Long Famously Poems
Long Famously Poems. Below are the most popular long Famously by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Famously poems by poem length and keyword.
Ricky Ricardo,
handsome talent of the Tropicana show.
serious, he cracks the whip, practices -
his bongos distract us.
Lucy,
his fiery red-headed wife - we
follow her madcap schemes,
her showbiz dreams.
Fred,
dumpy, grumpy, nearly dead
except he comes alive with dance -
far-fetched romance.
Ethel,
the love of his life? Well…
a partner in dance. Lucy’s sometimes friend.
They always make up in the end.
Little Ricky,
bongo player — itty bitty
show stealer. Not a natural son,
Keith’s not credited but the golden ticket, he won!
I Love Lucy
gets along famously,
handles the trite matters
of life. Laughter on a silver platter.
9/5/2021
Feuding mental nemesis appear...
anytime after the bewitching hour
re: stroke of midnight whence this
sudden loss of mental, physical &
spiritual stamina takes a kamikaze
nose dive think crash test dummy.
Bright eyed and bushy tailed
after arising from a deep sleep
where the locomotive
hashtagged and seamlessly engineered
roaring, snorting, and tearing
to go down the lines,
(or actually an artificially
intelligent hunk of steel
a smart train
powered to glide
above the tracks
(called a maglev train,
which short for magnetic levitation
to glide preprogrammed
and zip inches above the tracks)
analogous to a powered iron horse
think a horse with wings
most famously called Pegasus,
a divine winged stallion
in Greek mythology
born from the blood
of the Gorgon Medusa,
he famously got ridden
by the hero Bellerophon
and later serves Zeus
by carrying his thunderbolts.
Analogous to yakety-yak or yackety-yak
the soundcloud issues "whickity-whack"
punctuates the equilibrium
with a syncopated,
yet barely audible rhythmic thwack
as railroad cars
at light speed
whoosh across train track plank
that connects and supports the rails
(called a railroad tie in North America)
or a railway sleeper
(in the UK, Australia, and Canada)
a bang for the bucking bronco doth pack
a surge of electrical boost to ensure
reminding one of the nursery rhyme
starting out as this old man,
he plays (fill in the blank
with the number
of your choice) knick knack
paddy whack give your dog a bone
and then synchronized
with the word syllabification
hinting phonetically
at what the ear
hears as be-yo any
(b-o-n-e)
which above stated
structures of silence
soundlessly bedeviled,
disrupted, and fostered
within the mindscape as ENIAC
(Electronic Numerical Integrator and Computer)
functioned by routing
high-speed electrical pulses
through thousands of vacuum tubes
and switches to perform calculations
vigilantly sustained -
now imagine whereat little
spongebob square pants
hustling hither and yon, to and fro
within the noggin
to allow, enable and provide
an uninterrupted flow of processes
instead of using moving mechanical gears,
said Goliath used electronic logic
to count pulses and perform
up to 5,000 additions per seconds -
revolutionizing wartime computing
which scenario caused me
to experience a splitting headache.
Some focus on hair, on legs, on muscles or on lips
on feet, on shoulders, on arms or on hips
Yet though you may think it a bit odd or dumb
my sole focus here will be on the thumb
Is the thumb worthy of a rigorous dissection like this?
I'll let you be the judge of that in the final analysis...
The thumb, of course, is what makes us primates
same as black and white stripes make men inmates
Speaking of distinction, the thumb's what babies suck
and just you try from a babe's mouth that thumb to pluck!
When gardening it sure pays to have a thumb that is green
while a handyman who's all thumbs is regularly demeaned
Then there are 'rules of thumb' based on real-life experience
casting out hypotheses, guesses, and other such interference
Remember 'Tom thumb,' the tiny man once swallowed by a cow?
King Arthur's favorite, he even tangled with giants - O, wow!
Such a graceful dancer was Hans Christian Anderson's 'Thumbelina'
He could just as well have made her into a prima ballerina
I mustn't leave out Little Jackie Horner who famously
stuck in his thumb and pulled out a plum!
And for those of you who like music some
Imagine a guitar strummed without a thumb
So, in closing, to conclude, to summarize, in summary, in sum
Just when was the last time your thumb went numb?!
