Long Gee Poems
Long Gee Poems. Below are the most popular long Gee by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gee poems by poem length and keyword.
Dragon's back! It’s Easter Time and, Yes; we’re going to church today...
Right after the Easter Egg Hunt. Ostrich eggs were perfect, for Dragon, I say…
The Trolls worked at painting them, all night. They wanted them perfect., for sure.
Psychedelic colors seemed to reign supreme. Yes… with lots of crazy bling! De Jure!
Grandpa Troll’s carrying the BIG basket that his penguins decorated in ribbons strung!
His penguins got to go on the egg hunt, too It’s their first, but each picked, only one.
They couldn't understand eating eggs so we gave them chicks, that will hatch, so…
It’s off to church we go, cowboy best for the penguins, tending their eggs as they go.
Dragon has his 'Dragon Hood' cape with yellow bib overalls, totally covered in bling!
Beside himself, till we said he could go. Now he's jumping up and down, as he sings!
He's going to church, for he needs all the help he can get, along the way, true.
We're trying to instill, ‘What Would Jesus Do’. Strengthen his character ideas, too.
But HE thinks he's already a STRONG character, and it's given him great success!
Don't think he understood, what strength of character means, so his soul, God Bless!
So what's next, he ask?... Gee! Taking the kitty down from the curtains would be nice.
You SCARED her there! Remember! When you jumped up and down, once or twice!
NO! You can't burn the curtains to get her down! Gee! I think he’s MISSING the point!
She’s going to church to light a candle for you… to help you find… a better viewpoint.
Remember, in life… Make love not War. Make Friends! After all… What would Jesus Do?
Kitty is TOO important! I'll read you a fable 'The Lion and the Mouse', after Church, too.
No! He didn't squish the mouse! Sigh! Think harder… THINK! WHAT WOULD JESUS DO!
Hope it's an up hill battle. More likely he'll fly over this hill, between, just me and you!
He LOVES church and after his last visit, they rebuilt the church, which was… assured!
They built our group our own SPECIAL section… Of that, you can definitely, be sure!
The church thought, for a very long time, but with a sigh, they knew…WWJD?!!!
Then prayed some more as they cried, at the thought, of what Dragon could do…
In the end, they built a fireproof room, for no matter what they though, to be true…
They knew Dragon is Gods little lost lamb and that’s just “What Jesus Would DO!’
Happy Easter to You!
WHALING SHIP CAPTAIN"S LOVER part 3
Now Jorgie met a new love
He begged to make her wife
First, they’d fetch her small boy
to start a fresh new life.
So East they went to Minot
To find her cousin there
But when they came to his big house
His smile for them was spare.
The cousin was not happy
To relinquish that fine boy
He said his wife would waste away
Without her greatest joy
And Jorgie, solemn, studied them
The woman and the child &
Wept with great compassion
Her broken heart ran wild.
Determined to do justice
Twas no one she could blame
Jorgie hugged the boy good bye
Her soul in raging flame.
She bid the woman love him
And tell him she was aunt
And with her newfound husband, John,
Departed pale and gaunt.
Now John, he was a good man
Who worshiped his new wife
They agreed to keep a secret
About her former life
And so away the years passed
Son came after son
Jorgie had a fresh life
They built a solid home.
Each month she mailed the letters
To the ‘cousin’ in the west
She parceled up the photos
true siblings in their best
But Sadness haunted Jorgie’s eyes
She tried to hide it well
But her husband knew her---
She had him in her spell.
So sad she was and so forlorn
He needed to confide
To someone who could help him
to cheer his cherished bride.
And so he told his sister
His wife had longed to see
From her past her loved ones---
Her own sweet family.
So sister Lena planned a scheme—
For Jorgie wild and free
the gift would be a great surprise
And John he did agree.
They would take the children
Aboard the westbound train
Jump the train at Minot
To see the boy again.
Wait they must til autumn
For Jorgie twas the best
In May would be a newborn babe
Nuzzling at her breast
Then hit the plague of ‘17
Entire towns were dead—
And in their midst was Jorgie--
With her newborn-- cold, in bed.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: Jorgie : (pronounced Yor’ gee) was a nickname
Her name: Sena Jorgine Larsen
My father’s mother. The baby named Clara. My was nearly 4 when they died. His father, John Anderson—Jorgie’s husband , never remarried. He lived to be in his 70’s. His sister, my great aunt, Lena Anderson Hildebrandt, told me this story in 1971.
PS THERE IS ANOTHER PART TO THIS IF ANYONE WANTS TO READ IT LET ME KNOW. I DON'T WANT TO BORE ANYONE TO DEATH! vat
Do you hear the chimes,
Of the poem’s rhymes,
Also those without rhymes,
How they reflect the times,
The elements of truth within eachofus,
Inspiteofus, trying to getoutofus!!
