Long Et al Poems
Long Et al Poems. Below are the most popular long Et al by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Et al poems by poem length and keyword.
Starring Miss Clara Bow
Here's a tidbit you may not know
About the silent screen siren Miss Clara Bow:
All her films were a hit,
What she had was called "It",
And the '20s were lit with Miss Bow in the show.
Then There Was Theda
The vamp Theda Bara was quite a gal
On the screen in her roles as a "femme fatale".
She wore costumes revealing
That were often scene-stealing
But were still quite appealing to male co-stars, et al.
Naughty Nita Naldi
Silent screen star Nita Naldi was an Irish dolly
Who began her career in the Ziegfeld Follies.
She was pursued in films by paramours,
Such as R. Valentino and J. Barrymore,
And finally "talked" on TV in the '50s, by golly.
Jubilant celebrations ring out all over the
United States of America each year on the
Nineteenth of June, to be exact; commemorating the
Emancipation proclamation. What a happy day it is, and was!
Tens of thousands of enslaved Black people saw the
End of slavery in America, finally. Hallelujah! It's a day
Ebulliently marked with parades, street fairs, cookouts, et al.
Not a federal holiday, which is a crying shame! In Galveston,
Texas, on June 19, 1865, freedom bells joyously rang!
History thanks Maj. Gen. Gordon Granger who set it in motion.
Fun fact: I kicked off my contest debut with a "Juneteenth" theme.
Date written: 06/19/2020
In a moment of my life, I have deemed what is an appropriate
course of action that will be undertaken, upon official notice of
my demise, be delivered by my appointed legal bearers of this
instrument by me, "Decedent's Final Decree", hence, forthwith
Familial bloodline, via eldest et al., bearing equal value,
I chose my remnants not bounded by earth presence, for
the shiny box that serves to entertain lives once known,
will someday, come crashing all about my then existence.
No scentless flowers to adorn the unseen, or due visits.
Instead, free me from this earthly existence and beyond
to the shores where the sea greets it with genteel surges.
A distance hence, paddle my remains to the azure expanse.
Its waves be my tombstone, its currents flows in my veins,
As the vast life below restores my being, until my final call.
Date: 06/21/2019
I remember the first time I saw a ball,
Those exquisite black and white pentagons ...
The geometric excellence that intimated such mystery and excitement ...
I HAD to have one, and started saving my money that very day.
I was only eight years old, and football wasn't big in the U.S.,
But I still wanted that amazing ball ...
After a few weeks of saving and doing extra chores,
I finally held my own ball in my hands,
Turning those five-sided panels over-and-over,
Smelling that glorious leather ... I was in kid heaven!
When I took it to school in my backpack my friends went crazy,
All having to hold it and smell it, all filled with the same energy as I,
My gut tumbling in anticipation of what amazing things might happen!
My little town had no budget for American "football" -
With all its pads and expensive equipment, but we did have "soccer" teams,
And I joined as soon as I could, for the sake of that amazing ball!
We didn't get to see the World Cup back then ...
The 60's and 70's being very limited as far as TV sports,
But we all followed it in the magazines and papers,
And when, years later, we finally got to WATCH the World Cup on television,
It was the substantiation of years spent loving a game
That not many people even TALKED about in the United States ...
A game that my friends and family and little town had loved for years,
Now birthed to fruition and delicious reality right in front of our eyes!
My friends from other parts of the country had heroes -
Heroes like Bart Starr and Bill Russell and Micky Mantle, et al,
But MY hero was PELE', though many here didn't even know his name!
When TV brought the World Cup to kids like me, the world became bigger,
More exciting, and more joyous, all because of that wondrous ball ...
So many years before!
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2018 World Cup" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Sponsor & Judge.
Another Christmas Day will soon be here again,
It used to be my favorite time of year.
Now it's not as much fun
Celebrating for one,
When the one I'd like to share it with's not here.
I sent out some Christmas cards and got a few,
And email greetings pour in every day.
It's so good to hear
From friends and loved ones far and near
And to read the cheerful things they have to say.
But over in the corner where a tree should be,
Now there just sits an empty rocking chair.
But when I close my eyes
I can still visualize
You sitting knitting socks no one could wear.
I'll listen to some carols on the radio,
Have some egg nog and a slice of warm mince pie.
Andy Williams, et al,
Help me fondly recall
The happy memories of Christmases gone by.
I made out a wish list like I do each year,
Jotted down a lot of things, then crossed them through.
There's no need to make a list,
For Santa knows that all I've wished for
Is to spend another Christmas Day with you.
Down into the valley of socialization
Societal vices thrives without limitation
In my city, moral has worn the clothes of
civilization
It's value have nosedived into the pit of
humiliation
There both male and female feast just like
the beast
Meanwhile you cant resist the cyst
Cause it has covered both You and I
Today, shame has no hidden place in our
heart
Our conscience is driven away like a sport
car
The fume from the exhaust we applaud
But you know carbon mono-oxide is lethal
Yet we claim its civilization
Wont this kill You and I
Nakedness is an act of being naked
A product of shamelessness
The society is helpless because our mothers
are less concerned
'Flaunt it. You've got what it takes'
Thus: she praised as she catwalk down the
stricken street
At adolescent she conceived and bore a child
of no father
Will this not affect You and I
Truth...why are you pleading for it
It has been long buried beneath the six feet
As you can see, corruption triumph more in
our societies
From kids to parents,leaders to followers,
home to abroad
It has diffused through the earth just like fart
But no one cares; all we care about is NOW
Change the only factor that has remained
constant
Will you not change before the story is told to
You and I
Killings, suicide bombings, cheat, treason,
occult, lynching,
Kidnapping, indulgence, Nuisance, violence,
hypocrisy et al
Are all bored of corruption
End time is not close; Jesus Christ is not
coming today
But one day, you will wake up and find
yourself in hell or heaven
If we don't choose to make the world a better
place today
Wont this affect You and I?
