Long Brandon Poems
Long Brandon Poems. Below are the most popular long Brandon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brandon poems by poem length and keyword.
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
When the narrative won't fit your point of view
Fake it
When nothing is going like you want it to
Make it
When your popularity comes crashing down
the whole world knows your a phony clown
time to turn their minds around
what better could it be
than to start World War Three
and your elite friends make big money
the young disabled and die
the heartbreak of nations cry
Hoping in polls you rise
Keep repeating the lies
Media has chosen you
now you must follow through
Give them ratings in bloody news
it is the least you can do
after all they stole an election for you
Democracy dies
all lies lies lies
repeat lies
Hope dies
deaths rise
why
why
why
Let's Go Brandon!
Brandon is a curious child
His mother observed him and smiled
with pride and doting affection
as he gazed at his reflection.
From the first moment he would wake
he'd ask, "Can we go to the lake?"
She couldn't bear to tell him, "No,"
so to the shore, off they would go.
Croaking frogs made Brandon giggle
and swimming tadpoles that wiggle.
Beneath cottonwoods on the banks
She prayed to God, giving Him thanks.
They shared laughter and fish stories
He picked for her, morning glories
and when his eyes began to close,
She held her son in sweet repose.
Precious memories of these days
would shine brightly as a fire's blaze
Her heart would e'er fondly recall
These enchanted moments of Fall.
October 4, 2021
rhyme me rhyme me Contest
Picture #3 checked with RZ
Sponsored by Eve Roper
Do the Mandate Polka
Roll out the mandates!
We’ll have a barrel of fun!
Just do the Mandate Polka!
Fauci promised you won’t get
the runs.
He thinks a poke is pure fun?
Just do the Mandate Polka!
So grab a beer and smile broadly.
In a mask, you look just lovely!
It’s only July, but prices are high,
Bicycle Joe is laughing, slapping his
weak thighs.
In sunglasses, forgetful but thinks he’s
so wise?
All of the White House is doing the
Mandate Polka!
Starbucks is now closing, they are
being attacked.
So I’m just here to tell you that,
Mandate Man is back!
All join in, doing the great Mandate Polka!
…………………………………………………
7/21/2022
~3 ~
* Inspired by the song, “The Pennsylvania Polka”….
available on You Tube.!
~ Written at Brandon Falls!~
)))))))))))))
Since advent of *****sapiens
objection overruled against immortality
all across millenniums humans
generated, amplified, and
idly reverberated (Billy me) rebel yell,
when finality 'twixt consciousness
eternal existence doth die as well
grievous news laudable hospice staff did tell
us (meaning yours truly plus
his deux darling siblings), I
in addition to older and younger sister,
thru passionate love making
intercourse did propel
seeds of life embarking
upon parent trap role
til sands of time did runneth out, and
for whom (him) the death knell
bell tolled, now funereal shroud covers dell.
Born April 9th, 1929 - Hebrew
ancestry papa never witnessed affection,
whereby his father - a liberal Jew
(mine paternal grandfather)
purportedly gave nary a blues clue
about welfare regarding youngest son
christened Boyce Brandon Harris,
who harbored quashed feelings
glommed like figurative ague
nsync with chowing down
into his esophageal flue
peristalsis allowing, enabling,
and providing gurgling goo
gull faintly sounding
to (my lard) Doctor Seuss
eerily similar to Horton hears a hoo
after milk (deciduous) teeth
gave way to papa's adult choppers
(by George), whereby
he could thoroughly chew
heavily saturated high caloric ethnic cuisine
(albeit American, Chinese,
and eats of ethnic Jew),
which high cholesterol comestibles
probably contributed to congestive heart failure,
now plaguing papa on his deathbed - loo
zing his tenuous grip on life,
where rigor mortis will find his body
chilled courtesy cold storage queue.
