Long Full of beans Poems
Long Full of beans Poems. Below are the most popular long Full of beans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Full of beans poems by poem length and keyword.
I grew up with Phillip Jones who was our doctor’s son.
We built huts amongst the ti-tree and fired the odd slug gun.
We went through school together and we hung out up the street;
played footy and played cricket, and there’s girls we used to meet.
But that was many years ago when we were in our teens,
when life was free and easy and we were full of beans.
Circumstances ripped our time apart as circumstances can …
I took on the factory life and Phillip followed his old man.
Doctor Jones our family doctor continued in his trade;
he kept our little town alive with choices that he made.
Babes were born and people died, and there were heart attacks.
He tended those who don’t feel pain and hypochondriacs.
But now our doctor is retiring for he’s turning sixty-five,
sending shock waves through the sick on how they will survive,
But Doctor Jones destroyed the rumours that affected everyone,
by reassuring all his patients, their new doctor is his son.
So Phillip Jones is coming home, my good old school day mate,
and he’s going to be our doctor which really should be great.
I’ll make sure we catch up and of course that’s what we did,
to talk about the good old days when we were just a kid.
I tell you I’m excited when invited to Doctor Jones’ place,
he’d put on a dinner party asking me to show me face.
Doctor Jones has put his feet up now since Phillip stole the show,
and is treating all the patients that his father got to know.
But Phillip’s changed an awful lot; he’s inherited a plum.
All he spoke about is college and he made me feel like scum.
He’s turned into a ‘know all’; a pompous haughty cad,
and he even claimed with disregard; he’s smarter than his Dad.
Doctor Jones took on the challenge “Why do you say that Son?”
And Phillip said “My father dear, for example here is one.
Mrs. Wenn the wealthy spinster took heed of my suggestion,
and after all her troubled years, I have rid her indigestion.”
Doctor Jones picked up his napkin and patted both his lips,
“Son, I’m very proud of you but you’re still needing tips.
Sometimes I think it doesn’t pay to overload with knowledge …
indigestion suffered in this case - is what put you through college.”
You see a man in ragged clothes
Digging through garbage for no one knows
A skulking youth with acne’d face
Shuffling by with little grace
You see a woman, old and frail
A blind girl struggling, reading braille
You see an old guy soft and flabby
Looking sad and somewhat shabby
You see a lady smart and trim
Stepping briskly, with upheld chin
Two teenage girls in low ride jeans
Full of laughter, full of beans
You see a lad with wooden leg
Stopping people, there to beg
An obese woman, waddling there
While people stop and point and stare
You see a young child skipping past
If only youthfulness would last
A toddler wobbling as he walks
Babbling excitedly as he talks
You see a person all alone
Another talking on a phone
A couple walking in embrace
And soft warm smiles upon their face
You see a drunk man stumble by
With red veined nose and bloodshot eye
A woman with deep furrowed brow
Stooping in dejected bow
You see anguished deeply etched
Someone waiting to be fetched
Another talking shrill and loud
Another standing tall and proud
Yet no one sees what beats within
What lies down deep beneath the skin
And no one has the right to judge
Or criticize or hold a grudge
Or laugh at someone else’s pain
Or live you life in shallow vain
As no one’s truly, fully whole
And every one has depth of soul
And what you see may not be real
But if you can touch and truly feel
And listen well to what they say
And share with them this special day
If you can hear them from the heart
And bring about a brand new start
Then this would be a better life
With much less pain and much less strife
Koooooo Zhik Zhik Zhik Zhik Zhik
Caterpillar Dominick
Trailing a leash of ponytail
Of smoke in the evening
Me and Mimi and my parents
Lily and aaron
Sitting on our mammoth bag
waiting for first green flag
And it moved a little
Ha it moved like beetle
To the back haha Mimi
See this poor lime tree
Whoosh whoosh...
It moved like Gabloo
fat crazy muskander
It really moved, Mimi
Hahahahahahahahah
Koo Zhiks Zhiks Zhiks Zhiks
Hahaha Mimi leaked
Great piddler, she was nine
Full of beans
Crazy train
Running like a jackal
Through the wild wolfbane
Through the mist of rain......
