Long Dorsey Poems
Long Dorsey Poems. Below are the most popular long Dorsey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dorsey poems by poem length and keyword.
The neighbor brought her weirdo kids in today.
Why would she? We have nothing kid-like to do or play.
They ran right over to my Christmas tree and said look at this.
One was holding my treasured tiny doll named Little Miss.
Put that back immediately! I said in my meanest oldest way.
Her mother said “sorry,” but why did she bring them this day?
Hey! This ornament is GLASS! The little one said. It broke in his hand.
He began crying to beat the Tommy Dorsey Original band.
Do you have a band-aide? The mother asked. My husband got up.
I wanted him to say no as I watched one of them grab for my pup.
That’s it I said to the mother. Please take your little darlings home.
My husband handed them a band-aide as I finished my tome.
Today as I sauntered 'mongst the relics in the antique store,
My gaze was directed to an old Philco radio standing on the floor.
As I caressed its somewhat scratched and dappled finish,
Pleasant memories flooded my soul that I pray will never diminish!
'Twas like the one we had on the Hoosier farm when I was a boy.
'Twas our sole source of entertainment that brought us so much joy!
Gazing upon that long-silent token, I could not help but ponder,
Whose parlor it might have graced away back yonder.
Like me, did kids sprawl upon the floor rapt with attentive ear,
Listening to adventures we could only imagine in yesteryear?
Supper waited 'til we heard The Lone Ranger or Orphan Annie,
The antics of Fibber McGee and Molly or Rochester and Jack Benny!
Like me, did teenagers listen dreamy-eyed to The Hit Parade,
As Sinatra, Crosby or Como crooned a romantic serenade?
Did they dance with a broom to music of the Dorsey brothers,
Much to the bewilderment of their long-suffering mothers?
Did it air Morrison's account of the Hindenburg's disintegration,
Or Orson Welle's "War of the Worlds" that panicked the nation?
What joy there must've been as it aired the end of World War Two.
I lingered for a time, recalling vivid memories passing in review!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Inspired by the Gospel song, “Precious Lord, Take My hand,”
by Thomas A. Dorsey
Prerequisite to Peter’s leadership
On the boat, on the sea,
Jesus walks next to me.
It was calm on rough seas as Christ’s feet
tests our faith, opens eyes.
Not a ghost, no disguise.
Refrain: This your rock, O my Lord, you lead me
“Can I come, can we talk,”
I ask Him as He walks.
He says, “Come,” walk to me; wow my feet
on surface, I receive,
still the wind does perceive.
Refrain: This your rock, O my Lord, you lead me
The persist of pied waves
scared me straight, I’m not brave.
As I sink, I cry out to the Lord.
“Help me, please!” A strong grasp.
“Thank you, Lord,” as I gasp.
Refrain: This your rock, O my Lord, you lead me
Safe and sound, as we rock
in the boat; we’re His flock.
Our shepherd brought our boat straight to shore.
We’re in awe of His works.
There’s no doubt, there are perks.
Refrain: This your rock, O my Lord, you lead me
Still warm hands, unsettling.
Christ’s whipping, deafening.
Deny Him? How could I! How I weep.
He forgives readily,
As Christ loves steadily.
Refrain: This your rock, O my Lord, you lead me
(buzzfeeding, kickstarting, needling darn noggin)
An effort to recall word, phrase,
musician... indigenous tribe...
most frustrating literary
endeavor to das scribe
aggravating enough to sub
bourbon spur teetotaler to imbibe
and/or nsync, whereby soul searching
devil's advocate demands bribe.
Lil brokeback Engelbert Humperdinck
(born Arnold George Dorsey) bent edict coercion
(think sexual mores)
scaring stripes off blushing zebra
bunched unencumbered vice pliable straw
aforementioned pablum admittedly "fake"
birthed within cerebral tenderloin
of impractical joker,
whereby fifty plus shades
of gray matter (mine)
chafed and rubbed raw
prevarication playfully did overdraw
and tax poetic license writ courtesy this paw
poor putz offal declension
sprouted within mum maw
noun tent to verb (bull eyes - red) to draw
flak, but merely to harmlessly entertain
so accept apologies (mine)
verses calling strong (lanced) arm of law.
I (garden variety poetaster) reckon fair game
media personalities grist for rumor mill, though lame
explanation given (funny first and surname)
adopted by supposed "finest middle-of-the-road
balladeers around," who co opted his stage name
from authentic Engelbert Humperdinck; selfsame
prodigy circa 1 September 1854 –
27 September 1921
German composer, who wrote, I gently exclaim
the opera Hansel and Gretel - a Grimm fairytale
actually frightful saga - read countless times
setting me boyhood imagination aflame
with mailer daemons, who haunted dreams
(mine) 'course in retrospect material tame
compared/contrasted with current pandemic
analogous as if mother Earth -
a metaphorical dame
experiencing long overdue reprieve, cuz shame
on *****sapiens belching pollutants
at any price to garner fortune and fame.
I am black and I have the ability to glorify the King
I am great and in believing in him, I have authority over all things
I am the Father and Mother of past, present and future
Peacemakers, Educators, Scientists, Musicians, Scholars, Kings and Queens
I am John Love the sharpener inventor
I am Mae C. Jemison the astronaut
I am Martin Luther King the peacemaker
I am Toni Morrison a contemporary novelist.
I am Muhammad Ali the boxer
I am Wilma Rudolph the Olympic track and field champion
I am Tiger woods the golfer
I am Lucy Laney the educator.
I am Jack Johnson the heavyweight
I am Rosa Parks the segregation leader
I am Jesse Wilkins the physicist and mathematician
I am Serena Williams a tennis player.
