Long Fifty Poems
Long Fifty Poems. Below are the most popular long Fifty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fifty poems by poem length and keyword.
CENSORED: a kind of unfinished symphony
This hammer made my finger sting
The flaming, silly, soppy thing
Now I’ve hit my poor old thumb
Oh my giddy aunt, ho hum
My right leg’s broke below the knee
Goodness gracious, pity me
I just nearly broke my neck
Blow me down and what the heck
Oops, I think I’ve been misled
That bridge was lower than he said
What a shame I won’t get far
The roof’s gone off my poor old car
Gosh, the milkman’s nicked my wife
That’s how it goes, I guess... that’s life
My word, I just fell in the lake
What am I like, for goodness sake
So tell me, is it midnight yet?
Fifty quid, I’ve won the bet
So off you go and toodle pip
Block your ears as I let rip............... HOLY F....!!!
30 December 2018
For Brian Strand’s Contest 535
My neighbor accused me when his truck was stolen.
He broke my jaw two months ago and it's still swollen.
I lost fifty pounds because my mouth had to be wired shut.
Even though I'm innocent, my neighbor still kicked my butt.
He bounced me around like a basketball.
I was no match for him because he's over seven feet tall.
The cops found the real crook and my neighbor knew I wasn't at fault.
He begged me for forgiveness but I still had that ox arrested for assault.
When he went to jail, his boss fired him and his wife left, it's sad but true.
When he is released, he will come looking for me and it will be round two.
Reality is rising out of the earth, mixing water with dirt, the children are playing in the mud from morning until sun down and the crisis in the street have disrupted the long awaited peace, and I patiently watched their short lived freedom evaporating in thin cold air.
They once bore the amour of truth from the days of their youth but with the passing of time, wisdom has crossed over to the other side and reality runs like mad men through the street.
You don’t know the price of goods for you have been living in the woods, raisin buns have gone up and the eagle bread is soaring in the sky. The prices are way out of reach and it is hard to compete; anxiety is running throughout the town and the hustlers are running around looking for cheap barging.
Food is going to be rationed again, run and tell your friend, get ready for the big overhaul, it is going to make some people bawl, a pound of chicken for ten American dollars, a pound of steak for twelve dollars, eggs for six dollars a dozen, rice, flour, sugar and cornmeal for three dollars and fifty cents per pound, oatmeal for six dollars and fifty cents per pack and seawater fish for five dollars a pound what more can I say when reality stares you in the face, you have to do something before it’s too late.
Come and share your bread with me and I will make your dream come true, come and share your bread with me and enjoy my company. The people are coming out of the lion’s den, they are looking for new friends, one bread to feed a family of five; and there peace and love will abide.
There is just not enough for everyone and reality is singing a different song so meet me at the garden center before noon because my family and friends will be coming home soon.
I have to buy buckets, mops, bleach, and detergent to clean out the place and air freshener to neutralize the mouly smells in the corners. I need garden rakes and brooms, a big shovel and a wheel barrow, we are going to clean inside out and we are going to make the devil shout; I need board hammers and nails to keep the dogs behind the gate so meet me at the garden center before it’s too late.
Separating the wheat from chaff magic prisoner
From the dust of darkness you are born from ash remains
having walked a crooked pathway inside regrets
buried under sparkling silver lining clouds lights up
Lightening strikes hitting earthy notes trembling voices
falling thunder echoes from dying embers of pain
a star spangled vision igniting flames, peaces torch
I can feel it in your eyes as oceans mist over
Salted inside a triangle of lie holds apex
from the hidden truth centre eye exposed one corner
Three you are where hidden facts remain tortured hotly
our souls know where the fifty shades of grey shape shadows
nothing comes under smoke is ever white underneath
(Taking headlines from October 1964,
the poem revisits our shared experience ...)
Monday 5: Fifty-Four East Germans Tunnel to Freedom
Back then, it was not in doubt,
(Richard Burton Tony Quinn):
the Wall was there to keep us out?
No – built, in fact, to keep them in.
Thursday 8: Beatles Release “She’s a Woman”
My love don’t give me presents.
East is east and west is west –
Ringo passed his driving test –
Blofeld looks like Donald Pleasence.
Monday 12: The Moog Synthesizer Makes Its Debut
It’s fantastic! It’s so new!
Music made in outer space!
Now we’ll win the missile race!
How we love you, Doctor … Who?
Wednesday 14: Martin Luther King Awarded Nobel Peace Prize
Hypatia, Gandhi, Jesus Christ
and Socrates … he was that good:
and just like them, he knew he would
so very soon be sacrificed.
Wednesday 14: Khrushchev Deposed
Now, here’s a man who really tried.
It’s thanks to him, that Cuba fright
didn’t end in Nuclear Night.
Reward? His thugs brush him aside.
Wednesday 21: My Fair Lady Film Premiere
Can a statue have a heart?
Can what’s vulgar morph to art?
Entertainment as idea?
Tin Pan Alley’s Galatea.
Monday 26: Eric Edgar Cooke Executed, Western Australia
Cleft palate, hare lip.
Bullied here, bullied there.
