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.
And there the story might have ended
But the bite on Suzanne's thumb
Throbbed and became distended,
'I must say, I feel a little rum',
she said and lay down on her bed,
but as she fell asleep a patch of fur
started growing on her tum.
She slept a light and fitful sleep
Full of strange hypnotic dreams
in which she leapt from branch to branch,
speaking in a stuttering chattering scream.
When she awoke she felt warm and cosy,
her bad dreams had all gone away,
The clear bright light of dawn was rosy,
She was looking forward to the day.
But looking in the mirror her face turned a whiter shade of pale,
for now, coming from her lower back was a thick and bushy tail!
Her two front teeth were now so large they stuck out prominently,
And somehow she was not quite in charge of an urge to act, well, more rodently!
Now instead of inspiring her yoga class
With her incredibly flexible poses,
These days Suzanne is sure to be found
In the park, (only partly obscured by the roses),
Listening intently with her pointy ears for the sound of a poor unwary fella,
that sits down to munch on a nutritious lunch
of sandwiches filled with nutella.
For Cyril had imparted a terrible curse,
He was a ware squirrel you see, man,
and what is worse, his thumb biting curse,
had passed on his populist schtick,
and now she's a big Daily Mail fan!
In her throat comes a lump
at the mention of Donald J Trump,
And austerity, well now she's all for it, ha!,
Let the poor rot in hell,
And the disabled as well,
Katy Hopkins she follows on Twitter,
She's the chair of her local EDL group,
Since she abandoned her candles and crystals,
At night she culls badgers, just for fun, with a whoop,
And owns shares in a frack site near Bristol.
Could this be the end for our white witchy friend?
Can the curse of the ware squirrel be broken?
Fear not dear reader, there's light round the bend,
these few verses are merely a token,
Soon in hushed tones by crusty old crones of a miracle will it be spoken,
how Suzanne the fair, once cursed by a ware
Squirrel was magically spared from this sorry affair
by our old Jedi mate Oby Wan of Conorbyn,
for it 'twas by him that she was awoken.
Mario Vitale is a poet with over 1,000 poems towards his credit platform.
Mario Vitale was born in Bristol , Ct Has developed a skill for writing poetry in the free verse form. has been featured on Hubpages.com, Starlitecafe.com & Poetry soup. Vitale lives with his elderly mother Ann Soulier in Wolcott, Ct. Currently has written well over 1,000 poems & 2 short story's toward credit platform.
Vitale has hooked the poetic world by storm being featured on Google, Yahoo & MSN. Looks up to contemporaries in the poetry industry such as, “ John Ashbery & Major Jackson”.
Has been a favorite featured poet reader at Barnes & Noble in Waterbury, Ct.
Also featured on such sites as Poetry soup, Writer's café & Neo Poet.
when you roam the streets at night and you
don't want to fight the temptations that coincide, you keep the anger inside.
The greater not the lesser and it's going to fester.
You learn all the wrong things that you can,
soon you're saying, what's up" to the pusher.
Then you're not weighing but conveying the wrong not the right and you set to flight
all that you built and the good reputation to the hilt.
you start sampling the psychedilic candy and the pot pipe is handy and you find that you don't just have pryamids in Egypt.
Your thought burns and your nose stings,
I better stop by on baby doses any longer!
It makes you feel so good you wouldn't stop if you could
I shouldn't I couldn't, I wouldn't, I must stop, but I have to cop another buzz
Everybody thinks that you're so upstanding but you're really spoiled and demanding and Jesus is your main stay, but you're fooling all that you can
You live to drug, drug to live and to hits the bars for the fire water, but you're really out of order !
you score a hit a cop abuzz and you get so high you don't know anymore
Woops, now you're on the floor !
Get up! Pick yourself up!
Be a man for once, but, can you be if you never really were.
One day you wake up from a binge and you fear for your life and you cry out, "Lord! Save me !"
Strolling by the River Avon, I found somebody,
Strolling to nowhere, I found a person.
I looked at the river, I followed the water.
I saw somebody walking to Bath.
He was my old friend the tailor. Very well known he was.
Near to clothes he spent his life, far from all the beloved ones.
Working for his family to have the best.
Among cloths to get some pounds.
Scisors to cut fabrik, money to grow up a family.
By the River Avon I used to walk, to spread my thoughts.
Thinking of my family I was,
but I needed a beer time to time.
Meeting with friends was such a nice time.
Friends rolled by the river, he never could keep them for long.
He took a journey to Spain,
and he started a new life.
A life far from the River Avon,
a new step to be made.
He is far since then, he's lost
in the dreams of the past.
