Long Flown the coop Poems
Long Flown the coop Poems. Below are the most popular long Flown the coop by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Flown the coop poems by poem length and keyword.
While strolling through the graveyard the other day, I was drawn,
To a host of stones with creative and pithy epitaphs etched thereon!
Such flowing poetic verse is deemed worthy of recording for posterity,
Due to its peculiarity, sincerity, rarity and macabre hilarity!
"Here lies Gus riddled with lead! The high sheriff shot him dead!"
"He brewed the finest booze in the county! 'Til a G-man shot him for the bounty!"
"From his horse Red was throwed! He was the finest feller we ever knowed!"
"His jealous spouse cut short his life! With a twelve-inch butchering knife!"
"She slipped on a derelict banana peel! The bump on her noggin failed to heal!"
"He failed to slow down and swerve! Lost his nerve and missed the curve!"
"If you think this place has no appeal! How the heck do you think I feel?"
"Here lies the late bullfighter Umberto! He was fatally gored by el toro!"
"Clyde owns this piece of real estate! Or that's what he claims, at any rate!"
"Barnstormer Barney has flown the coop! He failed to negotiate an outside loop!"
"Cowpoke Pete has bit the dust! From his wild cayuse he was abruptly thrust!"
"A slug ended the career of gambler Steve! Seems he had some aces up his sleeve!"
"Too much cholesterol is how he met his fate! Docs warned him but 'twas too late!"
"She met her doom skating on the ice! Tried to do the triple axel thrice!"
"He always enjoyed a nickel cigar! Alas, his flame died out due to too much tar!"
"Upon my stone let no bird alight! Should that happen, please clean off the blight!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
~ BY INVITATION ONLY - 1st ANNUAL POETRY SOUP CONVENTION ~
Relieve that stress and undue tension, First Annual Poetry Soup Convention!
Come to Maine this early September, (as long as you're a paying member) ...
A smorgasbord - and "lobstah" too, the finest refreshments wait for you!
Forgive me, but I just have to boast - so beautiful, the Down East Coast.
Portland City, thus gold-embossed, but never so big that you'll get lost ...
Recite and share your works of prose, rub shoulders with the rest of those
Who love this site and make it home, then find the perfect beach to roam!
Quite near the ocean, mountains, too ... the cleanest lakes to rendezvous.
Explore the coasts or hike the hills, see all the shops, (forget the bills),
With friends and nature and poetry, all smartly framed beside the sea.
And you won't need to pack your muse - we've plenty here that you can use!
I'm just one simple lad, that's true, but I'll work hard to welcome you ...
September sixth thru ninth weekend, and please feel free to bring a friend -
Tell your peeps you've flown the coop with gals and fellas at Poetry Soup!
Write and read and critique with friends, the grandest of poetic ends ...
Come one, come all, a sweet refrain, the first PS convention, Portland, Maine!
Written and submitted on March 22, 2019
For the "The First Annual Poetry Soup Convention" Poetry Contest
Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
** Let's make it happen - for real!! **
Butti the tortoise from the zoo has flown the coop
Your brother Tutti misses you, you little poop
On you there is a large bounty
If found in El Paso County
Hope you don't end up as a bowl of turtle soup
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
This is based on a true story. Butti came up missing at the Colorado Springs
Cheyenne Mountain Zoo, 27 Mar 2011. He and his brother, Tutti, are Indian
Star tortoises. Suspicions are that some miscreant pocketed him and strolled
away since he was about the size of a grapefruit and weighed about a
pound. Coincidentally, a river otter named Kitchi, escaped from the same zoo
a few months ago and has never been found. If interested you can read the
saga of Kitchi in my poem of the same name. Will keep you posted!!
Poor old Chicken Licken's not the brightest little bird
Keeps coming up with theories that are clearly quite absurd
He got hit by an acorn, and to laugh would be a sin
But our little feathered friend believes, the sky is falling in
He’s running round the farmyard telling everyone his tale
“We must inform the government and do it without fail”
Rounding up some other birds to join him on his quest
Picking just the fittest, disregarding all the rest
The Goose and Turkey Lurkey led this brave deluded ring
As they marched into the night so they could go and tell the King
Poor old Chicken Lickens brain has really flown the coop
The way he carries on he’s going to end up in the soup
"Daughter," "laughter," do not rhyme but ought to.
Pure squeals of joy ring out from every door.
For surely graced by God is the man who
Has daughters in the house forevermore!
Blessed indeed, for girls have I in plenty;
With Carrys, Laura, Gwen, they come in threes.
