Long Dale Poems
Long Dale Poems. Below are the most popular long Dale by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dale poems by poem length and keyword.
William Wordsworth if living in 2014
would think oh the waste
that's come to my beloved lakes
the changes seem to be in haste
So many people wrecking the landscape
where I once had stood
in front of Dove Cottage a hotel stands
this is absurdly rude
They are called tourists I'm told
walking over hills and dale
these things on four wheels called cars
go so fast speedsters should be in jail
People so lacking manners
no decorum or finesse at all
they even watch talking pictures at home
oh their minds are really small
No knowledge of the great classics
as they waste their time away
in silly things like PCs and computer games
oh to be back in my own day
No reverence for God almighty
children give parents no respect
so glad I lived in 1800s
now that was the time to connect
AUTHOR NOTES: some thoughts on the great poet William Wordsworth (1770-
1850) of what he would have thought if he lived today.
Dawn, Angie, Glori and Dale —
model citizens led the way
to their stage, all the rage
for seconds in time.
cool of Dawn Dolls —
icons of the seventies,
for teeny-tiny bills
a girl could own a million.
smaller in stature,
much harder to detail,
the manufacturers tire
of the dwarf-sized dolls.
these Topper Toys
with copper joints,
knees that morphed green
like fingers wearing cheap rings.
authenticity from 1970 to 1973
when bankruptcy interrupted
Topper bank accounts
though tail strings tried to revive.
recorded in 1973 by Tony Orlando and Dawn,
Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree.
i sighed everytime the radio would play.
hit number one, Helen Reddy’s Delta Dawn.
memories made as a seventies teen. . .
the aftermath of dawn tugs the strings.
if it wasn’t for Pinterest might i forget
the tug of dawn, the playful heart.
1/30/2020
From Wikipedia:
"Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree" is a song recorded by Tony Orlando and Dawn. It was written by Irwin Levine and L. Russell Brown and produced by Hank Medress and Dave Appell, with Motown/Stax backing vocalist Telma Hopkins, Joyce Vincent Wilson and her sister Pamela Vincent on backing vocals.[1] It was a worldwide hit for the group in 1973.
"Delta Dawn" is a song written by former child rockabilly star Larry Collins and songwriter Alex Harvey,[a] best known as a 1972 top ten country hit for Tanya Tucker[1] and a number one hit for Helen Reddy in 1973.
Sue dated an old bloke called Darren
He said surgery'd made him barren
But one errant sperm
Escaped from his ‘worm’
Now Sue’s had a baby named Sharon!
05~24~17
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
For his sins he surely will pay
Strong little swimmer went astray
There's tears in his eyes
No nights with the guys
And Susan turned out to be gay!
05~25~17
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
Darren went to the doc to get snipped
The doctor was drunk and he slipped
He was seeing double
And that spelled trouble
Poor Darren got his wiener clipped.
05~24~17
WRITTEN BY JAMES ANDERSEN
Darren wasn't really a talker;
He spent all his time in a rocker.
"But don't worry, Dear,"
He'd said without fear,
Knowing that his sperm used a walker.
05~24~17
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Darren told Jane the same story
She gave birth to a son named Rory
He thinks he's slick
he's really a prick
And deserves his own category!
05~25~17
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
Sue told Darren she was on the pill
But she managed to get pregnant still
It would have been better
If he "wrote" a french letter
Now they have a baby boy named Bill!
05~25~17
WRITTEN BY JOSEPH MAY
Young Rick peed on a stick.
The result made him feel sick.
His emotions went wild.
How could he be with child.
Impregnated by his own seed.
05~25~17
WRITTEN BY RICHARD LAMOUREUX
So Darren was over the hill
Said Susie'd no need for the pill
One old guy
One old lie
Easily told for the thrill!
05~25~17
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
Jan that's not what I find
I disagree if you don't mind
Over sixty they droop
When I take a look
His number if you would be so kind?
WRITTEN BY JEAN MURRAY
Poor Darren developed a cough
Sue put him to bed in a trough
While discussing his manhood.
Sue said, this is no good
I'd feel safer if you had it off.
WRITTEN BY JONATHAN FRENCH
They thought it would be fun to dissect Susie’s brain
But wait, Sue said. I am kind of allergic to pain.
We have new meds, you will hardly feel a thing.
She believed the surgeon, ‘cause she’s a ding-a-ling.
The doctors hypnotized her and she stayed in place
While they cut a tiny hole in her front lobe face
They extracted a bit of her teeny sand brain
I’m naked! The piece yelled, and don’t forget my train!
They pulled out a gown, a petticoat and a bridal veil.
I am eager to see what you’ll do next said Dale.
Wait! Said Tori as I was telling this story to her
Who is Dale and were her dendrites still pure?
