Long Bristol Poems
Long Bristol Poems. Below are the most popular long Bristol by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bristol poems by poem length and keyword.
My soul started yearning
And my feet grew all restless
To see the old hometown
And the place I was born.
Out back of my old house
Sweet nature was waiting,
The woods of my youth
Were calling me home.
I drove all that night
And half the next morning
I pulled up to our place
Where strangers now lived.
Things looked pretty good
Till I checked out the backyard
And rows of new houses
Where the woods used to live.
I asked an old neighbor
Now gray and decrepit,
Where is the oak forest
Where we all used to play?
He said it's all gone now
Except for the memories,
A big old bulldozer
Has scraped them away.
They put up these houses
On top of each other
And squeezed the old woods
For each nickel and dime.
The trees are all gone now
Except for the memories,
A big old bulldozer
Has scraped them away.
I got back in my car
And headed for Bristol,
Didn't stop driving
For a night and a day.
I gazed at the trees
That stood on my woodlot
And swore no damn dozer
Would scrape them away.
Miss Muffet sat upon a velvet stool
I know 'twas a tuffet; learned that in school
But Muffy was the tart
Who broke the spider's heart
I'm telling the story, so shut up, fool!
Humpty Dumpty had no wisdom at all
That stupid raw egg sat upon a wall
Tempting luck, he gambled
Kerplunk...he got scrambled
Oh what dire fate for an egg to befall
Robbie Rabbit had a fly on his head
It flitted to his tongue where it fell dead
Robbie's halitosis
Was a bad neurosis
He was banished before allowed to spread
The scoop on gardener, Mary Mary
Is she liked to sip Bristol creme sherry
Her tummy was growing
Pregnancy was showing
The dad? Tom, Dick, Harry; maybe Jerry
Jill followed Jack up that hill on a whim
She thought he was cheating on her with Kim
The buxom preacher's daughter
Jill was jailed for slaughter
She beat both of them with Jack's bloody limb
Such a bad little boy was Jack Horner
Spent many hours in the time out corner
Jack was dumber than dumb
Ate plum pie with his thumb
Wagged his purple tongue at each laughing scorner
There was a speedy racer, called the hare
He was so fast, thought he'd have time to spare
The tortoise whooped his butt
The hare shouted some smut
I won't repeat it. No way I'm going there!
I read the tale about Cinderella
Who went to a ball to snag a fella
Bippity boppity boo
She ran off and lost a shoe
And stepped in some sticky mozzarella
Hey, where are ya going, Baa Baa, black sheep
Leaving your meadow, Master, you're a creep
You sheared off my wool
Tired of your bull
I'm joining the herd of Little Bo Peep
Three oinkers built houses with diverse ideas
Straw and sticks? Those guys drank too many beers
The bad wolf huffed and puffed
Piggy three had him handcuffed
The bricker was much shrewder than his peers
A letter from Bristol arrived on my doorstep
I knew its contents would cause me such pain
An invitation for a routine mammogram –
My Goodness …two years have flown past again
I arrived at the breast-screening center
And sat down on a bright lime green chair
The x ray room I soon would enter
I’d have to strip off my pink underwear
The radiologist asked me some questions -
Did I have any worries about my breasts…
I replied they were droopy and sagging
And no longer pert on my chest!
The radiologist laughed at my answer
My humour really did break the ice
We discussed the detection of breast cancer
She listened and was so very nice
It was time for the dreaded deed to be done
Each breast squashed as flat as a pancake
Two images were taken of each compressed one
Good grief my boobies don’t half ache!
A few moments discomfort can detect cancer
Soon the pain was gone from my Bristol Cities
Early detection is really the answer
And in two years they will re squash my titties!
09~23~16
(Bristol Cities is cockney rhyming slang for titties)
Everybody's bashing Putin week!
Putin's Fallsky
While Putin is doing the Kazatsky
Ukrainians praise the famous Banksy
Putin fell down and went hide’n
Graffiti we all took pride’n
Amid the ruins of war, flowerings of artsy
An artist known as Robin Gunningham
Resides in Bristol, near Tom Cunningham
Paints of war’s grim hypocrisy
Where Putin heads plutocracy
Embraced by a conscience that gives a dam
by I Am Anaya
Bansky's Bravado
With stealth and bravado he's in a rush
He works with passion and departs in a hush
His bold art in Ukraine
Drives Vlad Putin insane
He's Banksy our hero with message and brush
by Robert Gorelick
A is for Airspeed who graduated from Oxford
B is for Bristol with their whispering giants
C is for Convair and Canadair also
B recalls Boulton-Paul who built many Defiants.
D for De Havilland and those sleek Comet racers
E for the energy shown at Embraer
F connotes Fairchild who made a Packet or two
And G stood for Grumman at whom few tomcats stare.
H means Handley-Page or old Hawker-Siddeley
Astounding the globe with their jump-jet designs
I’s for Invincible, she sailed with Sea Harriers
J for the Jetstream with its dynamic lines.
K stands for Kaman so creative with rotorcraft
L must be Lockheed, the Starfighter’s dad
Whining like werewolves when losing their airspeed
Sure to send shivers down the spine of some lad.
M is for Mooney, sleek princess of pistons
N recalls Northrop proud makers of Hornets
Patrolling our oceans from carriers grey
Safeguarding airspace up close to the Arctic
Or defending the cargoes we import every day.
O for the Ospreys whose engines can tilt
P means Piaggio with rare pushing propellors
Drowning-out tenors with their monotone song
Queue for the taxiway, proceed as instructed
Safe separation your life will prolong.
