Long Champaign Poems

Long Champaign Poems. Below are the most popular long Champaign by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Champaign poems by poem length and keyword.


Pineapple Pride

I was walking through the pineapple row and a thorn stick me on my middle toe, I bend down low to remove it and I almost fell into the ditch, I didn’t know what to do and so I start chanting an unfamiliar tune. It has no rhythm or verse, but it was sufficient to break the curse.

 The hidden doctor came from behind the door and the choreographer crawl from underneath the second floor, the pianist was embarrassed to hold up his head they thought that the entire universe was dead; everything was silent around them, and blood was dripping from his hand what on earth is going on?   you have to come and do the final dance. It’s called the swing.

Big bright lofty pineapple with ripe colors and succulent smell penetrates the walls and roofs spilling its juice over the place and I open my mouth wide to take it in but I had to go back to where it all begins.

 The pineapple field is wide it has thousands of pineapples that is piling up to the sky, the rows are long, the roots are strong, and I want you to help me compose this new song.

The words are simple, and I love your dimples your enigmatic smile has lit up the entire sky, you have brought me to this place to create this song so let’s get together and sing along. 

Don’t put too much solitude into it, I want some joy, modern and contemporary sound the twist and the fling and a little of the solemn hymn.

I want you to change that verse and lament on the stolen purse, the pineapple upside down cake is easy to bake, so spread the cake mix into dish and blend the sugar into the butter and whip up the eggs and pour it in. 

Place the pineapple slices in the bottom of the tin and pour the mixture in, put it in the oven and make it bake at a temperature of a 350-degree Fahrenheit and when it’s done turn it upside down and place a cherry in the center and send it over to my lover.

She walks with pride through the gate, he has been waiting for her at the door with a bouquet of flower laced in assorted color; he greets her with a kiss, and she smell the flowers and smile and he took her to a neatly dress table and pour Champaign in a glass and he said, “you have come home at last”.

 They sat down and stare at each other’s pride and write the final verse with their eyes. We shall be together until we die, and they complete the final song together.
Form: Narrative


White Boys

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: White Boys
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/1995

I want to do 
just like
the white boys
do -

Wear
six hundred
dollar
shoes,

and
dress
in
the finest 
of
suits -

I want 
a
six figure
income,

to splurge 
at
Fred Segal's,

on
Melrose
avenue -

I want to
jog
with 
my dog,

while 
pushing
my child
in a 
stroller -

I want to
send
my children,

to
only
the best
of
schools -

I want a
pristine
neighbourhood 
in a
gated
community -

And
style
 in a
Bentley,
through
Hollywood -

Just like
the 
white boys
do -
 
I want to 
live
in 
Beverly Hills,

and
hob nob 
with 
my
constituents-

I want to
have
A-1
credit,

to
charge
on
Rodeo Drive -

I want a 
foyer 
filled
with
roses -

and
a
Butler
passing
out
horsd'oeuvres,  

champaign,
and
caviar -

And
I want to
travel,

in a 
Lincoln
Town car -

What 
I really want
is
equal rights,

regardless
of
colour -

Just like
the
white boys
do -

Who 
wouldn't 
want to
ride 
a horse
under
the 
golden
sun,

on 
the
beach
in
Malibu -

Just like
the
white boys
do

I want to
explore
life
under
the sea
in a
submarine -

I want stocks,
bonds, CD's
and
Ira account's
too -

a
Yacht,
Lear Jet,
and
a 
home
in
Peru -

Just like
the white boys
do -

I want to be
in
every
television
commercial,

every
movie,

and
smile for
the
camera,

when they
call 
 my name -

Just like
the
white boys
do -

I want it
all -

even  a 
star
on the
walk of fame -

I want to
expose
the
myth,

shown 
around
the
world,

that
only
white boys
are 
doing 
everything -

I want to
Sky Dive,
Hang Glide,

and
fly 
in a
Hot Air
balloon -

I want to
fall
from
the sky

in 
a
parachute -

I want to
golf;
play
board games,

and
speed race
in 
a boat -

I want to
drive
a
jacked-up
truck -

and
lasso 
a horse
with
a
rope -

Just like
the
white boys
do -

I want to
Snowboard,
parasail,
ski,
and
wind surf -

And

I want to
dine with 
Royalty,

like
Kings
and
Queens -

I want to
be
on the
cover
of every 
magazine -

I want it
all -

 Just like
the 
white boys
do -
© Ken Jordan  Create an image from this poem.