So that all may see,
Twiddle Dee,
Of the mind, you see!
So poets hold your position,
It is your only opposition,
To a world, in peril,
Love’s knowledge will make it’s stand,
As only love can!
A true poem is truth,
No matter how loose,
Is from truth’s booth,
Don’t try to, up it spruce,
For it is cutting your true potential loose,
From mind control, golden goose!
The spirit of heart,
Will always set the mind apart,
If the mind doesn’t start,
To be a part,
Of love, the heart’s start!
We are in the world,
But not of it’s peril!
The world grossly complex,
They say, too large to fail,
But it’s you and me they quell!
While the economy is sagging,
Many jump on their band wagon!
More tax, is faxed,
To the very max!
But the flop, is throwing money at the top,
Of the tree,
Of the economy,
As they say oh gee,
Taxes are free,
Are you kidding me!
By common nature you see,
To fertilize a tree,
And it is, love’s principle, you see,
A simplicity,
Which is the basis of all, reality,
As in agriculture, they taught me,
You fertilize the bottom of a tree!
But our leaders, you see,
Fertilize the top,
Cause that’s all they got,
Just the mind’s flop,
All this must stop!
They don’t give a flute’s toot,
About the root,
Of the tree,
For that’s you and me!
But the power of the bloom,
Will very soon,
Let the wild branches swoon!
Love is, our intelligent prune,
Let’s don’t be goons!
More taxes, more stress on the root,
That’s such a flute!
If we the people will take it,
Then by more law they will make it!
Meanwhile mind’s theology,
Is running down the leg of we,
The twiddle dee,
Of you and me!
Now we must prune,
Very soon,
Before we bloom!
For the bloom of unrighteous mammon,
Will cause the world great famine!
Like an unrighteous salmon,
Going down the stream man,
Which will spoil the root plan,
Which will not stand,
Being it’s built on the sand!
It’s the top that’s too large,
We must purge!
The wind,
Will begin,
That will topple this tree,
The economy!
Sooner is a bitter, better,
For later is the hater,
Not the lover!
johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
Mosquito Bat
Peering closely, I sought to quickly skim through the online latest news …
True to form, I am a stickler for keeping up with the latest happening news…
Given this internet age and its borderless media reach, there’s always something…
So much to read, so much to keep up to date, just so one’ll be a better man for reading…
Then it happened, even as I was about to scroll the displayed page with the mouse button..
There came a familiar high pitched whine, softly at first but intensifying as its source approaches…
Christ! A blasted mosquito, high tailing in my direction, to my right pinky ear, to be precise…
I froze all motion, rolled and strained my eyeball to squint out of the corner of my right eye…
I saw, at the periphery of my field of vision, the fast approaching obnoxious blood sucker…
Silvery wings furiously beating as it made a bee line to my ear, a beacon for a typical bloody dinner…
Cautiously yet sparing no delay, I reached out for my trusty rechargeable electric mosquito bat…
The offending insect was just about to land, circling in ever tightening circles as I grasped my bat…
Bat upraised in hand, I did a quick head swivel , the dastardly insect was now plain in my sight …
Ah ha, now you are my victim, you stupid little insect! I gloated inwardly as I eyeballed the insect..
Dinner lost, the sudden shift in air movement must have warned this bloodthirsty sucker…
There was a quick change in its flight pattern, it tried to fly out of my vision, tried to flee from danger …
Here, eat this, you bloody miserable ungodly insect! Unhurriedly, almost leisurely, I waved my bat…
Right across the flying path of the fleeing little insect, there was no escape for such was its fate…
A sharp crackle and a quick spark of light, the poor mosquito was no more, no longer in sight…
A plume of whitish smoke, an acrid smell of burnt organic material, yup it was no more alright…
Mentally, I blew across the end of my smoking gun barrel like any swashbuckling vigilante..
Gee, what a lethal combination, me and this rechargeable electric mosquito bat each day…
Got to get a spare, just in case, like my daddy used to say, get ready for a rainy day…
An electric mosquito bat, dear readers, it is a must- have gadget to get, to keep up to date........
