Long Egad Poems
Long Egad Poems. Below are the most popular long Egad by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egad poems by poem length and keyword.
tension between
this singular male offspring and me dad
proved more ineradicable
then tensile strengthened steel rebar
which wall veritably, unequivocally,
terribly outlived purposefulness, egad
yet remained intact
even after this son left off
way after being a lad
din viz Harris heir,
withstood the test of time,
sans supremely
wrought impenetrable barrier
(hermetically sealing off
my pre and post pubescent self)
against mad as a red bull, who coped
by escaping to bedroom pad
wherein emotional wounds got nursed
finding me both angry and sad
forsooth wishful thinking,
where disappearance powers
increased by exponential magnitudes
by the sluggish passing hours
envisioning thyself,
absorbed by bedspread flowers
quilted manually, oh so inviting bowers
which idyllic dreamy state
shattered as heavy footsteps
up the staircase found me ire rate
what chutzpah!
No matter ma mama and papa
(two time tested battering rams) aye he quate
attempted without success
to demolish invisible, inimitable,
and impregnable fortress blockade
solely existed in my pate,
and reinforced with obelisks of iron,
when I got tubby late
into my second decade of life stricken
with a woebegone miserable fate.
Form:
if God were here right now,
i would offer him a slice of three layer lasagna
i wonder if He would ask for welches grape or purple wine
it would be a First Sunday
it would be the best venting dinner ever
i wonder if God would like garlic bread or texas toast
perhaps i should make a taco salad or one of them cobb salads
for dessert, i wonder if God is lactose intolerant
hmm, i think i will make Him some sugar cookies
i guess that would be safe
nevertheless, at least i know that God will be Good, Nonjudgmental Company
Going With The Flow With God Ain't Soundin' Bad At All Right Now
OOOPS!!!! EGAD!!!!! (CENSORED [forgive me, Father God])!!!!! there goes the dad blasted alarm
the nights go by so fast when you have to work the next day
reality makes my stomach get that pre-work full feeling that i oftentimes get
ESPECIALLY ON MONDAYS.....LIKE TODAY!!!!!
ALEXA, PLAY BOOMTOWN RATS, AND YOU KNOW WHICH ONE!!!!!
That little boy who I used to tickle
And helped learn to tie his shoes,
Just called me up on the telephone
To give me the happy news.
That young boy who I taught to wrestle
And watched him practice football,
From half way across the world
Made me proud with just one call.
That young man whom I saw graduate
From High School then Navy boot camp,
Just phoned to let me know
I am going to become a Gramps.
How is it that this little tyke who only yesterday,
Was riding upon my shoulders is an expectant father today?
How is it that my hair has turned, from black and then to gray,
And now that I am even older has completely fallen away?
The tears from my right eye, are tears of pride and joy,
The tears from my left eye, miss my little boy.
I was just getting used to the fact, that I’m old enough to be a dad
When I get news a grandchild is on its way – oh, yikes and egad!
I guess it could be worse – this news I did receive;
Knowing it makes my father a GREAT-Grandfather, gives me some reprieve.
A new generation, like it or not, is on its way;
“Congratulations, Son”, is all there is to say.
(the following extrapolated
thought thread exercised,
NOT utilized to intimate
how Fats Domino belied,
and wowed a crowded house as-sized).
as a former ace procrastinator, i abhor
putting off doing what best ought
to get immediate attention bar
ring some extenuating dire circumstance,
sans mishap with flying car
pet case in point being unexpected a bomb
bin able crisis necessitating
hypothetical individual impossible
to remain calm
while in the process
(assisted with good ole mom)
to hoist self with one's own petard,
which emergency best warrant a re ward,
otherwise if fate doth NOT
require one to break
from ordinary business as usual
to enlist the "FAKE"
help of a grenadier,
who doth make
his/her livelihood
risking their life,
and limb without quake
king (obviously compensating bravery
as he/she doth stake
out mortal danger with adequate adorn
ing mortal kombat
with ample legal tender and/
or promising first born)
for unstinting mettle,
especially tolerating accompanying
martial baritone horn
player screech (like fingernails
scraping blackboard)
in close proximity - eliciting a scorn
ing glare from soldier spy
tinker tailor with a torn
smile while trained
special ops named Bjorn
incurs deadly hazard from one morn
to the next amidst adversity
shouldering care worn
Marine's motto semper fidelis,
which unnecessary loss of young life
predicated on add
age, viz being at the least,
a day late and dollar short egad
inadvertently dooming
princely valiant warmonger,
a mere stripling lad
whose mourning brings
heavy pallor of sad
ness, which imagined situation - aye
tangentially congruently analogous by
and by to the butterfly effect,
or sparrow's swan song i.e. die
destiny wrought, when one dost espy
a single occurrence no lie,
(the flickr ring, instagram
ming, kickstart ting well nigh
linkedin shutterfly of a butterfly)
say twerks catcher in the rye,
hence no matter how small, thee or thy
can change the course
of the universe forever,
no idea how nor why!
