Long Bobbies Poems

Long Bobbies Poems. Below are the most popular long Bobbies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bobbies poems by poem length and keyword.


Punctuation Police Patrol

Dictionary in hand Bobbies
     manned state of the spy craft created
strategic peripheral outposts
     a comma dated,

(sans syntax garnered monies) equated
justifiable to build galley ma free
     Highland Manor wing - feted
via "FAKE" glitterati

     creating surreptitious hated
surveillance monitor ring, which insulated
decked out starry eyed Starship
     Enterprise surprise rated,

as an unbelievable well Spock kin
     Duplicated Star Trek venerated
popular culture science fiction set piece,
     where elderly residents waited

this other worldly architectural phenomenon
     didst immediately outshine by alight
year among the original seven wonders
     of the world prominant 
     as a buck toothed over bite

yet, didst camouflage top secret AngloSaxon
     incognito missionaries delight
upholding correct language usage,
     Thence trumpeting amidst

     nonchalant onlookers as excite
mint hinted grammarians with listening devices
     some flying unseen
     as period size drones taking flight

other more sophisticated 
     electronic accouterments
     dolled, gussied, issued with apostrophe
     shaped flower buds scaling height

     of cerulean sky, where blinding light
of a solar ellipsis, thus
     arousing no discovered night
gallery suspicion during

     feted occasion rife with polite
"FAKE" markedly questionable legatees quite
suitable asper The Art Of The Deal during
     ribbon cutting ceremony,

     and after words right
ting up citations slyly
     slipped under windshield wipers
     as the madding massed crowdsource,

      would take dispersed out of sight
nonetheless echoes plenti chutzpah left
     English figures of speech
     uttering unstinting (quote unquote)

     premature ejaculations,
     eh so blandly trite
non-sequitur visited 
     by thee epic of Gilgamesh
for a dangling participle 
     during the split infinitive Sumer season
     (exclamation point) no more to write!


Premium Member Holiday Banking In a Support Bubble

If you are in the support bubble 
You can go out not being considered trouble 
Whining and dining 
No worries for fining 
But what happens if your relationship is declining 
Could you end up behind bars due to not having the right timing? 
Getting rejected holding a bottle of wine 
And stuttering an embarressing first line 
It is the holiday when we celebrate the banker 
But what about the lonely wanker 
Desperately needing an honest shot to thank her 
Surely this is not the right way 
Instead we are supposed to say 
Welcome here, enjoy the stay 
A viral infection has us under control 
Our health threatened by a nasty cold 
Social lives are under fire 
Partying being investigated and inquired 
Do not answer the RSVP bathroom flyer 
It could be a trap 
Sending you to a 14 day quarantine nap 
In greedy tradition 
Fulfill this bah humbug mission 
Sitting all alone 
Bitterness tone 
Count the money 
Saved since there is no one in life who you call honey 
Arriving soon those Dickens’ ghosts 
Corona they drank during last St Paddy’s toast 
Telling you stay home you are not going to roast 
In evil’s oven 
Enjoying friendly loving 
Hopefully, when the disease run its course 
Vaccinating the source 
We may come together 
Enjoy the festive weather 
When greeting the season 
Peacefully reminding us there is a reason 
For vanity 
And humanity 
Flirting underneath mistletoe candy
Good reddens to all 
Enjoying community communication fall 
Putting up this ugly wall 
Stronger will abide by the Bobbies law 
Peacefully dealing with this powerful destructive call 
Eventually leading to a civil war 
Terrible tension rooted in its core 
Talk first 
Let the social bubble burst 
Introduce oneself to a stranger 
Then maybe plenty rooms will be available at the warm manger
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member WE SEE LONDON DAY 1

After 22 hours in planes and a ride on the London tube
our adventure in England had begun…
We met Bryan, Ali and Ava at our hotel…then it was off to have some fun.

To fend off any jet lag…we didn’t rest…we got going quick…
stopping for some French Pastry…which, by golly, did the trick.

Next it was off to Westminster Abbey…where they coronate their kings and queens.
The service was uplifting as the choir’s voices rose up to the heavens
in one of the most beautiful churches we have ever seen.

An interesting note…when we arrived outside of Westminster Abbey
barricades were up and Bobbies were everywhere…we knew something was going on.
It turns out London was being visited by French president Emmanuel Macron.

