Long Credit Poems
Long Credit Poems. Below are the most popular long Credit by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Credit poems by poem length and keyword.
Credit Card
Put it on the credit card but pay it off quick
nothing hurts more than high interest that sticks
If you don't need it but buy it anyway
remember to enjoy it cause brother you will pay.
Morning Pepsi
Drinking a Pepsi to start off the day
make it diet and caffeine free feels okay
That white label Pepsi taste pretty good
drink another just because you could.
Gold Coca Cola
Caffeine and sugar free yes it is diet
taste is indeed golden love to buy it
Drink em guilt free without a buzz
sometimes you want mellow suds.
Old Ford Flex
She got an old Ford Flex it is really big
has up to three rows of seats for all her kids
Long and boxy car reminisce of an old wagon
with road respect for its' size like driving a dragon.
The test scores are worse than they've ever been
How can these kids expect an American Dream
Most Democracies buried in debt
individuals max their credit, also a bad bet.
Our military is outmanned and outgunned
China can build 200 ships when we build one.
Their hypersonic missiles can sink our carrier fleet
Their allies round the world can make the job complete.
Their kids master science and math
Here kids fail at logic, no upward path
Their elite are engineers, ours have law degrees
We block things, they have world class factories.
Frenchmen riot, want to retire before age 65
Once the state gives, reversal efforts don't survive.
Politicians keep promising, budgets keep growing
Stagnation grows too; we reap what they're sowing.
Leaders ignore what their citizens want
We don't want an influx of the intolerant
Chinese don't have race riots, or student spies
It doesn't matter that propaganda tells lies.
We thought there'd be balance, assumed, not told
The media, academia, the center would hold
Movies would vary, opinions too
You wouldn't be shot dead, that's what savages do.
So, did the Republic fail that the founders made?
Will totalitarians leave our legacy in the shade?
It doesn't look good now, in a row allies fall
To Jihad or Karl Marx, who yet hears freedom's call?
She sits on a stone on top of the mountain gazing at universe around her, a cascade of mountain stands in front of her and the trees between the mountain stand like brave soldiers going to battle.
Everything was big and vast and the image of a woman pops out of the cloud holding a baby and looking at the world; layers and layers of Mountain stood firm and honor her with dignity from the ground.
The mystical clouds in the skies continue to drift by and the people at the gate created a commotion over a man that stole his lovers identify.
He was driving her car and he hangs out at the bar, and maxed out her credit card. The brawl went from the gate and ended in the lane, fist and stick, punches and bruises land two contenders in the hospital bed.
Their broken jaw and broken nose spilt blood in the bed and the doctor had to perform an emergency operation. She saw it all in living colors from the mountain. Her mind is sharp and she can predict a situation before it happens.
Her journey began in the African jungle more than thirty years ago, when a tiny observation of a single blade of grass led her to discover some mountain horse.
Their eyes were like blazing fire and they had long feet that could leap over a six meter barrier, they had the mannerism of an unfulfilled wife and the countenance were like a manipulating man but they were far being human.
Their thick white hair stood firmly like razor in their back and their feet sounded like an army marching around the track, their movements are swift, their precisions are sharp and if you observe them in the dark, you will discover the secret to caves.
Their bodies are laden with symbols and their eyes are sharp as eagles; she spends hours talking with them while she bushed their hair and oil their curious bodies .
The sage you see on top of the mountain is not a run over, she has knowledge and wits and the spirit of a fearless warrior.
The mountain sage is waiting for you, if you count from one to three your dreams will come true.
Willie Boy was a banker’s bad dream
And his name has become like a meme
He was smallish in size
And he mastered disguise
To become a bank robber supreme
Mr Sutton was not a word whiz
And you’d not hear his name in show biz
But his quote I prefer
Came to him while in stir
“I rob banks ‘cause that’s where money is”
Willie knew how to beat an alarm
But he never meant anyone harm
Though a quite charming man
Willie used a good a good plan
Said, “You can’t rob a bank with just charm.”
He was known as a gentleman’s thief
Who would try to keep robberies brief
He would not even try
If a woman would cry
But back then that was not much relief
It is said he stole two million bucks
With a charm and a method deluxe
Yes he did hold a gun
But of bullets had none
Since he knew a gun often destructs
When at last Willie walked from the slam
He would try to stay out of a jam
He recorded an ad
For a credit card fad
Saying, “ Now people know who I am”
Willie tried to obey all the laws
And abandoned his criminal cause
He consulted with banks
For which they expressed thanks
‘Cause he helped fix security flaws
All the money he earned in his day
In retirement was frittered away
He had no real net wealth
And he lost his good health
Not surprising since he went astray
Dame Judy Dench
Loves to fish for Tench
When she fixes her motor
She uses a wrench
If she’s feeling tired she sits down on a bench,
DJD is polylingual;
Her favourite language is French,
When she has a pooh in the morning
It causes a stench
DJD is a strong woman,
When Germans talk about her they call her ‘mensch’,
If she gets excited
Her buttocks they clench
When DJD gets dehydrated
Her thirst she will quench,
She is a fine looking woman,
But never call her a wench,
DJD did military service
She learnt to dig a slit trench,
She's into prehistory
And loves to visit Stonehenge,
DJD don't take no -
If she is dissed she'll get her revenge
She is super organised
When she does her filing she uses a big hole punch
If she gets hungry mid morning
She pauses for brunch,
If Helen Mirren calls round they go out for lunch,
DJD is very intuitive
and likes to follow a hunch,
Her off shore investments
Protected her from the credit crunch,
She's a feisty lady -
A reporter asked if 'she had a carer'
Well he got a bunch
Of fives from this diva
But to her friends she is staunch,
Even Harvey Weinstein - DJD protected his paunch,
Said she had a tat of his name on her bum
Cos her career he relaunched
With Victoria and Albert -
She never gives an inch
If Bond is stuck in a ditch
She pulls him out with a winch,
She takes on all the bad guys,
You never see her flinch,
When delivering a soliloquy
She makes it look like a cinch
She should be world president,
Donald J Trump would be the first one she would lynch!
