Long Dandy Poems
Long Dandy Poems. Below are the most popular long Dandy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dandy poems by poem length and keyword.
Shall I compare thee unto a crate of beer,
or, if not that, then unto washing powder?
Today I shun all things that are austere;
soft tones must yield to songs that are far louder.
May's shandy was for working men too sweet.
Newcastle Brown for them is much more dandy.
Reese-Mogg appealed but to the high elite.
It's Boris now who's dealing out the candy.
His soap suds as detergents wash much whiter
and his packaging's so appealing to the eye.
My desire 's for something that's much brighter
than the dowdy hues of Mr. Corbyn's dye.
Boris we hail victor, for'tis he who's won the day.
To his product though a question. Who art thou anyway?
A seething summer morning in the oil boom trailer park
Oral Roberts on the radio with the gospel told by Mark
The reek of raw petroleum is everywhere around
We little oil trash urchins play marbles on the ground
He drives out here most every day around the hour of nine
Checking all the trailer windows for a little cardboard sign
He parks the canvas-covered truck and dons his leather vest
Throws a tow sack o'er his back and shows his Sunday best
Down the drive comes Danny, on his mighty motor bike
Hanging on the handlebars, his bigger brother Mike
The engine makes a ton of noise, a dandy double stroke
Two baseball cards and clothespins, hitting every spoke
Our ragamuffin gang was gathered, just waiting for the time
To contrive our evil strategy and carry out our crime
“The iceman, the iceman!”, I hear my sisters say
“Y'all be quiet!”, I hiss to them,” You'll give us all away!”
The iceman sidles round the truck and casts the canvas back
Scores a hundred-pounder block and cleaves it with a whack
Tongs the icy burden to his back and laughs at what is left
Chunks and chips of frozen jewels, the targets of our theft
We want so hard to play it cool and act like we don't care
All our mouths fill up with drool and it's tricky not to stare
The iceman winks his eye at me and hides a little grin
Then walks up to the trailer door where mother lets him in
The moment that the door slams shut, the bandits make their play
With eyes lit up, we whoop and shout like kids on holiday
We suck up all the chunks and chips and with our bellies iced
We swagger off to brag about our frosty jewelry heist
It's true we didn't have a lot, perhaps enough to just scrape by
But the visit from the iceman was like Christmas in July
And when I pass through oilfield country, it never ceases to amaze
How the scent of raw petroleum brings back those icebox days
January 30, 2013
"Snapdragons and Dandy Lions (Part 1)"
“Don’t move,” she smiled gently,
“stay there, stop fidgeting, let me put these in your hair”,
I was sitting cross-legged
on the lush green bluegrass lawn
it felt like 70’s Shagpile carpet,
long and unshorn.
“I said, don’t move! There’s a Blue Tongue over there,
you’ll frighten it away, they don’t like to be scared.”
She was shielding her eyes surveying the yard
like a pirate on the high seas,
a ship on the Ocean,
while the Sprinkler
kept raining a moving waterfall
automatic motion
here and there buzzing bees
in the Kumquat Trees.
She was pointing to the boulder
next to the Lychee Tree
close to where I was
legs now unfolded
scrambling around on my knees.
It was around 5 in the avo not morn
we’d been there covered in sunscreen
for a coupla hours and
tired from the heat
we were all stifling yawns
in the sweltering sub-tropical garden
amongst her verdant jungle of flowers and ferns
there amongst the strawberry patches, passionfruit, Lady Finger trees,
Pineapples, PawPaws, grapes, tomatoes,
and towers of fragrant sweet Jasmine, Lilac-mauve Wisteria
plunging Deep Velvety Red Bougainvillea,
flirty Sweatpeas and
the pungent Pink Frangipani
impregnating the air with it's fat-belied
perfume, the scent of which to this day
sends one into absolute delerium; then
came the whirring blood-suckers
that bombed us in buzzing swarms
never foiled no dignified treaty -
one was never forwarned,
that left itchy-bites and
eventually weeping sores,
feeling sorry for ourselves
the breeze carried our songs of retreat to which she’d
impart, “Shush! Don’t carry on,
everyone will hear you way out on the Street!”.
“They like your blue blood, that’s why!”,
she explained in exasperation, kind of worried
spraying us with Stingose.
“Tonight we’ll put up the nets and
burn the Tiger Coils”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)
For Lynette
(1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izQsgE0L450
This thick mucous essentially
the defense mechanism of a healthy
body electric to restore biz zee nose
as usual, which for this mild mannered
liberal leitmotif from the chronicle of one
matted nattering nabob of nativity attests
congested mob functioning like
a well lubricated machine, yet
for the life of me, nary a handy dandy
blues clues evident as per, how
the human entity empowered
to steamroll over
any reasonably annoying bugaboo.
Ah, now if only a similar innate
defense mechanism arose
within the mental health,
that would be a supreme testament
to thine atheistic tasty mints of miracles
minus the attendant pharmacopeia
of this, that or some other drug to aright
skewered psyche (of this contemplative,
emotive and intuitive literate outlier),
whose sixty two plus eight shades
of gray matter went awry and skewed
toward tipping point (to cope with ordinary
cares and concerns of an uncertain
whirled wide web) found the bulk
of his life riddled with a joe king,
gun slinging tub back ha chew win,
bard **** wordsmith,
who doth newt like to utter any
cryptographic crossword.
A winter sun doodles dandy-long legs shadows
over my eyelids.
Closed eyes from the glare, now
an insectivore brush of fine shadow hairs.
Knuckles rub eyeballs until they water.
Sunlight jumps into the day again
plays 'hide and seek' around passing clouds.
A patchy sky dumps a snow flurry
down the back of coat.
Squirm, wet spine, squirm.
Do a little dance with tingling toes.
"A daddy-long-legs is not a spider,
though it is an arachnid
related to the scorpion family."
Later on, mind winces upon reading this.
Sun shadows akin to scorpions,
not a thought to play with
when your back is still damp
and cringing.
Dan Dare
by Robert (Bob) Moore (c) 2016
Clean your room my mam would say, it’s like a sty in there
I’d start to do what I was told, then find Eagle and Dan Dare
The Dandy and the Beano, soon would come to light
all those comics of my youth, 1’d buy each Friday night
It all brings back memories, of when I was a kid
and when I started work, the first thing that I did
I took over buying the comics, on a Friday night
dad had always bought them, but now it was my right
I was earning money, and passed the paper shop each day
so now it was my turn, to get them on the way
Eagle, Dandy, Beano, Girl for my sisters too
rainy weekend coming up, something for us to do
But right now I am in deep space, with Dan Dare and his crew
fighting space invaders, our hearts so brave and true
the Mekon and his Treens, from out Venus way
came to earth to conquer, it was Dan Dare who saved the day
But who’s that sending thought waves, “is that room finished yet
you’ve been in there for 2 hours now, hope you did not forget”
Pushing all the comics, back in the cupboard quick
almost finished now mam, I’ll be out in just a tick
just gotta finish off these Treens, and give Mekon the flick
My fond childhood memories;
I couldn't wait to get to my grandparents
During the holidays when I was young.
Their arms always outspread with affection,
Their warm love for us was quite apparent.
Waking in the morning with smell of baked bread.
Wouldn't take much for grandpa and me to pause
Whatever we were doing when bread was ready.
Slice of hot bread and melting butter, our stomachs fed.
Gran would let me help wash clothes in a spent
Wringer washer, then hung on a clothesline
With two-pronged wooden pins in the backyard
To dry in the sun giving them fresh air scent.
I am older, with my own family.
I try to keep those warm memorable
Traditions. A bread machine, a dandy
Invention; all ending so happily.
One of the few things I do and provide
myself; if ambitions on sunny days,
I will hang my clothes out on the clothesline.
Memories of childhood I hold with pride.
6/16/2021
Poetry Contest: A Tender Moment From Childhood
Sponsored by: Malabika Ray Choudhury
WHO goes there? What the WHO do I see?
Is that a squirrel critter climbin' up that there tree?
These large ol' eyes, they sure do come in handy
I can whip this here head right around, it's a dandy!
Nights are long, I sit WHOING, a listenin' to sounds
I kin hear every Tom, Dick, and Harry around!
Them loud noises can really ruffle my feathers
Gives me a WHO headache, no matter the weather.
But when I find what I want, I really can fly
So don't underestimate me, don't even try!
'Cuz I'm a great hunter, I kin hunt with the best
Better not fool with me, cuz I rule the WHO nest!
Time to enjoy star with bucks’ coffee
Along with Toffee
Knocked on the door
Aston was not going to be ignored
“I am a nice treat
Very sweet”
A grand old lady welcomed him in
Having a grin
“Aston, where have you been?”
Trying to be sly
Not really telling any lie
“Fighting to stay in the big time
Got caught up in a bind
Relegation on my mind”
An antique Everton fashion smile
Opened up like it was on file
“Sometimes down there
No pressure in the air
Attitudes will be joyous not bitter
Fans will be happy during dinner”
As the first half slipped away
Nothing happened on this day
Until late in the match
Aston opened the hatch
A goal was there no strings attached
Showing he knew how to play
In the top notch superior way
Putting one on the board
Three points the Claret and Blue army would get for the award
But that was not going to happen
Granny Goodison decided to zap him
Right before the ninety minutes
Aston not going to get into it
“You are only going home with one
Fantasy trip almost done
I gave you my candy
Run home little Aston quick and dandy”
Feeling like he was tricked
Aston sat in his villa knowing he was licked
“I guess I am going down
To the lower league town
I will return
From this year’s burn
Stronger and firm
From what I learn
When enjoying a win
Competing to be an English Football Champion”
Sam dated Sandy, things were fine and dandy
Born into middle class means, they were killing that high school scene
One afternoon in Sandy’s bedroom their play went all the way
And the Angels wept that day
Sandy felt that they would marry, though Sam soon had his eye on Sally
Now Sam chased Sally, soon after that it was Allie
Sandy, Sally, and Allie; to Sam they were no more than tallies
And the Angels wept at this reality
Now across the nation, we can find these relations
Occurring in high schools from Bangor to Bakersfield
Thus, today another voiceless soul was ripped away as a right
And the Angels will weep again tonight