Long Gimme Poems
Long Gimme Poems. Below are the most popular long Gimme by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gimme poems by poem length and keyword.
(Papa’s got ‘is gun on you)
When I was young my ma said ta me
“yer gonna meet a man an’ be his bride”
Now whoever thought that YOU would be
So lucky as to be my pride?
Gimme a kiss, gimme a hug
We’z gonna git hitched cuz we’z in luv
Don’t try ta run an’ don’t try ta hide
Cuz papa’s got ‘is gun on you (whoa whoa)
Ya won’t really gain cuz I got a ball-n-chain
Wrapped around yer purdy little toe (whoa whoa)
Don’t tell me maybe
gonna make us some babies
An’ papa’s got ‘is gun on you
Now I’m spit shined an’ spiffied up
To go traipsin’ down that aisle of furever
Say them words, say ‘em loud ‘nuff to be heard
Ya know, for worse or for better? (wutever)
Gimme a kiss, gimme a hug
We’z gonna git hitched cuz’ we’z in luv
Don’t try ta run an’ don’t try ta hide
Cuz papa’s got ‘is gun on you
…Now three days later
I’m still waitin’ at the altar
Yer a slick one I should say
You said you just needed ta step outside
This was an awful time to take a ride
I wish you’d come back an’ make me yer bride
Cuz papa’s got ‘is gun on you
I wish you’d come back cuz I miss ya hun,
Papa’s already reloadin’ his gun
And I’m in tears cuz this aint no fun
(I’ve never waited this long for anyone!)
Gimme a kiss, gimme a hug
We’z gonna git hitched cuz we’z in luv
Don’t try ta run an’ don’ try ta hide
Cuz papa’s got ‘is gun on you.
Form:
Gettin’ it together and puttin’ on my blues.
Gotta get my belt, put a shine on mah shoes.
Walkin’ in the door and doin’ mah thing.
Listen to the tops and hear the phone ring.
Your hair is too long, your pants are too short.
Gotta wake ‘em up get ‘em ready for court.
Time to check your Z’s (paper work),
While your at the door.
Thinkin’ to myself that tops is a bore.
210, 420 (paper work), laying low.
Got-ta get mah money from the money ho.
Inmate throwin’ s**t, I gotta go.
Here come the tops puttin’ on a show.
Do this do that,
Daily things a changin’
Standin’ and a listnin’
I’m a boilin’ and a raging.
Gimme some soap and gimme toilet paper.
Feeling the pain, Inmates a baby raper.
Gotta gat cause that was where its at.
Robbed the store swung a baseball bat.
Fillin’ mah need, mah homie is a rat.
Got da gold in mah mouth and the bud in mah hand.
2 weeks I been runnin’ from the man.
Finally got caught sittin’ and in the pen.
My moms a crying said her boys a sin.
And now I listen to all you got to say,
A spittin’ and complainin’.
Want a brighter day…
I say:
Do just what is right, step back avoid the fight.
Drop the bud and drop the bat, It’ll be a better night.
Why yah gotta prove a man in the hood.
Moms want you to stay alive and
Do just what you should.
And what about your son?
(Most nights at work all the inmates do is rap and talk about how special they are and how great their life was on the street.
I became fed up with all that mess and wanted to put them in their places...
After I wrote and rapped this, (spit sixteen) the whole group of inmates became quiet!
It was the most quietest night and peaceful night I ever had at work... PR
So Is "RAP" poetry?)
Ya know baby you're usually right
Center cut, intherace, that's your place
On target, red carpet, gotomarket
Hittin' the bull's eye, 'n baby, I'm your guy
Smack-Dab babe
Like the Nile, you flow the right way
Like Carlyle, know what ta say
With you, I'm okay
If ever I'm off and stray
Grab meaway, gimme a jab
Baby, that's Smack-Dab
You're like Ophelia, Antonin Scailia, multimedia, memorabilia
Honey, you're KarmannGhia! Oh, callmea cab
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
You're Lash La Rue, Peggy Sue, Scooby Doo, Mister Magoo
Honey, You're Super Glue! Wow! Back to the lab
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
You're so sure
We're at that stage, we needa sage
Honey, you're the rage!
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
You're like Al Gore, Dorothy Lamour, Dinah Shore, Za Za Gabor
Honey, you're no bore! Ain't never drab
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
You're so fab
Fit as a fiddle, Nelson Riddle, heat upthe griddle
Honey, you're in the middle!
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
You're Buster Crabbe, Colin McNab, take a stab, my bar tab
Honey, you're my rehab! Ah, the gift a gab
Baby, you're Smack-Dab
While it's true only you I adore
I really oughtta tell you more
Baby, Imma big time loser, a simple fleck
Honey, you're a sure winner, a stacked deck
You're my Madonna, only one I wanna
Someday you'll get rings 'n things
For now your praises, it's me who sings
I'd rope a Picasso with my trusty lasso
Ya know I'd buyeth, if I saw a good Wyeth
Honey, you're the latest 'n the greatest
Baby, that's Smack-Dab
Gimme a break from the long day at work.
A piece of mind that doesn't fly by soon as it starts.
Not of discrimination but of a demanding boss.
Time but a snap of a bar.
Gimme a break from negative interpretation.
In terms of being under appreciated.
A smile that encourages the rest of the day to come that much faster.
The commercial before we continue our regular scheduled programming.
Gimme a break before our stature completely seperates.
If only for a moment.
To savor a taste stumbled upon in bulk.
Complex in the pieces we give of ourselves.
Chocolate covered us wrapped in orange.
Fully appreciated in standout appearance.
The smile brought to my mouth.
