragic example of the human ego’s pompousness.
Disco faded away, like melting snow and Rap, rapped its’ way into the Music Scene. Blondie and Devo were giving fans a thrill, as we donned our G.Q. clothes to go dancing.
“Remembering the 1980's” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
I've always been a mellow
type of fellow
Laidback like dem seats
in that Cadillac
Yeah! Real chill like that
sleek '73 Deville
Even as a little boy,
The jukebox was my toy
Sweet rhythms of life
abating all ills and strife
A manchild in a candy store
Robust bass, lovely strings, classy keys,
Harmonic horns...Need I say more?
No worries! I will continue___
so vast, so deep, so true
Riding that old country road,
just shaking off the load
Hip-Hopping to the urban ghetto
Tupac and Biggie fo sho'
Miles and Miles of Trane
jazzing through the sun and rain
Blues up, blues down, blues all around
Willie Dixon and that Chess Records sound
Feeling it deep in my spirit and heart
The voice of Mahalia Jackson I can't depart
Luther Vandross to Bob Marley
Bob James to Uncle Charlie
Madonna to Marvin Gaye
Earth, Wind & Fire to Coldplay
Jimi Hendrix to Janis Joplin
Stephanie Mills to Phil Collins
Blondie to Muddy Waters
Whitesnake to Crystal Waters
The Beatles to Bobby Bland
Sam Cooke to Duran Duran
Jackie Wilson to Jackson 5
Otis Redding to the Maroon 5
Cassandra Wilson to the Doobie Brothers
Earl Klugh to the Pointer Sisters
Regina Belle to James Brown
Patti LaBelle to Chris Brown
(Pause)
Man! I think I'd better stop
Before I start talking about Prince
and the King of Pop
But I have a confession to make
Please hear me out; it's not fake
I can't help it; I'm a melophile
Now, excuse me while I go tune
in for a while
As I was coming of age,
punk was all the rage.
The older generation,
had the Beatles,and Stones.
I had Sexpistols and Ramone's
Sham69 and the Clash,
the Jam and the Dammed.
They would strum their guitar's so fast,
sing so loud,
some times spitting in the crowd.
The message was loud and clear,
anarchy is here.
It was not all so obscene,
a woman called Debbie Harry ,
came on the scene.
A woman with blond hair,
and such an erotic air.
I had pictures of Debbie on my wall,
for her; I would have done anything ,
anything at all.
With her band Blondie they had a good sound,
turned the punk world upside down.
"Atomic, "Union city blue"
"Hanging on the telephone",
to name a few.
Her music I still hear,
remembering memories dear.
I know she is older today,
but she sill has the erotic aura,
of yesterday.