Mumbling moron, bloody crip.
Then they hang him. Life ain’t fair.
Thursday 29: Audacious Diamond Robbery in New York
Banner headlines in the papers.
Daring crimes, coolest capers.
They’re classy crooks, they’ll fence their loot
in Buenos Aires, or Beirut.
(In the real world, how'd it go?
Look at 31 below.)
Saturday 31: Lyndon Johnson Proclaims the Great Society
Nothing novel, or unique:
his vision was for Uncle Sam
to help the luckless, tend the weak.
One word destroyed him. Vietnam.
Saturday 31: New York Diamond Robbers Caught
Tiffany studs? More Studs L. Terkel.
One rock alone, a hundred grams,
Murph the Surf’s men on the lam:
they didn’t make Columbus Circle.
Saturday 31: Goose Kills Astronaut
Theo Freeman was his name,
test-pilot/astronaut his game.
Ejector seats are not much use
against a full-grown Galveston goose.
They were happily wed for fifty years but a dilemma that nettled,
Was their differing political leanings that they never, ever settled!
Every time a local or national election cycle approached,
The battle began as the virtues of their candidates were broached!
The donkey was the symbol of the party espoused by Ma,
And the elephant was the emblem of the party championed by Pa!
They agreed on how to raise the kids and on matters of religion,
But to agree on political affairs - nary one little smidgen!
For generations Ma's leanings were in-bred - she'd never convert.
Pa held similar feelings - his beloved party he'd never desert.
The slightest mention of the attributes of the opposing candidate,
Would spark another inflammatory table-pounding debate!
The outcome of elections they'd both eagerly anticipate.
Invariably, one of them gloated leaving the losing one irate!
If the man steering the ship of state committed a silly dido,
The other danced with glee saying, "Didn't I tell you so!"
Their never-ending spat even continued beyond the grave,
As on separate stones these epitaphs they did engrave:
"Here a Democrat lies; A lovely wife with the wrong party ties!"
"Here a Republican lies; A loving spouse but politically unwise!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
I’ll grant you a modern laptop
hooked up to an HP printer
is a more efficient and cer-
tainly a cleaner means to re-
produce yr message than
the whirling drum of rebellious
black ink we depended upon
back in nineteen fifty-seven.
But when my spellcheck wants to change
brideshead to birdseed, I wonder
whether that satirist of misuse
whose black warriors ate their British
boots and used a tank to melt down
belligerent recruits would laugh or cringe
waiting for the machine to send
out once a year condolences
that the man who’d mocked stupidity
had traded life in a mansion
for a sack of sunflower seeds?
It's cold here.
It was cold long before
Winter arrived
harsh frigid stares
as people passed by
subtle cues
to warn us off
send us packing
"This is not your neighborhood-
you are not welcome here."
their unspoken message
loud and clear
It's cold here.
Winds of change
blew too fast
too strong for some
to adjust
and bone-chillingly cold
breezes emanate from
these people
who got left behind
their decades of disappointment
and bitter envy
mingle like freezing rain
and sub-zero winds
into a deadly wintry mix
designed to drive us out
It's cold here.
Wind chill fifty degrees below zero
miserably, dangerously cold
so cold that
for a few days
Hell freezes over
and people act like
neighbors
for a change
And I wonder about
the hateful old man
who used to stagger
up and down the street
every day, cockeyed
never saying a word
except one time
he asked if I
had a spare dollar
and got angry
when I didn't
So cold here.
3 of every 4 creatures on earth
Are insects, now you know
Why hordes of damn mosquitoes
Pester and bug you so
They sow their seeds of mayhem
As we sit in the summer sun
Being annoyed by these tiny bugs
Till finally we get up and run
After a house fly eats its food
It regurgitates and eats it once more
Imagine if we re-ate our meat balls
That's something I would abhor
Americans eat 12 billion bananas
Every year, no wonder at times
We get the urge to hang from trees
Or scratch our protruding behinds
Each one of us uses approximately
Fifty-seven sheets of bum wipe
Each and every day of our existence
We're killing our trees, my gripe
Maybe instead, use toilet paper
With a hole right in the centre
We could use it over and over again
Washing up is a disease preventer
In 32 years there are approximately
One billion seconds of time
Each one of them is so very precious
Waisting one is a downright crime
I've taken on the task of educating you
With these obscure, interesting facts
A service I provide to my P-Soup friends
Love the accolades I keep getting back!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Once upon a time...
when I was only twelve years old
I'll share a story with you all...
A story, I've often told
One of my best friends, at that time...
Was walking home from school
When three white boys started beating on him...
Those bastards- oh, so cruel
I didn't understand why they picked on him...
Just because his skin was dark as night
But he was my friend, so I went nuts...
And I jumped into the fight
I was throwing punches in every direction...
Not caring if I got hit
But until those bullies were all on the ground...
My temper would not quit
I went home with a black-eye that day...
But those bullies, I whooped their a..
And I made them all apologize...
While I still had a little more gas
This story is true, I'm telling you...
And this is how it ends
For the past fifty years, Brian and I...
We still remain "Best Friends"