Long Felicia Poems
Long Felicia Poems. Below are the most popular long Felicia by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Felicia poems by poem length and keyword.
Sweet Felicia wore a frown, as the distant thunder grew
Raindrops fell and nearly drowned, the beetles running two by two
We ran in tandem through the night, seeking shelter from the storm
In the distance shone a light, and in peril hope was born
A simple cabin through the fog appeared, as if a vision in a dream
We slowly walked, and as we neared, it was beyond a shallow stream
And now to wade in this cold wind, took all our courage and our grit
And as we rapped upon the door, the darkened window became lit
As the door swung open slowly, a bearded elder did appear
"Who is it, who wants to enter?" I spoke but stuttered as he came near
“We’re seeking shelter from the storm, as we lost our way back home
Our nerves are tattered, our wills are worn, this tempest chilled us to the bone”
The blind man begged us “come inside”, arm in arm we slowly entered
Felicia clinging to my side, the blind man asked us where we ventured
As I began to speak, a darkened figure did appear
My hands did shake, my knees grew weak, Felicia screamed as he came near
“What frightens so your lady friend?”, I cried “man don’t you know what you have here?”
“It’s just a visitor” the fool replied, and said we should no be in fear
Felicia hid behind my back, as this large creature held out his hand
I slowly held mine out as well, and we shook slowly where I stand
I realized what I just saw, was something spoken of in tales of lore
Yes it was Bigfoot standing here in front of me, I thought of heading for the door
The blind man said we all should sit, wait out the storm, wait ‘till daylight
So we all sat and had some wine, the blind man’s hand produced a pipe
Where did he get this wondrous herb?, that made my smile light up so bright
Before the clock struck once again, Felicia went out like a light
And as my body now grew numb, I tried to rise to no avail
And flying high now as a kite, tomorrow I must not tell this tale
To those who wonder where we were, on yesterdays long journey
We both agreed that we should say, we went to see a friend named Bernie
This whimsical notion he's not in the wrong,
He uses pity to manipulate and control all along,
Once he plays on your heart strings, he draws you in,
And if things don't go his way your at fault for his sins,
Apologetic, yet right after, he must throw back in your face,
All of your problems, all your mistakes,
All of your reactions to his ignorance and meaness,
His control happy ways while lying to himself in the process,
So glued to his ego, his own lies become truth,
This man is far from humble and completely self consumed,
When he says I love you, it will go unheard,
Because his character speaks louder than anything of his words,
All he knows is manipulation, and yet blames it on his x,
When he is the one who created his own mess,
His self seeking behavior, poor me, Pity me,
His pride eventually kills any love that could be.
Bye Felicia!!!!!!! ..
The boy stood on the burning deck
arms akimbo legs a'brace
while cannon balls rolled above and beyond
'twas the greatest challenge he had yet to face
as pouring oil on troubled waters
they who only stand and wait also serve
to post o’er ocean without rest
don't receive all they deserve
and crying, “O Captain, my Captain,
an order's sorely needed,
should I stay or should I go?”
but remaining at his position
alas little did he know
Luc-Julien-Joseph Casabianca (1762 – 1798)
his distinguished father lay fallen
extinguished cold and dead a deck or so below
Orient the gallant Gallic flagship of the line
had weather'd every rack and tack
meanwhile the port of Alexandria was near
during the Battle of the Nile
(August 1798)
in the Bay of Aboukir
when Alexander and Swiftsure
the victor ships came in with object won
and the gunpowder magazine exploded
blowing crew and child to kingdom come
tho' Rear-Admiral Sir Horatio Nelson
did all but four of the French fleet destroy
the noblest thing which perished there
was the heart and soul of that young faithful boy
With apologies to; Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793 – 1835)
John Milton (1608 – 1674)
Michael Geoffrey Jones (born 1955)
Walter Whitman Jr. (1819 – 1892)
When they couldn't sedate me
And needed to cut strips of flesh
From my eyelid, I heard the sizzle
Smelled the scalpel burning as it sliced
And glimpsed the steam rising
Through a peephole under the
Sterile towel tent covering my face
Flesh harvested from my eyelid
grafted into the cavern under my eye
Pit left from digging the cancer filled
One hundred and twenty three tiny stitches later
an ice bag tapped to my head with a warning
it would hurt like hell when the Lidocaine died
I lied-I was going back to my hotel
And on that dark highway in the pouring rain
I could see well enough with one eye
Until sixty miles west on I-80
Burning hot all consuming hell, stabbing, sharp, wish I were dead
Pulled over into aq Wendover casino
To kill the pain
When I'm drinking and gambling, life doesn't hurt.
