Long Cooped Poems
Long Cooped Poems. Below are the most popular long Cooped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cooped poems by poem length and keyword.
He was known as a rough rider and a big game hunter to boot
but he’s probably more famous for the bear he didn’t shoot.
When his companions tied one to a tree
Teddy Roosevelt thought it would be unfair…
unsportsmanlike to shoot it
hence…we have the Teddy bear.
Hoping to give children something to do during this virus
a friend in South Carolina came up with a great stunt…
She asked her neighbors to put a Teddy Bear in their windows
and then send the children on a hunt.
When the family goes out for a walk
to ease their boredom…to get some air…
they could bring along a camera and take pictures of all the Teddy Bears.
Her neighbors deemed it a great idea
a way for families to get some exercise and alleviate some cares
while their children…cameras at the ready
would hunt then shoot some Teddy Bears.
So in honor of a great idea…children of our neighborhood be aware
hiding, looking out our window…you will see a Teddy Bear.
If all our neighbors who have Teddy Bears put them in their windows
this could be a wonderful game…
and imagine if neighborhoods all over the county
Followed suit…and did the same.
A Teddy Bear in every window?
from sea to shining sea?
Could make a lot of cooped up children happy…
I imagine Teddy Roosevelt would agree
(a Senryu string poem)
High school girls are just
thoughtless and vague - too damn
dumb to be afraid.
Trusting too quickly
- believing things that are said
- unaware of risk.
Small and powerless,
chickens cooped from feral foxes
- peaches for picking.
So accompany
me on walks, to the store and
guard me like a penny.
Look - we're women
- junior grade - and conscious
of dark potential.
Breasted Americans
face a dark rainbow of threats
- we are mortal.
But ANY of us can
encounter unscheduled evil
like nightmares from hell.
Yes, that means you rough
tough males who glide through life as
if untouchable.
I think it is kind of weird
That I am acting so scared
Being a terrified chicken
I am like a time bomb tickin'
Form emotions that I hide
Every day way deep inside
When I see you pass by me
Smiling and so very
Handsome and kind in the way
You say "have the greatest day"
I just turn away from you
I don't know what I should do
To get your sweet loving kissin'
I need to stop being chicken
And bring out the woman I
Know is in there and not shy
But I've never felt before
This stirring and I want more
I will just have to be strong
Before you are sweetly drawn
Into the arms of someone new
Leaving me to think of you
And the way you were so nice
Sad and blue I'll pay the price
For not acting stronger than
A chicken cooped inside a pen
I will make you mine for sure
Digging way down in my core
I will finally face my fears
Saying hello as I stare
Into your beautiful green eyes
And you stare back with surprise
Okay I am going to write a funny poem to cheer everybody up
Because it's gloomy and cloudy over here
Does the sky mirror your feelings?
I hope not because you are going to be cloudy, downcast, dark, and thunderous
Who wants that?
Do you feel you are hibernating?
Just remember to come out
Spring is around the corner
Maybe that's the reason why my co-workers have so many baby showers
All cooped up inside and nothing to do lol
We just love any reasons to celebrate
I think they should have more national holidays
People should be forced to take a holiday
We don't take one ourselves
We work too much
Let's kick us out of here
We work too darn much
I am considering taking up coffee
Why? Because I just like the Keurig machine
It's tempting - those little Q-cups
Ahh those pros and cons
I will see how they win
I may end up chugging a little mug with me in my car
Like those coffee junkies
That have to have a cup of coffee before the day starts
My day starts now!
So I'll see
Okay that's it for now
I will leave you with some thoughts
Are you yay or are you nay?
For you or against you?
Win or no win?
King or queen?
Haha not the last one
I think you know that one
But you can be king or queen for a day
Have you heard that one?
How about everyday?
Now you are talking!
Chao
I want to write a funny poem to wake everyone up
From this Sunday grogginess
Why do you feel so lazy on Sunday?
Because it’s a rest day you fool
Why do you run like a bat out of hell from your job on Friday?
It’s because you’ve been cooped up in there like they own you
Why do you sing when there is no one listening?
Because you are afraid they would really see you in a different light
Ohh such a fool you are
You like to make fun of yourself
But you are too afraid of what people may think
Oh well, what the heck
People already know what a fool you are
So it wouldn’t hurt my friend
Go ahead you have my permission
What hurt can it do?
Except your silly pride
And didn’t the Bible say
“When pride comes, then comes disgrace”? (Proverb 11:2)
See now you have God’s permission, lol
In the slammer all day and all night
Another day, with no sunlight
A world without nothing in sight
Sitting in a cooped up dun-geon
Where misgivings are never for-giv-en
Eyes upwards in isolation
In banging echo location
The leavings of time, gone around
Emptying, pouring down
Into your fearful mind
Playing in lonesome, droopy time
Giving your longing heart, full sway
Trying to see, the light of blessed day
In big house, pokey, put away
In a few long months to come
The end of your journey, will be in sight
And from the darkness, you'll see light
Knowing it's been a tough run
But, hoping you know
From that hard bitter lesson, spun
You reap what you sow
Finally, before you know it
Spending time in cell, clink, cooler
The chains have been slit
The bars are a goner
You don't know or care why
Your heart beating deeper
You'll be free, flying sky high
Inside cooped up in my loft all autumn with writer’s block, it was time. I arrived on New Year’s Day. I wanted a fresh start, so I took a well-deserved hiatus.