I feel sad today (September 29th, 2020)
and inconsolably weep,
cuz the man who helped beget me
after coroner pronounces
lovely bones lifeless heap
immediate fate most likely cremated
versus buried six feet deep
despite absence of his presence
cherished memories of his value,
yours truly will keep
plus recalling mine boyhood
chuck of full of bliss
particularly driving, fending, staving... off
bogeyman or any other menacing creep.
A hint of helping this wholesome Harris son
can across thru the air
Hence this poetic expression
of gratitude Matthew Scott wants to blare
And communicate my genuine
appreciation crystal clear
Toward one whose existence
more valuable to me and dear
As thee doth become older
with natural diminishment with eyes and ear
But lo…tis unproductive to fear
The diminishing sands
of mortal time as cognitive gear
Doth get clogged as well as one
or the other organ allowing ye to hear
The sound of silence echoing
memories of the past – now a blur
Akin to a warm fuzzy feeling
soft as moss or lichen – precious as a coat of fur
Which tomorrows speed faster
becoming yesterday’s lore
Mixed with trials and tribulations less or more
Thickening as starch and ever more difficult to pour
From the egged on noggin blended
into one glob kept in secret store
Perhaps comprising partially healed wounds
at your heart tore
As if a drafted soldier once
in tiptop shape now to the bone years wore
Away whet dreams housed
within myths indistinguishable from truths of yore
Though I too sometimes fret
as tempus fugit slinks away
Where methinks how the years spin
at a quicker pace each day
Inculcating me to savor each moment,
whether weather sunny or gray
Taking stock of self of natural world
as one named John Jay
Audubon, who captured pristine lands
of America as a frieze zing May
Whereby bounteous creatures
large and small at play
Until…the inundation
of settlers did slash, burn and slay
Indiscriminately - setting precedent
for Earth in a precarious balance oye vay
Whence Mother Nature
will win this global Olympic match – yet
By which time, both thyself
and ye will be long turned to ash
Descendants will be dust off
faded photos of me self
before senescence did dash
Totally unaware that me papa Boyce Brandon
with clenched and teeth did gnash
When I fought tooth and nail
and without a word did lash
Back as protestations against behavior
of mine ye disliked and found rash
With frustration spilling forth
like acidic froth that did splash
Slash and burn within,
yet kept mum no matter
from within did thrash.
I LOVE YOU TOO DAD
NO MATTER BACK IN THE DAY YE GOT MAD
YET NOW, AS A FATHER TWAS FRUSTRATION
PERHAPS FUSED WITH BEING SAD
AT MY LIFE & HARD TIMES WHEREIN
TURMOIL ROILED MORE THAN A TAD!
Jeter! what a special dog you are.
Our love for you is in our hearts.
The joy you bring our family,
is priceless, you see.
You don't do many tricks,
but love us with your many licks.
Lately you have not been feeling well,
We pray for you and wish you well.
Elena, Briana, Brandon, and Gus will
keep their fingers crossed,
just because, you mean so much.
If their ever comes a time you have to leave,
You'll take with you, a piece of me!
For now We will enjoy the time we have,
So we don't have no regrets.
Jeter you bring us so much Joy,
you know, you are my favorite Boy.
If I had one wish for you,
is for you to be healthy too.
We all want to say to you,
we all love you...
Michael Tor Dedicated to Gus, Elena, Brandon, Briana and Most of all Jeter.
I ask myself
who is this socialist Lula da Silva from Brazil?
How did he come to win the recent election of his country
despite his being recently jailed for corruption?
I look online to find out why people form an L on their foreheads
when mentioning his name. I find nothing about that.
However, I DO find that he created the Worker’s Party,
which seems to have a lot of popularity with only half his country.
As in America, Brazil is very divided in their political feelings.
He used to work for the unions. In his later years,
he ran for president and served two terms.
He was actually well-liked during that time
for having a good economy during his presidency
although he was disliked for doing nothing about crime.
Times Magazine actually put him at the top of their list
for 100 most influential people of the world after his presidency.