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
Wonder not
if my thoughts are thrilled and twisted
daily and deeply by the albums of your ways,
I succumb severely to the impulse of imminent interplay
so dumb with joy, grateful for the fusion of our fevers,
I've never let you leave my mind,
you haven't finished eating your portion of my heart,
there is so much more for you, still in my chest, on my eyes,
I am your rare happiness,
that bare beast of a woman's best distress,
trigger your storm sirens with a single drop of Goodbye,
serve you with the most sensational sadness,
replenish your youth with an admiration that won't die,
knowing that I am not a makeshift man, nor a loyalty within a lie,
that I'll punish your pulse with peppered pleasure
because I can, because I must,
pull your hair just to hear those breaths beg for big flares,
treat the smooth and sweet lascerations of love's lament
butterfly cut into the surface of a girl's search for sincerity,
we get intoxicated on performance of personality,
buzzed beautifully from believing in the addiction of adoration's affliction,
We know we can handle one another's hurt
as warriors bleed hard because they sell themselves the sacrafice,
that we can process history with humor by breaking the shame of blame,
synthesize epiphany with sympathy to nourish symphonies of Divinity
we realize that intensity is the regal implement of our tournament,
I like it when you tell me the tough truths,
that you want to be loved for more than one reason,
that being respected in segments isn't enough,
that he will never be me,
that words can outlast the disappointment of distance,
that the world overwhelms you when you most expect,
that sometimes you'd rather be a heart attack
before being a pretty song or a favorite memory,
I understand your need for absolute affection, absolute attention,
lets allow our love to be confusing, dazzling, on the verge of villainy,
it isn't steady as a sleeping heart beat
or ready for celebration like a " gee wiz " graduation,
it is our Love, and its undefinably volatile and lovely,
Your cosmos gives a question that feeds one answer,
that love is ours, safe in the arms of Armageddon,
I remember the ember of our future
spazing on the hearth of fresh earth,
don't ever miss me Babe, just keep lovin me -
J.A.B.
I adopt dainty etiquette
when quenching thirst or dining
to buzzfeed growling beast
inside me tummy.
The missus requests obedience
raising both my little fingers in the air
upon taking beverage or repast to lips.
Additionally, she also requires I
(well healed husband who toes the line)
perform dance shuffle - think clog
feigning to trip over feet
as if yours truly quaffed to much grog
while balancing atop log.
Miss iz manners re: lee the spouse
sets prime example being lady like,
what with her belching and snorting
of course with mouthful of food
no surprise she nurtured impolite brood
raised on learning language crude
even this Geico caveman exhibits
less coarse attitude,
he likens himself to subdued dude
trying his darnedest (golly gee)
to avoid family feud
general behavior hashtagged as rude
linkedin with antics qualified as lewd
encouraged nsync while
slurping or masticating in the nude,
whereby other body sounds made
unsuitable for strait laced and prude
folks who don't take a fancy hearing
so called uncouth soundclouds exude
out body orifices considered foul,
inapropos and extremely lewd
when unless quarantined in solitude.
One upside of COVID-19
postprandial aural emanations
(all time favorite flatulence)
knows no outward bounds
unless colorectal explosions
register highest magnitude
when measured in concert
with handy dandy
blues clues rattle seismometer
and register courtesy
Richter Scale and the Mercalli Scale
direction and intensity of earthquakes.
Upon experiencing aforementioned prime mate
i.e. the bellowing gal offering herself as ahem
(pardon the double entendre) master bait,
I knew from the get go
Tex-Mex Connection
in North Wales, Pennsylvania
where we shared our first date
(outsize bean burritos)
I tooted my own horn,
she unwittingly got me into checkmate,
just for that her fate got sealed,
when our respective gametes
(ova and sperm cells respectively)
new life we did miraculously create
the first of two female offspring
would become housed in utero
and come to resemble
a spheroid somewhat oblate
even now unnamed counterpart,
(and partner in crime) still swell person
hook hood benefit to lose some weight,
cuz... well adipose freight
quite ample around equator.
Natural soporific narcotic
Recurrent suicidal thoughts
vaingloriously wend along winding road
within windmills of my mind
(o'er a death cab for cutie weeknd)
yakking, yanking, and yawking zeal
becalming this crash test dummy rolling
stone temple pilot inxs
of maroon 5 plus decades long
perdition hellaciously slogging
slow as adam and the ants,
thru fifty shades of gray's
anatomy common weal
masterly baiting this motley crue (cutting),
beatles browed, beastie boy,
foo fighters kickstart new edition
quickening reo speedwagon treadwheel
outre gee (bee) us, grateful dead,
mailer daemons inhabit
cavernous fist size vastness steel
via herbie hancock (hermans hermits)
cheesy munster trap doors that steal,
deep purple swiftly tailored
culture club members squeal
hosted by megadeth
pack rat boston for real
venue at tokyo hotel,
via en grave invitation
signed by alice in chains poison huss kiss
sing, which will spellbind
once contents unveiled,
an instant jane's addiction peal
immediately choking off air supply
then alice cooper egging bad company
to hypnotize the guess who sacrificial meal
supplanting raw
primal scream from spinal tap
acquiescing self to abandon all hope,
especially if black sabbath joins
creedence clearwater revival
dark shadows would demand one
(to take a knee) and kneel
before sacrificing oneself
at the beck and call
of evanescent nirvana
experiencing permanent relief,
sans soul (twisted) sister riding a hansom
off phish hull heart shaped coffin
ample room enough for blind
melon collie 10,000 maniacs,
their healing powers profusely emanating
via m&m shaped talking heads
methinks averring obeisance
to judas priest and hooters
with metallica linkedin with mötley crüe
coldplay feeling of eternal sleep,
where quiet pussy riot
joins carpenters, whose underground
bunker with golden arches
resembles empyreal
heavenly vault wreathed soundgarden
with electric light orchestra
sepulchral crowded house indicative
cynthesis iz done on a green day,
whereat dizzy gillespie afterlife deal
and you bet your sweet bippy meme,
an extra bonus for orthodox believers
(absent myself - a skeptic),
whose karma credit Suisse
with long deceased meatloaf
with soul asylum and heart to anele!
