Long Crackerjack Poems
Long Crackerjack Poems. Below are the most popular long Crackerjack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crackerjack poems by poem length and keyword.
Billy left for a little league game. I was coming later with Mom.
Dad was out of town on business.
We got the call before we left the house.
An emergency. Mom left me at the neighbors, ran out crying.
She met the ambulance at the hospital.
Billy was pronounced dead upon arrival.
They had not done it at the field, not wanting to frighten Mark.
Mark was Billy’s best friend; he had swung the bat.
Apparently Billy had leaned his head forward at that second.
Right behind Mark’s bat. He got smacked soundly in the skull.
Two doctors and a nurse came running immediately from the stands.
They pretended he was alive, for Mark’s sake, and for the other Little Leaguers.
Billy and I were a year and a half apart; I did not know kids could die.
Until one did, my brother, my best friend, my comrade in everything.
I did not hear from him for years, until I did. He came to me in my dreams.
Told me everything was okay; he had found the best prize of all.
We had always fought over the prize in the crackerjack box.
He did not visit me again until I was pregnant with my son.
He told me that everything would be fine; he was my son’s guardian.
My husband suggested the name William; nickname Billy, of course.
Rad mad hatter batter approach
Kiwi coach who Key did poach
It seems he is beyond reproach
When it really matters in tatters
Castle clatters Ashes hope shatters
Our guys bowling pies on platters
Memes scatter legacies splatters
Egos not heroes BazBull flatters
The urn won’t return with the Mac
Yearn but burn totally out off whack
Concern can’t learn not got the knack
Brendon a torn forlorn tendon on the rack
But will still earn a packet deserves a smack
Bitten not smitten his racket of cricket crack
Wouldn't change tack and deserves the sack
The hack pack giving him a stack of flak
Finally a step back from just all out attack
Too little too late the recurring soundtrack
Whittled & skittled fate well we were cack
Drunk monkeys just sunk spunky flunkies
Lack guts gumption gusto were so slack
The lies spool pulls over our eyes the wool
Must backtrack no crackerjack comeback
Debunk the funk & gist of narcissist gunk junkies
Cool over old school fool rule of Baz (load of ) Bull
Time these harlots & charlatans brought Test best back
MY HEART WILL STILL GO ON
You can hit me with your words
Kill me with your eyes
Make me trip with your gaze
Melt my heart with your stare
Make my heart skip a beat with your glance
Make me fall for you within a blink of an eye
Take me places with just a smile
But my heart will still go on
Does my intelligence upset you?
Does my kindness upset you?
Does my maturity entice you?
Does my beauty cajole you?
Does my stare make your heart twitch?
Does my smile give you butterflies in the belly?
Does my touch wake the vampire version in you?
Does my kiss make your knees weak?
Does my heart bring you closer to me?
Does it upset you how l make your blood boil with each step I take closer?
Does my sexiness upset you?
But my heart will still go on
Isn’t it pretty alluring how l became a crackerjack in your life,
A cure to your insomnia,
A sensation that fills the void in you,
An elucidation to your problems,
The only white flag in your life,
The only star that pops during daylight,
The only reason you have to hold on,
The only pain that gives you pleasure
But even though my heart will still go on
A big "if"
get a whiff
Me? zero.
my hero...
Ben Franklin
wise statesman
scientist
columnist.
Ben's passwords -
Poor Richard's
crackerjack
almanack.
Did Silence
Dogood sense
women's rights
and insights?
Philly fire
would inspire
Ben's brilliance -
insurance
Self-taught, thence
Ben invents
bifocals
smart mogul.
Next project
he'd perfect
ladder chair
with step stair.
Millionaire
takes a dare
Kites and keys
lightning please.
A new hat
diplomat
Ben would dance
off to France.
Death's closed door
eighty-four
Famous men
admire Ben.
September 18, 2020
rewritten March 9, 2021
for contest: If I Were Famous..
sponsor:
Everything that I have read have observed heard said has been about the bowlers instead
Critics and pundits quick to quip that the favoured fillip of Test cricket's taking all 20 wickets
But I reckon as this crackerjack Ashes finally beckons the middle order's the butter & bread
Can the Yorkshire pair Boycott's flair heirs utter with lacy grace and no airs be the comperes
Can't stutter Joe & Harry nations expectations carry as each ace parry harry fill OZ with dread
Underhand sand gate riff of great Smith having a tiff hallowed or biff.. fallowed Archer arrowed
Let's not forget the raring hubris of madhatter Travis Head daring to go where angels fear to tread
Glaring pelter filter out of kilter as we swelter in this flaring helter skelter belter of an Ashes smelter
Will we be an abroad marauder.. a run hoarder.. adored history recorder who gets the street cred
Experts applaud flatters bowlers as what matters dreams shatters in tatters without the batters dead
Repeat & rinsed I'm convinced it's all about the riddle of elite red ball middle order princes
Fab four encore who does score more on this tour..Rooty...Piggy.. Brooky or Taches win Ashes Head
Weddings used to be solemn.