Looking for the old friends,
Searching for the old River Avon.
Looking for the old friends,
looking for the family that one day used to be a dream,
the unfaithful family he used to work from between cloth to scisors to give them the best.
Now, as a forgotten taylor he dreams with scisors.
As a forgotten father he still looks for his daughter.
As a forgotten friend, he thinks about the friends that have dissapeared.
As a forgotten ex-husband, he regrets to be a husband.
After the years, he thinks about the River Avon, the green meadows, Bristol, Bath, England, anyway, his entire world.
All his world is what I've met: the taylor, the struggling person, the singer, the man I found when I was strolling by the River Avon, my best friend.
Sometimes we think we are in Somerset, time to time we dream about the things we've lost. We can't make a step back, but we will make one in front.
My River Avon, you will always be my rolling back.
Since I was strolling by the River Avon, I found my whole life.
The language and images of Mario Vitale's poetry are so closely bound to the natural cycles of seasons, of generations, of the body's functioning, that is surprising to realize how many of his poems deal with uprootedness. But this poetry is not sentimental celebration of the goodness of nature, and harmony with the world is never assumed. The way he captures the tenuousness of this faith, the balance that must be found between the ugliness, the harshness of his history- both natural annd social- and its intense beauty, is what distinguishes Vitale's poetry, gives it its depth and dimension:
Vitale was born in 1970 Bristol hospital.
A young nurse took me in her arms and said that I would one day become a success,
As the years would pass I was heavy in the arts used to sing and act.
Was an altar boy at St. Pius Church.
In time I would act in my senior class play, "The Mystery Of Edwin Drood"
Where I had the lead role as the Narrator,
I touched many hearts with that performance in 1989,
Was hospitalized with mono that same year for two weeks long,
Also that same year I became prom king of my class Wolcott High School,
After the break up with my first grilfriend in 1989 I wrote the poem entitled, "Remembrance of a loved one" where I had it published on poetry.com
As the years passed I would write over 4,000 poems and 5 short stories toward my platform,
My poetry is based on the free verse style of writing,
Was published in 10 venues such as Writerscafe, Neopoet, Hello poetry, Poem Hunter, Booksie, Poetryvibe, Poetrysoup, Starlifecafe.com, Poets Know It & poetry.com...
I was saved by God at the tender age of nine in Charlotte Carolina where I came to know the Lord that was in 1979,
Today I continue to write poetry was published on Spillwords, High On Poetry, Tuck Magazine & Setu Magazine.
My main emphasis in writing poetry is to share with the mass populace touching many hearts.
Bath streets have sights on show
and houses sitting by the row
there’s not a place you cannot go
our crime level's always low
packed all year round with global tourists
city centre market stools fruit veg florists
nothing to be weary of or fear if I’m honest
wandering this wonderous this once Aqua Sulis
We’ve a sick history the Romans came to visit
you'll hear the local accent saying in it and is it
they built a mad bridge with actual shops on
for what to do a magazine called whats on
This the home of James Dyson Jane Austin
Bristol has a bridge and webbed off spring
this the town they crowned England’s first king
where the whole of Uranus was first seen lurking
On the walls "I was ere" written in graffiti
the underground water here's self heating
we've many a restaurant do you like eating
you can watch rugby from stadium seating
So in this place where Romans swim
the inaugural crowning of the King
inspired Dickens and Jane Austin
as well we improved your hoovering
from sending the first Royal Mail letter
The Post Office began right here
a mix of everything never better
in the River Avon we built a weir
we walked with Romans discovered a planet
saw bombings by Hitler but didn't panic
crowned the King of England at the Abbey
and too made a hoover without the baggy
because there's no where else this outstanding
the Nazi bombers but we're still standing
a one way system with no understanding
two thousand years now that's longstanding
Others say they come from a place all crummy
I honestly can’t relate
I’ve been elsewhere now and I'd say scummy
makes Bath look bloody great
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iU4_Pzq_gN0&list=PLrWXQQOwWgeAzG8lMiXPHNQeO_aFFxhLi&index=6&t=0s
COPY AND PASTE LINK FOR SONG (UNFINISHED RECORDING) is that a word unfinished lol
I'm flattered by Nina but need to take her to the cleaners,
and splat her inbetweeners with fluid from wieners.
Don't mock or beat down Bath when you're Bristolian,
you were all conceived in a seat in the Odeon,
and you should defuzzle that muzzle after a dozen shots
or your muzzle will rot,
it puzzles this Bard from Bath when you say I act hard, that's daft,
I craft the first draft with regards to retards,
but I don't spar like "gangsta", more prankstar, thank ya.
