Long Drake Poems
Long Drake Poems. Below are the most popular long Drake by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drake poems by poem length and keyword.
~Roger Williams~
(Acrostic)
R-oger Williams, his music is timelessly delightful.There's no
O-ther in the world like him.He started to play piano at age three.A
G-raduated of I.S.U.Drake University,and Julliard School of Music.Performed at
E-very major venue,Carnegie Hall,the Hollywood Bowl,and the White House.He's
R-eferred as the "Pianist for Presidents" because of his later performances.Roger
W-illiams was born, Louis Weertz,(October 1,1924) in Omaha,Nebraska,U.S.
I-n high school,became interested in boxing,but then returned to music
L-ater on,only after breaking his nose and other injuries many times.He
L-ater majored in piano,and then enrolled in the U.S.Navy,served in World II.
I-n 1955, he recorded "Autumn Leaves"and reached #1 on billboard music charts.
A-fter that,he did,Born Free,Godfather,Romeo &Juliet,Evergreen and many
M-any more.On October 29,2004,was inducted into the Nebraska Hall of Fame
S-teinway Hall, found him celebrating his 81th birthday tickling the ivories.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2015
July.22.2015
Author Note:
A dedication poem for the very wonderful and talented,
pianist,Roger William (Mr.Piano)
Roger Williams
(1924-2011)R.I.P
"Ode to Feck Off Friday"
(Folk | Melancholic | ABAB Rhyme Scheme)
(Inspired by a drizzly Dublin pub, a Drake-esque croon, Tila’s raw edge, and a longing for greasy grace)
The kettle hums a lonesome tune,
Click, the light goes on,
I burn the toast, I spill the spoon —
Another week is gone.
The screen glows gold with messages,
“Just one quick call,” they plead,
But my boots are laced for greener finesse,
And my soul’s in need of speed.
So feck off, Monday, with your grind,
And Tuesday, full of lies,
Wednesday, breakin’ heart and mind —
Thursday, you can choke on “tries.”
Oh, but Friday…
Friday’s the crack in the ceiling light,
A whisper through the rain,
When I trade my tie for cigarette smoke,
And kiss the 5:03 train.
I walk past the office, past the suits,
Past dreams I used to chase,
Down to the corner, where the neon fruits
Still glow with some old grace.
And there it is — Papadias’ sign,
A flickerin’ red and blue,
Like a siren song in olive oil and rye,
One slice meant for two…
(…but I eat it all, like I always do.)
A pint of black, half-spilt, half-sipped,
On a chipped Formica throne,
While the jukebox sings of love that slipped
And debts I’ve long outgrown.
The barman nods — he knows my name,
Not “sir,” not “manager,”
Just “You again?” — a gentle flame,
The only peace I earn.
So here’s to all the weeks I’ve lost,
To bosses, bills, and pride,
To promises I paid at cost —
And Friday, where I hide.
Oh, Feck Off Friday, my rebel saint,
You don’t fix a thing, it’s true,
But for one night, I can disbelieve the weight,
And dream the world ain’t cruel.
Just grease-stained fingers, streetlight glow,
A cold one by my side,
And the ghost of someone I used to know
Still waitin’… just outside.
So when the world says “Hustle! Rise!”
I whisper low and slow —
“Feck off,” beneath these Dublin skies,
“It’s Friday. Let me go.”
// End on a fading hum, like a distant train or a vinyl run-out groove. The last bite of pizza long gone. The pint, almost.
Deep in the middle of the backyard said my Auntie May
There is a crystal cave, placed way down, under the clay
Almost no relative of ours knows that it is there
If you ever find it, there is a statue of a large golden bear.
Bears lived in this magical cave many eons ago
I stared out her window, looking straight out at snow
When can we dig? I asked her. She said “maybe in the spring”.
But she was gone by then, so we had a funeral dirge to sing.
The homestead was sold to strangers, we did not have the money.
I told the story to my grandchildren – Lucas, Drake, Ben and Honey.
I pointed out the house and told them about the crystal cave too.
When I get rich, Drake said, “Grandma, I am going to buy it for you.”