Somehow he keeps escaping corruption charges.
He has people chanting “Free Luna” outside his jail.
He wins Brazil’s recent election by 1% of the vote.
Then protesters of the opposing party storm Brazil’s Congress,
mirroring what took place in our own Congress
after Biden supposedly won the election in the U.S.
Hmmm, why is Lula labeled a loser?
This happy-faced old man lives in obvious luxury,
gets off for his crimes and also probably steals elections.
I wonder if the L his opposition form on their foreheads
is similar to what the opposition to Biden are doing
when they shout “Let’s Go Brandon.”
Like Biden, Luna seems to be quite the content criminal,
and the world
just keeps turning . . .
Is Lula fighting fair?
First he’s here, and then he’s there.
From the jail he gets let out.
Seems he has a lot of clout!
What was up with jail disruption
after all of his corruption?
Looney Lula acts like he
wants to help humanity with so-called “democracy.”
But instead he’s laundering,
(no, not clothes – another thing!)
Looney Lula, have you goons
in this world of Looney TUNES?
May 3, 2023
for Joe Maverick's 'They say he's a loser' Poetry Contest
Virility Imperiled Manhood Emasculated (mine)
No sense of accomplishment prevails to date
analogous to kudzu... inadequacy runs rampant
recurring theme extant within poetic endeavors,
and often discussed with assigned therapist (one
among many girls named Stephanie Dodds) do
GOOGLE search and see for yourself – similar
curiosity got the better of me, whose christened
name (Matthew Scott Harris), not unique to yours
truly, a poem, which theme pertaining to aforesaid
first, middle, and last namesake already written by
none other other than this scrivener) impacted self
esteem less so than inchoate nascently, pervasively
rampantly,... thrashing unleashed upon impression
hubble early (perhaps even in utero) formative days
of milne eeyore whinnying pooh wrenching, ruing
jackknifing...unsmiling, lamenting childhood's end
upon cusp debilitating psychological tragedy, where
whatsapp pining within me present mindset lodged
nexus, sans linkedin destructive buzzfeeding apathy
mired potential vitality (crying evinced powerful
lungs) quickly succumbing against brutish, nasty,
yet not short reign of innate oppression, fixation
abnegation with dereliction, asper self preservation
engendering feeble gesticulation harkening incipient
personhood crowdsourcing courtesy condemnation
damning existential insignificance motif possibly
adopted comparing not fancy free and footloose
demeanor toward none other than Boyce Brandon
Harris, thee papa, jack of all trades, (many taught
thru his own quick learning penchant), numberless
abilities + storied vocation - mechanical engineer
equalled one smart polymath strengths constantly
reiterated by mother (dearest long since deceased)
agog how papa excelled at most every endeavor,
i.e. vocational career at General Electric (aerospace
engineer) in conjunction with bajillion avocations,
hence finding his sole son (second of three progeny)
when only yeah high (a scrawny, skinny, spunky...
little boy) internalizing heaping accolades bestowed
strong, not so dark, modestly handsome biological
paternal parent with (rocking) round the clock timely
adulation, which praise papa similarly received soon
after blessed birth April ninth ninety twenty nine.
Elena's cooking is so much desired.
A wonderful chef, she is to admire.
Her Lasagna is all our favorite.
You want to eat slow, and just savor it.
Italian dishes are her Specialty.
Marinara sauce over Ziti with cheese.
She has many mouth watering dishes.
They are worth their weight in Gold
and riches.
A sweet aroma comes from her kitchen.
Great food there, you don't know what you're missing.
A wonderful wife and mother she is.
Judy and I, send her this Birthday wish.
May all your days be filled with love,
and receive great blessings from God
above.
May all your wishes do come true.
Great health and love for Gus and You.
Tavi G, Rusty, Judy, Me and Gaston
want to wish you Elena a Happy and
Wonderful Birthday today. God bless
you and Gus (Tavi) Briana, and my boy
Brandon.