Long Cunningham Poems
Long Cunningham Poems. Below are the most popular long Cunningham by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cunningham poems by poem length and keyword.
I hail thee ruins of Indus Vale!
With scented rhyme, with scented gale
Come on from world of mortal dead!
O come and lively wind inhale!
More ancient than the pyramids
That rule on ancient Egypt land
Thy wild wild eyes, with thy soft lids
They gazed on shimmering Indus sand
I will inhale thy breath in breath
O harken me from vale of death
(11)
I mount uphill, Thy citadel
And stood for hours Stony still
I saw minarets there in row
They fail and bow, all in thy woe
O stupa speak! from yonder peak!
Thy all worshippers where they go
In fog , in sun, while needles run
Thou standing lone in midst of woe!
I haven't seen a single soul
They faded all in mist and snow
Oh lonesome temple don't be sad
They will come and I vow they will
In evening smiles , my heart beguiles
Thy silver meads lay several miles
Thy rich forests of days of yore
Thy ancient seals and gods and kings
O life stop thou, O time come back
In courts I hear the bell that rings
Oh let me breathe, let me for while
Oh fortune for once for me smile
(111)
O lower town, Why thou breakdown
Thy aging speed , may thou slow down
Thy tourists standing by thy sides
All talking of the Times and tides
Thy rooms and wards, o nature yard
All tied devotees thine with cord
They want to dwell in heart of thine
They come and stand and for thee pine
O may phantoms of bygone time
Tell stories them in tune and rhyme
With help and love of Eden Lord
Whose seraphs are thy meadows guard
( ...)
O whistling toys, of girls and boys
In graves of stone why heave thou sighs
O happy ruins with face so fair
From thousand centuries slept thou there
Forgotten by the madding race
Then thou begot a heart sincere
Who wake thee from thy beauty sleep?
From fathoms deep wherest thou live
Wherest thou sob and moan and weep!
I pay homage to Cunningham
Who found thee there in seven three
Then came thy lover Daya Ram
Who thee from heaps of mud set free
Thy lips of ice, why not rejoice
Thou gaze this world with wild wild eyes
(...)
Thy fowls thy sheep, lie half asleep
In meadow green in forest deep
Thousands and thousands years passed by
My far off sky , he smiled he weep
When from thy beauteous Indus plains
The robbers carried thy remains
Thy ancient bricks, all gems of past
Continued
6 years ago, I wrote limericks about 5 PS poets. Today, I've posted
about another 5 and will continue to add more... before 6 years.
I tickled funny bones of five Souper men
So, I gave thought to trying it once again
In the order they replied
My sarcasm was applied
As I gently heckled them with ink and pen
First, Tom Cunningham, who "liked my collection"
To femme limericks he had no objection
But now it's his turn
Tom, forgive the burn
I heard you're headed for a house of correction
Jerry T Curtis said to "keep them coming"
But I think that lately he's been slumming
He's all aflutter
And starts to stutter
When his lady friend starts his heart strumming
Then there is the poet of romance, Tim Smith
His sweet words of seduction are not a myth
I know it to be truth
Don't ask me. It's uncouth
I don't kiss and tell so I'm pleading the fifth
John Gondolf said my limericks made him "chuckle"
His comments are always filled with honeysuckle
But if he wants a date
I'll have to castigate
I have a black belt in the use of my knuckles
"I needed smiles and giggles," said Greg Barden
His poems are flowers blooming in a garden
But some words are couture
Fertilized with manure
Now I guess I'll have to beg for Greg's pardon
The new additions...
Like a brother he comes to my defense
This man wears no guise and has no pretense
Mark Koplin, misunderstood
A modern-day Robin Hood
To me he shines with rays of effulgence
There's a man who took me under his wing
Says what he thinks. Doesn't hold back a thing
Danny Turner, my friend
A helping hand he'll lend
For offering kind words, he's a wellspring
David Kavanagh, true friend from the start
Encouraging advice, he does impart
Throws Monoku lines like spears
I raise a glass to him ~ cheers!
