Long Cap Poems
Long Cap Poems. Below are the most popular long Cap by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cap poems by poem length and keyword.
Make efforts to add one more feather to your cap
which will make you glide in the success lap
Mark all targets to reach in the route map
so that you don't need to fetch a rooting sap
Many a hindrance will cover in the doting gap
but never to lose temper and miss a nap
More resources will help an idea to tap
Make efforts to add one more feather to your cap
The ways to reach are tough, but you can catch it's lap
with little care, fair focus and action plan in the map
thorough work will create a grip on the sap
where in all is even without any gap
Complete the work and snatch a nap
Rejoice with rewards and your feet will tap
Make efforts to add one more feather to your cap
My blue, frayed Cubs cap
Here I hold you in my very own hands
As I look at this old, yet important cap
Many memories go back in many years
The first time I've received this cap
Was when my mother brought you home
As you were a brand-new cap
Bought from the store for five dollars
The happy times with my Cubs cap
From perfect pitches to walk-off hits
As thrown up in the air, this Cubs cap
Your victories will always bring me smiles
The sad times with my Cubs cap
From wild pitches to blown saves
As thrown to the ground, this Cubs cap
Your defeats have brought me tears
The surprising times with my Cubs cap
From listening Ron Santo to the rise of Rizzo
As worn on my head proudly, this Cubs cap
Your history will always give me hope
The many seasons gone through this cap
From playoff heartbreaks to division wins
As this once was a simple, new cap
With each passing year, it becomes old and frayed
In the future, I'll get a new Cubs cap
But this grown fan knows one thing for sure...
As I'll never throw you away, this old cap
My blue, frayed Cubs cap - you're my life's treasure
What If There Was No Tomorrow? - The Polar Ice ‘Cap’
- this time it’s burnt and curled upon a new head. The
sweet smoke of his sugarloaf effigy black as night,
surrounded by a material red trim, below Parliament houses
blows political greed into fiery smouldering smithereens –
then it floated and landed after years, drifting, onto
the crown of a man: a business man portraying
wealth and class; here it sat above suit and below sun. The
American dream swirled with scotch and the tip of a bowler,
only for the same piece (restyled of coursed) to later sell for
pounds to make the pupils of any impoverished person pop:
his Hamburg with a knowing dent in back, how it span and
spun from black to grey and back again around Hill’s peak
to be dyed again and tilted just so. Now it’s pillbox pink and a knitted
O of a name/shape-sake that covers her head where her husband
had a target upon his. Watermelon-pink colour dye actually: the very
same fruit palette of brain cradled in her hands at high speed.
This latest star attraction of Burgdorf’s no doubt was, decades
prior, nothing but a mix of lifeless green and sludge brown from
grass and cud - metallic dead daises ducking over No Man’s
Land. A Brodie: styled on a not-yet-pulled pin grenade atop
beads of sparkling sweat, dripping slipping salt where now
a pedal controlled sewing machine stabs and pins sequins into
veils that hide brides with (it must be said) the same success
that protected Fawkes’ Plot or Churchill’s reputation or
Jackie’s husband and the slaughtered soldiers’ skulls - but
still the accessories twist into fascinators fancy enough for
mothers to weep below, only to find the box dish or bow
to be knocked akilter during the traditional bouquet mad
dash - then up – up – up! into the air before landing anew,
refreshed as a Gatsby or Hijab, perhaps a Trilby or Zucchetto;
better yet, the Boater or Sailor we’ll need when the hat that covers
all our heads smoulders and peaks when next dented and melted: a
loose grenade we can’t be veiled from, nor refashioned nor restyled
when the next season’s must have
will be a copper and bolt
protective Diving Mask
for the drowning tomorrow
from The Polar Ice 'Cap'.
ku-ko-ro-koo!
came the master’s voice
announcing the coming of new day -
okuko, lord of a timing legend
crowned with the mystery
of a red-cap pointing to the sky;
he came answering a call of nature
as father was wont to tell
& i was a kid, a clan’s kid
fondling upon a red-cap of my cock.
ku-ko-ro-koo!
it came piercing thru my ears
arousing me out of my dreams
o, dragging me out of the bed!
& ’twas okuko! o, okuko!
the clan’s myriad-coloured bird
who sits over the entire realm
toppling the crest of our hills
announcing the coming of day
like an impending egwugwu festival.
ku-ko-ro-koo!
it came again & again & again
for the thousand & one times
& i stood still like the dead
out of my thick forest of dreams -
& okuko, lord of a timing legend
who sits like an elder-statesman
as if he paid for an elder’s seat
upon the currency of a red-cap -
& okuko kept announcing
the apt urgency of a new day
his golden voice raised to the sky
& sharper than the tongue of my gong!
Form:
....On Receiving my Nursing Cap......
On the shores of Lake Michigan, I bowed my head,
and received my nursing cap.
At Madonna de LaStrada Chapel, long before the
days there was a life overcome with Apps!
In those days we wore uniforms, white stockings
and white shoes.