(Playful girl in Western Tibet, 2009)
The Natural Way of Being
There’s a natural way of being
And then there is a contrived way
Of trying to become.
I remember the natural way as a child
Simply being, exploring, playing,
And I’ve pursued the contrived way
Most of my life since.
It comes from a lack of confidence
When training in the unfamiliar.
But if we want to get beyond the habits
Of our conditional mind
We have to explore the unfamiliar.
Eventually, I suppose, we gain confidence
In what is beyond ordinary mind.
But if my life is any indication
This process of familiarization
Takes many lifetimes,
Lifetimes spent trying.
Master Yoda famously pointed out the distinction
“Do or do not. There is no try.”
And yet as clear and easy as this is to see
We continue to try,
Forcing round pegs into square holes.
Because that’s what the system does
And so what we become conditioned to do.
If we’re lucky we find an activity or hobby
Doing something that comes naturally
Improving through practice without trying
To become something we’re not.
For years rock climbing was this for me,
Something I did because I wanted to,
In my own way and without a doubt.
And doing in this way I discovered
What is to be free, what it is to be me,
And what it is to be connected to everything else.
In this way I found my true spiritual practice
Without it being something special
Or somehow separate from the physical.
What I found was what I knew as a child
Without even knowing I knew;
The passion of living, the pull of life,
Of a moth to flame, or bee to nectar,
The force of life embodied only in this life.
I remember what it was like being a child
And what it’s been like ever since.
What it’s like to want to change
And all the steps and stages along the way.
There’s a contrived way of trying to become
And then there’s the natural way of being
Which is, in truth, our true nature.
(2/2/25)
It was E. B. White
who famously lamented
Waking each morning
feeling prevented
from improving
his worldview experience
Or waking each morning
feeling joy
for improvements made
during views of Earth
sacred smack in Her
other wise dead head
inexperience
Or something
probably not so involved
but with the same
missing the potential
for
Waking each morning
committed to enjoy improving
my co-invested worldview
sacred health-humored
wealth of experience.
But not in a preachy
judgment way,
more of a cosmic beauty
sacred green holonic
kinda open wholeEarth systemic
sort of win/win play
More trauma-informed
by advocates
for green cooperative
deep learning non-violent communication
ecofeminist EarthTribe Day
and Transition Town Time
for restoring resilient EarthJustice.
Like a tumbleweed aimlessly blowing in the wind
across infinitely open and wide prairie home companion land
(which wasteland famously epitomized by T.S. Elliot)
a barren vista ravages metaphorical landscape
of one measly mortal malcontent male
bumping and scraping along accursed habiliment
just barely avoiding and dodging diabolical demons
mercilessly and unrelentingly ready
to seduce this somewhat sanguine Simian
who finds himself amidst the pitfalls
of a tortured and twisted existence
racked with pinions describe bing
a demonic dragon filled dungeon
damp, dark, demented domains –
a veritable no man’s land
impossible to escape no matter how fast I -
as a foo fighter flee
from the fearful, fierce-some phantasmagoric forms
figments of my imagination seemingly real
tangible as bone and flesh
who haunt sacred crowded house of slumber
transmogrify me into a loathsome madman
ranting raving senseless gibberish and sic gobbledygook
perceived as metaphysically n philosophically insane
as soundgarden syllabification
from one womanly World Wide Web wayfarer
which virtual vagabond venerates vowels
and possesses means and tees to till verse
akin to a sorceress who waves a magic wand
to produce supreme sentences
weaves tantalizing terrific tweed topographic tundra’s
that this admirer of her artful and colorful poetic endeavors
prompts me to accompany my mindscape
as a thought-provoking troubadour
amidst the information super byways and highways
along winding labyrinths of critical thinking
or simply stepping o'er rolling stones
of silly rhymes without wing less reason
all the while giving subtle egress
into that chamber of secrets
long kept shut tight to maintain
that sure footed stance of solitude
whose only entities happened
to constitute trappings of literary lugubriousness
those tombs of largesse identified
as great works and masterpieces of literature
yet careful to avoid complete intimacy
lest that cherished solitude shattered
and a heart rent asunder
twin tower ring inferno imp perils of loss that provide
an understandable cautionary tale
to the author of this rambling missive
a most profoundly perceptive acute Ape man
touched to the quick with a bit of angel dust
aware that this agonized and angst riddled arboreal beast
contents himself with the confines of cyberspace!