Plethora of humans (think overpopulation)
directly linkedin to planet Earth dire strait
re: environmental catastrophe, née debacle
teeters along brink tipping point inevitably
pitching civilization headlong into oblivion
*****sapiens (minus those living off grid)
admirably self sufficient unto themselves,
perhaps ecological intentional community
while yours truly, one guilt ridden scrivener
laments impacting minimal carbon footprint
(courtesy these thankful little feet size nine+)
nonetheless psychological torment wracks
lovely bones garden variety/generic human
specifically comprising complex edifice me
Matthew Scott Harris riven with loathsome
abomination, constipation, indignation, et al
mustered, tethered, yoked into capitalistic,
commercialistic, consumeristic ditto et alia
versus altruistic holistic, simplistic again re:
call synonymous words regarding contrast
between belching, exhausting, and polluting
(naming three adjectives describing impact
predominantly nsync with prophetic albeit,
profit oriented profligate, profane paradigm
unleashing immense global carbon emissions
see following website for further details: https:
//www.scientificamerican.com/article/co2-
emissions-will-break-another-record-in-2019/.
Impossible mission to uncouple accountability,
(no matter minuscule - veritable drop within
figurative bucket when quantity contrasted/
compared alongside industrial waste courtesy
major corporations), yet helplessness prevails
survival (mine) inextricably bound trappings
twenty first century allow, enable, and provide
exploiting even dollop so called nonrenewable
resources, I could sacrifice corporeal entity -
body, mind and spirit within eyeblink exhales
last breath before becoming repurposed - inert
cremated ashes randomly scattered across all
points encompassing terrestrial world wide web.
Obituary -
Despite havoc primate species did wreak
from the afterlife I figuratively speak
and applaud millennials whose peak
performance accorded courtesy
your token "aged hippie,"
and long haired pencil necked geek,
whose disembodied spirit
now volunteers as Halloween sideshow freak
incorporating gallows humor tongue in cheek.
I met a chap in an English pub and asked from whence he came.
"Harumph! I hail from Piddlehinton", he pompously did proclaim!
"And you sir?", he asked and I proudly puffed out my chest.
"I come from Bean Blossom, Indiana, USA, out of the great Midwest!"
With that we guffawed and began a dialogue about curious city names,
Quaffing pints of Guinness along, as we staked outrageous claims.
"Have you heard of Cripple Creek or French Lick?", I reported.
"No! 'Ave you 'eard of Mousehole or Puddletown?", he retorted.
I proffered the names of Bad Axe, Buzzards Bay and a place called Hazard.
He countered with Cockermouth, Muggleswick and a place named Lizard!
"If you visit the colonies stop by Pigeon Forge and Intercourse!"
"While you're 'ere visit Thunderjug and Giggleswick of course!"
He taunted me with names like Liphook, Lickey End and Crackpot,
But I boasted of Eek, Waxahachie, Bunkie and the burg of Jackpot!
He babbled on telling of Beanacre, North Piddle and Balls Cross.
I depleted my reservoir of names - I could only think of La Crosse!
He challenged me to a game of darts - the board was down the hall,
But in my delicate boozy condition, I could hardly see the wall!
I excused myself admitting that in darts and city names he was deft.
He was still muttering Birdlip, Fugglestone and Diddlebury as I left!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
DISCLAIMER: This piece, dear readers, is in no way, shape, or form intended to be a scholarly treatise. So, please bear that in mind and refrain from reporting me to the SPCA or any other animal activist group.
When it's time for some critters to multiply,
The name change to me's where the mess is.
Some simply add "s", such as "lions", at the end,
Or "es" if they want "lionesses".
But for others that same simple rule won't apply,
And though Latin seems stilted, outdated, passé,
Not content with a modest "s" or "es",
With malicious intent they go straight for the "i"
When augmentizing their numbers today.
A few practical ones, such as "deer", "moose", et al,
Don't require any change when they double,
And just when we think we can start to relax,
Some radical rascals, like the "rhino" and "hippo",
Barge in and cause even more trouble.
In my humble opinion, they compound the confusion
By allowing for three ending options for choosin'.
A "hippo" will happily dress in the simplest "s"
When its ranks he is casually swelling.
And it's still not too bad when "es" is added
To "rhinoceros", but watch out for the spelling.
Many haughty ones vie for the more formal "i",
And just when you're sure that's the last to apply,
Comes some miscreant English major whiz
To remind us, in singular, the rhinoceros "is",
But when speaking in plurals, it's equally par
To mention, in passing, the hippopotamus "are".
That's why crittercal math has me somewhat downhearted,
And I wish I could say that some reason I've found
Why some go to such trouble when it comes time to double,
While others are bound to just circle around
And end up right back where they were when they started.
(For Chnweizu et al)
1
can you truly define a thing
can you truly convey a thing
everything is a poem
every poem is a thing:
o, poesy is being!
2
is easy to define a poem
so hard to convey a poem
everything is a thing
and a thing is a poem:
o, poesy is being!
3
how oft the critics criticise a poem
can they convey the thinghood of a poem
tho’ background purpose origin shown
to be experienced stays a poem:
o, poesy is being!
4
the critic lays some steps to a poem
ladder forgotten by the grip on a poem
a poem is an organism
an organism is a poem:
o, poesy is being!
Form: