Long Cartoonish Poems
Long Cartoonish Poems. Below are the most popular long Cartoonish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cartoonish poems by poem length and keyword.
There is a hilarity in this canvas
Not often found in Van Gogh's art
And recognizable faces
Also unprecedented
They might be sneaking contraband liquor
Outside away from the prying eyes of the women
For it is three men, and a boy who is taking a taste
It gives me a new feeling about Van Gogh
An artist myself, I enjoy his art, for it is cartoonish like mine
I use neons, which he did not have access to back in his time
I am confident if he had access to neons, he would have used them
Can't you see his Irises and his reflections on the water
in florescent? I sure can!
This painting makes him more real to me than he has ever been
which is why it is my favorite of his.
Throughout our lives, Dad and I have done many things together.
From coloring books to fishing, from wiffleball to hardball
To tune-ups on secondhand cars, casinos, and funerals.
In the parking lot after one particularly salty service:
Dad and I ended up holding a pair of funeral vases
The eulogist barked, "Don't forget to pour out the water".
Side by side and on cue,
Dad and I clownishly poured the flower water
onto the funeral home parking lot.
The water hit with a surprisingly cartoonish smack...
Getting our shoes soaking wet. We both laughed, then said our goodbyes.
I like to think Brother Angel was giggling with us, once again.
The darkness behind their eyes
reveals a mind that's
still asleep
I'm not blind to the intentions
that slumber waiting
for their number
to be called to awaken
No I'm not mistaken but see what
was planned for me
in the darkest of rooms
It seems as though they've been
consumed by their hate
for me but
what have I done besides
be me unapologetically?
I do this enthusiastically with
or without approval
because it comes
so naturally
Why come for me if I didn't
send for you
then pretend as if
what I say isn't true?
I am the truth that your
lowly lies try to hide
but still I won't stoop
I'm used to animated animosity
even if the hypocracy
is cartoonish
in nature
You'd need a reality eraser
to correct the mistakes
you've made
in this matrix
Let's stick to the basics of
cleaning our own home
before throwing
rocks at another
How dare one speak truth
so uniquely his own
they say
& in such a way that inspires
both love and hate
inside of others
Some can't wait to see you fall
while others
wish to see you rise
If I were you I'd keep my eyez
on the prize
& off the plate
in other peoples
lives
Instead of despising me for
what I see & surmise
how about just
being you
minus the added
debris
Maybe one day they'll retire
after they put out their
dumpster fires
instead of burning bridges
meant to inspire
we found it uncomfortable
to hear him rant.
we found it less considering to
try to understand his logic
his disposition
and even his words.
" YOU HAVE A FAMILY
I THINK YOU CAN UNDERSTAND
I DON'T LIKE YOU
AND YOUR BUSINESS IS MY BUSINESS
AND WHAT BRINGS US TOGETHER
IS THAT YOUR RESEARCH IS FOR ME: ( PAUSING TO LAUGH)
YOUR WORK SHALL BE MINE
ALL YOUR LABORS ARE IN VAIN,
SEE YOU MAY BE WEALTHY, BUT I'M THE BOSS
YOU FOLLOW MY ORDERS, AND EVERY THING WILL BE FINE,
CALL IT BULLYING: OR A MEASURE OF DISCONTENT
WHAT LACKS EMOTION OFTEN BRINGS PEOPLE TO BE LESS
CONSIDERATE, YOU WEALTHY PEOPLE NEED TO UNDERSTAND
YOU CAN' AFFORD NOT TO GIVE ME WHAT I WANT
AND YOU CAN'T AFFORD NOT TO DO WHAT I SAY
I'M THE FREAKIN BOSS HERE!"
IT TOOK EIGHT MEN IN TUXEDO'S TO GET THIS MAN OUT OF THE
BANQUET HALL.
WE WERE HAVING A GREAT TIME DANCING AND SHARING THYMES TOGETHER AND
THIS JERK CAME IN DEMANDING THE PLANS AND THE CASH FROM
MR. JEHOSHAPHAT, HE LOOKED SCARED AND COWARD DOWN TO HIM
UNTIL MY HUSBAND TOOK THE SITUATION AND BOUGHT A LEVEL OF DIGITY TO THIS CARTOONISH JERK!
I paint myself daily, sexy and cartoonish
Betty Boop and Jessica Rabbit sexy.
But I camouflage that it is me.
I pretend it is not.
I paint me over and over and over
Pretending it is someone else.
Not me, certainly.
I am not a 3-D woman, I am a
Two-D caricature, not complete or deep.
