Long Ditties Poems
Long Ditties Poems. Below are the most popular long Ditties by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ditties poems by poem length and keyword.
Now burst forth your long-suffocated song,
You gagged lips with mute anthems sweet!
Speak of your celestial lays with angels high
In stillest skies above men's unmusical beat.
Say which den under heaven's serenest wings
Writhes most chargrined by tart mortal things.
Divulge rare trills piped by such celestial sum,
More dulcet tunes that finessed pickers strum.
Kindly whisper into this pen's Muse-eluded ear
The unheard-of strains that superior lyres pelt.
In gentler tones alien to poor harps herebelow,
Play fine ditties that earth's senses haven't felt.
Anon spill in over-millioned soothing tongues
Ethereal lines to sate this poet's aching pangs;
And in earnest buzz your time-perfected chant
To shame the best of man's cacophonous rant.
Your most inharmonic line in lame pitch sung,
Beats all tuneful vibes powered by carnal lung.
Eternal Destiny
You’re a star!
I’m a mere hidden diamond.
I can’t afford to give you to me.
You’ll go far kid, forget about what we could be.
I am not meant to be your Eternal Destiny.
You would soon be bored, if we ever truly hugged,
And showed each other what was in our minds.
I have you inside mine for the rest of my life,
But you need someone you can truly love,
Not this ordinary guy.
It’s easy to love what you have never truly had,
So play it, never mind.
You’ve never looked better.
The sun glasses look good on you.
I’m still here in the rain wearing my Biffa water-proofs.
It looks like you like your drink at 50% proof,
And I am a tea-totaller, former smoker,
With no smokes to pass to you.
That was the best time of my life,
But my Wife left me, before I left.
I will always love you Ms. Right,
But I am not to be your shining light.
I simply love you... ‘nough said.
I never knew you were so unhappy.
If only you would have shown me,
I would have said “We are family!”
And I’ve got my “Sister” here with me permanently.
Down for life,
Down for fun,
Down for good love
And a friend I call a bud.
I always miss you
And I always will luv.
Those times sure were good,
But then everything changed,
And I couldn’t stay.
I had to get away.
So then you were gone,
And I was in the wrong,
For believing we shouldn’t be.
Who knows?
You could have been the one,
But I never gave us a shot,
So I can’t sit here and bemoan your loss.
I knew you’d go for a song,
But then you went and wrote a whole damn album!
All Killer No Filler, of course.
I hope one day you out-sell Thriller,
And I will still be here smiling about your love,
And writing these little ditties,
With a woman on my on my arm
Still loving those ‘mysteries’
You to me are still a complete mystery.
Oh my girl, you are oh so pretty,
And I am but a dweeb,
With no self-esteem.
I didn’t think you could love me,
When I saw you loved him.
I’m still searching for the one love I am yet to meet.
Still searching for new memories for Easy Street.
The Gardens aren’t so lovely now,
I’ve lost the coolest and most interesting.
Those were the days.
I was so in love!
I sure did have a need for you.
It’s my crying shame we never became ‘Us’.
(C)2025 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
There was a merry minstrel once
Lived on the Isle Of Wight.
He sang and played upon his lute
And kept it polished bright.
He loved to write computer odes,
He wrote his songs in Morse's codes,
And ditties sweet lay round his feet
As he sat in the road.
He believed in minus 1
He liked to find square roots.
He played imagined notes all day,
Upon his master's flute,
But when he felt a mental lack,
His father called in Paul Dirac.
Who gave him twice as many notes.
So more and more this minstrel wrote
Till a catastrophic crack.
The world divided into two,
So I'm not me and you're not you
But we have doubles in the glass
I learned that in my physics class.
One minstrel played upon the sand,
His alter ego had a band
Until a Magus found their file
They'll be back,in a little while,
Walking hand in hand .
The world has cracked
Behind our backs.
There'll be a mighty fall.
We need to build some fiery walls,
To stop the men with nuclear balls,
From making any calls.
Plus and minus don't make nought,
so keep those square roots well apart.
We'll let the mirrored minstrels play,
But make sure you keep well away,
In case explosions start.
Plus and minus interact,
That's what the scientists say.
Nothing is a powerful sign,
And nothing's not going away.
Methinks all antediluvian Love was
Whiter than snows atop higher tors;
And with more troth dudes did kiss
Purer maidens for pleasanter bliss.
I deem Art shortly after Noah’s Ark
To have been of better-spun spark;
And bards of far more sublime quill
Did indite with stouter metered skill.
Niftier lines which Columbus hymned,
On virgin voyages to terrains deemed
By soil-tilling mortals uninhabited yet;
Such ditties do dim both fear and fret.
Tighter Calvary Faith as Bunyans
Prisoners fell in Hades' vile plans,
Wet-toweling martyrs' spirits bold,
Felt saltier with truer saints of old.
Daintier Oratory and Polemics alike
Did with indeed finer Lincolns spike;
Notches less finessed minions today,
Such steadily sorrier contrasts betray.
Magic moonstone on her finger
Dreams of tanzanite kisses,
Shadows in her bedroom linger
Losses, she thoughtfully, dismisses.
Friends that used her, for their glory
Disappear from her like fog in the city.
Looking for new friends to bury,
To rise to the top,using feckless ditties.
It's a twenty four hour race,
With nobody ever really winning!
The truly best writers know it is not
how much you write at all!!
So, in the end what glory be
With a crown made of non-reality?
And poetry shred to ghastly pieces.
All ending up as an artistic, bloody fatality.
5/12/2019
9pm PST
"DRIVE"
Imperial
bulltwang
oligarchy
number crunching
serial winners
cornflake box
cracker jacks
sing some songs
that cut some flack
Pats on back helps
cut the slack from
wind ringing chimes
hot air bumcracks
anonymous blast
dredging up
saccharine ditties
from the past
tolling bells
zero oceans
fathoms
zero five
deep dive
swallows
air
chirping
feathers fly
ring-a-round-the-rosies
sing-a-song of posies
bubbling honey
bee hive.
Serious insects
marching bands
beating drums
semi-alive
hour glass
running
out of sand
Metronome
kisses
missing time
keep on working
for the Man.
Black Balls
White Ball
rolling dreams
quicksand
sinking
out of rhyme
Take a walk
in the forrest
stand tall
Rain comes
dance some
turn your face
to Number One
Brave.
Get in the car
wave
your hand
foot flat to the floor
burn the engines
face to sun
put dark
glasses on
what's to be won?
survive...
listen to
silence
DRIVE.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
White Rose Parade/Lady of the Sunshine (Angus Stone)
https://youtu.be/h0njhzs2bDA
Smoking Gun/Lady of the Sunshine (Angus Stone)
https://youtu.be/K6aLm8aY6fE
Written: September 10, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In the tapestry of twilight's shroud,
Where dreams and wonders are allowed,
Jewel winks, shooting stars ignite,
Guiding us through the cosmic night.
A rubied mystery, the universe's womb
Whispers secrets, casting gloom.
But within this darkness, a symphony plays.
A serenade of stardust, a celestial ballet
Astral ditties dance on moonlit cobalt.
Their melodies are enchanting, never to halt.
Nestled on the wings of thunderbirds,
They soar across the heavens, spreading words.
Words of love, of hope, of dreams,
Of endless possibilities, it seems.
Strewing drizzles of diamond dust,
They shimmer and sparkle in a cosmic gust.
With each twinkle, a wish is made.
As shooting stars glide and cascade.
Their paths are a canvas, a masterpiece,
A sight that fills the heart with peace.
Argyle tapestry they weave,
In patterns of love and belief,
Lyrical luster of garnet ember,
Igniting passion, extinguishing slumber
On a summer night, they paint,
Colors of wonder never faint.
The stars, as diamonds, shine so bright.
Guiding us through the endless night.
Stardust serenade, a celestial hymn,
Bringing comfort when the world feels grim
So let us gaze upon the sky.
And watch the shooting stars fly by.
For in their beauty, we find solace and grace.
A reminder of the magic in this vast space.
Let the stardust serenade cram our hearts.
And ignite within us a love that never departs.
Samuel Woodruff was a very old man, who once drummed for the army;
That marched to his rhythmic music, along with all fifers, playing hearty.
That was a lifetime ago, in dawn days so pink, golden, and richly green;
Like petal strewn time moving backward, to the premiere, pivotal scene.
Samuel never stopped playing drums, like mulberry heartbeats of sunset,
And played them after his daily walks; like the love you will never forget.