I am Isaac Murphy the great through-bred jockey
I am Bessie Coleman the first licensed African American pilot
I am Chester Burnett the blues singer
I am Eleanor Holmes a politician and civil rights activist.
I am Thomas Dorsey the father of gospel music
I am Chadwick Boseman the famous Black Panther actor
I am Barack Obama the forty-four first
Black Afro-American president, we are the future.
We are the hope for the lost and forgotten generation.
I was turning ten and learning the tricks
The year was 1956
I remember that my mother cried
The day that Tommy Dorsey died
I still believed in Santa Claus
James Dean was a Rebel without a cause
Green Door was a rockin’ tune
Patty sang about the Allegheny Moon
Russia’s relation with Hungary thinned
Gogi Grant sang The Wayward Wind
Love was a many splendored thing
I still can hear Fats Domino sing
Carl was wearing Blue Suede Shoes
While Guy Mitchell was Singing the Blues
The movie East of Eden was so fine
A young Johnny Cash was walking the line
Robert Young in Father Knows Best
Gunsmoke was about the Old West
The Edge of Night and As the World Turns
I’ll Cry Tomorrow, my heart still burns
Be Bop A Lu La Gene did render
And Elvis crooned Love Me Tender
In Poland the people fought for a goal
We listened to No Not Much and Heart And Soul
The Navy answered Mr. Robert’s Calls
There was the premiere of Guys and Dolls
Black and White TV had Roy, Gene and Tom Mix
What a wonderful year, 1956.
I'm not about to reveal to you anything about my age,
But I grew up when big band music was all the rage -
When romantic tunes were heard while dancing cheek to cheek.
The noise called "music" today sounds to me like so much Greek!
Ah, to be gliding to the melodic airs of Buddy Morrow,
Holding your sweetie close as if there was no tomorrow!
Or swinging and swaying to the music of Sammy Kay;
With that special girl you could dance the night away!
There'll never be another "wunerful" Lawrence Welk again,
Playing his sparkling renditions with the bubbly champagne!
The band with the distinctive sound that will live forever,
Is that of Glenn Miller, performing brilliantly with each endeavor!
The car radio on, a mellow moon, your honey by your side,
Listening to tunes by Harry James, a kiss could not be denied!
Or in the drug store sipping sodas, the jukebox near at hand,
Listening to Tommy Dorsey and his incomparable band!
The rap, hard rock and metal bands that today are all the rage,
Will be long forgotten as youths today reach a ripe old age!
But the music of the big band era will retain its fascination,
To be remembered and replayed by each ensuing generation!
Entry for Kristen Bruni's "Soul Tunes" Contest
Was just a young'un in the big band era
But it seems just like yesterday
Listening to Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey
Still love it right to this day
Miller's Modernaires, and Dorsey's Pied Pipers
With their smooth harmonic blend
Chattanooga Choo-Choo and The Trolley Song
Brought me so much pleasure no end
Guess I was influenced by my older sisters
Was not even ten at the time
It just goes to show the impact they had made
For those long ago days I still pine
It wasn't until Elvis debuted in fifty-six
When Rock'n Roll took over
The Big Band era came quickly to a halt
And ended it's popular exposure
Don't even know what is popular today
Or even if they've given it a name
Guess I'm just an old guy living in the past
Progress is the name of the game
Some called the radio station demanding they throw them out of the studio.
Others called to brag about their talents, their arrangements, their sass.
Boswell sisters had been singing together since their Vaudeville days as teens.
Connee played sax and trombone,
Vet played banjo and guitar and Martha held down the piano.
They were popular in their hometown of New Orleans, playing with big bands.
Dorsey Brothers, Glenn Miller, Benny Goodman all knew them.
These sisters blended “blackness” and “whiteness”, natural for them.
They loved to rework and rearrange popular songs; they were musicians.
They appeared in a film with Bing Crosby and Cab Calloway.
This led to thirteen appearances on the Bing Crosby Show.
Ella Fitzgerald patterned her style after Connee Boswell.
As did the Andrew Sisters a few years later.
The Boswells had a profound effect; incorporating scat, jazz and swing.
Ogden Nactyl
It's hard to keep your dignity intactyl
when confronted by a pterodactyl.
In Praise of Toms
Dorsey, Dooley, Sawyer, Thumb -
names for Tom are never dumb.
Gracing the arc of history,
it was Tom who declared us free.
Unfortunate Math History
When Euclid visited the square,
he brought his straight edge there.
Descartes wasn't so encumbered
but his days were numbered.
Every Egg
Every time an egg is fried,
it's so difficult to decide
over easy or over hard,
and, so, in this regard,
my conscience is my guide.
Sometimes a Nut
Considering a hot fudge Sundae,
or a delightful fruit parfait,
I ask myself the question, "What...
would this be without a nut?"
Every One of You's a Nut
It takes each one of you to make a whole
as you mix together in a bowl.
Almond, cashew, peanut too,
It's not the same without any of you.
I proudly say and shovel you in my gut,
every one of you's a nut.
El Condor Nutty
Apologies to Paul Simon, and apologies to myself,
pacifist, vegetarian, and slave to rhymes.
I visited my trusty tool shed,
where I heard a voice that softly said,
"I'd rather be a hammer than a nail".
It's words like these that move me without fail.
So, I sharply struck that nail upon its head.
For exercise, I took to my feet,
and heard, "I'd rather be a forest than a street".
As I briskly continued my walk,
I hoped these things would not keep up their talk.
Then I ordered a burger for a bite to eat,
and said, "I hope you're a happy piece of meat".
Dyson Duckworth
Dyson Duckworth cleared the air...
of impurities no longer there,
so filthy and so foul.
What's this to do with the price of waterfowl?
Go ask a wise old owl.