Long Catbird seat Poems
Long Catbird seat Poems. Below are the most popular long Catbird seat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Catbird seat poems by poem length and keyword.
bohemian rhapsody parades
amidst greensward moored
erupting profusely toward cerulean skies
ushered with invisible rip cord
this Earthling self assigned to an (elder)
box office catbird seat - hoard
ding a secluded nook
upon premises of Highland (highly adored)
Manor Apartments nestled
within bucolic (cost wise, a ford
double) Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
(40.2562° N, 75.4638° W) explored,
sans (founded in 1684)
pleasantly assaultive stimuli
conducted brake upon metaphysical ratiocination,
where sunshine poured
upon variegated mother nature
arrangement, viz spectacular
vernal suite scored
a top ten hit orchestrating
exquisite (August) May day presentation,
which mutely roared
bedazzling this sensate
being overwriting gourd
fully stocked, when brittle
winter snowy firmament forced accord,
asper overlaying habitat
palimpsest akin to (sic) ward
before an a may zing exuberant poly
chromatic onset splashed vibrant
brilliantly colored palette, toward
this captive observer,
where choral symphony courtesy of flora
and fauna sensational
encore performance
(day at the) opera captivated ensured
fixated this tethered primate royally
impressed and allured
by aural and visual
regalia fit for a lord
and tailor, while solar orbitz
directed by Helios,
whose journey across
deep purple celestial sea deplored
noiselessly casting lengthened shadows
signaling luminous hued dusk
chariots of fire earthly domed ceiling ablaze
pearl jam disappearance,
when daylight blinks adieu
til the morrow, when dawn
betakes the reins to reign cosmos chose
zing emergent rays announcing
morning haz broken
nudging, prodding, rousing from doze
well rested body electric,
where energy flows
as attested from me noggin glows
nsync, sans panoply
of soundgarden crescendo propose
zing ideal material sharing circadian rhythm
thru the time stream yours truly rows.
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
Top notch legal scholar Erin Go Braw
(less concerned about being fair versus
abominable, irrevocable, and execrable
unforgivable oversight most holy "M" & nonce)
cabinet of high priests,
sans spelling chieftains ready to claw
your person to bits,
and they presage remote clemency
which decision told, when Jeff Sessions
decides final punishment to draw
now, (see excerpted lines
visited with glaring flaw
"Benediction For Lord Apple Macintosh"
where ...bot sized wetbacks, setbacks,
and drawbacks, required a secret char),...
intimates a "hee haw"
and rock'm n sock'm pull no punches
square at yar triangular jaw
YES, on account misspelling,
whence Grammarian Jude Law
at the least aims (to topple a prospective
title of eminence grise), banning access
to such undeserved
catbird seat, sans Rhetorical perch
laughing while ja plaintively call for maw
darn Oxford English Dictionary - but naw
can do, and hence paw
mister trumpeting
"FAKE" wordsmith raw
flesh will turn into....
unreadable print until closing text
that elaborates how holiness felt vexed.
To ye (a freshly minted scalawag),
these 20/20 eyes bulged agog
while steaming with invective
at what attempted
to pass as sacred poetic blog
when thee (Matthew Scott Harris),
now pronounced, an illiterate,
immoderate, and inveterate å!@#$%?
with a severe cerebral clog
(meaning prefrontal lobotomy
not out of the question),
you m~r mangy whelp of a she dog
(my humble apologies to canines),
less deserving than being
whipped near death's doorstep flog
after henchmen (strongly
resembling Alaskan BullWorms
guarding this royal hutch,
herein Cupertino, California.
