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.
I'm a firm believer
In limerick fever
(This isn't news)
"It'll cure the blues!"
Says Jan (who is no deceiver)
Written by Jan Allison:
Writing limericks is a fine art
Yes I write about poop or a fart
But show me someone
Whose not dropped a ‘bomb’
then from poetry soup I’d depart!
Written by Lim'rik Flats:
Does art mimic life or life mimic art?
Don't ask me, I'm not too smart.
It seems the soup
Has the same poop
As watching the news (or a fart).
Drama and trauma, factions and foes,
Smiting and fighting, (hard on the nose),
Saves me the trouble
Of viewing double
Saves time, and less grief I suppose.
Written by Ray Gridley:
Raise a toast to this collaboration
Whatever your race or your nation
Just write on a whim
Lim'rick Flat's bound to grin
They are all going to be a sensation!
Written by Daniel Turner:
I know a guy called Lim'rick Flats
Writes limericks at the drop of a hat
Jan is his pal
She's quite a gal
They met in a laundry mat
Jan makes jokes about poop
he puts them in alphabet soop
drinks from the bowl
with no self control
which makes him a nincompoop
Also written by Daniel Turner:
Write all the limericks you want
but don't fart in a restaurant
people will laugh
call you riffraff
even if you're a debutante
Written by John Lawless:
oh the limerick it ain’t quite a sonnet
and the learned, they look down upon it
for they cannot grasp
its head or its ass
nor the cleansing effect of its tonic
Written by Terry Reeves:
Late for work she flew out the door
Took an express elevator to the 29th floor
Let some discreet killer farts
Nearly stopped all their hearts
Left them gagging; she'd evened the score
Written by Tim Smith:
Nonsense is here found out in the alley
Five funny lines we'll add to the tally
a smile or two
we laught till we're blue
so put out your best and join in our rally
Written by Alexis Y:
Hey what's going on in the soup?
Lim'rik Flats I want the scoop
What do you have to say?
You got poem of the day
Congrats, I shouldn't have flown the coop
Written by Jean Murray:
John is always fun.
His poems and their puns.
If you need a lift.
He has the gift.
Lim'rik Flats is number one.
psst. How could I not add this to the string? ~ john
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!! **
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.
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.
Walking on eggshells,
with left-over scratches,
Brave little chick
into the world hatches...
managed to scramble away with a limp--
those eggshells, (and mama)
did a number on Shrimp.
Fifty years after, mama's still kicking,
pecking Shrimp's feathers off,
when no one's looking--
Some of her feathers are plucked to the bone-
her skin is bleeding,
she feels so alone.
Mama, she swore that ol'
Shrimp was an odd one,
just a non-Certifiable, sad
Family Problem.
Why, Shrimp was a Horrible, terrible Liar,
such a Bad chicken,
(and an awful flyer!)
But despite the hate,
Shrimp flew higher!
"We can't have that!!"
shrieked the old chicken, cackling
"Let's give her some
Chicken scratch,
and send this one packing!"
Shrimp walked away sad,
but then she got better,
She knows she's not bad,
(despite the mean letter.)
Yes, despite the hate,
Shrimp grew bigger!
"We can't have that!!"
squawked the old chicken Liver,
"I'll give Shrimp her
Chicken scratch,
and give her the boot!"
but Shrimp's feathers shine brighter,
now that she's flown the coop.
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
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!!
Grandma’s Flown the Coup!
Has anyone here seen Grandma?
We’ve been searching high and low
It’s time she joined the seniors’ home
Burt she doesn’t want to go
She packed up all her make-up
Paid her Botox bill in full
Her kids think she should act her age
She thinks that that’s bull!
Her hair salon is worried
Her dye job is almost due
She comes like clockwork every week
They’ll miss the revenue
The old age club is miffed
She never joins the group
And tries to lure the rest of them
To come and fly the coop!
Last week she went dancing
And partied all night long
Then someone handed her a mike
And she sang a bawdy song
Please help us to find Grandma
She’s getting much too bold
She decided she’s too young for us
For she’s never growing old!
Copyright© 2004 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)
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