(while trapped in Pottstown
Memorial Hospital parking lot).
My humble apology to those,
who posted uber up lyft ting messages
to this Macbook Pro Facebook keeper,
without said scrivener swiftly
tailoring timely acknowledgement
from one harried styled leaper,
thus feel free to take
leguminous litigious licorice flavor
flav can deed extra-legal
imprisonment against my liberty,
(though catty, I am pusillanimous,
sans feline nine lives cheaper
by the dozen), plus verbally ejaculating
out gee golly jeeper,
or more pointedly
calling me a mother f****** bleeper,
for seeming to appear unresponsive
as a stale petrified marshmallow peeper,
and yes quite understandable
bitcoin torrents of rage runs deeper
than a blockchain though close call,
yet just lemme explain,
how during my most recent sleeper
state, a clear as bell curve
living dream nearly
saddened Matthew Scott Harris as,
cuz he got subject to grim news, viz
inducing him (yours truly) to become
deceased within a split second,
upon dropping to sleep
while all around, an
inconsolable weeper
wept sorrowful seas,
more so those family,
and facebook friends
many fine companions
linkedin thru Internet
invaluable cherished persons as keeper,
but believe this secular humanist,
he, who (honest to dog)
unexpectedly subsequently got engrossed
with the grim reaper,
discussing local, current (national), global,
and cosmic events, superficial,
and/or somewhat deeper
(topics oh...and as a non sequitur
d'ya know the name of original
Glen Elm occupants are named Leiper),
anyway Xmas universally
renowned throughout space
yes, jolly saint nick with his farout trappings
topped off with electronic digital beeper,
yepper siree he gets touted,
lauded, and celebrated be
leave ving with whatever
dogmatic faith hen knee
dear rabbit reddit reader doth embrace,
or perhaps being atheist like me,
(albeit I most likely appear
as somewhat highlee
beatle browed from across the universe),
nonetheless, whether er rather,
when still alive this chap aimed to - dee
light, enlighten, and playfully
frighten alien nations
(even those pizza peace loving
inhabitants resembling free
ranging gregarious teenage
ninja mutant turtles)
coming out their shells with glee.
Now, the other day Dragon over heard it said that, eventually, we all must die.
Now remember he is only 2 years old, and suddenly he’s worried about me, sigh!
Yes, my hair is gray, and yes, my old bones do creak, but I have more left in me…
I’ll be here tomorrow, and be your Mama, for a while, this I know, Trust me!
He continued to fret, so I explained the cycle of life, but said I’m not dead, YET!
Now he wanted to know… if he could go with me… when I eventually leave…
So I told him as my Dragon, if he truly wanted to go… he could leave with me…
But why should he want to go… if I am in Heaven, looking down for him, to see.
For I will be the brightest star, watching him, endlessly… I will never leave…
But he is rather smart, for a 2 year old to be, so how can he remain alive, you see?
He was born from my imagination so, he ask: How, oh how, will he survive?
Not to worry, I did say… for I’ll put you in a series of books, to keep you alive.
He didn’t understand, and fretted and cried, still some more, how could he survive?
When on a shelf in some old dusty store, how could he ever truly, be truly alive?
I said, by the imagination of those who read that book, he’d survive, truly, indeed!
For people are all made up, of all the past experiences and all that they do read.
What Mama wouldn’t want to keep your book, to read to their, own sweet children?
Or I can make you magic, if you want, to travel the world… you’ll be just like Merlin.
Then you can visit every country and town, in every language, known everywhere.
At that he stopped his crying and fretting, but the hiccups didn’t leave, with the tears.
So I got out some paper bags, and said Breathe… Dragon… Slowly… Breathe…
But darned if he didn’t light them all afire, until I ran out of bags with his last sneeze.
I realized the hiccups were getting worse, but Grandpa Troll said not to worry, at all…
He said…You’re favorite color is blue, isn’t it? And you think ice is as cool as fire?
Well, don’t worry! Shortly, any moment now! He’s about to be able to throw ICE!
What, Oh What, has my imagination done… How do you deal with ice?
My Oh My! Suddenly, I felt like a deer caught…In The Headlights!
Gee, with Dragon it seems, there’s always going to, be Another Surprise!