Long Ditty Poems
Long Ditty Poems. Below are the most popular long Ditty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ditty poems by poem length and keyword.
“Chickery Chick Cha-la Cha-la”
Was a happy little ditty
From days gone by, my how time flies
Those words were warm and witty
“Lamsey doats and dosey doats”
Brings back those days of yore
When life was fun in the morning sun
Who could ask for anything more
“Skimmery rinky dinky dink”
Is another masterpiece
Jimmy Durante sang the words
To this clever little treat
“Abba dabba dabba doo”
A chimp was heard to say
I still remember Debbie singing
In a most delightful way
So when you're down and things ain't right
Just whistle these happy tunes
You'll soon perk up you'll smile and say
“Life's just a big cartoon”
A couple of months ago a new friend came into my life.
He has brought a ton of pleasure to me and my darling wife!
He was named Jefferson by some humane society wag,
But we call him Jeff for short and that will remain his tag!
He's an orange tabby and obviously has no pedigree.
I doubt he's concerned about that and it doesn't bother me.
He is snoozing on my desk as I compose this little ditty.
Jeff is one year old and sometimes is a naughty little kitty!
So far he has managed to spill my coffee cup on the table,
And has been caught pawing and gnawing on the television cable.
I've discovered Christmas tree ornaments behind the couch.
I'm sure Jeff is the guilty party, for that I can surely vouch!
He stalks my computer keyboard for which he has a fixation,
Wreaking havoc when I'm typing causing heaps of consternation!
He's a growing kitty and is eating me out of house and home,
And he growls and hisses when his furry coat I try to comb!
What mischief he will perpetrate next is really hard to gauge!
Mercy, Lord! Surely he'll mellow as he matures with age!
Oh, how innocent he appears when he snuggles on my lap,
As we both settle in my LazyBoy to take our daily map!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Pacific Street
Brooklyn New York 1953
Mud-red clay bricks, hot and worn;
brown-stone blocks carved tenements formed.
Concrete sidewalks slit and cracked
where children skipped a hopscotch tack.
Hear the smack of bats to ball
of palm to rubber against towering walls;
Of jump ropes whooshing through the air
of giggling girls with bouncing hair.
Smell the pretzels salt and sweet,
the chicken soup and borsht to eat.
Bubba’s breast, the rose perfume;
seet cigarette smoke in dark hall rooms.
Taste the vanilla ice cream cone
with chocolate shell that
Dad’s brought home.
The hot red fire ball, candy treats
the egg cream soda down the street.
Do whop Ditty songsters
in August’s heat.
Bubba’s calling from window peaks.
And Tanta’s rocking babies sweet.
Brooklyn, Brooklyn in the street.
Gonna wake up
At the brink of dawn
Take a shower
Throw my blue jeans on
The little red rooster
Is my alarm
****-a-doodle doodling
On my farm
Gonna water
All of my crops
Especially
My barley and hops
Gonna spread out
All the bales of hay
Where the goats and the horses
And the cattle stay
In the pasture
Down by the creek
Where we went
When we wanted to sneak
A little moonshine
I stole it from my dad
The best damn moonshine
That I ever had
I'm gonna go
And see a little rodeo
Then I'm going dancing
To do the do-si-doe
Then I'll stop by
Over near the school
To jump in the river
In our swimming pool
Gonna get my little lady
A cold bottle of wine
And get myself a bottle
Of my dad's moonshine
We'll be a parkin'
Up at Lover's Lane
Snugglin' and kissin'
And feelin' no pain
August 16, 2018
Add a Stanza to My Poem Contest
By charles messina
Added last stanza
Most restful sleep since... being in utero
Courtesy restless leg syndrome
spouse called me expletive rat fink
ousted me out the bed with plink
as lovely bones almost got extinct,
whence consoled self singing ditty
Skidamarink a-dink a-dink
makeshift burrow of pillows nsync
shuteye analogous to grateful dead,
Elysian Fields I did drink
yours truly fast asleep
found repose within eyeblink
awoke rested minus
knotted knobs entire body kink
metaphorical twisted human pretzel,
yours truly did not shrink
though disabled to walk,
hence mobility regressed
circumscribing me ambulatory
range to crawl and slink,
no matter paralyzed
(albeit temporarily), I think
above mentioned rectifies
Quandary whereat legs
shimmy and shake
keeping the missus awake
she requires daily at least
twenty four hours
of beauty rest to slake
lest she renders me into
chopped liver and/
or skewered beefcake
nuttin I divulge "fake,"
courtesy this corny flake,
who years gone by
a scoundrel and rake
straying against marital fidelity
triggering psychological earthquake
present crisis pits less at stake,
thus forgive wordplay
much more age
appropriate than pattycake,
perhaps slight hyperbole
thee only literary gambit
up figurative sleeve,
me ain't no magician,
nor gifted with holiness
able to walk across lake
thus harmlessly,
kiddingly, purposelessly...
cavort, frolick,
before darkness, when I
unduly forced to betake
self and disappear hoping the morrow
will find most bushy tailed wideawake.
Mardi Gras parades are rolling the streets again
I watched 'Isis' from inside my windowpane
A king and a queen were pretending to reign
but from the colorful revelry I chose to abstain
I grew up yelling, "Throw me something mister!"
Going to many parades with friends and my sister.
Walked miles on St. Charles Ave. and got a blister
and smiled when a float rider said, "I kissed her!"
I've ridden in several carnival krewes around the city
The floats, the long beads and costumes are pretty
I sang Prof. Longhair's "Go to the Mardi Gras" ditty
but I don't miss taking part. Not one itty bitty.