Crack

Crack me open
Open the doors of my mind
Every night, I love you
I love you
I love you

Crack me open 
Open the doors of my mind
Everything…changed…
You put a spell on me
You put a spell on me

Pr….
Pr….
Pr….

Prideful baby
Wish you been seducing me all night
That’s my night alright
Success didn’t just happen…it became me…
Coins and gold thrown in the air
Thrown in the air
The air has no despair
Atmosphere is not full of fear
Ah dear, heartbroken…happiness appears…
Atmosphere is not full of fear
Playerz got dem pair
Thrown in the air
I’m the ballet dancer…a flower at this very hour…
Pop me in your mouth
I’m your pill, baby…
I’m your pill, baby…
YOLO
YOLO

Crack me open
Open the doors of my mind
Every night, I love you
I love you
I love you

Crack me open 
Open the doors of my mind
Everything…changed…
You put a spell on me
You put a spell on me

Pr….
Pr….
Pr….

You drink that Champaign 
U don’t care about my pain
I’m like a weirdo up in here
I’m like a weirdo down in here
Reverse my tragedies
Reverse my tragedies
Up to a million degrees
Up to a billion degrees
Up to a trillion degrees
I’m high as a krazy kool kite,
Yet feeling low like a damaged dynamite 

Prideful baby
Wish you been seducing me all night
That’s my night alright
Success didn’t just happen…it became me…
Coins and gold thrown in the air
Thrown in the air
The air has no despair
Atmosphere is not full of fear

Crack me open
Open the doors of my mind
Every night, I love you
I love you
I love you

Crack me open 
Open the doors of my mind
Everything…changed…
You put a spell on me
You put a spell on me

Pr….
Pr….
Pr….

YOLO
To my solo
Guess I have to go…
Oh no…let the blessed breeze blow
Blessed breeze blow
You know? 
Let’s be together forever
Let’s be together forever
Never ending giving up mentality 
Won’t weigh me down no more
No more…
Anymore…
Kinda tired of the paradise in my mind’s eye
All along, was I living a lie?
Crack open the truth 
Like you did to me – you revealed all of me
You revealed all of me
And that, buddy, is no lie…
Form: Lyric

Stimulation: I Bask In Complications

The crowd pushed me away, but I'll stay positive through it all
Lap up my emotions, animals of sympathy, for I'm your trough 
Trying not to lose hope in violent tranquility (peaceful and chaotic circumstances)...endure through these tribulations by finding an escape route...a destination called the Lands of Non-fixated Free-falls (a land of Liberty that results in living life in good hands)    
Enough with this flowery language I've written down...enough? No...pursue excellence in all you do and I, too, can take that swift advice! Don't be scared or unprepared of what lies ahead - don't take what I say as fluff (insignificant) 

At times, rhyming patterns in poetry can be a rough task...life, in general, isn't always a lose-lose, win-win 
So, I bask in complications and I have a huge amount of ideas that nudge at my noggin (pokes at my brain) 

Smile for a while and jog the extra mile with me, abiding by your side for eternity and beyond
You're the one that I was fond of once upon a time...I don't mean to be deceiving by my flirtatious ways...straining our once-and-for-all bond...
You need to make an income raise by the honors of overcoming financial issues (by saving and spending, you need an award) 
I've been stressing about from day in to day out, but without a doubt, I'm more than happy that I'm not in worst shoes (not in a worse situation that a person may go through) 

Surprise my oozing-of-saliva tongue taste buds with your sensuous champaign of championship in heart (give me a taste of your victory) 

I'm awkward
I'm absurd
I won't bite...I might not be your type of writing, readers who might read this...
Creativity kisses me in the abstract abyss...
...bewildered by the after-consumption of tainted bliss ~ _ ~ 
(That part means surprised by something you thought was good, but it turns out bad)

I need to wear an upside down frown  
I'm down to be with anyone who can lift me up 
I'm done being in the dark about the problems that I can't quite put a finger on...

And a-a-anyways,

I'm, frankly, hopelessly mind-blown

Premium Member Terrorists

Terrorism is a villainous violence, 
Used by those who disagree,
Bloodshed breaks the somber silence,
Between those who feel unfree. 

However, when one disagrees
With how the system works,
They are targeted by an intelligent team
Of thieves who wear white wicked smirks.

Welcome to America, a republic of United States,
Where your pick-pocketed dollars are spent,
On a government gang who uses hate,
To murder with money that from you went. 