Faded away until it really wasn't there
Enough to sober up, get back in my truck
Poorer than I was--but money
Never made me happy.
You did
My emergency contact.
My ride home
Pathetic that this is your poem
You are not a bad person.
You gave yourself away.
You took yourself back.
And that's alright
I take me back, too
And like that, there's no emergency contact
No one to drive me home
And I wish you had a better poem
Than this...
I'm-hurt-you-should-feel-sorry-for-me
and my wounded heart
Attempt to what?
Get you back? Hell-no
Don't know what you were, or why
But you had to be removed
Just like the cancer in my eye--you had to go
It's not pretty and leaves a big hole
That some other part of me must fill
It's uncomfortable
And it hurts
Yeah...
and there's nobody to drive me home
But I've been through worse
I'm happy to turn the page
If there's something better for you
There's something better for me
Something better than this
Pain management poem.
That you will never read, but somehow
Makes me feel better
Adios, Felicia
FELICA MEOWS The Crazy Cat Lady
There once was a crazy lady named Felicia Meows;
A crazy middle aged lady with no eye-brows;
She plucked them off, and fed them to her cats;
Man!, somethings wrong with that;
Her felines also ate burnt spaghetti and spinach and live mice;
I know, I know, you think that ain't RIGHT;
And purr-fered sour milk;
Now I don't think that's to cruel;
She too would meow make balls of silk!;
Yeah! and them cats be licking her drool;
Pour her a glass of kitty-litter:
Man, she sure must love them chitters;
She kept them all locked up in the kitchen under all the pillows;
The crazy cat lady FELICA MEOWS
1/10/18
FOR CONTEST: CRAZY CAT LADY Rhyme
SPONCERED BY; LINE GAUTHIER
do you see me …
the s o u l of the s k y ~
born in the breath
of blistered blue ,
a constellation
of royal sea-infernos
sobbing in veins
that stretch from
ocean-fires to the
lava vial of Vesta ,
the luck of feral felicia
liquified in molten
metal lips
from the longing
laced in sultry sirens
of lapis lazuli ,
for, with you
I forseek the future ,
in the fickle foe
ferrying with fated fortune ,
a chest of cinders
questing
for unquenched quivers …
as this alabaster funeral ~
runs dry beneath my ribs
thirsty for flickering fame
flowing in crimson rivers ,
the glow of goblins
that ebbs
in dragon-smokes ~
inexplicable ,
imperial ,
invincible …
I am no clue
but the unmasked
destination ~
a blaze , banished,
in an ethereal exile
smothered
by the black sage,
I'll let you plead
on the pyre
of pure love
O Volcanus ~
in witchery willows ,
until you surrender
your eagle-stitched ego
to me , the Queen of fire ,
a prophecy pearled
in phoenix stars ~
streaked from
the palette
of flaming peridots,
the secret spoken
in scarlet and stelliform ,
and withdrawn from
the water-gods
in the name of
fierce oracles ,
which burn the bridges
burgeoning
to the heavens ~
that sleep
in an immortal fear
of my
inextinguishable
hell - f i r e …
It's true that pork 'n' beans have
chunks that are winning
And Indian spiced pumpkin
sets your heart spinning
Pho bo's delightful, cod soup's disarming
jjamppong, French lentil --charming
Japanese dashi, vichyssoise's sweet
tater soup's smashing, pozole's a treat
Bread and butter with escarole-and-white-bean
bring wonderful company, time and again
Delish Italian wedding soup in Orte
try this and you're a jolly good sport
But cream of the crop, tip of the top
it's Poetry Soup, and there we stop!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aug. 27, 2023
"Soup Poetry Contest"
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Deadline: Saturday, September 23, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote it to the tune of the following lyrics
("It's a Jolly Holiday" from Mary Poppins---
"...It's true that Mavis and Sybil 'ave
Ways that are winning
And Prudence and Gwendolyn
Set your 'eart spinning
Phoebe's delightful, Maude is disarming
Janice, Felicia, Lydia--charming
Cynthia's dashing, Vivian's sweet
Stephanie's smashing, Priscilla a treat
Veronica, Millicent, Agnes, and Jane
Convivial company, time and again
Dorcas and Phyllis and Glynis are sorts
I'll agree are three jolly good sports
But cream of the crop, tip of the top
It's Mary Poppins, and there we stop!")