He was there to lay a wreath on the tomb of the unknown warrior- 
(an unidentified soldier who died in World War I)
Then, after waving to us, he was off to address Parliament…
No doubt…given the state of the world today …there is much work to be done.

After our service was completed and we walked out Westminster Abbey’s door
we witnessed some of the pomp and pageantry the British are famous for.

The central band of the royal legion was playing La Marseillaise-
The National Anthem of France…
which we heard two young Frenchmen next to us sing…
this was followed by a rousing rendition of God Save The King

I know there are troubles in the UK…just like in America
(we passed homeless people sleeping on the street)
problems that need to be addressed…
but watching the British…the people who invented pomp and circumstance
we couldn’t help but be impressed.

The evening ended at the Kings Head pub…a fitting end to today’s trip…
in a traditional English Pub…while eating fish and chips.

Sitting around the table of that pub…with our children and grandchild…now grown
I had to stop and smile…as we celebrated with our own pomp and circumstance… 
a royal family of our own.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

With a gentle hand

This is a classic story to share.
About the best grandmother ever
She was the person who truly cared.

Back when I was still a little girl
When nays are not that old
She buys me a wooden slipper.
Together we tend her garden

She's a good storyteller.
We are never bored with her.
She got our back when we needed her.
Every problem we have, she's always there.

She always carries her magic purse.
Inside there are lots of stored memories.
Bobbies pins, gums, receipts and more
Old notes, mirrors, even photos galore
Reading glasses and lipstick all in there.

Our grandmother has a magic wand 
That makes us smell delicious air.
Cooking us our favorite meals to share
For every summer all her grandchildren
Will come to her house to gather 
Our dinner is always full of laughter.

Everywhere she goes, I'm with her.
All the things that we do together
It is a memory that we'll always remember.
We all grew up with her love and care.

Sharing with every piece of her 
The love she gave us is so rare.
In our hearts she stays with us through prayer.

Pitter Patter

Pitter patter, drip, drop, it’s not an April shower
Drip, drop, drip, drop raining hour after long hour
Suddenly the sun streaks through, javelins of sunlight
Then back to pitter, patter, and rain throughout the night.

In and out of doorways, trying to stay dry
Thunder crashing the Queens dead, the country seems to sigh
Edward the happy monarch will rule with fun from now on
Rain, rain, it never stops crying for the Old Queen is gone.

The sun breaks through the London grey, it sparkles on a tree leaf
Drops still dripping slowly, displaying all their grief.
Happy times are coming, skipping down the London streets
Children playing hopscotch, while the bobbies are on the beat.

A blossom opens a leaf unfurls, breathes the rain drops in
The first sup of clean water in these london streets so grim.
Pitter, patter, feel the rain - dodging in and out of doorways
Trying to keep dry in the summer rain as one does always.

The ringing of the bells, Big Ben strikes the hour
A begging hand from a pile of rags huddled in the shower.
The old queen is dead and gone, but wanders through her city
Looking left and right, she shakes her head in certain pity

Through London town she wanders where dirt and grime abound
She’s searching for she does not know - until it she has found
The thunder crashes the rain pours then drips slowly to an end
The queen is dead long live the King she prays his ways he’ll mend.

©~GG~ 2012 
Entry for Tracie's Anything goes competition This is a Poem I have just done for a Magazine about when Queen Victoria died.
Form: Quatrain


Premium Member She Had a Knack

She escaped with her life, but barely.
He had been determined to take her light.
Her self-confidence had been eroded to a tiny piddle.

The first thing he had done was eliminate her family
And her friends, her bobbies, anything she loved.
She wondered now what had happened to her cat

He had belittled her, made fun of her choices, put her down
It had been a real struggle getting up from her crawling position
Church was something he allowed her to “try”
As long as she did not include him

He thought it was harmless, figured it would be a good way to control her
His father had used Bible verses to control his mother.
She had found other things in that church.
She loved singing, others built her back up

With their help she had made her escape
She was now living in a pink shabby chic trailer
Out in the woods, next to people who protected her
From the likes of him

The trouble is, she might do it again.
She had a knack for finding abusive sociopaths.
He had been her third one.
Form: Narrative

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