Long Doodle Poems
Long Doodle Poems. Below are the most popular long Doodle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Doodle poems by poem length and keyword.
The cracker crisp Maine air
rang with the rooster’s revel.
Moving day, time to clean the hens shed.
Monstrous three story hatchery,
thousands of burnt umber; beauties a laying.
Lace edged bobby socks, red Keds, barrettes, T-shirt and short;
and off to the hen house, pony tail bouncing.
Immersed in the acrid reek of chicken dew;
Blue jean boys, Georgie, Wayne,
Aunt Donna and pony tail girl [me];
wade through squawk, cluck and doodle.
The boys were more than sure this
horrific chore was a girl eraser.
The mini-men had their gawk, on not at all convinced that this
pretty little missy was going to be up for the job!
And up they must go all those dirty, sticky cluckers!
Up they all must go! Sunny side up!
Up, up, with the upside down
their pointer pecker heads darting
toward gapes between sock and pantleg.
Their leathery legs in the grip of my small pink hands.
Winging flapping with all their might
as if they could fly the three of us
right up the poop covered stairs!
Oh but these Betty's were beauties.
And each omelet laying pecker
each shoelace eating Grande dame,
each button and barrette bobbing bird
wings flapping, feathers flying,
with their deep brown questioning eyes
must be moved! UP, up to the second floor
of that p-you-trfying hen house in the heat
of a windless Maine August.
“Get along with you three!”
Aunt Donna screams spitting feathers
above the din. “Up stairs
with the whole damn lot of them!”
The boys eye the girl and with a tilt of my chin
and scrawny pecker in each diminutive hand;
we troop gingerly, over the sawdust refuse strewn floor,
up the tangled trio go, up!
For they weren't going to get rid of me that easily
no man ever has [wink].
*More for Carry and Bob
Humpenscrumy Bubblahoot ruttletoo
Gulping chomping vayvaycrootoo
Nostrils flaring bumpun fiddle trung
In the holtapolta garden flicker mung
Wags and woofs crimba tungee moss
Trabble fongslulu around wastry gross
Scratching terthy cangs of drigglyfrock
Zinging away buggly condrax chucrock
Trouble drouble lumps of quundoo drip
Chonky tinkhiss phantals gotsog flip
Naughty Hoodlecuttu blurglur changqa
Doodle goodle cups of hot pot fangqa
Weary treary shall I picksert quartee you
Or my nimbla golta rasdinga suits two
Gobberwarts of gargle entralunk hunfdy
Bhronking daddan goodbye fat wunfsy!
*Written by a really sad emotional Vogon dog owner when his Bubblahoot vayvaycrootooed.*
May 23, 2020
Vogon Poetry (really bad poetry) Quoopisk Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Team PoetrySoup
Oh no, I can’t do it here!
And my feathers are a mess!
Can’t a clucker have a little privacy?
I don’t know about the rest of you
but I can’t just pop out egg after egg
like I’m a plastic PEZ dispenser!
And certainly not in front of that pushy
crower, Chanticleer.
Cock-a-doodle-doo, Cock-a-doodle-SHOO!
There’s not even enough straw in here
to fashion a two-bit bedroom.
And the walls are crate paper thin!
You’d think this was a hen party!
I haven’t heard this much cackling
since the Chippendales came through!
No, changes WILL be made if they ever
want to taste my omelet!
When boredom knocks upon your door,
Life can become a dreadful bore,
Don’t fret, don’t cry, don’t belie your eyes,
For creative magic within this boredom lies.
Your mind, stuck in idle neutral gear,
Begins to wander, from here to far and near.
It dreams up worlds of pure wild delight,
Where dreams make hay, and pigs take flight.
You start to hum silly humdrum tunes,
Launch and pop, soap bubble balloons.
You doodle dragons, fierce and grand,
Build huge grandiose castles out of sand.
For when the mind has naught to do,
It finds crafty ways to something new.
It spirals, twirls, in happenstance.
Kicks up its heels in random dance.
You write a play, perform a skit,
For no one but your cat befit.
So three cheers to boredom, long may it last,
For it breaks the drudge of treadmill fast.
I'ma gonna wake up, at the brink of dawn
Drink some coffee, throw my blue jeans on
The little red rooster is my alarm
Cock-a-doodle doodling on my farm
I'ma gonna water, all of my crops
Especially, my barley and hops
Then I'll roll up, a bunch of bales of hay
Where the goats and the horses and the cattle lay
I'ma going to the pasture, down by the creek
That's where I go, when I want to sneak...