The man,
the actor, Will Smith,
turned himself
into a verb
with one stinging
"heard-around-the-world" slap
across Chris Rock's face
at the Oscar ceremony.
Whether he likes it
or not, he's now
a guaranteed verb,
at least in the eyes
of household-name rappers.
Some were Oscar attendees
Some were viewers.
Many watching from home
Quickly grabbed paper and pen;
They live for such moments.
I can see the rap lyrics now...
"Black on black, like Smith against Rock"
"Word to mutha, I'mma Will Smith the competition!"
"I done Smithed them wack MCs"
Oh, it's coming, believe me.
But from whom? Who will be first?
Drake?
Wiz Khalifa?
Eminem?
Perhaps Cardi B? Hey, you never know!
Stay tuned....
Assuming you're into hip Hop.
Date written: 04/08/2022
Matelotage they practiced matolage! Blackbeard the pirate
was a soured soul! They shared everything together. Shared lives: Sailors and buccaneers entered into a solemn agreement to become companions or "mates".
Shared money: Partners pooled their money, food, and belongings together.
Automatic inheritance: If one partner died in battle, the surviving mate inherited all of his property and wealth. Mutual protection: Matelots fought side by side and cared for each other during hard times .See that explains why Blackbeard woould keep get his first mate into trouble, knowing he'd get that booty.Mandolin or Lute and aPennywhistle.
For Your information
------------------------
------------------------
Historically, Blackbeard (Edward Teach) did not have a husband; he was legally married to a woman named Mary Ormond in 1718, and historical lore suggests he may have had multiple common-law wivesHiding Loot: He brought hidden treasure and loot from his raids back to his home in the town.
Tresure seekers often times get clues about certain things Historians and treasure hunters have never found a hidden stash of gold or silver belonging to the pirate Edward Teach. Sir Francis Bacon: A literary theory proposes that Bacon buried original manuscripts proving he wrote the works of William Shakespea There is a gap of about 84 years between Drake's death and Blackbeard's birth. Drake operated during the Elizabethan era in the late 16th century, while Blackbeard operated during the Golden Age of Piracy in the early 18th century.l A coin with "eccare la figa" on one side and" mangiare la figa" on the other made sceintist angry due to the contint of the wordss. But the coins were assocated with Blackbeard.
This is untrue and fictional used as entertainment only.
Throughout the years, I write and write
Didn't give much care whether wrong or right
For in my heart, all I really want is to share and inspire
I want this, so I find a way then try and try
I went to different blogs and websites
Really wanting post my reflections and insights
Across all the choices, I found this soup not of goodies
But a soup of poets and poetess, young and not so oldies
Submitting a one, two and three prose
Excited to see persons whom I arose
Encouraging to see such heartfelt posts
Of praises and comments, so inviting for a toast
"Word flow is quite unique, intense emotions", by Drake Eszes
"come join in a contest", Says a poet Destroyer but a silent builder
Good lucks, says Skat A maybe an "A's" on her poems
Thank you, thank you very much for the warm welcome
Of hugs across the globe and praises, I receive each time
On this love month of February, even past Valentine
Let me dedicate this composition, I hope just in time
To all writers: verse, haiku, couplets and rhymes etc
Short either a paragraph or to long poems
BY:
olive_eloisa
12:57 am
February 17, 2014
2nd place - tributes for the soupers' welcoming committee
Starved and ragged, the boy slept near the ferry
In his sleep he saw a fairy
She looked benevolent and merry
The fairy told, he could ask for a boon
Whatever it was, she would grant him soon
In a hurry, he asked for a magic spoon
To fetch him something to still his stomach’s burn
Simple was his wish, never did he long to have the ‘moon’
“Nothing more”, she asked with a smile
And the boy shook his head without guile
Instantly his wish was granted, and much more
He got a magical mask and a belt to wear
Also some mysterious feathers to soar
After directing, what he should do
She vanished quickly without adieu!