Since I was rudely interrupted, the tale is now dead.
So now poor Susie is stuck without the rest of her head.
I do not feel guilty, I am the writer, thus the boss.
Not knowing the ending is the reader’s loss.
Mary the dainty fairy queen
Wearing a pale white veil rarely seen
Trailing after her in meadow dale, light and airy
Floated gently to a brownie’s eyes, name of Jerry.
He admired her smile, the daisies on her head.
The colorful quail leading her down his flower bed.
The north wind agreed to a quick intervene.
Lifting her veil, Jerry saw beauty forever unseen.
In her hazel green eyes, a curious gleam.
Approaching the garden from wild forest stream.
Convening his advisors Perry, Terry and Ned.
Jerry asked permission to snag her and wed.
They caught her entourage without a pail
Her unicorn gave out a tiny wail
Orchestrated fully by that fairy queen
Had the first wedding fairy land had ever seen.
Jerry was smitten. His own idea he thought.
But preening fairy queens are not that easily caught.
She kept her marvelous secrets until her daughter’s courting days
Telling her how to entice the marriageable brownie to stay.
Springtime is more than just flowers and sun.
April is drenched, and bees will have much fun.
Swarming insects frighten with bites and harm.
A staining sludge swamp and stinky silt farm.
Sneeze and hay heat-stinging eyes are a curse.
Lands that loom like orbs, yet deceits are worse.
Yet, we must not squander sight of quaintness
with the rigors that spring brings or faintness.
Berth booms boost pollination burden rood.
Spring is spasmodic, apart from the mood.
White snow morphs into mushy rolling hills.
And sprinkle down verve up till the dale spills,
Flowers rising from snowfall restore hope.
Were we blithe beyond the zenith and slope?
3rd place contest winner
Written: February 05, 2023
Spring Is Not All Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
My cavern bursts with bittersweet aura
— like globose berries, a cluster of tints.
The secret place — its musk, amidst the flora,
a limited conquest of feet — their prints.
Excitement rocks — I wade in hidden space.
My helmet light — it swims above my eyes.
The shadows wet, the adventurous ace.
The winding walls will never brush the skies.
The natural deep dark, unharnessed hush.
Us tourists kneel — the prayer within the calm.
The stalactite and stalagmite - time’s crush.
The pleasing whim — underground cave a psalm.
In seven hours se la explora.
My cavern bursts with bittersweet aura
6/7/2019
Nature Scene-Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Dale Gregory Cozart
se la explora - it is explored
Gleaming golden hoard,
dazzling great gems of old.
With each strike, metal folds,
parts of a story of mountains untold.
Keep feeding the fire,
raise the blazes' ire.
In burning furnace, metals cry,
a sweet, renewing sounds of a choir.
Thrones carved in golden beauty,
The Arkenstone, still there to see.
Waltzing feet echoed the halls.
the Elder Days before the fall.
Now heard the tramps of doom,
with eyes set for gold-filled rooms.
Each step reaps a soul,
each breath wrought ash and coal.
The bells sang in sorrow,
The Dale futilely fired the arrows.
To Erebor they retreat,
But Erebor fell, and the dragon now sleeps.
In what a dazzling look she comes tonight
Cerulean sky laughing in her brook
Obsidian orbs in eyes to ignite
A crimson lust for every longing nook
In charcoal ash of roses on the floor
He stares how she makes them blossom again
In smoke of love birds go wild as they soar
As he strokes her smooth skin like porcelain
Her pearls and sable as they unfasten
A drink of absinthe he holds up to her
Ivory mist invites horses that stun
A surreal quenching of wild hunger
As the night train north and southward they meet
The tulips of snow blush in their heartbeat
October, 18, 2018
For the Poetry Contest: Midnight Romance Contest
Sponsored by: Dale Gregory Cozart
An old black and white movie
took me back to my childhood
when cowboys rode the range
Major Adams and Flint McCullough leading the Wagon Train,
and Hopalong's ten-gallon white hat
rode the brim of John Wayne's stagecoach in back;
with Roy and Dale saving every day
as Tonto and the Lone Ranger hi-ho silvered away;
Gil Favor and Rowdy Yates blazed the Rawhide trails
as Ben, Adam, Hoss, and Joe laid the Ponderosa tails;
The Mavericks never bet against The Rifleman and Gunsmoke truths
while Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillon, and Bat Masterson made the law fool-proof,
the Rebel and The Restless Gun kept horses ever on the run
and Cheyenne, Davy Crocket, and Daniel Boone
fought both Indians and Trappers without showdowns at noon
those western stars of early radio and television shows after school.
These were the stories of so many heroes, villains and more jewels
the cowboys and cowgirls, and their horses too
revived the west for the fifties youth,
a blast from the past
of the fading western stars.