Waking I wander where did those happy days go.
My New Year resolution is to shed those unnecessary thoughts.
My Comforter will guide me and wants this for me.
Patiently He answers my unspoken prayer.
And childlike I stomp them where they lie.
They will tantalize me no more as I crush them.
And I play with those toys in the dirt where i was free.
Mother calls me to dinner and washes my hands and face.
Tomorrow I will clean up the mess I left.
I need to rid myself of the filth.
I wear my past like new clothes that are stiff.
They need to be washed and dried and softened.
The doctor will have me lie on her couch and prattle.
She will take me to the cleaners and steam the past.
Sitting at the top of the stairs and listening.
With my tears running famously and glistening.
I hear the television and you slowly drink your beer.
Mom waitresses while father and his greed cracks another year.
Tomorrow I will clean up the mess I left.
I need to rid myself of the filth.
I hear you sing the song as I sit on the doctors couch.
Crying and wonder if it is my fault and the rope is lowered.
The strangers hand reach for me and they hold me tight.
Bathe me with whispers not to tell every night.
I love my green and feathered friend a bushel and a peck, *
But there was one occasion when I could have wrung her neck!
She's normally so well-behaved, but on that fateful day
When Aunty Pat came round for tea, I heard my parrot say:
'Old fatty Aunty Patty', 'Aunt Patty is a bore!'
With that my red-faced Aunt stood up and stormed out through the door!
I could have killed that parrot, we didn't speak for days.
I glowered at her through the cage and confiscated maize.
I tend to watch my words now, and Polly curbs her bill
The last I heard, my Aunty Pat had cut me from her will!
FINAL REVISED VERSION
16/03/19
'Green Humor Rhymes, Old Or New For Prizes Poetry Contest'
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
* For anyone not familiar with this expression it means : ' a lot; a great amount' and was famously used in a song from the broadway musical 'Guys and dolls'. The last word seemed particularly fitting within this context!
Geologists say ‘by your leave’,
we’re famously polite:
we wear our heart upon our sleeve,
rejoice at rhyolite.
We’re very patient people, but
I tolerated stuff before
that I’m not taking any more:
up with this I will not put.
Don’t bring to me your xenolith,
preposterous, fantastic:
I’m done with make-believe and myth:
my ire is pyroclastic.
Don’t tell me pressure makes a gem,
discomfort forges what’s sublime:
the aimless drip of frameless time
creates a speleothem.
Some things improve with age, it’s true,
while others just feel dated:
to sleight of hand, to me and you,
I’m simply indurated.
I’m wise to every move you make –
I’m distanced from your wiles,
meanders, stratagems and smiles -
a placid oxbow lake.
Off and on through the years I dated and maintained a relationship with an influencing entity named Vivid Imagination. Still today on occasion, Vivid visits and we collaborate on various topics or subjects while I continue my unintended search for more wrinkles and gray hairs. Vivid and I have had what I contend to be a pleasant relationship over the years. I sometimes revisit the things we “created” together. Some of those things were successful from a creative point of view and some were not, but the experiences they provided were useful and rewarding. We were “sailing along” famously for several years …
UNTIL …
Another entity injected itself into that relationship.
That other entity was named Ree Ality. Vivid and Ree were instant nemeses. Constant, continual, and incessant conflict was almost always the result of their affronts. But I have to admit there were times when I had to distance myself from Vivid and entertain Ree's presentation(s).
Over the years, an uneasy yet workable “ceasefire” has developed between these two very different entities. Oh, there are still some “flare-ups” occasionally, but for the most part “compromises” have been found which work out. Unfortunately, I am the one who is expected to find that “middle-ground” and design that compromise. Those compromises have not always landed in the “win” column, but they have allowed day-to-day life to continue, albeit a bit “rougher” than before.
So, my unintended pursuit of wrinkles and gray hair has continued in the background and has amassed an impressive collection, I must admit, but I find I can live with myself and my decisions with little regret. I must attribute that status to my two companion entities: Vivid and Ree. They’ve kept me balanced and, to a degree, saner than I might otherwise have become.
Here’s a prose toast to Vivid Imagination and Ree Ality! I couldn’t have made the “trip” without either of you.
Thanks!