His fast friend, Comet, followed him, through fields of fascination flowers;
As he made up ditties to match the beat, of the flaming, futuristic hours.
Of faithful family, Sam had none, but for his fond, faddish sister, Pauline;
Who felt every fandangle pulse of summer, like allure on the silver screen.
Sam lived in the house of memories, of past and present changing places;
Where often rolling thunder was noted, like apricot roses, in cream vases.
Starlight snuck in windows, on a street that never seemed to say goodbye;
As sophisticated moon adored supper music, of redbirds, next to ebon sky.
Neighbor children noticed Sam's ditties, and often trailed behind to listen,
To each verse of nostalgia, featuring him. They loved all the fun repetition!
'Mad dog skullcaps' were running amok, when black-eyed Susans, sparkled;
And bright daffodils recalled Narcissus, when magenta butterflies, startled.
'Cupid's dart' flowers were hitting the mark, working magic in love potions;
While chrysanthemums spread the 'truth,' in vivid colors, of every emotion.
Samuel was heading home, one weekend day, and a huge crowd followed;
Comprised of both children and adults, like pretty colors, sunset swallowed.
The people sang along and clapped with Sam, to the song so easy to learn,
As Sam played his drum to the march, elated with sweet memory's return!
Many years have gone since then, and though Samuel's no longer around,
Folks still march while singing his song; as violets spring from the ground.
'This old man, he played one,
He played knick-knack on my thumb,
With a knick-knack paddywhack,
Give the dog a bone,
This old man came rolling home.'
(I am with my published four books of poems.)
I breathe poetry wielding a tool, mighty,
mightier than either the sword or rod.
I reign as an Empress in Fancy's domain,
sketching life in ornate motifs and mode.
I paint with dull colors of pain and strife
also with brighter shades of gaiety and grace,
in finer yarn than the gossamer thread
on the fabric of fancy in befitting verse.
At times stealing away from the noisy crowd,
into the stillness of the cloistered cell,
I dwell with Fancy's mystic charms,
and weave downy dreams at will.
Babbling with the brook rushing swift,
racing with the deer loping past,
sometimes I wander into mysterious woods
where flowers, their richest fragrance cast.
My ears are intent on the songs of birds
which come floating from the far off groves
and the whirr of cicadas on the bark of trees,
breaking the calm of twilight eves.
I love to saunter along stretching strands,
watching virulent breakers in fury heave.
My heart dances with every tide
and swings with the rhythm of rising wave.
I feast on the gleam of the auburn sun
and the speckled blue of the infinite sky,
watching the day dying in flame
and the night in a diadem of stars vie.
I hearken to the moans of lovelorn souls
and sing of love’s beauty in ditties fine
triggering sparks into flames grow
in umpteen hearts that pine and whine
All that's lovely meets my eyes
and communes to me in profuse delight,
which when turned into rhyme and rhythm,
I post it for others to devour and digest
Wish from my harp, flow symphonies sweet
songs of longing, love and lust
of idyllic happiness, peace and bliss,
to fuel hearts with vigorous zest.
What I strive is to be a poet out and out.
Some may brand me as an aberrant and a fool.
But beneath the facade of my wayward thoughts,
lie heaps of wisdom for the discerning soul.
Some feathered friends chirp tunes that are rather melodious,
While others belt out refrains that are downright odious!
For instance, did you ever hear such an atrocious raucous,
As when a murder of crows gather for a caucus?
Chickadees trill ditties most pleasing to the ear,
And parakeets chitter mellifluous melodies of cheer.
But the screeches of grumpy blue jays embroiled in disputes,
Is akin to a beginner's band tooting their discordant flutes!
Canaries sing their little hearts out with a dulcet tweet,
And robins chirp with their cheery repertoire replete.
Parrots utter rasping squawks and are most unruly birds,
And on occasion are known to spout some very dirty words!
There's nothing as soothing as a mourning dove's coo,
Or the lovely melody of a yellow finch serenading you.
Alas, there is the less than mellow warble of the grackle;
Some folks consider it to be an ornithological debacle!
Consider that mimic, the satirical and talented mockingbird,
Spoofing its plumaged pals note for note and word for word.
It apes a chirp, screech or hoot at the slightest whim.
His friends cry "fowl" but he doesn't let that bother him!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)