Long Cobbler Poems

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


Premium Member Feather

You who are heavier
Than the mountain sides
You who collides with
Jupiter's stars
And you the universe what could be worse
Than crashing on streaming trains
Over water slides
Collapsing rivers running wide
Heavier than the mid-nights
Weighs more than cups of blacken ice
Heavier than aged peach cobbler
Heavier than the first foot soldiers

Feather

Heavier than the flight of stairs
Heavier than a cherishing child
Heavier than a raw hotdog
Made of beef, pork or turkey-roll heavier than a sailor's dream
Back to seas he sees his dawn
Longing for shore to walk on his own lawn
And just before night turns today
On his  knees he does, he does pray
Heavier than the mid night
Dusk to dawn now there's light
All things must surcome the come right under heavier than a feeling in spite
Silken as in the light of leather heavy is the

Feather

06/08/15
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Things That Bring Us Joy

Today I invite you to join me on my walk with but one simple action to employ…
Add to my list…or make up your own…of things that bring you joy.

Family, children, grandchildren…the wind whistling through the trees…
When I hear my favorite song…flowers dancing in the breeze.

Looking at old photographs…a short or long road trip…
Warm cookies fresh from the oven…my favorite’s chocolate chip.

That feeling I get when I’ve finished…successfully completing a job…
Eating warm peach cobbler with ice cream on top…or corn still on the cob.

A kiss on the cheek…a long…tight…meaningful hug….
The moment I realized a butterfly was more than just a bug.

The sound rain makes on a tin roof…unfolding any map….
An unexpected phone call from a friend…any dog sitting on my lap.

It’s funny how you find when you make a list of things that bring you joy…
You fill it with things both big…and small…
And how you realize
sometimes…
those things that bring you joy…
aren’t really things…at all.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
joy
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fructify Fine Smells of An Apple Orchard So Divine--

FRUCTIFY FINE SMELLS of AN APPLE ORCHARD so divine--

                                      You smell as an apple
                                   The orchard is your home
                              Blossoms your eyes shines glow
                                      Fragrances do rise
                              As I encounter this breathe arise
                            Apple spice once, apple spice twice
                              Smells so sweet, smells so nice
                                   Ala-mode peach cobbler What?
                    Wait a minute I forgot we’re talkin bout apple??
                       I just wanna say you sure smell good today..
                                         Come here hon
                                           AHH!!! yum!

                                              2/4/19
                   Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2019©

Ancient Strokes

forgive me master
while you at your desk
took private your thoughts

i dared trespass...
approaching silent
i slipped your mind
in the rays of sun
i came from behind

the master
and I at his desk
...forgive me...

Ancient stokes do see
hands on the brush
playing cards of kanji
writing on my skin
in the After of Life
blood of my ken
saying Time...
comes twice

this is the wHere
ink knotted to ice

tHere...
I saw the cobbler
fixing his shoes
and a chef was shot
but he knew it was true
three men smoking
knew this too
then a baby cried
in the heart of dogfen
and grandmothers dyed
turning boys to men
walking....
into Dragon's den
bare feet in streets
sleeping curbside then

"... we're all in ..."
said the Master's pen...

"Hot hot!..... oh!"
it's the Master's plot!
know! from my neck
it was writ! to show!
show the scrit
of the deck! it's true!

shhh... he said then
"...the card dealt, is u..."
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member I Affectionately Call Her Pudding Girl--

I past my mouth over the cheesecake
The streamline and grand toothache 
oh, my mouth hurts
Whatesle  is for dessert
Whose pie is that? I think I know
This here girl I know I affectionately call her Pudding Girl
It's baker is quite happy he made more
Full of pie and cake
I give her glass with a strawberry shake,
And laughs until her belly aches.
The only other sound's the break,
She may shout out where's the cupcakes
This here girl I know I affectionately call her Pudding Girl
Of distant waves and birds awake.
The HEART is streamline, grand and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
After cake and lots of sleep.
Sweet dreams come to her cheap
This here girl I know I affectionately call her Pudding Girl
With thoughts of kittens in her head,
She eats her jam with lots of bread.
Ready for the day ahead
Where's grams peach cobbler and sweet potato pie
Now her and I our stomachs in a whirl 
This here girl I know I affectionately call her Pudding Girl

4/11/19


Premium Member Raining in Summer

Spring is on it's way out,
with warmer days on the horizon.
Summer is a great time of the year,
sleeping in from school ~ hooray.
Splashing fun time at the pool or beach,
to cookouts of BBQ and Ice cold lemon aid.
A bounty of fruits from sweet peaches,
to ripe red juicy strawberries.
Great homemade desserts,
from warm peach cobbler with ice cream,
to strawberry shortcake with extra whipped topping.
It will be raining in summer soon,
sooner than one might think.
Even the soft rain will join in,
to cool the hot days off.
The flowers will love their bath and drink,
as they multiply in the gardens.
I wait impatiently for summer,
you come and go too quickly.