Such grandeur, and glory, partaking in wine, croque monsieur and then champagne so decadent. I met him in a bar café, the one alongside three others in a row! He indulged my fancy with a Moulin Rouge cabaret, a real gentleman; flamboyant, debonair, and flippant. Montgenevre mistakenly booked my room. By chance of fortune, he overheard the desperation of my voice, cawing at the matradee. “I know my way around. We’ll find you a place to stay until they get their affairs in order.”
I heard a voice whisper, “You can stay as long as you like, mon chéri.” This morning I awoke alone, I remember late last night looking out his high-rise apartment window, down at the four cafés', to see what he sees, think what he thinks. Long leggy locals, intoxicating femme's, drinking peppermint schnapps to tame the harsh chill of January. Perusing today’s paper, I noticed his name, Emile Zola VI. He’s a journalist?! My muse reignited my passion to write. A work in progress.
A croque monsieur-is a hot sandwich made with ham and cheese.
HOME SWEET HOME
love the scent of petrichor in the deep dark woods.
draws those little beggars tattered with ashes and soot.
i’ve sweetened the siding, the windows and doors,
deliciously painted invitation of rainbows, placed hooks
with eye-popping candy, hallucinations with looks.
they will not be able to resist this kindly sweet cook.
Yes! Yes! Here they come! Right on time! Right from the book!
I must be careful, diligent this time! They must not get spooked.
The water is boiling…check! I’m just ready to drop in the food.
My tummy is grumbling. must be careful to not show a bad mood.
That boy! Especially that boy…he is older. Could be a right snoop.
They must be quite tired, ready to be cooped
up in my quaint cottage, restrained, take a bath with cool
boiling suds. Must be careful of my hands, show no blood
by rubbing them raw as I greedily lick my tongue. “Oh poor
innocent children. Come! Come! Let me book
you in my humble home…find you a room.
Oh dear girl and dear boy. Let me groom
the hair from your eyes.” I err and lift a spoon,
gaze with longing at these tender potatoes. Forsook,
as the ashen boy grabs his sister's hand and runs. Phooey!
Now I’ve only to chop off my finger. I’m doomed!
7/14/2021
Light verse
*inspired by the fairytale Hansel and Gretel
Every friggin day
mother hen runs amuck,
while all chicken's
beady eyes appear awestruck
drawing particular
agitation, irritation, perturbation...
of Punxsutawney (Doctor) Phil
(well grounded) woodchuck,
the latter glaring at henpecked
yours truly rifled
tail feathered rooster,
whether communicating
nonverbal sympathy
towards me, a garden variety
Gallus gallus domesticus dumbstruck,
who doth make feeble attempt
albeit without explaining
rhyme or reason
poetic, plaintive, pathetic... cluck,
regarding doomed pyrrhic victory
against incessant cackling
more fowl and upset
than goosed duck,
she that casus belli hideous source
feels cooped up bred to lay eggs
absent any pleasure to fµç*
out her tail feathers fin
hushed yoked for sole purpose
mutter under beak, what the "huck"
subsequently, she takes frustration
buzzfeeding me 'bout chained to
chicken feed to earn
breeder (yours truly) favorable luck
yielding "FAKE" farmer
Matthew Scott Harris megabuck
regarding top quality accolades
raves subsequently generate
he invariably feels moonstruck
matter of fact expanded business
necessitating workers to drive
state of the art rigorous motortruck
the missus decries mistreatment
scratching thru mire and muck
to fill little beasts in belly,
eventually retired, repurposed
relieved invariably chef
buoy or gull hardy sole destiny,
whereby one or another
hired hand will gingerly pluck
every spruced, primped,
groomed... feather
in short shrift priming
precious helpless creature,
(who bemoans lack
of state bird status)
into slaughterhouse five
butchered, filleted (maybe), quartered...
routed to household kitchen
gamely served at potluck
toothpicks applied to teeth
loosening gristle unstuck
after appetites satiated
belt unbuckled years ago
purchased before Sears Roebuck
shuttered stores, plus
bought linens and things
comfortable pillow perfect to tuck
under drowsy sudden sleepy head
unaware coop d'etat mutiny hatched,
whereby sly fox weasels him/
herself to guard henhouse
finding petrified slack beaked
AC/DC powered chicken coop,
where prating poultry thunderstruck.
It’s sleeting in Nectar; there's no pollen to sneeze.
The bees have skipped south for a tropical breeze.
Dear honey, I’m frozen; I ache in the knees.
It’s sleeting in Nectar; send warm weather please.
The ice is still falling, and the roads are all closed;
Attempts to head seaside are probably hosed.
There’s no running water; the pump head just froze.
The weatherman’s saying, “Folks, here comes the snow.”
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, sweeter than a kiss.
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, something is amiss.
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, what's with this sleet and snow?
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, I think it's time to go.
Being cooped with the kids is a parent’s worst plight;
The new has worn off and they’re picking a fight.
I’d send ‘em back out, but for signs of frostbite.
It’s sleeting in Nectar, and all is not right.
There’s ice on the lines, and the phones are all dead.
The store shelves are barren; there’s no milk or bread.
The mercury’s falling, or so says my head.
It’s sleeting in Nectar; I'm going to bed.
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, sweeter than a kiss.
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, something is amiss.
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, what's with this sleet and snow?
O Nectar, sweet Nectar, I think it's time to go.
(in your best Jimmy Buffet voice)