Rules were strict, there was no " dress as you like"
loose rules.
I miss those days, of caring directly for others.
Learning to give injections, scared the life out of me
and my nursing school sisters and brothers!
I admire those who give their days and nights, to
work with the very ill.
But memories of wrapping dead bodies in bags,
still gives me a chill!
There were no computers back then, we wrote notes
neatly down.
At bedtime, we gave those who chose, a wonderful
massage and nightly rub down!
Midway through nursing school, God sent to me,
my love!
I gave up nursing school, eloped, and became both
wife, and turtedove!
Still, those tender moments, I love so to recall.
Loyola University, in Evanston, Saint Francis Hospital,
And caring for my patients, most of all!
3/28/2021
~1~
Notes: I changed majors and attended other universities
to get a Bachelor of Education.
Major: Science Minor: Philosphy
I did teach in elementary schools in Chicago and later in
the San Francisco Unified School District.
I attended the University of Chicago after that, to study
famous painters, sculpturers and classical music.
It's just too goo to be true,
in a crazy little crew,
drawing the ramps up,
dynamic slapstick-
always having food as thought,
the pummel on row,
which is 9000ft straight towards physical steal;
entered into a falsehood-
through made gravity stick,
and unleash the past!
Every loop an iron cross,
all dishes lost,
the accident,
the belonging,
On-
Time,
a relief rafter,
trapped her in a bastard-
livin' lavish though,
lacked her plaster!
I' reddemmed, but inside of your calculator...
Ready or not it's just like your liked NOT to come,
ingenious or not, it's indigenous laughter to rum.
Reaching for the stars
My enemies were tired of me winning
Now they can’t smile at me so
They try to keep me a mile away
They want to spin my life in another direction
But this is hilarious
Because I am victorious through all the deceit!
They counted me out of the equation
But with my mathematical skills
I multiplied and divided the real from the fake
I took the seal of precision and
Took the decision to stand against my enemies!
In secret, they were heartless with their words
But I have no time to mince my words
So I took the essence of poetry and rinsed myself off
Remembering that they counted me out but
With my black cap, I become the apex
Reaching for the stars going beyond the galaxy!
Mark Frank
Copyright 2022
Aching for my presence
she called me late one night.
She wanted to have
a night cap,
and she knows I do it right.
Forty five minutes later,
on the counties outer rim.
I pull into the driveway,
of her old
Victorian.
Striking lightly with my knuckles
on the front door made of oak.
she opens the door,
powder blue negligee
high heels.
My jaw hit the floor.
Caramel surprise,
nude, she's dressed to kill.
Candles glowing throughout the house
relaxing music in the distance.
She drops her robe,
standing there,
testing my resistance.
The curvature of her waistline,
tapering to long,
well toned thighs.
Breasts proportionate to her figure.
Standing six foot tall
is a beauty just my size.
Unable to control my sergeant,
she receives a standing ovation.
Reaching down, she caresses me,
what a wonderful sensation.
I push her onto the mattress,
forcing my way between her thighs.
She twists and turns violently,
whimpering a series
of sultry cries.
Jared Pickett
10/11/09
Asavvy1
Across my street with sidewalks
shaded by fluttering oak trees,
there's a gardener with the army cap...
while rascals laugh and play nasty rap;
how well tends to his garden without weeds,
how glad he is when neighbors clap,
and he works serenely in this noiseless haven!
Then, Sterlings with colorful wings swap down
to steal his lavenders, he chases them away
with a voice that frightens playful squirrels:
" Leave them alone, let the buzzing bees
turn their mild nectar into sweet honey! "
In the middle of April he wears old camouflaged shorts,
he's amused by a passerby who flashes admiring looks;
" Good morning, Pete: your garden is too pretty! "
" Thank you, John: it makes me proud and happy! "
Each charming flower in his garden has a beauty of its own,
"Ah, youth is a beautiful flower but withers with time! "
He exclaims shedding tears that sunlight makes sparkle,
he has lived a full life and his adventurous days darkle,
and finding something to do boosts his esteem, he feels fine;
do regrets ever embitter him remembering his wife Sharon?
I know you wanna see me in cap-n-gown
A fresh breeze and a new way of life is what I found
So please don’t cry
When you don’t see me in my cap-n-gown
In and out of foster homes
My only comfort was pulling this holster alone
From school to football practice
Academy award winner
my moms was the number one actress
From football practice
to back to those two huge oak trees
A metaphor is simply that cold winters choked my knees
And I know it’s gonna hurt
Seeing “Class of 2005” imprinted on my shirt
Maybe it’s me being selfish
But how could I not tell you without a kiss
Like me expecting to go to war
and forgetting to enlist
High school memories was fun and games
Embarrassment was done in by shame
Senior days are now numbered
Summer smirks ever so humble
Along with my peers
my misery is pumping me up to fumble
Still I know you wanna see me in cap-n-gown
A fresh breeze and new way of life is what I found
So please don’t cry
When you don’t see me in my cap-n-gown