Lines, Launch Angles and Curve Balls
The boys of summer
Set up for a season of lines, launch angles and curve balls
With straight chalky lines leading to a field of dreams
Where line-ups keep the line moving
On frozen ropes to climb the ladder into the catbird seat
Above the Mendoza line when outlines of a waving pennant envision
Crooked numbers and dusty home plates where grand salamis
Foil curves balls in flying angle launch lines – not lined out,
Not out of line
To make power lines for a hitter’s line of sight
And for bases lines, nicknamed the 45’ line,
That call for calls of fair ball down the line
Or foul across the foul line
To guide the line – fair or foul -
And lines of music for the seventh inning stretch, or the chin,
Sung in lusty lines of fans in seat lines
Or in line for nachos, popcorn, brats and beer –
To cheer the back door slider, can of corn or Uncle Charlie –
A Bronx cheer or line of boos –
A summer lineup card of seeing-eye doubles down the line,
Balls climbing up the ladder lines
Nestled in a flat curve
For lines creating perfect diamond angles
Ringing with famous lines
“Batter up!”
For “There’s no crying in baseball.” –
A nervous breakdown in nine innings” -
Because “It’s outta here!”
“Adios Pelota!” “Good bye Mr. Spaulding!”
“Holy Cow!” “Long gone!”
“Put it on the board” “Hey! Hey!”
“Oh Doctor!” “Bye, bye baby!”
And “It ain’t over till it’s over!”
Because “It’s getting late early.”
And “The impossible just happened.” “Forget it!”
“Hello again everybody! It’s a bee-yoo-tiful day for baseball.”
“How about that?”
“If it wasn’t for baseball I’d be in either the penitentiary or cemetery.”
“Remember these two things – play hard and have fun.”
With lines, launch angles and curve balls.
Opening Day April 1, 2021
just dawned upon me awareness today
April 20th, 2022 14:30 military time.
Unvoiced law of the land
obeyed lest one
who owns temporary priority
will get mad and deliver hex
upon generations of violator
even if parked car property
of an innocent visitor,
who knew not the space
self relegated to Matthew Scott.
Fifth anniversary of our occupancy
housed within one bedroom apartment
additionally, familiarly, and specifically
known to us as B44
will occur July first
two thousand and twenty two.
Soon after we,
(yours truly and the missus)
moved here first day of seventh month
two thousand and seventeen
both of us unanimously co-opted
select parking space.
For residents at highland manor Apartments
self assigned parking exists here,
and each resident better be conscientious
cuz resulting consequence
(think Monty Python's Flying Circus
forever linkedin courtesy
John Philip Sousa's
'The Liberty Bell' March),
where mean strong arm of law
actually disguised as
animated outsize foot
see https://www.youtube.com
/watch?v=2AxiATxLofk
reaches from out the sky
and crushes wayward miscreant
hence verboten to dare occupy
parking space of another.
Fond memories associated
with me attempting to back into
between painted (occasionally
blurred) lines describing
open ended box,
whereby after umpteen attempts
(after shearing off tire tread
of driver or left passenger side)
amidst guffaws uttered by spouse,
she insists to take over
and backs in with nary a hitch.
Such unspoken accommodation
also prevailed when I happened
to consider myself a perpetual student
and established voluntarily
choosing a catbird seat,
and remaining steadfast sitting
in same chair
(of course I mean only
during time class in session)
throughout the semester.
Mere Minutes Into May Sixth, 2019
Heron entombed within b44 man cave
at Highland Manor Apartments sitting
in catbird seat after shower and shave
attuned to silence permeating airwave
wondering what comprises silence music
to these keenly attuned ears as agave
tastes sweet on tongue curious just now
if those hard of hearing or deaf crave
distinct absence, albeit low toned hum,
sans various appliances buzzing this knave,
who relishes solitude and absolute quiet
though this facility, most appeal aye rave
constitutes very minimal cost courtesy
rental assistance, which provides us to save,
(that plural includes missus) feels a slave
hidebound to maintain tidiness, lest we
find ourselves homeless prospect I stave
off (just barely), analogous keeping wild
animal at bay, though grim prospect suave,
and debonair "FAKE" facade I don trumpet
merely self employed to distract grim fate,
which loomed large months few months gone
necessitated third automotive, repair spate
chilly linkedin (racking ma pinion), asper our
2009 Hyundai Sonata (sedan) original parts
(battery included) amazingly last years behave
ving admirably despite slew of upkeep sending
checking account into intensive care, a grave
situation kickstarting precarious mental health
(amazing how being penniless - dirt poor) brave
driver cannot withstand blistering maintenance
costs sustaining car, more money versus engrave
van tombstone, and more painful experiencing
a negative checking account balance, thus fave
veering disliking existential hardship, where entrenched
panic attacks (despite pharmaceutical magic) death gave
enticing option, cuz quotidian struggle undermines
affinity to enjoy life, liberty, blah blah to thrave.