Loyal, his word. A man with a good heart
Canadian, Vaso, we don't see oft
Art doesn't come across as being soft
But has a tender heart
For countries torn apart
His poetic words should never be scoffed
His funny thoughts overflow in a Flood
Terry writes humor that's never a dud
Risque, and sometimes not
His stories have a plot
Rumor has it that he's known as 'The Stud'
Gentlemen, I ask forgiveness for this spoof
My humorous parodies should be the proof
That I like all of you
And don't mind if ya do
Get even in your own limericks of reproof
Written with admiration for Tom Cunningham ~ a gentle poet
maligned by one who really casts an aura of darkness
My smile is genuine and reaches to my eyes.
I do not wear a mask, nor a cloak of disguise
and I post poetry in my given Christian name.
From the hand of one it was written in a claim
that I cast shadows of dark energy around me.
Should I assume that I'm thought of as beastly?
Someone thinks that my spirit has gone awry.
I have to shake my head in disbelief as I decry,
"If you liken me to a sinister, malevolent being
I would ask what movies have you been seeing?"
Call me rude names if that makes you feel witty,
but each shines a gleaming light on your lubricity.
I'm not insulted by the sticks and stones thrown,
nor do I write anything that I would ever bemoan.
I will champion myself, my friends and my nation,
never seeking battle, nor in fear of confrontation.
I am not a troll, a gang member, or wolf in a pack,
so don't falsely accuse me. I won't take your flack.
There is no darkness surrounding my aura, I'm sure.
It may be that your malicious thoughts are impure.
You struggle with defining what's right from wrong.
Is there anyone with whom you can get along?
Friendships are important and you would be wise
to recall that poets should be a coalition of allies.
You're entitled to your opinions, and I am to mine,
but if they are different, don't moo like a bovine.
"Spiteful words," you said, my friends and I write.
Well, in this case I'll say you're absolutely right.
I've been told that rebuttals are a waste of my ink
but not a drop is wasted if it makes people think.
Think of the insult to a poet belittled by another.
One who treats everyone as a sister and brother.
Tom wrote of the bloodbath Putin draws in Ukraine
then selfish comments were made that left a stain
on his words that were written to ring out in truth.
Don't sling mud on other poet's by throwing a stone.
Give voice to your beliefs. Write one of your own.
And now, you're thinking, "You just slung mud."
Yes, I did, in hopes that it will land with a thud.
I don't relish penning negative lines of contention,
but sometimes things are in need of attention.
I'd rather write about Santa and Christmas cheer,
than calling out snide people who taunt and jeer.
(Chorus): My name is breda Donkey
'Pon my back is de Christmas story
A carry God's son an' mercy
Down through the ages to wi glory
De baby born in Bethlehem's manger
Wi creator, redeemer, how stranger
Ole Balaam let mi carry him
Fi guh sell the Massa prophecy
An angel did appear to him
An' bring me square in history
Ole Balaam saw a star
Coming out of Jacob family
Jesus coming from beyond afar
To bring all sinners mercy
So one night breda Joseph call mi
Him seh O donkey come carry Mary
I know it was Balaam's prophecy
For Bethlehem's star was bright above me
No room, no room for the baby
Not a preacher in the earth was ready
So mi call 'pon mi animal family
Jesus cum guh mek yuh manger ready
The street was full of trafficking
While merchants count their money
Wi sang glory to man's joy born king
Jesus is the manger baby
Hush Mr. cow nuh bawl again
Red Heifer yuh sacrifice over
Likkle lambs guh skip 'pon de plain
Bethlehem bring forth the redeemer
Sweet likkle turtle dove you are free
The covenant of the ark is broken
Sweet Jesus bring love and jubilee
Same de greedy ole Balaam had spoken
But mi is donkey an mi work nuh done
A carry him before the cross
Mi labor till de second coming of the son
Sin is mi burden, but a him it cost
This song is written to the tune of Jamaican folk song: "Good evening, Mrs Cunningham
It is written for two voices that blend to sing the chorus, but sing each stanza in 2 parts. It
tells the story of Christmas from a donkey's point view, and yet stay true to the Bible
discourse.