The true terrorists are the ones who wage,
Wars for oils and hegemony,
Inciting their civilized slaves with fear and rage,
With methodical theory made by Machiavelli. 

Over three hundred million of us,
Have been convinced,
That five hundred monsters must,
Act as a regent prince. 

We are taught in their public schools 
What they want us to think,
About how to see those who rule,
In this prison where freedoms freely shrink.

Taxes and rules taken and written by carnivorous imbeciles,
Deepen the pockets of those who've stolen from the rank and file.

The dragons drag their drones which drop from atop the empyrean:
Trickled missiles made by smiles of self-proclaimed humanitarians. 

Like candy into a trick-or-treater's unsuspecting pillowcase,
The surprise drops unto the bullseye on a beaming face.

Oblong bombs obliterate their targets who're blasted into oblivion,
Checked off a list of might-be murderers by gangs of the governing. 

Whose old faithful champaign bottles burst in bellicose victory,
As the unelected republic jigs with their jolly old valedictory.

True terrorism is to manipulate with police and military budgets,
Paid for by those who fall victim to the brotherhood's bludgeon. 

We must fight the totalitarian status quo with knowledge and speech,
So with our thoughts we can remove the parasitical political leech.

Now unsheathe the might in hidden in thy mind,
So we may leave terror where it belongs: behind.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Start All Over Again: with audio

Start All Over Again



        C.                          G
Vs.1) Your voice is like whiskey deep down
          F
in my bones
C.                G.             F
Your arms around me ,feels like I am home
C.                              G
You're warm when I'm cold, You're cold 
              F
when I'm hot, ohhh
C.                       G.                    F
There's nothin' I want that you're not.
          C.                          G
Vs.2) Your eyes burn like fire where you 
F.        C.                          G.              F
stare. Your laugh like Champaign, is music
                 C.                        G
to my ears. When you kissed me I knew I
      F
was caught,oh h
C.                    G.              F.                CGF
You're everything I didn't know…I'd want.

*CHORUS*
C.                     G.                       F
What's yours is mine and what's mine is 
          C.               G.                 F
yours. It's not just raining, baby, your love 
          C.                   G
pours!  Like a ragin' storm soakin' me
F.                                  C
right down to my skin…when we're all 
G.                 F.                      CGF
done…let's start….all over again!
                          C.  G F.              C. GF
[*ending: all over again, all over again…
                   C G F C
again and again.]
          C.               G.         
Vs.3) You are my person, that's all I can 
F.        C.                   G
say. The one I run home to and ask,
F.                                         C       
"Honey, how was your day?" This passion
     G.                                    F.         C
between us may cause us to fight…but 
                              G.            F
let 'Em say you're wrong,and I'll…always
                              CGF
swear that you're right!
(*CHORUS*)
Form: Lyric

Cheers To a Good Evening

Tonight I plan to go out and enjoy my time
With some folks of mine that love red wine
There is no reason to say where we go
It could be a bar, or maybe my own home.

I just want to steal away somewhere no one cares
And enjoy a glass of wine that all wish to share
 I need a small vacation that lets me relax my mind
Just being alone doesn’t let me unwind.

I beg all of you to come and convey this with me
Hello my associates, why are you strangers to be
Come over there is so much to pass around
I want to take your time that was not found.

Maybe a Merlot, a Cabernet, or Burgundy for you 
You see I have them all, and they are all very true.
If my home is not good enough, we could go to the bar,
And order a beer or a glass of Champaign which lasts far.

Anyway the night is young and my pallet is still dry
I would walk far to have a group of my kin nearby
No, loneliness is not good enough, today and evermore
My wine awaits me this moment more and more.

At last I heard a drum beating far away
A beautiful melody played a song this way
My friends heard my cry and were marching forth
How I smiled with joy and sang along of course.

The song continued to chant well into the night 
With many toasts of happiness crossing the sight
My kin called me a lover of red wine filled with desire
It was a heavenly group that I shared with and admired.  

When the moment came to an end
We parted giggling loudly around the bend
My wishes of a night with red wine came true
And all who came and left were not just a few.

Good night I will remember my companions well
You gave me a holiday that I can awake and retell
Farewell and goodbye until we toast another time
My lips are wet now and experienced great wine.
Form: Rhyme

The Great Names

This, as it is, stripped and reduced - undone by 
raging, torrential, opened senses;
To its elemental couplings of unbridled pieces.