I began this poem thinking I'd correct a mistake
the BS poet wrote about a breakfast of pancakes.
No one eats that on Mardi Gras. For heaven's sake!
I told him, "Everyone gets Popeye's when they wake"
He read my comment and corrected the wrong date.
I told him he was off by a week, and he didn't hesitate
to delete my words, so I returned, not out of hate
but to ask him why he did that... my curiosity to sate
Another deletion without an explanation. That's BS!
So, I relied on myself to come up with a good guess.
I'd ruffled his ego, making it hard for him to confess
that he knew nothing about Fat Tuesday. He's a mess.
Poetry Often is an "Open Prayer".
Or; “What came first “The Lyrics or the Song”?
Poetry could be. Hypnotizing and mesmerizing.
A spell cast upon the receiver/reader to intoxicate -
Lubricate-and thought to combine.
Poetry, can educate, eradicate, aggravate-agitate.
A good write, could-incite, cause spite or delight.
A Poem, also could provoke, or choke;
Make you change your vote.
Poetry is humorous, or filled with natures awes –
The link between God and mankind;
A secret heart's revealing’s-
A delightful playful ditty
where children chant along-
A poem could be inspiration
sent from some other place in time.
It could be from an old poet transcended:
Or from the "great Divine".
Poetry will often leave something on your mind.
It is a cultural, spiritual,
and human exchange. Most of all Poetry is
"One spoken heart reaching another”.
My favorite Poems introduces seldom used words.
Real poetry may make my heart smile,
or my fist raised, could be political, sexy, or analytical-
Freestyle, or pondered severely:
Poetic pens produce poets, poets produce poems.
Poems can do all the above mentioned and more…
and that’s that poem!
The night descends quickly.
The bloody Evon’s moon rise
to its zenith leaving a red uneven path
on the choppy ocean surface.
Quickly I take my special pill
that will transform my legs into a tail.
Patiently I wait for her, tail splashing,
laughter ringing over the glassy sea,
my mermaid riding gracefully
over crested milky waves.
All lovers are asleep or hiding
to escape their fears that change
in the deadly night might bring. Not me.
Ah, she arrives and I’m in bliss.
We revel in the crimson Evon light,
surf giant white-tipped waves,
dive into the dark waters below.
We swim together, bathing off our cares,
the great Evon gives us strength.
The sea songbirds soar o'er our heads,
thrill us with their lovely lullaby.
The waves pound the spiky crags
adding their haunting symphony.
Then will my love sing her haunting ditty,
As I go into a rapture of unbound passion.
I love the sea, the salty sea,
Painted red with Evon's moon,
far from the clutches of the mighty sun
that burns and blotches my skin.
Let me glide down towards the seabed
below the inky surface and mingle
with fish and mollusks and mermaids,
especially the one I truly love.
This is perpetual bliss, paradise touched
To look over towards the far horizon,
isn't that our wishing star
shooting across the inky skies?
'Umbrella Jim' was the sneakiest scoundrel west of the Missisip'!
Usin' the shell game and sleight of hand, of yer purse he'd gyp.
He'd set up shop 'neath an umbrella whether inside or under an oak.
Usin' three thimbles and a ball he cleaned the jeans of many a bloke!
'Umbrella Jim' was a renown huckster as well as bein' quite witty.
He'd warm up his potential victims by singin' this delightful ditty:
"A little bit of fun now and then,
Is relished by the best of men!
Select yer shell! The one you choose,
If right you win, if not, you lose!
But I'll warn ye, yer chances are mighty slim,
Of winnin' a prize from Umbrella Jim!"
'Twas his regular trade to deceive the eye with sleight of hand.
He was very adept at what he did and his every move was planned.
The fate of 'Umbrella Jim' as far as I can tell is unknown,
But I'd bet some sucker saw him hung from an oak, if truth be known!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
As Pharoah thought
Deep thoughts on Thoth,
He became serious
And thought of Osiris.
What of Seth?
What do Anubis and Horus sayeth?
Of Amun and Mut,
And panoplied Nut?
It may take me forever
Mused the Pharoah -
To invent the Alphabet
To honour me and the rest.
So he hit upon a plan
From the carved likeness of man
In relief on a cliff.
Hey, hello - was born the Hieroglyph!
So excited was the Pharaoh
That row upon row
Of ideograms were made
For then and beyond- never to fade.
Way back in Antiquity
Was the hieroglyph's nativity,
From civilization's start
Great works of art.
After five millennia or more
At a light and sound show
The Hieroglyphs stand out
In splendor and shout:
Look on and wonder
On our days of thunder;
When great kings ruled the land
Where you wonder and stand.
Great things we'd tell you
If only you knew
To read papyrus and stone
Like your own Champollion!
Be that as it may
Setting aside our dismay
We venture to now and here
And our version of the ancient fear -
Athazagoraphobic
Is a form of being sick
Where you fear you'll be forgotten
As your memory gets rotten.
To overcome this fear
Modern science was here.
Came our Dennis Gabor
With the fruit of his labor.
- Hologram-
Now you can see light effects
Both form and the texts
With science of the day
Having had it's great say.
But think all over again-
Isn't it plain
Holograms in chips
Are but chipped hieroglyphs?
That some day in future
A post-apocalyptic preacher
Would try to decipher
The hologrammatic cipher?
A Rosetta Stone of old
A better story told
Than this obsolescent chip
Of a "modern" Athazagoraphobic.
Let me wind up this ditty
Of trying to be witty
Holograms and Hieroglyphs
Are both alliterative scripts!
~11 April 2016~
Contest Judged : 29 May 2016