The day the refrigerator went mad
Was the day the butcher put out the ad
Read to me by my own weirdo stepdad
Who was a putz, a reprobate, a cad
I was but a boy of ten, just a lad
Near the waterfront was our ugly pad
Chops only sixty cents, and we were glad
Refrigerator on the blink was bad
Can you cook them when you get home, dear Chad?
It was my mom and she was truly rad
Not wanting to make her any more sad
Gave her an excuse that was iron-clad
Refrigerator yelled “good grief! Egad!”
He fixed himself and threw away his mad.
Most active frig that we had ever had.
I didn’t have to cook, and I was glad!
Always been blessed with “stick-to-it-ness”
Got it from my dear old dad
He once rode a bike three hundred sixty miles
Took four days each way, egad!
At any age, that's quite an accomplishment
But my dad was sixty years old
From Montreal to Toronto and back again
A feat so gruelling, so bold
A wee one of ten back in nineteen forty-six
Didn't hit me till many years later
The impact of his enormous accomplishment
It then seemed a whole lot greater
Been telling this proud tale wherever I go
Bout inheriting his “stick-to-it-ness”
Don't think I can even come close to matching
The resolve and dedication he possessed
© Jack Ellison 2013
Sadly, he died of cancer at the young age of 67
2200 E High Street
Pottstown, PA 19464
Upon making a purchase,
yours truly murmurs bonjour
to the man/woman clerk
manning cash register,
(perhaps another day)
maybe soon as tomorrow
January twenty four -
two thousand and twenty,
I will explore
Moonlight madness sale
fifty percent off all merchandise
across the expansive floor
after getting weary and footsore
snagging garments for near future
return home to stock wardrobe (mine)
satisfied with basement bargains galore,
aye attest bang for buck heretofore
wearables specially bought with difficulty,
née impossible mission finding clothing
to fit this hunchback named Igor.
Rather than pay top dollar i.e.
as prestigious patrician wag
hashtagged with extremely
high price tag
(think chic boutiques)
uninviting to token
garden variety scalawag
(i.e. namely yours truly),
who feels more at home
attiring himself courtesy ragtag
garments, particularly scant legal tender
jangling within me threadbare moneybag
plus deformity drawing
less stares when I lollygag
(matter of fact many "Zerns people")
populate said very affordable - egad
even amiable animals
amble along to stash their feedbag.
Impact on very limited budget
affords me more bang for buck
upon locating rare find,
I feel analogous to lucky duck
quacking and fluffing tail feathers
scouting around for usable goods
another shopper did finish
with thence did huck.
The sun rose in the west today – or, perhaps, I was standing on my head?
I went to a funeral for my very best friend, but the chap wasn’t even dead!
Said he wanted to be eulogized while drinking a pint of beer.
I think the things we said about him, weren’t exactly what he wanted to hear.
“He was, or is, an egotistical old bastard – doesn’t surprise me in the least,
that he wants to attend his own funeral service – God, what a horrible beast!”
And that, my friends, was from his Mom; the best friend a boy ever had.
“When finally they put his body in the ground, I think we’ll all be glad.”
Egad!
Global warming took a holiday, as the snow piled up real high;
that bugger for whom we passed the plate, took out his wooden eye.
The casket was full of cold cuts;
The bartender doubled as the priest;
I took another shot of tequila,
while the sun started setting in the east.
The ladies started undressing;
my organ started to rise;
I played Beethoven’s “Requiem”,
with it pointing to the skies.
The only tears that were shed today belonged to the corpse who was still alive –
His ex wife sang that old Gloria Gaynor tune, “You know, I will survive!”
The next time he throws a party for himself,
I think he’ll choose a different theme –
And maybe the people who come and get drunk
won’t be so awfully mean!
Hear ye, hear ye, and understand,
something's spreading across the land.
Oh dread, it's like a virus or a bug -
or a most extraordinary drug.
This strange thing (they call it kindness)
does not cause pain or blindness.
It spreads, East to West, North to South,
when you smile and don't cover your mouth.
Warning: if you are feeling bad,
and you pass it on, you'll feel glad.
It has a life all of its own,
making folks feel they're not alone.
Great God, it spreads like wildfire,
a resistance is so hard to acquire.
I confess. I was down and exposed to it.
When you receive it, you can't forget!
Aunt Elf is brewing a Halloween treat,
something wicked, and ghoulishly special to eat.
Flesh of lizards and roaches and frogs, egad!
Aunt Elf has mixed them all into a salad.
A cauldron simmering way back of the stove,
smells of something atrocious spiked with clove,
a potion she’ll want us to chew without question,
concocted of things we’re too scared to mention.
Head of snake, eye of raven, and claws of bat,
many more gourmet fare awaits us like that.
Aunt Elf is famous for making a sumptuous dish,
Oh! Did I dare tell, she is the county witch?
But all we want is some fun with spooky ghosts
Or bloody masks walking along their undead hosts
And lots of yummy candies lined up on houses’ posts
That’s our kind of Hallow, laughing through mallow toasts!
*couplet and monorhyme*
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Written by: nette onclaud
For: Russell Sivey’s Halloween Fun, 2012
now, for Skat's Halloween Contest