Some words are peculiar to the Jamaican dialect for coloring of the song:
Breda: brother; 'pon:upon; de:the; wi:our; ole:old; mi:me; fi:to; guh:go
Cum:come ... had all words recapitulate to the Jamaican dialect even young Jamaicans would
have been alienated --- for the language was not encouraged in our homes where it was
considered bad talking. It is being revived through academics at the UWI again.
Anne-Lise Andresen- "Hugs"
Anisha Dutta- "Sweet Lady"
Beata Agustin- "Spiritual"
Bill Baker- "Friend from Texas"
Brandy Nicole- "Whispers & Scribbles"
Brian Sambourne- "One of my Canadian besties"
Brian Sand- Contest #10,000 (lol)-keep 'em coming, Brian!
Carolyn Devonshire- "Sweet Caroline" (R.I.P. dear Carolyn)
Christina Bowring- "Hugs & Smiles"
Constance la France- "Cats"
Craig Cornish- "Need a dictionary"
Daniel Turner- "Great scrabble player- better poet" (lol)
Darlene De Beaulieu- "Hello Mr. Messina" - (needs to fix avatar-lol)
Deb M- "Debx"
Emile Pinet- "Gifting his books"
Eve Roper- Nursey Rhymes"
Gershon Wolf- "The great philosopher"
Gregory Barden- "The Bard"
Hilo Poet- "Aloha"
I Am Anaya- "Cool"
Ink Empress- "Ink Princess"
Jan Allison- "Best for a laugh"
JCB Brul- "Never won her contests (lol)
John Hamilton- "Lyrics"
John Lawless- "WTFWT"
John Watt- "Word master"
Joseph May- "Love his contests"
Julia Ward- Never won her contests either (lol)
Kim Rodriguez- "Nature"
Lady Labyrinth- "Deep"
Line Gauthier- "Short and sweet"
Maria Williams- "My dear Aussie"
Michael Tor- "My brother from another mother"
Mike Gentile- "Caring"
Milton Hankins- "Missing him"
Mystic Rose Rose- "Flowers, flowers"
Panagiota Romios- "Pangie, the S.F. kid"
Paula Goldsmith- "A lovely read/write"
Quoth The Raven- "The Birds"
Regina McIntosh- "Love, Gina"
Richard Lamoureux- "His lovely wife"
Robert Hinshaw- "The poem I wrote for his wife"
Robert James Liguori- "Marvel"
Sam Kaufman- The finest bus driver poet I ever knew"
Sandra Haight- "My Jersey gal"
Sara Baker- "Bill's lovely wife"
Sara Kendrick- "Thanks for sharing"
Silent One- "Silence" (Rumi)
Sotto Poet- "Admirable"
Susan Ashley- "Warmest wishes"
Suzette Delaney- "The poem I wrote about her avatar eye"
Suzette Richards- "Can't do her contests, too hard (lol)
Tania Kitchin- "Haiku's"
Tom Cunningham- "Great story teller"
Tom Watt- "Another word master"
Tom Woody- "Reminds me of Milton- for some reason"
Unseeking Seeker- "The Seeker"
Valsa George- "Blessings"
Victor Buhagiar- "Missing his wife"
Vijay Pandit- "Imagery and Imagination"
Winged Warrior- "The great alliteration'er"- (R.I.P. John)
* Collaboration of Limericks written by Jan Allison,
Tom Cunningham, Tania Kitchin and Lin Lane
Here's a news flash, the latest scoop
There are parasites in the soup
AI bottom feeders
Poet superceders
Those who cannot write worth a poop
Artificial intelligence is smart
But never uses words found in the heart
Some dolts use it to cheat
Thinking they are discreet
We should hit them in their butts with a dart
They say AI is here to stay
But plagiarism is another way
Some may copy/paste Poe
Or other greats you know
Add their name, it's sorted way hey!
We know you're fake and using AI
Your poems are nothing but a lie
Wanting to be cool
but instead, a fool
Now you can just leave our site, goodbye!
Some poets get Poem of the Day
It's AI, (of course they don't say)
AI contest "winners"
Are poetry sinners
Does admin prevent them - no way!