Premium Member Loving Will Smith Fresh Prince

Pursuit of happiness for me is watching Fresh Prince.
Carlton makes me want to cringe, duck and wince.
The cool cousin from Philly gives me oodles of pride.
Come on, home boy. Come on in. We’re already inside!

He sparkles in his outfits, all flashy, with pops of old.
His comic relief is stunning. It simply never gets old.
Will Smith, you truly made that show what it was for me.
You were amazing in your sheer brass and hilarity!

When I saw the Independence Day movie rushes I said no.
Will Smith, how in the world could you be a super hero though?
After watching the movie in the nineties, on the Fourth of July,
 I was wrong. You were an incredible action hero, you made me cry!

I was not going to go to Disney’s Aladdin until I found out
You were the voice, and I gave a happy satisfied excited shout!
I am Legend? I do not want to say anything bad so I shall clamp my mouth.
Men in Black! Oh, man! I have told all my cousins of it, the north and the south!

You’re a great guy, and your wife is adorable and keen, your kids so coo. 
You can come visit me in Kansas City, whenever you want barbeque. 
If I ever saw you guys in a store I would go crazy with glee!
And hopefully bring you home to have cobbler with me!
Form: Rhyme

The Crucifixion of Barna, Part 2 of 2

I think I can remember, maybe dreamed, 
a bright green field one handsome summer day, 
the Duke's blue tent resplendent with its flags, 
his drummers practising for Festival, 
a sense of things to come - that's happiness - 
a chimera you're certain you deserve, 
but, like the Jews in their Messiah-vigil, 
you wait until the waiting rots your bones, 
and in your heart concede it's not for you. 
I don't see life as hopeless - goodness, no. 
It's possible to wade through misery, 
to cross, and clamber out the other side. 
And work will help you do it. I don't love 
my work. But I have reached accommodation. 
A labourer is what I happen to be, 
a cobbler, sir. A brandisher of tools. 
The habit of work bestows dexterity, 
an easy, nerveless knack of hand and eye, 
but it takes back. I'm not so steady now. 
I do not relish ladders. Spandrel work, 
above head height, with cold paint dripping down, 
is horror for an old man's finger joints. 
I cover this blind wall with squares of meaning, 
and - in my little way - I've changed the world. 
I've taken a recalcitrant universe, 
and branded it with purpose. My threefold 
accomplishments are here before your eyes - 
I overlap the figures, so, for depth, 
the satisfying quadrilaterals, 
the bloom I give to human flesh. Yes, these. 
But these themselves are far from unheroic. 
Encountering nothingness, I've used it up, 
and spent it. These, my children, will survive 
me. Ah, the plaster's ready. It won't wait. 
I'll use the daylight that remains to me, 
sir, by your leave, for these December days 
allow no tarrying. Thanks for your pains. 
So, look about below! One coming down.

Premium Member Wisdom

Can bottles of wine taste different 
even if made from the same grapes?
Yes, said the wise old gran, 
it all depends on the cellar! 

Can jewellery be priced different
even if made from the same gold?
Yes, said the wise old gran, 
it all depends on the seller! 

Can pairs of shoes wear out different?
even if made of the same leather?
yes said the wise old gran,
it depends on the cobbler!

Can two brothers be good and bad,
even if they go to the same school?
Yes, said the wise old gran, 
it all depends on the mother! 

“a gift from heaven this life is,” said gran,
“it all depends on what we make of it,”
“learn to live through changing times,”
but stay true in all weather!

Written 9/11/2021
Form: Rhyme

reflections on my glasses

Reflection on My Glasses 

In fairy tales, we learn about the rich  and the poor
the wealthy suitor gets the princess's hand
The poor cobbler will always be mending shoes 
In the "glass slipper," the poor girl fits the shoe
and marries the prince, while her sister gets a job
in the Guardian Newspaper getting paid for 
griping about men 
In Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf is working class
trying to get power among the haves becomes
a cropper and drowns in the well
Our instructions start at school when we are
adults find inequality perfectly normal
I have not written, anything today is my birthday, and that is depressing
I remember all my birthdays from age two until
15, but as a teenager, I scoffed at birthdays unless
it was a day for left-wingers and a socialist party's
day, later when I became a deluded communist
I remembered Joseph Stalin's day
My dog knew when it was her birthday and got
a juicy steak, alas, this noble animal didn't know
she was getting elderly as well
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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