The spoon had rare charms to his wonder
With it he could always appease his hunger
He was glad that he would no more be a beggar
What he ate with the spoon turned delicious to his palate
That in his mouth, he got the rarest of taste
The mask he got was matchless and majestic
Something mysterious of the rarest make
As upon his face, he wore it slick
He felt as if swimming in joy’s lake
With snow white swans and many a drake
He had feathers so fine and flawless
Magical feathers no bird could ever possess
When upon his arms, he tied them tight
And fastened them round his toes and feet
He could dart into the sky like a kite
The belt he got was just right and fit
A magical belt so strange to sight
When he bound it round his waist
He grew stronger than the strongest ox
That he could pull down the biggest of rocks
Mysterious is the working of fate
We do not know when fortune will accelerate
When the boy asked for a boon, many did accumulate
To his simple whim, the fairy was ready to assent
And to him the blessing of a lifetime, she did grant
Thus, the boy with meager desires did prosper
And thrived in life, so happy ever after
April. 1. 2023
~ Placed Second~
Write a Sweet Fairytale for Children
Sponsor- B.J. Legros Kelley
Cupid loosed a love potion
laced arrow alas and alack
thy nineteen year young daughter
Shana Aubrey, smitten
with glassy eyed
and feverish amorousness
toward a English lad named Zak,
she feels sad, cuz
she iz to return back
to the United States
less than a month
(with my youngest sister Shari Todd,
and her other family members
of the Dunning claque
this papa, whose youth
and ungathered rosebuds inter alia
elapsed scores of years ago
n'er did find himself
as the fetching beau
asper any pretty young thang,
nar did I own
a handy dandy blues clue
how to appease biological call viz,
sowing wild oats
as pubescent time came due
shortchanging natural predilection
to gather rose buds at primal age
but took refuge within
a hermetically sealed cage
which complex emotional
edifice accessible equipage
then (and now) solely
in my possession,
yet needle, sans measuring gauge
now registers very low
sexual excitation on face dial image.
Though mine pre
pubescent young life bereft
shot thru being gun shy,
hence threadbare warp and weft
and as an emotionally troubled teen,
never livingsocial, left
a gaping figurative hole,
aye n'er didst
fabricate essential heft
tee warp and woof, upon
which adult inter
personal linkedin knit wit
get solidly stitched
instead an irreparable threadbare cleft
where tapestry remains unwoven
though more deft
nothing but cold embers left
nor apropos for this lix spit tilled
aged rooster, who can barely cluck
to romp in accordance
as a young buck
or squawk like a trumpeting
drake hula hooping duck
thus, twas glad and
breathed sigh of relief when,
thee punim summoned
verve and pluck
to chap up affinity to discover
visa vis unbridled passion
unlike this old man
with youthful romance,
he never didst truck!
I hear England's strong voice praising its past:
Football's World Cup glory in 1966,
Shakespeare and Marlowe penning plays,
Sir Francis Drake circumnavigating the world,
Queen Elizabeth I, with the stomach and heart of a king,
Queen Victoria, with her ever expanding empire and waistline,
Constable, Turner and Reynolds painting pictures...
and yes, although it can only whisper of its today,
it shall sing once more of new glories,
it shall shout from its rooftops for St George,
and be proud of its past and present.
A little Patriotic free verse for Carolyn's contest, inspired by Whitman's 'I hear America singing'
A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet!
My soul is gratified as I meander midst its colorful riot!
Another glorious autumn has burst forth in all its splendor!
The Creator displays a vista no mere artist would dare render!
Gentle zephyrs stir eddies of colorful leaves along the way.
A myriad of wild flowers greet me with their brilliant display.
Trees that a short while ago offered welcome summer shade,
Now lift barren arms as if in prayer sans their leaves of jade.
Not a cloud mars the pristine blue of the Colorado sky.
A skein of geese wing southward sounding their plaintive cry.
Stately Colorado spruce 'neath which deer now gambol and browse,
Will soon have garlands of snow adorning their spreading boughs.
The shrill blare of an elk startles me from my reverie,
As he calls for a mate with his ever sovereign plea.
I pause on a nearby knoll to view yon shimmering lake,
Teeming with graceful ducks, guarded by a magnificent drake!
Foolish poets and artists have strived to portray each season.
They have tried and failed because of a very real reason.
Only He Who is the Master Artist and ruler over all,
Will ordain the beauty of the seasons, especially the exquisite fall!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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