Not human at all really…
Others look at me and see a real live girl.
I see a cartoon crone,
A disappointed in-life hack,
Carefully and gingerly tiptoeing around,
Trying to hide the damage life has assailed.
Careful to not show my destruction
And devastation, I prance and dance through life,
Hiding empathetic me, until she is screaming to
Get out, in the form of a poem.
A city sight I sometimes spy
Floats, barely moving, in the sky.
It seems cartoonish in its shape
And causes everyone to gape.
It circles slowly, like a shark,
To locate what it’s meant to mark:
A football game or tennis match
Or clash its cameras hope to catch.
Its mission’s not a mystery;
It’s up there strictly for TV,
In silent slither through the skies
To search for scoops with raptor’s eyes.
Reporters on the ground bring news
But they don’t have those sky-high views;
For aerial’s the way to go
When you are putting on a show.
And we who watch, indoors or out,
Enjoy its journey, there’s no doubt.
I’m glad the networks do not skimp
When they have access to a blimp.
It is crazy to be this compulsive about so many things.
I draw out three or four cartoons a week that I paint.
It may take me another week, but I work on four at once.
My daily poem quota is ten, but I sometimes write thirty.
Okay. I lie. I once wrote thirty in one day.
Out of three years, this only happened once.
When I am done, I am done.
When it is over, it is over.
I thought poetry would be over by now.
It has been a three year obsession.
It is nowhere near over.
I thought painting would be over by now.
I have over five hundred paintings.
Two hundred on the walls, three hundred stacked in piles.
Cartooning will never be over.
I have been drawing cartoons since I was four years old.
It is my go-to, do this and you can shut out the world hobby.
I am about to attack four new canvases.
My cartoonish mind is ready.
I love cartooning the best.
A sixty-four year obsession….
You have blocked yourself as well
Not just only me
Take your time, I’m sure it tells
More than you can see
And that troubled person who
Liked to give advice
May have find another true
Lover to surprise
Possibly you think this way
Trashing me to bits
And I don’t know what to say
Cause I lack the wits
I would rather be a rat
Digging in your soil
But you blocked yourself from that
Personal turmoil
I would rather be unborn
In this cruel world
But I’m here to be torned
By your loving word
You have pulled a winning ticket
In the lottery of chances
And my ticket was a wicked
Gallery of circumstances
Queen of spades can’t play it cool
In the game of hearts
And whatever does the fool
He will fall apart
Problem is, life carries on
Gives another great last chance
Not to miss the prudish tone
And cartoonish arrogance
Now your time will never tell
What it tells for me
Cause you blocked yourself as well
From my company.
My pen pleads
Lonely nights offer moments of silence
and one dish suppers where candlelight seems a waste
Seated with pen in hand, I smooth the ruffles beneath
as if that will help the words flow
Upon closer inspection I find
fancy patterns on the dining room tablecloth
mimic the movements of my hand,
layered one atop another, calling on each to oblige
Crossing lines, intersecting at pre-destined points,
repeating in harmony with one another
as my thoughts gather in the opaque vastness
of this rectangular parchment staring at me
Moving in sync with swirling ridges on the corners
and scribbled etchings along borders,
the tip follows fantasies of a mind in a dream state,
drawling each curve in my own random design
Cartoonish figures joust with balloon dragons
amidst the sunflower faces, some smiling, some not
on cursive stems sprouting from geometric signals
and sharp pointed periods ending ideas
Fabric folds neatly collect the blotches of spilled ink
seeping slowly through the cloth
like raindrops on a leaf following the veins
in an abstract yet confined flow
To the blurred eye sits nonsense,
a collection of nothing on a vast white sheet
dancing like uneven feet on a rounded floor
of no particular meaning or feature
Yet to me, my penned doodling calls loudly,
even in the darkness of lost words, these patterns,
as is everything found filling me is her,
and my pen pleads in heart shaped longings
I am not saying this just because
he is my grandson but
He is the most athletic person
in the family
and he is
four
I am not saying this just because
she is the smartest person in the
family, but she is the smartest
person in the world, she is my
granddaughter, and she is seven.
I am not saying this just because
she is my granddaughter but
her art work makes mine looks
cartoonish
and she is
fourteen
I am not saying this just because
I am a braggart, because I am
not, but my grandchildren are
so advanced in every area,
they should have their
own TV shows
I am not saying this just because
he is my grandson but he has
the sweetest heart we have
ever met, and he is
only twelve
I am not saying this at all
because there are way too many
grandmas and grandpas in this room
and who wants to get all this competition
started?