Long Gobs Poems
Long Gobs Poems. Below are the most popular long Gobs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gobs poems by poem length and keyword.
One night while stargazing, Dragon and I, got to see a falling star… descend.
I thought that would be great, so I told him he could make a wish on them…
But Dragon’s are really quite unique, and don’t always think, like you and me.
No, NOT at all! And you should believe, things began to unravel, immediately:
About to make that wish… He realized the moon descends every night.
And the sun descends, like the moon… every single day, at every Twilight.
Becoming horrified that so many wishes had gone by him, totally unused!
He decided to wish upon the star, that all past wishes, can now come, to be used.
There is logic here, I think, as Dragon hordes things; he’d do it with wishes, too.
When I tried to explain, that’s not how wishes work, they have to be rare and few.
With falling stars, it has to come from one, that came to ground, willing to share.
Now Dragon is a stubborn thing and decided, I wanted them all for myself, to snare.
He stomped his foot, as the 2 year old he is, crying he didn’t want to share not one.
So I patiently explained that there are bigger stars everywhere, bigger than our sun!
He was sure I’d done him wrong and had lied, after all, his eyes are very keen.
The bigger, the better, and our sun was the biggest thing, that he had ever seen!
It’s brightness has gobs of power, in fact, I’d said it powers all the Earth, he recalled.
So its wish couldn’t be small… he said it’s not nice, to not share, with him at all.
Now a tantrum was about to ensue, from our 2 year old who’d skipped his nap.
And don’t forget he’s a Dragon, too! It wasn’t a good idea to fall into this trap!
Some things are better to not go through. Why fight the battle, if you can stop the war?
In the end I took that wish… and wished I’d never took him on that wishful tour.
You know what? I did find that peace finally came back and did preside, in a wink.
As I got his blankie for his bed, and tucked him in so nice and neat, I paused to think.
Next year would be a better time, to view the meteor showers, after we both have…
A well-deserved nap. Don’t you think? When he’s a tad more grown up, I did add…
Besides my wishes, in the past, have served me well, as they brought him here to me.
And I ’d need one more wish this year, to help him when flying… to not hit the trees!
who felt incorporeal storied power
of Herman Melville as zen unseen aid
instructing hypothetic rich kid to drop out of school
before his/her first grade
coz of all the money he/she made
which affected modus operandi rendered obsolete
child worker laws
and no sweat of brow getting paid
people used bitcoin (or other online currency)
additionally making purchases
with scant keystrokes to complete a trade.
As with any major dramatically novel scheme
light bulb idea scribbled on napkin
scrap of paper
via cheesy or whipped cream
originating as a flash in the pan
aha eureka moment, or dream
as rough blue print subsequently
underwent beta testing,
before declaring pc innovation supreme
whereby outstanding persons in the tech industry
clamored to join Kidde team.
Whether seventh day add vent
hissed or other religious creed
powerful binary processing
impacted near
earth shaking incarnation indeed
and ramifications in all walks
and talks of life sought expert need.
Coven chanting children murmured Luddites be damned!
Thus spake Zarathustra (cue the opening scene
from Planet of the Apes)
upon witnessing as if king or queen
(in reality father or mother)
didst get immediately
dethroned thus, increasing mean
average positive
effects on society, especially lean
microchip i.e. integrated circuitry
miniaturization "green"
technology (and eventual
attendant affordable price)
viz said trappings
unleashed upon global market
invited absolute zero dust, a must clean
as a whistle work space,
and manufacturers laboratory be microbe free
hermetically sealed vacuumed "clean".
Countless portable machines
unbeknownst soon epithet florid hack
coining impromptu called cyber crime
especially as majority proportion of population
didst purchase these dime,
a doze in countless "end users"
snapped up these smart machines
excitedly keyed away indifferent to gunk
on unwashed hands
plus bits of food particles
eventually caking hardware with grime
(eventually necessitating technician
charging gobs of moolah
sans to unstitch in time.