A little moonshine, that I'd steal from my dad
It's the best damn moonshine that I've ever had
Yeah, I'ma gonna wake up, at the brink of dawn
Drink some coffee, throw my blue jeans on
The little red rooster is my alarm
Cock-a-doodle doodling on my farm
Then I'll rassle with the piglets playing in their sty
and I'll feed the Billy goats a little bit of rye
Then I'll fetch my little lady a cold bottle of wine
And steal another bottle of my dad's moonshine
Then I'ma gonna go, to see the rodeo
And then do a little square dancin' do the "Dosey Doe"
Then I'll stagger over by, the old rustic school
And I'll jump into the river, it's our swimming pool
Yes sir, I'ma gonna wake up, at the brink of dawn
Drink some coffee, throw my blue jeans on
The little red rooster is my alarm
Cock-a-doodle doodling on my farm
Gonna wake up, at the brink of dawn
Gonna wake up, on my farm
Gonna wake up, at the brink of dawn
From that Cock-a doodle doodling damn alarm
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Another tribute to
To one of my very own personal
favorites
The one and only
Fenian yoda poet laureate
Sir O . B . 1 of K
Who is both simultaneously
blessed with
Oscar Wilde wordsmith craft
And at the same time
Dave Allen's prolific witt and
sense of humour
Exactly just what you said David
A poetic poet's job well done
Is when it inspires thoughtful
thought and in doing so another
poet to write
A poem about a similar
experience of their own
That and gratitude
So keep it up Sir long
may it last and you write
Because i for 1
Love your work
The way it inspires me to
think before i start to ink
And that to me is the best
advice
One aspiring writer
can pass ever pass on to
another fellow poet
That and do not for a single
second let anything a
jealous troll says
Put you off from doing what
you love or steal the joy out
of it
And hey you never know
1 day in the not to distant
future
One day you yourself may be
on the worthy recipient of a
comment entitled
Congratulations on a job well done
You inspired me to pick up
my pen and write a doodle
of my very own
Crackling with the intensity
and as bright as a billion candle
bright neon light-saber
To protect and shine a light
upon the darker side of the poetic
arts
Red rooster too late, heralds dawn done.
"Cock, a doodle do" is too late. Morn is sprung and dusted.
Like grandfather clock that chimes gongs in seconds past the hour,
Like funeral bell that tolls life gone and passed,
Like thunder, too late after lightning flash,
"I'm back" announced to lonely room.
Too late, Cock: fate let down.
But, regret no more, failed cock.
Tomorrow looms with better yarn.
Twist your fate with twine resolved,
Set watch fast, to tempt fate's call in spooky pre-time.
Set alarms to snare wake-up calls on destiny's wild field.
Seize the moment; Make it happen; Be there; Be you, Be 'I am'.
Glow, share, hum, delight, sing, radiate and celebrate your being.
Make each day dawn and shine with hay,
Charge your fate with quicker blink, quiver full of aims, bow primed, and
Eyes that spring wide open, with first glimmer of hope sprung up.
Cock, a doodle do
Cock, a lover pet
Cock, a stranger meet
Cock, a journey go
Cock, a poem pen
Cock, a lesson kindle
Cock, a joy absorb
Cock, a friend embrace
Cock, a dream fulfill
Cock, a hope hoopla
A little light entertainment on another wistful people distancing day...
The Owl and the Puddycat went to sleep
tucked up cosy and warm
Till Little Boy Blue come blasting his horn
causing a raucous storm
The Cat and the Fiddle
both jumped sky high
Mary and her Little Lamb, startled
began to cry
Jack and Jill both tumbled downhill
their pail of water rolled on overspill
Baa, Baa Black Sheep trembled with fear
He guessed it was time for wool being sheared
The Queen of Hearts dropped all her tarts
Twenty four blackbirds bit the crust
they were lucky, weren’t they just
Little Jack Horner, tucking into his pie
bit hard on the thumb he’d mistook for a plumb
screaming “what kind of fool am I"
Yankee Doodle from his pony vaulted
lost the feather he’d put in his cap
as the poor scared pony bolted.
26th November 2020
Scratch off everyone who passed away
and those who went astray
those who did not send you one
I know but Blah Humbug! is somewhat fun
Have to send to relatives who are rich
and to all family so no one will b...snitch
and to the one who pays your paycheck
Holiday seasons can be a brown nose l...a doodle do
And for the non Christians on your list
sending Thanksgiving cards is the best
No checks, cash or gift cards in 2022
a greeting is all you can afford to do
Edit twice and how many do you need
looks like your down to two or three
Save on stamps and spit
Looks like it's gonna be a Merry Christmas