After Xmas many people part
The bills appear, the credit card is maxed
Divorce appeals to those with strangled hearts
Is such action foolish,will it smart?
Do you really want your true love axed?
After Xmas many people part
The ghosts of Xmas past may seem to taunt
As if from some old wardrobe they’re unpacked
Divorce may leave us all with mangled hearts
Crude hate with its afflictions hits the charts
Can’t we focus more on love than lack?
After Feasts too many people part
Unlike the worms so humble in the dirt
We have faces angry and alert
Divorce may leave the hasty with sad hearts
Forgive but if you can’t, can you forget?
We expect so much of Xmas that it hurts
After Xmas many people part
Divorce appeals, oh, cheer your strangled hearts
Share this:
1.
Uninvited you come, oh Erato*, you muse of poetry, the
Majority of the times,
Knocking at my soul’s door at any given moment
Insisting on letting you in, your message to deliver
Disregarding at what state my soul is and if she could
With your request, comply
2.
Oh, Muse of poetry, when with my soul’s inspiration
You are flirting all the time
Whispering in her ears words of wisdom, coming
From your divine essence
My soul, mesmerized, tries the words of wisdom,
Lingering in her depths, again to remember**
3.
A difficult task it is; indeed, I admit,
For the language of heavens that my soul, once
Knew very well, now she has forgotten**
Because of her association with her mortal body
For that reason, oh divine muse,
Be patient with her and give her just
A little more time
4.
The time that my soul needs, divine muse, to learn
Or rather to remember
How to talk and to express herself in writing the way
You would like:
In accordance with the universe’s harmony and
Its eternal laws
5.
When this blessed hour comes, my soul able
Would be, poems to compose
But
Her writings, her creations, and her poetic epics,
The work of you would be, oh muse,
No credit would, my soul, claim
For
She knows very well that only an instrument she is,
Oh muse, into your godly embrace,
Just to be used according to your desire
Because only you, oh muse of poetry, know
How
The universe’s poetic language should be used
And how, in verse, it has to be
Delivered!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 SEPTEMBER 2014
* Erato, one of the nine daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (memory ).
She is the Muse of lyric poetry, love poetry, and marriage songs.
** Socrates, Greek philosopher 469-399, believed that the soul knows the truth but because of her association with the body, after her incarnation, she forgets therefore what we call learning is, in reality, a process of remembering as it is indicated also by the name of Erato’s mother, Mnemosyne, (memory).
A poet should always follow Erato’s instructions that come in the form of inspiration, in order to reach the desired result. This is because Erato’s knowledge is unadulterated for it is divine!
Welcome to the pickpocket’s ball,
Where thousands come to see the ball fall.
Packed in Times Square to welcome a new year in;
On the faces of petty thieves are plenty of grins.
Revelers smashed like a can of sardines,
With Artful Dodgers sandwiched in between.
Slipping hands into pockets to see what they find,
Their victims only have celebration in mind.
Wallets and checkbooks, a credit card or two;
Passports and cash, Broadway tickets from a few;
All make the booty of the pickpocket tonight -
New Year’s Eve a festive delight.
So if you feel the need to experience Time Square
Heed this warning and please be aware
That amongst this crowd doing the New Year’s Eve dance
There are a few crooks among them with a hand in your pants.
It’s amazing what can be accomplished if you don’t care who takes the credit. What kind of amazing things do you think could get done if Congress and our President decided that it did not make a difference which party got the credit. Perhaps if they can’t figure it out on their own, they should just post a survey on Facebook. After all, we were pretty good at choosing if we wanted Team Edward or Team Jacob. But then again, past elections tell a different story.
I want it my way
but you must have it your way
why not flip a coin
Trixie has disappeared, tired of writing mushroom poems I guess.
Come out, I say. I cannot pen missives without her, I confess.
She has left me in a bind, in the dust, in a totally bereft mess.
I will do whatever you want I say, casually meaning more or less.
Trixie pops up long enough to suggest Coleridge, she has nerve!
I am not an Old Master; Trixie is vim, sass, vigor, zing and verve!
Okay, what about Poe? She says, the only thing is, he was a perve.
I pussyfoot around her next suggestion as she rounds a curve.
Trixie is very much in charge of what I do, write or say.
She can make or break me with my words every single day.
I do not know how she got the reigns of my pen so dapple gray.
But she is the one I turn to if I want my words to sway.
So I promise her the moon, rice krispie treats and other gooey things.
She is slapping a tambourine, and deems herself one of the kings.
I give her all the credit, for I have learned lessons the hardest way.
And in order to write poetry I need Trixie my muse back today!