Anyone can write…
and drown in their self-delusions;
from persons into personifications
lists of passions, glorify self's illusions;
down those lists,
most veiled by incomprehension
one's passion is most often expressed
as the byproduct,
of misconstrued personal emotions;
therefore, in these briefs that follow
rest some seeds for those
whose mental fields lay perpetually fallow…
Xenocrates, his gods being unity and duality
i.e. episteme, aisthesis, and doxa
are lost to US,
by rue of epistemonike aisthesis;
Mersenne's numbers,
to Eratosthenes' sieve
Erd?os' factorization,
and Archimedes' constant conceived;
Holy vowels expressions!
Great Gobs of Goose shite, please!
release US from this context,
relieve this tumultuous tease;
probe Bertrand's Postulate,
exposing your thinking's
prime numbers seized;
however shallow, and wordless
your tongue tied thoughts do concede…
so many things are above me,
so many more lay beneath
my scratching, itching, and twitching
these are reminders of my simpleton's grief…
in this fiat before me
on these issues held, and in my beliefs
that my mind is much more
than the street corner tavern's
proverbial hat rack…
now that's a relief!
What is it within US?
that sullen darkness and introversion hides
those snide daily reminders
the eclipse of the sun
and or a debutante's swoon
a cheap parlour tricks wonder
or that pin-striped baboon's face
we each express as we howl at the moon…
Excuse me this meandering
but, it is my gut busting chortle
you now so surely conceive
that this little snippet from our dear William
does so help you believe
that we all live this one time
so as ourselves, do profoundly achieve
what your inquisitive conscience
exposes as your life's
most constant semibreve…
['Think of this life; but, for my single self,
I had as lief not be as live to be
In awe, of such a thing, as I myself.']
in conclusion of
this bit of confusion
do infuse this allusion
as your daily transfusion
of the smack of illusion
and the sole, blithe, transformational revolution
now necessary for your mindset's
ever changing and ongoing mental de-evolution.
We gave Johnny a gun and a uniform
Trained him to kill, in a regiment conform
Sent him deep into Vietnam jungles warm
With little regard to how we did him harm
So certain we knew what we joined to fight for
We were shipped off to fight an unwinnable war
A war of "containment," unlike those before
Mothers screamed, fathers wept, siblings ached to the core
By parachute dropped to a ghastly death scene
Johnny ached for the life left behind, so serene
His family, fiance did not know what war means
Especially the haunting of lost children's screams
Those of us who survived thought we'd just done our jobs
We returned and were shamed by violent gobs
Of silver-spoon white kids in hate-spewing mobs
Spat-on and welcomed as baby-killer slobs
No heroes welcome would await these young men
No ticker-tape parades were staged for them
Just jeers from crowds, uncaring government
Greeted the lonely Vietnam Veteran
Too classy and noble to demand our fair share
We lay in that shabby old hospital there
In a closet-sized room with no visitors' chair
Understaffed, underfunded, with short-handed care
The "benefits" they found would astound all now
And it leaves one to wonder how our hallowed ground
Would be filled with unnamed graves of men once proud
Before the rows of white crosses we should bow
Our Wailing-Wall stands now in Washington, D.C.
So shiny but black, a telling-tale of the fee
We have paid for our nation, our land of the free
Will you come pay respects? Will you not at last see?
Some veterans still suffer disgraceful neglect
So please explain who more deserves our respect
Let us pause with angelic choirs and genuflect
To show gratitude as on this Wall we reflect
Friends, Dane Ann is among those who served in the army during the Vietnam war and is
now recovering from long-overdue hip surgery performed at an old VA hospital in
Gainesville, Florida. Thank you for your prayers on her behalf. Many thanks
to Tim Ryerson, another Vietnam veteran, for joining me in this write.
frankly zapped after wildly oscillating
in tandem with seven bobble heads and ten French horns)
a devilish trumpeting event
by pre-Christian Celtic festival standards
with a “proto” Don twick or tweeting
like a Taj Mahal wonder of webbed, wide world scout
Samhain celebrated on nightfall of October 31
for bachanalia, candy corn, dreaded locks tot tout.
