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.
Theme for collaboration suggested by Tim Smith
Two enormous old toads crossed the road
On Tom’s back lounged Thomasina toad
Both are ugly and warty
Thomasina’s so naughty
As her bowels on his back she’d download
06-16-17
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
When Thomasina toad dumped on old Tom
He thought her poop explosion was a bomb
He hopped in the air
gave her a mean stare
shouting, "I'm not taking you home to Mom!"
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ribbit rubbit robbit 'n ro
this crazy toad has got to go
She's turning quite mean -
Fifty shades of green
No time to chat but still does crow
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
"Why don't we do it in the road?"
Said Thomas, the old horny toad
Thomasina hissed,
"Get a load of this!"
and a "blessing" on him bestowed
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
Thomasina was on a road trip
Her taxi was Tom's back she'd grip
But she strained as she held
And her bottom expelled
So she said "I've just left you a tip"
WRITTEN BY RAY GRIDLEY
Tom and Thomasina were the perfect pair
They were ancient toads without a care
He had a huge wart
She gives a mean fart
Anyone in her vicinity better beware!
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
Now Tom was an over achiever
He wanted the lady, not leave her
He sprayed his back with Scotch-Guard
and rubbed down with lots of lard
the dumper was now the receiver
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Tom gave Thomasina the boot
Got sick from the smell of her poot
told her to get lost
right after he tossed
She gave him the one finger salute
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
Thomas and Thomasina loved to hear
the waterboatmen rubbing their gear
Thomas tried and started to croak
causing Thomasina to choke
you two will never get it right I fear
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
When T'sina hopped on for a ride
Old Thomas reminded his bride,
"Though you're my sweet dish,
on the road we'll get squished",
"Just do it!" was her terse reply.
WRITTEN BY CRAIG CORNISH
Thomasina and Tom a heavy load
Lingered a little too long on the road
He could have kissed her all night
shocked at the oncoming lights
Croak and ribbit was heard; two flattened toads
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME ANY SUBMISSIONS FOR THE COLLABORATION
06-16-17
A nubile young vicar named Jude
Was seen swimming, totally nude
The bishop said WOW
Just look at you now
Your assets - they need to be viewed!
Fiction write!
07-05-17
Invited him home for a drink
A toast as their glasses did clink
Robes down on the floor
Performing a chore...
How far will this story now sink.
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
The vicar bent over to pray
The bishop could not look away
So for his protection
Took up a collection
A robe now conceals his display
WRITTEN BY CHRIS GREEN
I think this story about being nude will sink low
I will tell on those guys, all I know
Those two men are not holy
The bishop's roly-poly
And the vicar used to be in a nude girly show
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
The bishop was feeling romantic
The vicar thought the man pedantic
When the vicar turned around
To give the bishop a frown
The bishop gasped, "Lord, you're gigantic!"
WRITTEN DALE GREGORY COZART
Said Jude, will we both go to hell-
Said bishop, you never can tell
But please will you turn
I've got carpet burn
And my knees are beginning to swell
WRITTEN BY GARY SMITH
As the bishop continued to stare
He thought such a body's not fair
To see the nude vicar
was hard on his ticker
and soon he had to change underwear
WRITTEN BY ROGER ADAMS
Mother Teresa told me so
In the heaven we’ll dance too slow
If you want to come
Bring us some Rum
Otherwise you may stop and go
WRITTEN BY PASHANG SALEHI
btw... What would the Pontiff say?
Would there be hell to pay?
Or would the Pope
just drop the soap
and hope he'd be invited to play
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
When suddenly a knock at the door
they decided they'd rather ignore
in walked the pope,
joined in the group grope
next day they were all saddle sore
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
The pope thought it not at all freakly
when asking the other men meekly
that if they were game
and would do the same
they could set up appointments weekly
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Jude's assets developed so well
As the bishop could obviously tell
But you might be surprised
How it grew to that size
Well, he used it to ring the church bell
WRITTEN BY RAY GRIDLEY
07-06-17
Return Of The Tyke
Tyke, tyke, tyke' they’d chant to bait the bairn.
But insult hurled at Yorkshire folk is water off a back.
Take it, use it, grind it through the crank
As fuel for the fire, grist to mill.
Man as boy the tyke unwraps his bike.
Ride a mile, another ten. No stopping, pumping into the blood.
Cycle, eat, drink. Eat, drink, cycle.
Life’s biggest problem, darkest mood, cured in the turn of a pedal.
Through God’s own country
A yellow jersey pulls a golden thread.