R for those Robins with oddly cranked wings
S stood for Sopwith, with taut wiring and struts
T for the Taylorcraft, no need for sprung nosewheel
U for the uniformed men in rough huts.
V for those Vickers from Brooklands ascending
W for Westland down Somerset way
X-painted large means don’t use this runway
As it’s not been maintained for many-a-day.
Y is the yearning to sit in a cockpit
To strap oneself tight to a privileged seat
Z for the Zeros that rattled their cannons
And so strafed the decks of a Pearl Harbour fleet.
Eleanor Rigby, fact, fiction--answer,
Perchance, perceived, or concealed around her,
Paul, composed most precise, John conveyed some,
Fancied, "HELP!" lead actress, Eleanor Bron.
A prime signature found but Bron, risky,
Paul preferred some shop near Bristol, Rigby,
Indeed, 'Rigby & Evens' Limited,
Wine & Spirit Shippers, Paul visited.
Paul, through a conference, imagines loads,
When he pens lyrics, home or beside roads,
He settles within thoughts, who, where, what, when,
And conclusively, it reaches him--then.
Though she comprised Paul's imagination,
Her named song gave her, world recognition.
Date: 08/17/2019
Eleanor Rigby Who was she Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Jerry T Curtis
I have to admit I’ve got a confession
About my unhealthy obsession
Other kids love pop stars with all their heart
For me it’s the Bristol Stool chart
There’s seven different types of poo
With pictures that give me a clue
to how long the poo’s been in my bowel
Poos that’s both fresh and some that’s foul
Each morning once I get out of bed
For breakfast I’ll have brown bread
The chart is a handy tool
To identify your type of stool
Now I’ve decided to tell
You about the different poos that smell
Cos it’s clear that the Bristol stool chart
Can also indicate your type of fart
Type 1 is as hard as a nut
And stays longest in the gut
Type 2 is a sausagy lump
That’s hard to squeeze out your rump
Then there’s types 3 and type 4
These are the poos I adore
These are the poos I prefer to make
A cracked sausage or smooth like a snake
Types 5 and 6 are easier to pass
Blobby or fluffy ones from your ass
Type 7 is the worst of all
It gushes like a waterfall
So now you’ve got all the scoop
On all the different types of poop
I love identifying my poo and type of fart
The Bristol Stool chart fills my heart
She barged through the doors of the bank with her gun
And shot the security guard just for fun
She fired her gun and yelled “Down on the floor,
I’ve shot me one man, I could shoot a few more!”
One customer, Jenna, said, “Hold up, you cretin,
You half witted loser, it’s jail you’ll be gettin,
You charge in this bank with that soppy old pistol
I think I might kick your ass from here to Bristol.”
The robber, fired two bullets into the ceiling
And said, “I shall shoot anybody not kneeling.”
Jenna said, “I’m gonna laugh as you fry.”
The robber said, “You’d better reach for the sky.”
Armed police turned up; one lady arrested
Based on the ‘facts’ that another attested
The robber’s at home playing video games
And Jenna’s in jail for calling her names
And all the police wonder what to expect
Now that they’ve lost any public respect
At lunch break they wonder how low they could stoop
When they’re as inviting as watered down soup.
[What a coincidence; a poem about someone called Jenna enduring an injustice. Pure chance… honest, Guvnor!]
The uk is guilty too
Stop hiding behind America
You were involved too
It's time for you to take the stand
Reveal the blood on your hands
Accountability is calling your name
America can't take all the blame
When it was them who followed your lead
Joining the slave trade from your influence
Don't hide behind black American history
When you have black history of your own
Centuries of history condensed all into one
In a textbook written in lies and cowardice
Erasure of pain that could testify against your guilt
History books written with whitewashed ink
Don't feign innocence
And don't feign guilt
Your plan to cower in the shadows
And try to run from what you did
Does not absolve you from blood spilt
When you were the ones who tipped the bucket
Your covert operations are not secret anymore
When the deeper we look the worse the horror
Of what our ancestors had to endure
An island of secrets yet to be explored
You can't keep hiding forever when they turn up on shore
From race riots to Bristol bus boycotts
The erasure of black soldiers
And the Bristol slave ports
The secrets you try to keep are in storage no more
Silence isn't your friend
It will hold you accountable
The many crimes you have committed against black people
Your ignorance will be your downfall
Your island maybe small compared to the rest of the world
But your crimes will be indicted in the court of law
Your punishment a cage with no doors
Since you like to hide history your freedom will be no more
Accent De Capo
He loves a great secret.
His job often meant that he
would prepare people
for things due to them.
He handled millionaire
Tristeier Didier's inheritance.
She was a waitress at a diner
in New Bristol, the day I meet her
she told me she only had
$13.0 until her next payday.
I left her a $300.00 tip.
The next morning I came in
with paperwork asking
her questions,
I had decided I would tell her
why I was there after I
noticed her change in mood.
She began cursing so that's when I
told her what I was doing.
Her Dad's boss made some
investments while her
father was still alive.
They were small investments at first
and then he
invested the returns,
then he and her mother
parted way's and her father
never said anything to
the mother about things and he
moved to Canada and became
a lumberjack, and never returned home.
He married Vissy Jasper
a world renowned Jeweler
she was called " Jazzy Vise Grip"
by her fans and customers
she was known for placing small gems
on large rings.
Well the paper's said she was
to have all assets to what ever the
family fortune was. The surprising
thing about the conversation
was, the woman told him:
she was going to buy four acres
and plant hickory trees, and pecans
and make truffles for
the poor peoples of New Bristol
and people through out the world.