Olga too, but not till way past twenty;
No dad could ever ask for more than these!
Alas, they've flown; the coop is quiet, bare.
Yes, life is good, but not as much alive.
Sometimes I check the rooms, find nothing there.
Was that a car that pulled into the drive?
The door’s flung wide; I go outside to see
More precious girls: Maid Marion and Ree!
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
my bones, and joints won’t listen to my commands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Don't get me wrong I'm happy to be in my age group,
I must admit I'm not fond of these wild grey strands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
Sometimes I play bingo with an amazing silver troop,
but I miss dancing to live music and big bands.
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
Or talking to my friend Flo who gives me the scoop,
I long to take several trips to faraway lands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop.
As I sit daydreaming, I snap to; hubby is a big snoop
What am I to do when life and age make demands?
I spend most of my days picking up dog poop.
In the end, I feel youthful although I can’t hula hoop,
I'm ok as I stare at these wrinkled old hands.
I am no longer in my youth, it has flown the coop,
I spend most of my day picking up dog poop.
05/4/2023
Contest: “Y” Challenge Words
Sponsor: Constance La France
I was on one continent and she another.
Both of us were always writing letters to each other.
I felt that we were headed in a romantic direction,
so I booked a flight destined for her location.
She was so lovely and ever so charming,
and as we walked arm in arm, she never stopped smiling.
The evening was ending so she brought me to her home,
and that was the beginning of everything going wrong.
Severed human heads were on display everywhere,
Suddenly I was wishing that I wasn't there.
"Doesn't all these severed heads bother you?" I asked she.
"Damned straight," she said, "my sister has more than me.
Every head represents a slain sworn enemy.
Each head elevates our status in the community."
Is this woman crazy? Has she completely flown the coop?
Not at all, this is normal behavior for the culture she has been exposed to.
If your brain had better receptors than everybody,
and the tissue of your brain was of the highest quality
and if you happened to be born and raised in Nazi Germany,
all the more faster you would develop into a greater Nazi.
Blaming someone for their behavior is one of the worst things to do.
All behavior is reflective of an environment that imposed its values.
If you were raised in the Amazon rainforest, you'd be a headhunter too.
Stumbling along the worn down pine,
Clamoring like a babe against floor and a table leg
I found the stool to shame all other stools.
Propping my bony bottom atop
Like a laggardly old lion,
Done with denunciation,
Dismal and downgraded,
While awaiting the minstrel's mentions
of a certain sort of sustenance.
"I have here for you soup
My little lamb."
Yet a lion here I sit!
With letters here I writ!
While in my bowl
She spills the same.
Despite my place.
Despite my name.
I take a spoonful
Maybe more.
My taste buds take off
Beyond flavor's shore.
I've now flown the coop
Just for poetry's soup.
Mrs. Robin, busy as a bee
visits my home's skylight annually
She builds a nest there carefully
her private retreat, only I can see
She commandeers my yard militarily
hopping to and fro imperiously
Ever seeking bark or twig assiduously
to feather her penthouse more comfortably
A half-dozen blue eggs she lays surreptitiously
Settling down over them protectively
Sheltered from the elements so cunningly
She awaits their hatching expectantly...
One day, her chirpings' cease, inevitably
Mrs. Robins' dreams realized successfully
She's flown the coop, perforce happily
Her nest, forlorn ~ stares at me emptily
July 10, 2020
Bird Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
I stood in the doorway frozen in fear,
Your coffin was within;
The room was empty of sound and of life,
I could see you resting.
In peace, your pain was gone,
But mine was beginning;
Wanting to scream, I fled, I ran away,
Down the dark street weeping.
I ran away from you,
Like a pigeon who has flown the coop;
I went back to that room,
Be strong was your whisper.
Proudly, standing at your coffin smiling,
Remembering fun you;
And visitors telling,
And we were all laughing.
Like the time you put the wallpaper,
Upside down and Mom yelling;
And the phone call one day,
Dad is hanging on roof.
And how can I forget the chainsaw time,
When you cut down the trees;
And trees, until you were stopped,
Rest in peace, until I join you in the above.
________________________
April 20, 2015
Poetry/Verse/I Ran Away From You
Copyright Protected, ID 04-665-504-20
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the contest, The Pigeon Who Flew The Coop,
sponsor, Tammy Reams, Judged 05/2015
First Place
_________________________
Note Regarding This Poem: I wanted to show how my Dad's funeral
was full of happy stories of his antics, he was quite the character and
everyone who attended had a story to tell. There was so much laughter.
It was sadness and funny mixed together, an odd combination.