Reverent.
No one spoke as they entered the church.
It was like a funeral only less flowers.
Super respectful air of silence.
Solemn occasion.
We took it seriously.
Even the children entered quietly.
If there was a peep, people looked.
The rites were serious.
The priest or minister walked up and we could not hear their shoes.
Beautiful music was played.
Groom and best man walked up first.
No grinning or talking.
We watched in silence.
Bridesmaids walked up a certain way.
Flower girl laid down petals in silence.
Ring bearer dropped the rings and no one laughed.
Reverent.
A solemn occasion
When the song came on, we all stood for the bride.
No one stands for the bride now.
Bride and groom are pulled in on a sleigh with their children
Wedding held in a pub. Everyone laughing, guzzling beer.
Minister got his license sending in two crackerjack box tops and five dollars.
If he is not funny enough, some guests leave.
Mountain oysters are on the bar.
Yucka Yucka. Marriage is over in three months.
elderly people some
with walkers or canes,
teams opposite each other,
smiling nervously
on one side all blue shirts (mostly all)
on the other green shirts
much chatter and laughter
it’s the beanbag baseball
championship
Maple Ridge at Savannah Pines
chairs line
both sides of the hall,
game space in between
can Maple Ridge keep the trophy
coin toss Savannah wins
a tall, thin green-shirted woman
approaches the red line
opposite
a slanted wooden board
with holes
labeled home run single
double triple out
she bites her lip concentrates
first fat red beanbag
slides off the board
shouts of “You can do it!”
second bag lands on the board
but whoa!
third bag goes into the hole
two bases
both sides cheer give high fives.
excited babble
a miss a home run
a single double an out!
nine innings
walking the “bases”
chairs labelled first second
third home plate
everyone cheers for everyone
seventeen to twelve
yaay!
Maple Ridge keeps the cup
all get a ribbon
and a box of Crackerjack.
date set for another match
dinner with new friends
hugs all around
Maple Ridge residents climb
into the bus already anticipating
the next “championship”
at Maple Ridge
What would the world be like
If those on top of living
learn to look down and see the life of others ,
who's struggles and throes to survive for existing,
And learn to stand in one good stead
to share their winnings-
in life to them was given.
How greatful all affluent
will help the poverty-striken;
In any ways they know,
as long as its from the heart that sharing.
And so it seems to me,
their would be less down-and-out that yearning.
When a crackerjack bear a hand to those amatuer,
who is much scrabble ;
And through such effort ,
all things will be apprehend with flying colors;
That even in education
when a slow-witted student befriend with sharp-witted one;
Then would teach an amigo the lessons taken
to pass an exam.
What if a beauty queen is with an uppealing girl,
That instead of envy for physique to feel,
love the uniqueness,
for beauty comes from within.
These are just few,
of much to tell situations
of helping, of sharing, of feeling the true empathy,
That these who give hand-holding
are heaven's sent;
To make the world such a wonderful of living.
SAMUEL SEYMOUR 1956
Concern for the man who fell out of the box,
says this crackerjack kid, “someone help him.”
Only five years old, Samuel Seymour
would be the last surviving witness,
nine decades later, who saw the man
in the theater break a leg, not the good kind.
“I was scared to death,” says the old man, letting
the contestants on I’ve Got A Secret guess
that he was at the Ford and he didn’t know
that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated,
feeling sorry for the wrong man, who took off running.
2/3/2020
the vintagenews.com
Video of Last Surviving Witness of Lincoln’s Assassination Recounting the Event
Down the lane in the summer sun-
that's where I long to go;
down where the trees bend low with shade
and the creek widens and slows.
Down were the city sidewalk starts
by the road running smooth and wide,
meet me there with your roller skates;
we will skate hand in hand, side by side.
Around my neck and around yours, too,
hangs a piece of string with a key
to tighten our skates when they get too loose
as we glide there, just you and me.
All afternoon in the happy sun
we will skate back and forth in the wind
sharing our secrets, being carefree,
on this perfect day for just being friends.
When we are tired we will take a break
and sit in the shade of a tree;
we will drink soda pop and eat crackerjacks
and add to our store of sweet memories.
How I would love to travel back there
to the time we were young and free,
that day we shared in the summer sun
when you gave me your crackerjack key.
Copyright, July 8, 2016
Faye Lanham Gibson