Now, the Celts I met lived 2,000 years ago
in the area now Ireland,
the United Kingdom and northern France,
believed that the dead,
cuz the underworld could not tolerate nor find stand
ding room, thus returned to earth on Samhain –
accessing a outdated map drawn by Rand McNally.
Though all roads leading to Rome,
would be millenniums as future did advance
but (mentioned for no particular rhyme nor reason)
only for discordant anachronism
Lewis Carroll took a tumble,
and neither fat nor slim chance,
would never find him completing Alice in Wonderland,
cuz quite an expanse
of centuries extant between his accidental slip
somewhere back in time at a glance
hence, he befell the same fate,
how Alice would never en hance
her life, yet the first stanza hailed
as powerful punch from grunting naked tribesman
with armstrong brandishing big lance
which phallic symbol extolled bare necessity,
and no need to wear seer sucker pants
even when inaugurating the ritual, including the verse
..."The time has come," the Walrus said
"To talk of ma ny things:
Of shoes--and ships--and sealing-wax--
Of cabbages--and kings--
And why the sea is boiling hot--
And whether pigs have wings."...
set the listeners in a trance
emptying coffers of bipedal feral simians to add vance
this yearly practice filling rucksacks
with berries, carrion and twigs.
Whether ya favor Golem, Hobgoblins, or Dybyk,
take pause buffer ja pour out massed goodies heck
enjoy satiating yar sweet tooth while still able to lick
every morsel of junk food afterwards a tooth pick
might be necessary to remove gobs that didst stick
analogous to tallow melted from candle wick.
I’ve gone through several dragons;
each one had to leave.
They’d discovered gifts and talents,
to make their lives complete.
Musicians, sculptors, chefs and more;
have trained within my home.
Once offered the chance to go, “Pro”;
they went right out the door.
And so, I searched for a dragon;
it took me quite awhile.
But, it was so important that,
I find the right one, with style.
When I finally found one,
and brought him to my home;
it wasn’t long till I found out;
he loved ice cream cones.
Eventually he worked up;
to fifteen cones, a day.
It was getting quite expensive;
he even swiped one from our pup!
“That was rude”, I told him;
“You had one of your own”.
So much ice cream, he did eat,
he was no longer slim.
If he began eating banana splits;
he’d weigh a million pounds;
so we told him, to get any,
he’d have to pay ten cents an ounce.
His ice cream face just melted,
into the biggest pout;
elephant tears welled up
and he acted like he’d been pelted.
The next day, he left the house,
we thought he’d gone for good.
Mid-day he came flying in,
he was wearing a new blouse.
Said he’d gotten a new part-time job,
driving an ice cream truck;
it was clear that dragon,
would probably eat up gobs.
At least he’d planned to earn it;
so we would not go broke.
The next day he arrived in his own truck;
in one day, a driver’s license, he’d gotten.
Three days later he came home,
and admitted he’d been fired.
He owed the truck’s company;
for a load of missing ice cream cones!
Crying big old elephant tears, he handed us a bill.
Six thousand dollars worth of ice cream, he ate;
he couldn’t pay them off, he feared.
We agreed to pay them, for him but,
he’d have to work it off.
And he’d have to give up ice cream cones;
his face was, oh so grim.
Though it took a miracle,
he managed to succeed;
but, giving up his ice cream cones,
came not without a price.
Now, he’s hooked on pickles!