Real poets write using only their hand
AI users need more'n a reprimand
Deleting their accounts
'fore their winning surmounts
There should be a way they could all be banned
Stay put, no need to get out of bed
Or have a thought in your empty head
So, just ask Alexa
And she'll write it for ya
A shame you can't use your brain instead
What is your real poetry name?
As fake poems seem to be your game
All Plagiarism and AI
We're really not sure why
Your page is pathetically lame
Pestilence borne in the form of AI
Not of Biblical proportion but why
do you have need to chouse
Poets' concern and rouse
the community to feel so awry
On the day AI begins its world rule
People will still call each other a fool
Is the human race then doomed
AI will have us all groomed
To serve them as lowly slaves, a footstool
I asked a generator to write a Limerick, its response was...
An AI that wrote with great flair,
Could craft limericks beyond compare.
With rhythm and rhyme,
In a jiffy, each time,
It brought smiles to faces everywhere!
This was my response
No! au contraire, AI generator
Not everyone smiles at your creator
I will admit you're quick
but it's deceptive schtick
You're a bad poet's ego inflator
For those who don't read blogs or know of Jan's successful first book, I've written a limerick for her and included it in my comment on her blog. She's included her interview in a podcast. I was asked to post my limerick here as well. If anyone would like to write a limerick in honor of her first publication, please join in and send me a limerick, or even a note to congratulate her. Thank you.
Jan, our Queen of Poop has a sexy voice
Crowned as Limerick Queen, she is our choice
But oh my lordy
Some are quite bawdy
Book sales are good ~ she's getting a Rolls Royce
by Lin Lane
Jan's poems are clever and funny too
Full of bawdy lines and some about poo
Comedy at its best
Her poems will attest
Read" A giggle a day" to not feel blue
by Tania Kitchin
No rolls Royce or Winnebago camper van
A sedia gestatoria, for Jan
One with a floating loo
For outdoor number two
Carried shoulder high around the Isle of Man
by David Kavanagh
LONG LIVE THE QUEEN
Jan Allison has written her first book
It was a mammoth task she undertook
Preview it on amazon
I'll guarantee you'll want one
I've read a bit and my whole body shook.
by Tom Cunningham
Jan nixed the idea of getting a Rolls
She opted to put wheels on toilet bowls
Her farts serve as a horn
She ignores those who scorn
And she never gets stopped to pay bridge tolls
by Mark Koplin
In a bathroom where tales tend to unfold
And humerous secrets are often told
There’s a plop and a cheer
Laughter rings loud and clear
In porcelain chambers poems are sold
by Arthur Vaso
Poetry Soup’s Queen of Poop
has made herself a news scoop!
She published her book
and that’s all it took.
A second book is now in the loop.
by Linda Alice Fowler
Congratulations Limerick queen Jan
A poetess who’s from the Isle of Man
Pleased your book is a hit
A giggle a day gift
From an hilarious comedian.
by Beryl Edmonds
CHARLIE'S CARTOON CHARACTERS
Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a far away land, in the land where Charlie lived, there was a group of cartoon characters who felt as though they were the greatest thing to come along since sliced bread was put on the market. They were truly a curious bunch of characters who could be seen on any given day careening down the thoroughfare on their coveted tricycles causing people to scatter for fear of being crushed by these cavorting crazies who carelessly chose to clutter up the sidewalkway and the crosswalk while practically choking with laughter.
From the other side of town, there came a handsome, muscled up soon to be champion of the people because he had come to clean up this careening group of cartoon characters and put Charlie in his place. This champion's name was Clint, as in Eastwood, but even more impressive. He came into town on his cherished red, white, and blue skateboard. Clint was on a crusade. Yes, he was certainly charismatic and rather charming with his crooked little curved lip smile and the cheroot cigar clamped tightly between his crystalline teeth. Well, his very appearance was enough to convince Charlie and his gang of cohorts to seek a change of scenery and move to an entirely different city. Clint never even had to get off of his skateboard except to convince a certain little campus cutie that he was to become her cherished companion and settle down in a clean little cabin on the corner of Clint Avenue and Colleen Boulevard. Yes, that is what the town folks named that location. Oh, by the way, I forgot to mention that the little campus cutie was named Colleen. She and Clint are the proud parents of Curtis, Catherine, Constance, and two classy little girls named Jan and Andrea. They all live happily in Cunningham, Colorado. Cunningham is a little place named after a poet, Tom Cunningham. Tom and another noted poet named Bob Hinshaw help Clint maintain law and order as they sit around thinking up stuff to write for folks to read when they don't have anything better to do.