RailwSponsor Shadow Hamilton
ay Journeys - Poetry Contest
January 07/2015
Form:
Some fried chicken and fried potatoes,
pot full of beans, and sliced tomatoes.
I hear catfish sizzling in hot oil,
and some fresh picked corn waiting to boil.
Old folks sit at the big oak table,
kids sit down wherever they’re able.
There’s fresh churned butter and sweet cornbread,
enough food to keep an army fed.
After supper and the dishes done,
we head on outside to start the fun.
Children chasing the fireflies and bugs,
men drinking some shine from old stone jugs.
Making ice cream by turning the churn,
each little kid waiting for their turn.
Old folks rocking in their rocking chairs,
kids sitting around on the porch stairs.
Well daddy plays a mean guitar beat,
you wanna get up and move your feet.
Then he’ll softly strum on that six string.
while grandma and momma start to sing.
Grandpa’s up and he’s raring to go,
stomping his feet and giving a show.
Dancing line forms over on the right,
can’t beat another Saturday night.
After the kids have been put to bed,
moonshine still filling the old folk’s head.
They sit back telling tales of back when,
and wishing they could be young again.
Me and you’ll sneak down to the creek bank,
listen to Waylon, Willie, and Hank.
We’ll lay on our backs and watch the stars,
talking of how we’ll make this world ours.
We’ll snuggle under the full lit moon,
and let nature play its gentle tune.
Everything is gonna feel all right,
when you come over Saturday night.
Imagine me as a book covered with dust,
A soul whose warmth for years remained untouched
Letters on every page were ill-defined, unclear
The essence was hidden in an ambiguous fear
Uninterested I was in the societal rigmarole,
Me and my outer self were at opposite poles
Quite hesitant I was to turn to the next page
As I knew it would amount only to stormy rage
Quite concerned I was for my future pages and me,
The so-called bright world appeared shadowy
And in this dusky weather, suddenly the air felt unusual
This didn’t happen in years, the matter truly seemed crucial
I bizarrely felt the warmth of cool welcoming zephyr
My pages drifted, smiled and glinted like a pearl
My dull existence got transfigured into a life full-of-beans
Personified I was into a woman of worth, a woman of means
And now after owning this bag full of happiness,
I started reading the letters carved on me,
This time they were decipherable and defined,
They managed to unite me, my heart and my mind.
I looked around, in quest of the soul who revived me
Who passed by me and set my tangled soul free
Seeing him was out of question, quite hazy he appeared to me,
I could only fantasize him as a cozy breeze over the sea
Now, this breeze could be felt only when you are around me
You… only you and nothing beyond
You… the only one to make my passion profound
You… in your absence too you could be felt around
You … the only one in whom I am found!
Linda the queen of Winda is in the swing of moods
She keeps the little dove on swing, on her eggs she broods
Little dove gives her a letter
God has written “you’re go-getter"
And soon you'll be better “the dove's eggs are your dudes"
The weeny dove goes to the queen with the full of beans
Eggs are brattling love is crackling and the dance begins
Dovelets jump to the queen's lap
Sweet queen Linda, you’re not in trap"
"Snow is melting; God is pelting love at your sheens"
Queen of Winda, sweetest Linda sits on a satin
In the light of candle her tresses glisten in preen
Dovelets dance around Linda
And Maramba and Bellinda
With a kinda smell of river Linda goes to teen
Contest: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
03rd December,2014
AFFIRMATION
WE ARE PRAYING FOR LINDA.ALL ARE PRAYING FOR LINDA.PRAYER HAS CONCENTRATED POWER. THE PRAYER WILL MAKE LINDA OKAY.WE ALL LOVE LINDA. LINDA IS LOVE. MAY GOD GIVE HER INNER PEACE. SANTIH SANTIH SANTIH
POEM "JELLY BELLY" by martin gedge
A jar full of jelly and a bag full of beans
in multiples of colors in a rainbow of dreams
a taste that you savor in the juicy of a jam
bursting with the flavor in handful sugar slam
mellow yellow lemon and orange to kiss a crush
a fresh of spearmint green with a wild berry blush
grape is wealthy Welch's and the white vanilla sprung
black is licorice heaven like a shadow on your tongue
you can water up the melon or you can passion up the peach
there is apples in the orchard with a tutti-frutti beat
cotton candy carnival and a pomegranate splash
if you had too many root beers have a cappuccino crash
a touch of mango marvel and a margarita mix
for every single drink your are sure to get your fix
banana is appealing and the cantaloupe delight
kiwi has a craving and the cinnamon a bite
if you like pop into your pudding there chocolate to declare
a sherbet and a cheesecake with a marshmallow affair
cream to top your soda in the caramel covered corn
in shapes and different sizes since the jelly bean was born
so when you see the dentist and they don't quite understand
don't look so sour cherry when the Dr. pepper can
the fact is pure as sugar and It's not just bubble gum
a coconut can never stop from eating more then one..