Hip hop Choco-latte,
ow the Arty Farty Party is to tarty for a starty,
this is too easy I laugh at thee, not smarty,
Bath's beautiful with history it stores,
Bristol looks like it fell out of a horse,
we've got James Dyson and Jane Austin,
you've got Baldrick and webbed off spring.
Of course you went off course with the Bath beige bit, nit witt,
but if we are beige, Bristol... sage and onion,
If I'm rhyme goo you're rhyme ga ga,
rotating between that and blah blah,
Nina Parmenter my off par mentor turned mental,
I'm a stray away from putting this to an instrumental,
cus I think you're menstrual, coincidental
you say my mouth before my mind,
this is written down, no noise,
talking out your behind.
I see you wearing glasses Bristolian,
but I'm from Bath we're different classes, I'm nearly done,
if people in Bath are strange then Bristolian DNA aint got range.
And I sense your bitter remain poke, "Bath Farage",
I'm Mr. Bath At Large,
so LEAVE WON of your remoan votes in the garbage, that's GAR-BAAGE.
I know your only joking and fun poking
through rhyme freedom and I sometimes free dumb,
the outcome of a lout on one, shouting out me bum,
but you saved it in the end with a bit of innuendo,
good poke, I'm off to play Nintendo,
you're tender when you bend so I wont stick it in your endo,
I'm a good bloke.
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 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.
'Buy me a pint', the old man said
as we sat in an old Bristol bar,
'An I'll tell thee a tale that's a little bit gory
and all for the price of a jar'.
So I stumped up the dough, and he whispered, 'I know
you'll never believe my sad tale,
but it started one night when I got into a fight
for the affections of a flighty female.
It was down by the harbour, all shrouded in fog,
when I was jumped by six of his ilk.
The next that I knew I was part of the crew
on a clipper bound for Far Eastern silk.
We were five weeks out, in the South China Sea,
becalmed, not a bit of wind stirring,
When a squall blew up out of nothing it seemed
and the rest of the crew were conferring.
It seemed they had known of this strange cyclone
from a sea dog they met in Macao,
Of strange storms at sea and ethereal beings
who manifested themselves on the prow.
These unearthly creatures proceeded to kill
all the crew and suck their bones dry,
But he'd managed, himself, to jump overboard
and was saved by a ship passing by.
We found out, too late, we had earned the same fate
as ghostly figures rode in on the squall,
And one by one they despatched the crew
and it looked like they'd do for us all.
At the last minute, whist staring death in the face,
I was lifted by angels I'm certain,
And the next thing I knew I was in Kathmandu,
in bed, behind a hospital curtain.
I'll tell thee no more', he said with a wheeze,
‘as me throat's getting awfully dry',
and he tapped his glass with his gnarled, weathered hand
and more than a glint in his eye.
I leaned into the barman and whispered in awe,
‘What a life this old sea dog has led'.
'Who? Old Bill?' Said the barman, 'Sea dog my a##e,
the farthest he's been's Portishead!'
Will won the table tennis at Rio,
And celebrated this great victory,
By instantly jumping on the table,
With his arms stretched both sides.
For this he got the yellow card,
From a lines judge at the side,
So he approached her, hugged,
But she still didn't smile once.
He then ran over to his coach,
Arms wide open, hugged him:
Took a running jump, sprang,
Up into his arms in embrace.
He then did exactly the same thing,
To Jonny Vagus, the comedian:
He took another running jump,
And sprung straight into his arms.
Will was born with arthrogryposis,
Which affects all four of his limbs,
He overcame cancer aged seven,
And was born on 17 January 1988.
From Sheffield and Kent born,
And while Will was in hospital,
Overcoming cancer, lymphoma,
His grandma got him a TT table.
He loved it and joined a Kent club,
Represented Kent as non-disabled,
Moved to Bristol and met a coach,
And 2008 joined the para TT team.
In 2011 Will secured a solid gold,
At the Euro Champs in Croatia,
He was voted the Players’ Player,
So 2012 he became World No. 1.
At the London Paralympics 2012,
He was sad, greatly disappointed,
With silver for the men’s singles,
Loosing to Jochen Wollmart, DE.
In 2013 he struck silver, Euros,
Won gold at the Lignano Masters,
Another gold in Slovenia 2014,
Which set him up for the Worlds.
At the Worlds in Being in 2014,
Will won the men’s singles gold,
And a team bronze ‘cos he chats,
Then came the Euros in 2015.
In 2015 Will travelled to Vejle,
Which is in Denmark’s land,
Where he took silver twice over,
For the singles, for the team.