Long Down pat Poems
Long Down pat Poems. Below are the most popular long Down pat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Down pat poems by poem length and keyword.
Hip, cat, daddy-o
Hey, what's cookin bro'
Man, I dig this groovy melody
It flows free. Baby
With the harmony
Jimmy is "smokin'" tonight
Look at that cat, lickety split
He's a telescopic sight
It's crazy, man. I dig it
This cat's been blastin' all night
Cool tunes, with horn yellin' shot
Blowin' it real hot
The band is "jammin,'' really cooking
I think Jimmy's "flippin''
Way he's zipping that stick ripping
Diggin' his "boogie woogie" jive
Layin' it down, gimme five
All the "jitterbugs" jumpin' to the heat
To the "funky" cat with that "groovy" beat
Blowin' his top, and waving his feet
Joint is jumping. I gotta scat
Man! It was-- Wild, man, wild, down pat!
He's a real bang-tail gone cat!
I’ll plant you now, dig you later with a greet
Man! ''I'm really "beat''
I don’t remember much about our party line, only that we weren’t quite as bad off as what they showed on the Green Acres tv series. We didn’t have to climb a pole to make our phone call. Three rings and it was ours. The kids were discouraged to pick up till they got the number of rings down pat. How annoying when someone didn’t. It was the late sixties and we weren’t rich, this was the least of our problems.
to this day
remembering
our old phone number
AP: 2nd place 2022
My love for you knows no bounds
An exquisite affair of the heart
Passionately addicted to the nth degree
Knew it right from the start
The signs were there for everyone to see
Google-eyed and mumbling away
Forgetting important meetings and such
Or the silly stuff I wound say
Us humans don't have it down pat, yet
We still have a way yet to go
To call us perfect is a bit premature
But the progress we're making shows
At times people actually make some sense
Of some of the things I say
But bidding someone a fond farewell
Is not how to start each day
It seems I've been bitten and bitten real good
By this bug that's known as love
Haven't slept soundly for many a night
Dreaming of my sweet turtledove
© Jack Ellison 2014
There are rules she said.
Let’s break them, said I.
She was horrified, shocked,
A military woman, due or die.
We cannot she admonished me.
It’s the way it has to be.
I was horrified and shocked,
She was my daughter, only three.
We have to color in the lines,
She, prim and proper, said.
So I showed her how to color on the walls,
And introduced her to her cousin Fred.
Fred was not military,
He knew how to be a kid and have fun.
He showed her how to laugh and play,
Hang out of treehouses, and to run.
She was horrified and shocked,
This military girl of mine.
She grew up and joined the Air Force.
She recognized her own kind.
Fred is in prison now,
Making license plates for me.
My daughter is a Captain,
At the age of twenty-three
So I guess the rules she does like.
She follows them for a reason.
She follows them up hills and down.
She follows them in every season.
This has to be something internal,
For she is my child, and very bright.
She is a beautiful woman, in other ways,
But she is totally black and white.
There is no gray in her world,
And rules she could never break.
She is my oldest, and had this down pat
Before she was even eight.
She was three the day she told me
That rules cannot be broken.
I write this poem in her honor,
Words that can barely be spoken.
The Air Force had her,
Before any of us could have ever known.
She was totally into rules
And this was completely not home-grown.
Her two sisters live in color,
And understand that life is often gray,
But she lives in a rule-oriented society
Where things are right or wrong, no play.
I live in colors – yellows, pinks, and orange.
I live to break rules, in case you did not know
How I raised a daughter to be military
I truly will never ever know.
Far from the throes with foes who dip acid,
but
still wiping flows from my nose, cooked by oil-based pros. The intensity grows, when it's mixed with White Whoes', and you come out yo' clothes, 'cause you're froze like Lake Placid.
"That's some good SHYT!" exclaimed on the laundromat curb. N**** STILL had a ten spot, for a stick of some herb, and it betta not be no damned reggie.
Veronica and Betty like glue, but they 'bout to come through, 'cause they're ATM's through. Plus I told them whoe's "Fix some spaghetti."
They never invited me into the White House. You know? Though for more than a 'dub, I was just a rock's throw.