Up fell down dale, through Yorkshire’s warp and weft,
It’s cruelest contours purled,
A bright new yarn weaves into the fabric of the hills.
Past mill, past gate, past pit-head dead, history’s milestones marked.
The ride is metaphor, the towns tell out my story.
Otley, Ilkley, Asgarth, Hawes.
Mum at factory, Grandma, The Black Bull - still standing.
The first sip of warm beer.
Mallerstang, Fleet Moss, Tan Hill.
Simonstone, that teacher, my Dad, Wensleydale and Granddad Thompson.
The Scar, the Cove, the Stang – part of us in every crevice, crook and corner.
Muker, Reeth, Masham, over cattle-grid, up the switch-back,
Buttertubs - Buttertubs - Buttertubs.
Suck at the air, tramp on the pain, tyres spit rubber, spit grit.
It’s all about the climb. Locked in battle against the gradient.
She’s out to hurt us, here to make us suffer.
In sickening waves her sweet call comes to quit, to quit,
To quit this spiritual ascent.
Up ahead, on the tarmac one by one, the giants of the fells swing into sight.
Robinson ‘55, Hoban ’68, doff your cap to Tommy Simpson
And Beryl Burton, she showed the lads a clean pair of heels.
I close the gap and hear them urge: “We too were once like you.
Ordinary.”
My own story is forced out,
Spat through bleeding gums and panted breaths it comes
“I’ll catch you, catch you, catch you.”
In Oxenhope and through Cragg Vale
Spirit generations line the streets “Make us proud son, make us
proud.”
We race by in a flash. As lives lived, as lives past.
One evening,
When final stage is done and life turns back to dust,
Take us back to the mountain top. Pause a moment as the weather turns,
Then set us free in the teeth of a gale.
I’ll call them on, those that struggle through the sleet and hale, soft and
strong.
As I myself, one morning, was called.
© Ben Hodgson 2014
6 Loving Dale Avenue
Affectionate Street
Soul-Mate P.O.
Lover’s Peak
December 21, 2012
Dear Pretty lady,
I am writing you this poetic letter, to tell you that I am your emperor, your protector, your devoted prince that will keep you as his charm, and his beautiful princess that will be at your side, when you are distress or even oppress. A promise to never leave you lonely, but stick with you surely, no one else you only. Girl this love is true reality, not a comical dream we are like the birds that chirp together, a couple, an entangled team.
There’s no one else I would rather be close to but you, baby! I will show you my best interest, in your heart my love will invest. Everyday your physical image appears in my mine, that’s the reason why I call you each day on the phone line to hear your charming voice; from the very beginning you were my first choice to choose another girl over you is an unrealistic myth.
An impossible imagination that has already tarnished, you will always be the root cling to my heart that I cherish, a magnetic love that will not perish.
My love for you is deeper than the Atlantic Ocean, an everlasting portion filled with expressive emotion. The days of the week, Monday , Tuesday , Wednesday, Thursday , Friday, Saturday, Sunday that will never end, like an arrow this love will stay straight and not bend. A mathematical equation with different patterns and trend, and a perfect relationship we both amend.
Yours sincerely
………………………………………………
Demeter Edwards
Form:
On learning to become a guru...
The following artfully crafted back in the day
(actually poetic endeavor presented below
written a few scant years ago) in response to
unexpected positive feedback received on
the most popular social media platform.
Unbeknownst to this unsuspecting witty mortal,
a reverberation attributed to butterfly effect
linkedin to hotmail twittering Facebook member,
who resides within Bhutan, his dignified volition
accorded me magnanimity titled sage without any
influential collusion from Russians bestowed yours
truly with said honorably distinguished appellation,
which humility of mine humbly accepted without a
protestation, though never would I brazenly adopt
spiritual holiness, yet flattered to share such rare
pronouncements, when unsolicited feedback lobbed
in my direction (way before advent of Information
Technology Revolution) often tendered, kindled, and
belittled this gentle human, sans when bullies slung
byte ting bit torrent loathsome scandalous red zingers
targeting personal vulnerabilities, asper being under
socially withdrawn, painfully shy, plagued with speech
impediment (severe nasality) caused by submucous
cleft client, plus weighing where needle budged from
absolute zero pounds, topped with passive demeanor
susceptibilities conveniently converging to establish
this bruised Earthling ideal choice as scapegoat, no
kidding with dread to endure endless days, weeks,
months...a lifetime channel of opprobrious, noxious,
malicious emotionally demonic, cannibalistic, barbaric
abominable, damnable, horrible diatribes chipping
(dale lee) at what measly self confidence shielded
fragile psyche fast crumbling into grist for hungry
caterpillar, unbeknownst that flight path randomly
followed by a representative of Lepidoptera order,
would ineluctably set very subtly infinitesimal
fluctuations within air (currently supplying biota
with requisite oxygen), also training perturbation.