Before I die, I want my grandchildren to know these things.
Believe in yourself and be your own best friend.
No one else can keep your secrets like you can.
And if you do not believe in yourself, it will be difficult for others to.
I want my grandchildren to know this:
When you get old your hearing and eyesight may fly away.
Like birds on an almost weather day, never to return.
So do whatever you want now while you are fresh and young.
I want to will my five hundred paintings to my grandchildren.
For I feel my children will pluck them off my walls and burn them.
They know how swiftly I paint, and do not have a love for hippies.
Grands appreciate my neon colors, unicorns, dragons and faeries.
I want to apologize to my children for the mess I am leaving.
I did not bother to clean anything,
It will be a bonding experience for you three girls
A week or two of cousins getting together, which will amuse me.
I want to assure you that I will be in a catbird seat, watching.
I will listen to what you are saying about me, and I will laugh with you.
I never took myself too seriously, and it will be a great time for me.
Because life beyond this world is the real living. Earth life is confining.
Letting you in on a secret. I am an astral traveler in my slumber.
I am not in my body; my spirit is outside, travelling at great speeds.
I do not believe in death, because I am also an empath
I am not “dead” – I am actually more alive than ever before.
Chuck is ninety-seven and fed up, angrier today than ever before.
He just received news about his grandson and he is furious with God.
Chuck’s knees are arthritic, his back aches constantly, his bowels don’t move.
He wants cancer or a heart attack, he would welcome death.
Instead, death took away his great grandson at sixteen?
Chuck was so angry when he heard that Larry was dead on arrival.
Dead on arrival! Dead on arrival! He cannot get this out of his brain.
Why didn’t you take me? He yells at God. He is screaming mad.
Texting while driving, his granddaughter tells him.
How do you know?
He was in the middle of a word.
Whatever that means….
Larry watches this with one of his guardians from his catbird seat.
What can I do to help him? He asks.
The guardian smiles, giving him no answer.
When can he come up here?
When it’s his time, the angel replies.
It doesn’t seem fair, Larry says. I want him here now.
He is not finished with his work yet. No one comes ahead of their time.
A good view. The traffic and wind careen.
The highway overpass vibrates. Suicide starts
to sing, a wind-dervish rattling thin mantis limbs.
On the branches of peripheral nerves, small birds
stretch plasma necks, warble high
in the catbird seat of her soul.
She thought about her soul. Only one invisible
globule of it ever active, the rest tranquilized,
a pool fed by absent-minded angels.
All this ugliness, the streams of cacophony,
the vaporous scar tissue of petroleum and rubber,
floats up as vivid bombinate blooms.
She breathes it all in, watching from a crows-nest
that sways leagues above her head.
She has dealt herself a spaced-out view, here
up in the air, her toes curling into concrete,
she sits back in the best chair of her vertigo,
and yells to all the passing, trafficking,
crud-burning speeders below –
“You’re all way too slow, for a catbird thought,
too lowdown for any wind-scattered moment.
Sun Goddess at large in frilly filigree frock
Holding the world in her hand at a gentle angle
I sense her joyful soul and our hearts quickly lock
How much more exquisite can she clearly dangle?
She glows gold in the morning, showing me her love
Streaks across the sky fiercely at night with happiness too
Dashes of daintiness exude from her catbird seat above
Whispers of joyfulness showing off her delicate eyes of blue
Sun Goddess, I count on you each and every pretty day
Your warmth helps me to be the best earth person I can be
To watch the squirrels and the creatures of the forest play
Is truly wonderful and lovely, made possible by thee
Your golden halo and your intrinsic locks of genius power
Entice me to be the best person I can be for the entire day.
Your morning love goes well with coffee and an ice cold shower.
Your spirituality and essence clearly and distinctly lead the way.