I never linked up with NAACP, but got drunk in a spot with a man named Barry.
I never sat down with ambassa-door mats, but Jamaican representatives held me down pat. They put green in my lungs and a gat' on my back, and in twenty-odd years, we had but one attack.
Yeah, we was like that. A class of persons who fight back. These days, the surface of my heart is striped black, but if I be the harmed one, then my Moms' won't like that.
Definition of manhood, right? A male bossed by three wenches, his daughter, Mom, and wife. Somehow I find it a startling plan, to remove my , so you'll call me a man.
I just
wow.
Chocolate City, do you miss me? If you do, the feeling's not mutual, not anymore.
I don’t know who is more excited
At the thought of my weekly visits
Me or the old folks at the residence
I bring along some cheerful music
and we limber up their appendages
Swinging about at first up and down the arms
Then moving those corny feet from side to side
Let’s shake it out and let’s begin
We’re going to learn the 1 'n 2 step
All together we can all do this:
Put your LEFT foot out and pout
Bring it back, give it some slack
Now your RIGHT foot out and move it about
Bring it back, smile and hunch your back
And repeat And repeat
Now you got the 1 'n 2 step down pat
So we’ll pump up the volume
And do it again but in unison
1 'n 2 and 1 'n 2
Don’t get too excited and hurt yourselves
You’re doing great
1 'n 2 and 1 n' 2
And that’s it… we’re done
Awesome work out
Practice and I’ll be back next week!
You are one cruel hearted man.
One too many for my life span.
You have inflicted one too many abuses.
I am so tired of your lousy excuses!
Whether it be with your mouth, fist, or actions
You found ways to punish for imagined infractions.
It sickens me that I did not leave as soon
As I realized that you always sing the same tune.
You claim that I don't love you enough.
I am not falling for that bit of fluff.
The truth is, it is you that doesn't know how to love
Go on you know this is true what I speak of.
Wrapping your hands around my neck to choke
Because you did not like what I had spoke.
You giving me a black eye
Because you assume what I say is a lie.
Some one says a victim that makes me.
Well I guess we shall see.
I no longer want to be thought of as that.
Survivor...yes I have that down pat.
I survived your endless abuses.
I survived all those bruises.
Victim...me....HELL NO!!!
SURVIVOR that is me. Way to go.
So do we scoff or doff our hats
To those fat cats with the bats
If they're playing on flat mats
Cult pacts ignore facts & stats
Those bros who chose phat tatts
Bazball scribes with cool vibes scat
Imbibe tribes habit rabbit out of hats
Enjoying or cloying annoying as gnats
Media rats jibes in tit for tat spats
Drat all Bazball brats bribes just tatt
Chit chat that they're just lazy prats
Tw*ts that go bust as crazy as bats
Clowns meltdown or doubles down pat
Unjust if lust thrust through hazy slats
Rat tat & rat a tat tat must be all that!
You think you have me down pat
So, I’m going to move when you say this or that
Go scrub the rust from the pipes in your head
Can’t you remember I escaped your bed
Your heart engorged with congealed blood
Can only be cleared by a massive flood
Don’t think I’ll go throw a pity party
A stand I should take since you were forty
I’ve long stop feeding babes with spoon
This time, I need, myself to groom
Crystal clear, stream of water
This to myself I’ll joyfully gather
Nurturing hope, change and love
Redeeming the grace, from God above
So, with my new self, let me bond
Need no disquiet here to stand
So go! Go with your selfish greed
No longer with your ache I’ll seed
So, with my new self let me bond
Need no disquiet here to stand
Charmaine, the dear soul writes like an angel
Her poetry is beautiful and touching
She writes with a passion known to only a few
You'll find your heart you'll be clutching
Some just know how to create those phrases
That leave us in awe and wonderment
A natural talent that some are born with
For others it a struggle and torment
But Charming Charmaine has it down pat
It's to do with her approach to life
Definitely sways the way she writes poetry
A style that does surely entice
Charmaine, the dear lady is a friend of mine
I'm so happy to know this soul
Stands tall in the world of romantic poetry
So fortunate she's an honour to know!
© Jack Ellison 2013
My loving tribute to Charmaine Chircop