Patience Young Grasshopper mine alter ego spoke
when yours truly figuratively chomping at the bit
more accurately fretting with anxiousness when
boyhood body of mine underwent metamorphosis
impossible mission to thwart biological transformation.
For all that day the frantic chase went on,
until evening’s gloom started to spill,
even in the middle of a warm August,
Yukon nights can give a man a chill.
And the gang stared to complaining,
all three of them, Mitchell, Jeff, and Dale,
that if they pushed the chase much further
their horses would soon tire and fail.
Joel just snarled,”I’m still pushing on!
You’ve got just a half-hour to rest.
Then you get back on the trail and find me,
or I’m taking it out on your heads!”
He spurred his horse on, leaving them there,
knowing deep down their complaints weren’t wrong,
but with a gang like this you let nothing go,
if you did, you wouldn’t last all that long.
Pushing his horse until it sweat and blew,
he rode down a hill into a small clearing,
where stood a small cabin, roughly made,
from a chimney grey smoke was rising.
In front of the house stood the fool boy,
defiantly clutching the long rifle,
but next to him stood a female figure,
the sight of whom made Joel’s breath stifle.
He recognized her beauty instantly,
a few lines the only signs of age.
“How can this be? You-you were swept up,”
was all that he could manage to say.
His dear Running Moon looked him up and down,
said,”I told Red Hawk not to look for you.
He’s too much like his father in that way,
won’t let anybody tell him what to do.
“I didn’t want him to go down to the post,
not after hearing what you are now.
But he wanted to know, to see the truth,
the stubborn boy finds a way somehow.
“And yes, I was swept away in that flood,
nearly killed by the water’s white rage,
washed up on a shore, miles downstream,
my life battered and wasting away.
“A trader found me, brought me to his home,
where I was looked after by his Squaw wife,
broken was I, and unable to leave,
and on top of that, bound to give new life.
“But as the months went by rumors came in,
and at first I didn’t want to believe,
words came of a bandit bearing the name
of a man I loved named Joel Claughtrey.
“That’s why you’ve never seen me since then,
and why I kept our son from your grasp,
I wouldn’t let him meet his end on a rope,
I had to keep him from walking your path.”
CONTINUES IN PART III
Kimmy Mai has my 'heart' in her pocket, (1)
Does not need either ring or a locket,
Love like beer, always loan, (2)
Less fun drinking alone,
And a blast when you're riding a rocket!
Kimmy Mai "owns the market" on care
And she's fearless when called on to share,
Those who treasure "withhold,"
Don't know value of gold,
Grow up crippled when adults aren't there!
Kimmy Mai knows my heart is just mine,
And thinks sharing is better than fine,
To "lose heart" means you die,
To pretend is to lie,
Heart in chains (on its face) asinine!
Kimmy Mai says she'll love me "forever,"
Thinks I'm tall, handsome, naive, and clever,
Such gifts inborn not learned,
(So they can't be returned),
Still, her words move my world like a lever. (3)
Kimmy Mai knows my word is my bond,
Though there are bigger fish in the pond,
And she still chooses me!
"Oh, say can you see," (4)
"Over hill, over dale," (5) "and beyond?" (6)
Brian Johnston
August 1, 2017
Poet's Notes:
(1) This line is a little misleading. You don't have a firm grip on something that is in your pocket, but you certainly have access! I like to think that my love is a gift that must be given daily for it always reverts to me when I sleep and must be consciously given the next morning again! No one can own another's love, nor is it possible to in fact give your love to another. That concept of love I think is a lie! It is clear why there are so many broken hearts!
(2) I have always enjoyed the witticism, "You cannot buy beer, only rent it!" I apply a parallel logic to 'love' as well in this verse!
(3) "Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world." - Archimedes. Read me long enough, and I will expose you to a little science sooner or later. I may not believe in Donald Trump, but I believe in my readers!
(4) "Oh say can you see!" I compare Kimmy to the American flag and the best that it can stand for... immigrants united in one nation.
(5) "Over hill, over dale" from the Army Caisson Song...I would go to war for Kimmy!
(6) "and beyond!" Quote from Buzz Lightyear. "To infinity and beyond." The only value beyond Kimmy (for me) is Science, (a gift from God), and God Himself!
Andrea,
a woman considerate and kind, mellow, down to earth, and fun-loving,
she loves to use her mind.
Thefore, scrubbing on her knees, this gal you’ll never find!