by martin gedge ©
A vociferous yowl came down to earth and slaughtered my soul
I was in deep sleep, lids were lead, and dreams were wavering spool
My problem sat on groove, heavy-hearted like slushy interference
Passage of time was very slow but that had drawn all the inference
But I had to settle my score with her sore to keep my cranium cool
A porous body, full of neutral pricks, is amenable to insidious freaks
You may call the buccaneers on bouncing waves or to Tortuga Creeks
They will say yes we should send Mister Briggs to teach you mathematical tricks.
It makes no difference and I am bowled on the crease, life is not at all sums
Its base is neither you nor any substratum pandering to keekwulee doldrums
I know you are not a frump who kicks up the stinks with three no trumps.
I may be a tramp
Play solitaire
With invisible Dodo.
I have seen the dull grayish faces caught in Arachne’s spins,
The fangs of spiders, teeth of snakes, and Las Vegas scorpion stings,
The emotional binges, the splurge of spending and old caddy’s sins.
I have seen them all, but how am I full of beans?
I am a nut playing a fool. Let the water run over her
Deigning a nutcracker’s rule.
Ridentem dicere verum quid vetat?
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
14th October,2014 20:44:00 (IST)
Dream of
cotton candy
and ticker-tape parades
when we finely win this grievant
long war.
Do it!
But how can I!
There has been no training,
no understanding of what I
must do.
One pie?
Just one little pie?
Means I will have to share!
W.F. give Gary some apples
to bake.
A dream
my lad, a dream
oops.. such a dream could kill
and I would never wake up again
never!
Next one
to post a cinq
might just be the winner
of this free-for-all traffic jam
maybe!
Eat out
again tonight?
I thought we could cook toast,
some Blue Bell ice-cream and ketchup
on toast!
Mm mm
is such a hard
word to rhyme. I can’t thank
of any word that will rhyme with
Mm mm.
Yum seeds
won’t grow in Fall.
You have to plant them soon
before the sun grows too warm in
Summer.
Gardens
still wait for heat
and sunlight to shoot out
their buds and tender young leaves
up right.
Huge grin
is on my face
as I think about you
sitting tall in the audience
with pride.
Yourself
ourselves, themselves,
we are all the same inside.
We are full of beans and filled with
hot gas.
Addict!
I have rats in
mine. Did you say attic?
My mistake, must be getting deft
or old.
Windows And Doors
Windows and doors
And other means
Of escape, or views
Of me inside.
Doing laborious chores,
But full of beans,
Yet the latest news
Is that I cried.
So I dreamt up wars
Between Kings and Queens,
Only to confuse
Who lived or died.
And on the littered floors
'Tween bloodstained sateens
Fell a shiny bruise
That I, at once, denied.
Softly sleeping, she snores,
Between sensual dreams,
It's what I would choose
If only dreams lied.
But like gaping jaws
Of love and has-beens,
They serve only to excuse
Why the gap is so wide.
And so to distant shores
Of nightmarish greens,
Where in the familiar blues
I can hide.
But, as usual, she ignores
The in-betweens
Where the don'ts and do's
Become her chide.
The whys and wherefores,
The rows and the scenes
Become snippets of clues
I would need if I died.
But the chavs and whores,
Dressed as figurines,
Always dance in her shoes
For the ride.
And once again the wars
Rage as she preens,
To win or lose
Is a matter of pride.
Then the windows and doors
Are blown to smithereens
Destroying the views
With me still inside.
©RJVHorton2016