I guess I'm what one would call a "Chocoholic"
I make trips to Wockenfuss Candies more than the average guy.
I wish I could only go on Valentine's Day, but I just can't help myself.
I'm a life-long sweet tooth, you see.
Old habits die hard for a sweet tooth!
I love me some Candy apples, not to mention, Kit Kat bars!
Never mind the jingle perennially stuck in my head...
"Gimme a break, gimme a break,
break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar!"
Yeah, I eat more of them than I should. They're sinfully good!
But I plan on cutting down considerably
while I still have most of my teeth!
Oh, I know my wife would be much happier!
Seriously, I'm amazed I'm not diabetic yet
I'm baffled I have no cavities
But I know my luck will eventually run out,
If I don't stick to my New Year's resolution
to eat less candy! Enough is enough.
After all these years, I can still smile
without covering my mouth? Hosanna!
My Obsession Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Regina Mcintosh
Date written: 03/28/2021
so goes one mo day as i watch the going on in my city,i adapt to the way of life and work with
what God gimme.using my art to uplift and inspire through my words,some of the most insane
poetry your ears have ever heard.how can i go wrong if it pleases my heart when i do it so it
gets me through my day,so i must spend it wise as one mo goes by. so what will i do as one
mo day goes by,i'll be doing something maybe writing a rhyme,that people will learn to
enjoy over a period of time.so as one mo day goes by i'm trying to make it count,capture
the ears of my viewers and listeners as well with every bounce,as one mo day goes by.
Form:
I am a child of God
I no longer drink from the bottle
I eat meat now that I’ve grown more in Him
Pass the plate gimme some more of them greens and beans please
I am a child of the King
My Father allows me too drink of His wine
Though I won’t indulge to drunk
I’m just drinking from His Holy cup
I am a child of thee Spirit
Of a Holy, Holy winds
Floating, enduring, flying
I am embraced in the wind
Holy Spirit come right on in
I am a child of Lamb
Wooly Wholly Lamb
No need to cut the fleece
I am complete being a HOLY Lamb of God
I no longer drink from the bottle
I eat vegetable now that I’ve grown more in Him
Pass the plate gimme some more of them greens and beans please
3/18/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
Forwarding Address
by Odin Roark
Don’t forget to make out the postal card
‘Cause when you’re there
You’ll want all those
Parcels
Mail
Flyers
New phone books
And the precious junk mail
You’ll take your body
That burden you carry about
Of noticeable change
Avoiding mirrors
The one
Whose insides
Woven between brittle bones
Know muscle atrophy
Blood vessel collapse
Bowels contraction-in-waiting—again
Kidneys dreading more martinis
Heart and lungs wondering
WTF gimme some air
Some living blood
Et al
But still
You’ll drag your weary ass
Down the walk
Lick your lips
Open the lid
And voila
Postbox full of…yeah
Junk mail
Just like the good ol’ days
Back at the house
Before the damn retirement scam
Got your attention
C’mon
At least the complex has postboxes galore
What would it be like
With no daily stroll
To check for a card
A letter
A brown-wrapped gift?
It’d be like
The final reality
No need for
A forwarding address
Ever again
ANACREONTIC (MY EPIGRAM TO FUNMI)
Ode to ¹"Oluwafunmilayo",
Gimme reckless & endless "²ayo",
More limitless & restless valor
bcos "³ní lé mi wà báyo",
Safe all the drama & "àló",
Let's make love from bed to parlor
and ecstasy slit deep like razor.
Crown forbades sorrow when "°¹adébáyo",
Your joy is welcomed by "°²AdéDáyo",
Dithyrambic passion, "°³je ká sayo",
Ravel in this forever realm.
Anacreontic, ode to the Queen FM.
Syntax: ¹Oluwafunmilayo`(name) - God gives me joy; ²ayo` - joy; ³ní lé mi wà báyo` - in my house you'll meet joy; àló - story/tale; °¹adébáyo` - crown meets joy; °²AdéDayo`(name) - Crown turns joy; °³je ká sayo` - let's have fun.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}.
Form: Rhyme Sonnet.
Copyright© April 2021.
THAT I MAY REST IN PEACE
As I sat calmly under the tent
Even though we don't know who's next
But the deceased had left
But the memories are in our hearts in bold crest
Saw young and old dressed in black to mourn the dead.
Without call the dead has brought under same canopy both friends and fiends
Just to pay last respect to the life that hit untimely end
Everyone running errands the dead never sent them
Old friends reuniting while new enmity igniting
Friends and folks from far and wide
Here they are wining and dining .
Lemme make a call to my friends and enemies
I've got a life now worth living
Even when I don't plan early exit but who knows when it will be time for leaving
Share no souvenirs after earthing me when you can gimme me gift in my happy days
Save the black wear for another, rather take a colourful pictures with me while still here
Call me out for drinks and never wait till my breath is on the brink
Call me to report me to me maybe we can trash our issues
Rather than lie to the world when I already know the truth in my grave
Temme you hate me to my face before you tell me to rest in peace after my demise
Bring milk to my seek bed before you fight for meat at my after internment party.
Gimme me cake on my birthday before you fake your cry on my burial day
Make a party for me when I can join to dance and not when I'm earthed six feet below
I'd rather have you be late to my party than being an organizer when I'm called late
Shower the love and praises on me while i am alive
Not the encomiums heaped upon my grave
Temme my errors now before I cross to the land of horrors
Where your deeds are shown before me in a mirror
Let my picture grace your phone with kisses and not with hisses and disses when I'm deceased
Do these for me with you I plead
All these I plead with my heart from thee
Just that I may rest in peace in my after life.
(CONCEPTUAL FM ???)