Here is life, in towering, brindled expanse, that 
swallows whole all of the lightest and darkest;
Peaks, valleys, and channels of odds and uncertainty.

Winds of feathering, vast plumes encircling and spearing 
the seams of a freshly illuminated globe,
Seen and unseen - written and unwritten - paths into 
the heart of nature's famous mists.

Freedom's mark switches starkly upon the 
wilding wind's tide,
Twain with all outstretched surfaces born 
from the archaic temporal.

There is a champaign of silence - a voiceless giantess - 
in the middle of the air,
Where no thread or whisper of life subsists or waltzes.

At end of day, tints and tones - hues and colourings - 
of shadowed beauty in the envisaged, pale streams.
From the trenchant, whetted rim of great stone playing 
in the welkin court - of the darkling, stygian, 
caliginous heavens,
Escorted to the black marble stretch by keen pinnings
 of white luminaries.

At a glancing, the purling and spouting rivers of space, 
bearing the arks of souls through the ages,
And silent, its moving shapes and great names. 

Continental creatures of flaming greens 
and of darkened chains - withholding ripened, 
blossoming flames in the deep;
Mountains, valleys, and oceans, a blanketing 
of every stretch and shade.

Hiding - closed and minute - the cultures, voices, 
and histories marked in time by empire and ruin;
Of maximum and minimum - of greatest perennial,
 cyclical depths.

Split and hewn to fragmentary slippings - the ends 
of briefest moments of waking and sleeping mind.

Premium Member Xmas Tide

Xmas tide, 
a time for familial gatherings,
The golden chain of friendship 
…and companions
Sweet on each other,
parading arm in arm
Together to share a feast and gift giving

...Nativity scenes, red, gold, green
bells ringing
Garlands, wreaths, and holly
Holiday romance rekindles and
swindles kisses under a mistletoe
Lovers   making love!

…A lonely time for others  
She arrives solo, one link’s absence sears 
her heart   yet another year
Smiles seem forced they’ll think

…Cry out the hosts,
Drink up,   plenty of champaign !
Chums come and go quickly 
Good to flatter one in a funk or ho-hum
The dinner is served, everyone rejoices 
Mingles and reacquaint
Toasts and jingles can’t take her gaze away
True feelings are hidden
Like a disconsolate widow,
mournfully she yearns for him
Not a soul to tell, nor a cherished confidant
to share a secret or a private matter
Of the sensuality of karma sutra wooing her gently
Mesmerizing thoughts of a distant lover
have taken her far from the celebration

…His sultry eyes, savory lips
Sleekly sinewed neck, and bulging biceps
Quite an exquisite exhibition
Into his warm embrace and into subservience
Draped in satin, his fingertips tracing her curves                             
duplicating guitar intonation on his
gears, depressing down fretted notes
Making sultry harmonic tunes
Counting down at the twelfth fretboard 
Lusty lullabies erogenous, with more alibies,
Keeps silent not to arouse suspicions of
an affair's existence that shouldn’t be
She counts down the twelve days of Xmas tide

her yearning entails 
love is starved at Xmas tide~
he plays keep away
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Haibun

Lost

It was a cloudy Easter Sunday.

I went over to my grandmother's house for dinner.
 
We were getting ready to set the table. 

When she told me to get the champaign glasses ready.

As I reached into the cupboard. 

0ne glass missed my grip falling to the floor.

Hundreds of glass shard covered the floor.

It was the same champaign glass that I 

used on my sweet 16.

The sweet 16 that made me realized that I lost my father.

The shattered pieces of glass reminded me of the day.

The day he broke my heart.

I remembered promises which were never kept and trust broken.

Like the glass I was looking at now.

He told me he would come.

Come to my sweet 16, PTA 

meetings,graduation and prom.

He never did,leaving me to wonder.

What was more important than his little girl?

I never found an answer.

I began to collect the pieces.

As I lifted them from the ground.

I cut my finger and a small drop of blood appeared. 

The pain was sharp. 

And as I looked at the cut I understood.

It was like the pain that my father caused.

It was unpleasant.

But fleeting and it would heal if I gave it some time.

Leaving nothing but a faint scar.

I collected the pieces and threw them out.

As I looked for the last time at the glass.

The glass that symbolized my coming into maturity,

I thought that my father missed out on the good things.

The good things that happened to me in my life.

And as I closed the garbage pail.

I thought that it doesn't matter anymore.

He lost.... He lost a relationship he can never recapture.
Form:

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