13 November 2018
For the contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
I dedicate this poem to Thomas Cunningham,
who I admire for the tales he tells in poetry form.
MUTINY
I stands at the bow
Proud to lead
I get the first catch
and splash
Pretense while I breathe
as if our lips our sealed together
in this hallowed breeze
The skill of his hands
that masterfully guide
the ship to the seas
My intricate gown
he sees only in his dreams
as he feels the form
underneath
with his intrepid heart
His feet firmly planted
on deck,
this captain of mine,
steers the ship
He must think of the coins
the greed, the gold
under the nose
of his crew
They often smirk
and besmirch his name
under tobacco’d breath
and the stench
of a whore’s perfume
My hair is in disarray,
I dread his fate
under the hallowed moon
The thunder roars
from a shotgun
into the air it soars
In chains, he’s still in charge,
his thoughts for me alarmed
I’m pale and soaked,
the downpour mad
And so am I
My knees bend
My hands fold
My head bound
to see you through
You stand at the brawny depths
where the sirens roar,
where tremendous teeth
and hideous fins
nearly frighten you
I beg for your pardon,
plead for your soul
The head shark
leans in with stain’d fangs
mercilessly mocking,
tearing up the captain
with dead man tales
The compass spins
wildly as the traitor
vehemently describes
the fishbait before his eyes
The treasured bride
asks for a trade
her life for his
The sand sinks her knees
“No, no, Josephine!”
her sisters on her trail
“Take ours, us two,
save both of them!”
The Lord wipes his tears
and takes the dears
into his arms,
safe from the storm
The tables turn
as a sail
slices the air
rebuking the mutiny
and the crew they stare
as their daring
is circled and bit...
one arm, one leg,
one ear at a time
They’ve seen nothing like this
Then their eyes open
A light from the bow
They rub their eyes
but still they see the captain’s bride
She smiles like the crystal sea
She waves and disappears
The crew drops their gear,
unties the captain,
begs mercy,
unless they go down with the ship!
10/10/2020
Unmetered narrative
Some poems I can’t comprehend
I struggle reading to the end
Flaunting a complex word
Its usage quite absurd
No comments not e’en from a friend!
I love learning new words on soup but get frustrated when I see poems peppered with long words, especially when trying to force rhyming and the words don't make any sense at all in context to the subject!
PLEASE SOUP ME ME YOUR POEM AND I'LL ADD IT TO THE POEM
Those pompous poets totally bore us
With clever words like 'radiciflorous'
But what you should know
Those words they borrow
From the pages of Roget's Thesaurus
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ben gobbled a dictionary whole
and verbal diarrhoea took its toll
Now he's spewing words
flowing like loose turds
I hope he’ll regain vowel control!
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON - INSPIRED BY LIN'S POEM!
These wordy poems they are making
I find discombobulating
The syllable count
Continues to mount
As their egos are greatly inflating.
WRITTEN BY GARY SMITH
Jake ate the whole encyclopedia
Then it was covered by the news media
An instant wordsmith
But it was a big myth
Now he’s in a state of Acedia
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
There was a poet on here called Fred Flynn
Composed a verse about scabies and gin
Was poem of the day
To everyone's dismay
It should have gone in 'soups' recycle bin.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
A pompous poet always thinks he's right
And stays up making rude comments all night
With rude words that spit and spew
The idiot has no clue
That all of His poems need a rewrite
WRITTEN BY TANIA KITCHIN
I've got a good word but wait let me see
Possibly change two syllables to three
Your big pompous ass
Craps sweet sassafras
Insults disguised as complimentary
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
KEEP IT SIMPLE
Using words with hidden meanings
is for those with intellectual leanings
Poems that are complicated
are strictly over-rated
Give me a poem with simple gleanings.
By: Carole O’Terry Duet Copyright: 12/31/2018 “All Rights Reserved”
12/29/18