Sisters she has four of, but there are many others.
Gal pals she has, who are her sisters from other mothers.
One husband all her life - at times he drives her insane.
Old boyfriends sometimes are subjects of her poems.
They reside in the treasure chest compartment of her brain.
Mother to two is she– one girl and one boy.
Grandma to four – two of whom don’t always bring their parents such great joy!
She loves to eat, so it follows that she loved to learn to cook.
She makes things up and has no need of recipes coming from a book.
She loves to hunt for bargains and save her honey money.
She loves all kinds of movies, both dramatic ones or funny.
She feels great passion for the things she believes are true
and feels she’s learned a lot in life from all that she’s gone through.
Her fears are rather silly. She avoids driving in a strange big city.
It brings her stress, which she detests. She might freak out, which is not pretty.
Changing weird attachments on a vacuum cleaner would
be a thing to stress her out. At puzzles she’s no good.
New technology keeps coming at her job. This also makes her stressed,
but she can sure accessorize. She’s great at getting dressed!
Her greatest fear – seriously – is facing suffering,
so fear of pain and torture (more than fear of death) is her scariest thing.
She saw a lot of Europe when she studied in Madrid.
She got to take one nice cruise, and other things she did
were seeing more than half the states and going to Brazil.
Her husband hates to travel, so it’s good when she was young she got her fill.
She only really wants to see her lovely family.
Because she lives so far away, with them she’d love to be.
And when she dies, her brother Dale she hopes she will see first.
Young he died, and finally . . . with thankfulness for poetry
and for all her other passions she feels her heart might burst!
Dietrich
(edited now with my name showing since announcement of winners!!)
Aug. 1, 2021
For the "This Is Who I Am" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
I was thinking today
That in itself
Is a very scary thought
About all the people who
Crisscross +++++++++++++
Through our lives
Some of these people
Without any doubt
Are just people we want something from
Or
People who want something from us
And once that need is gone
So are they
Then there are other people
That we know forever
But wish we had never met
And lets not forget
The ones we only met once
Wish we would know forever
But never see again
Well this isn’t about any of them
This is about
The people
We loved and lost
But never should have
Please know that the love I’m speaking of is friendship
Our friends define who we are
More than anything else
In life
My best friend and I
Haven’t spoken
In now on 15 years
In all honesty
That is my fault
It is also one of the worse mistakes
That I ever made
I was so hurt
The hurt brought anger
The anger brought action
And it all happened so fast
Soon as I did it, I felt so ashamed
I think his father could see that in my eyes
The whole family was a part of my heart
Dennis was my best friend
Judy was my girlfriend
Kristin, Jeffery & Haley were my step-kids
Dale was my younger brother
Jack & Joy were Mom & Dad
We had all known each other
Since I was knee high
I learned a valuable lesson that day
I learned that no matter how strong love is
How many years of foundation it may have
Addiction will destroy it
--- It’s the nature of the business ---
They did the same thing to my mother, Eleanor May Dubarry, no provider including Medicare wanted to pay her final medical expenses,
including transportation to and from the Everett's Providence Hospital.
It seems they really wanted either her or me to pay them instead.
But they never did admit to it. After she died, my middle brother Dale, made copies of her death certificate and I mailed them to all the involved parties. Because I did not have Power of Attorney, they really could not hold me accountable. Cathy Mutschuler, DSHS kept telling us, my mom did not have to pay!
There have been other instances. An elders couple in Ferndale, Washington, could not afford to pay for their prescriptions. They had their own final solution. They decided, not Almighty God, when they had the right to die. I am sure many tears were cried and many hearts were broken in to. How many times tragic scenarios like this happen? Even the news media probably does not even know.
What is a woman to do when her medical provider, United Health care does not honor her claim? Her other provider also will not pay her medical bills. She has been to see Governor Jay Inslee and our federal representatives. They promised her they would help, but no affirmative action was taken. And now she is being hounded by bill collectors demanding payment.
Both of us are believers in Jesus Christ. I told her to contact problem solvers, but to pray about it first. Yes, I am a Democrat, who is also a Christian! I am a supporter of our Governor and Federal Representative and Senator. I honestly believe they intended to help her. But failed to do so. This is why the title of this narrative poem is entitled the Medical provider runaround. And yes I am on United Health Care and they have good go me. Delloney will help me apply for Medicare before I turn 65 October 4th of this year.
Share your own stories in your own words and in your own ways. And always remember to pray! I pray to Jesus Christ. And this poem is my prayer for help and guidance.
Love as always,
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 54/ October Country
August 27, 2019