The wrecking ball long since
demolished boyhood house zen
located at 324 Level Road,
a once rural residence,
which soulful yen
I called home
since February 28th, 1968, when
Boyce and Harriet Harris
(my octogenarian
widower father, a transplanted urban
cowpoke father, and late outskirts
of poker flats mother) than
experienced livingsocial in the country,
cuz aforesaid domain didst span,
and encompass,
one hundred plus acre estate
listed in national register
as "Glen Elm", where ran
woodland surrounding a golden pond
favored by Canadian Geese,
but under game plan
of commercial developer Donald Neilson
(a tall lumbering
"all business no play doh" man
blueprints drafted for
an army of vinyl city
exemplifying Little boxes
on the hillside ditty
Little boxes made of ticky tacky...gritty
material upending wildlife refuge,
ah...what a pity
yet, impossible to stop industrialization,
the das capital way
spurring thy preferential longing
for nature preservation oye vey,
and to make a million bucks in USA
if land left off limits
for propertied class today
then in the near future,
an aggressive builder will sashay
confirming prophecy
scooping up gobs of profit
out maneuvering competition
analogous to a marathon relay
race quickly witnessing little boxes
to sprout all the same
by construction workers,
who hammer away,
nailing steady income,
viz all work and no play,
who maxim eyes
American middle class dream
asper buying affordable home
after acquiring a mortgage to outlay
their limited choice sans, may
be there's a green one and a pink one
and a blue one and yellow one, how zing
free enterprise, and they're
all made out of ticky tacky
held together on a wing
and prayer they all look
Saddie was alone.
The only child in a family who did not like children.
It was tough at first, but when she turned three, she
Discovered a magic tunnel beneath the underside of her mattress.
She could get to it if she slid
under the bed, and
Yelled, “I love this bed!”
This is how she
Accidentally discovered
Fantab-ulific-land.
FUL for short.
FUL had gobs of interesting things to
Do. You could play monopoly with the
Gorillas, but if they won, they always gave
You a slobbery open-mouthed kiss, so Saddie
Had only done this once.
FUL was a place where you could eat chocolate
Peppermint cookie ice cream, until your belly
Ached, so Saddie only did that once too.
FUL was rapidly changing according to the
Child’s taste. In the beginning, there were preschool
Type activities – playdough, aluminum foil crowns,
But as Saddie got older, FUL got older.
Preschool activities were rapidly replaced with
Bike rides down an enormous hill. At the bottom
Stood Mr. Semi, a truck that loaded all of the bikes
Into his box, and took them back up the hill for you.
At FUL, this is how you got back to the top of the
Hill. Winged monkeys snatched you up, letting
You scream and shriek, and act horrified.
They delighted you with silly jokes, finally
Dumping you onto a silver trampoline
Next to your bike. FUL was the most
Interesting, exciting place in the world
For a child.
Saddie had been warned by FUL that if she ever
Told anybody about FUL, FUL would disappear.
So she kept FUL to herself until her own children
Thought they had monsters under their bed.
Then she told them the stories about FUL,
And her own children began sliding under their
Beds, and yelling, “I love this bed!”
As far as I know, two of her children
Never found FUL, and the other
Child has been missing
Since his last slide
Under
The
Bed.
Written 4-27-18
For the Tunnel Vision Contest
by Kai Michael Neumann
Thirty-one packs of chewing gum,
Clutter up my drawer,
And thirty-one times thereafter,
I forgot thirty-one times more,
And bought thirty-one times yet again
Seems somehow I found
Thirty-one more times,
I had thirty-one more such a yen...
This went on for thirty-one more months,
Till thirty-one drawers were jammed
Tried to open them thirty-one times apiece,
And thirty-one times closed they slammed
Not only thirty-one drawers overpacked,
But thirty one over heated summer days,
Made thirty-one globs,
Of thirty-one pounds of sticky glaze
With thirty one times prying
With thirty-one different sized crow bars...
Thirty-one hours of trying....
Could have far easier
Gone thirty one times to Mars....
But now thirty-one stringly spidery strands
Of thirty one thousand gummy stringy drawer glands
My kitchen is inaccessible
I've tried thirty one hundred times
With thirty-one ever increasing sized
Machetes, and thirty one ever
More dificult rhymes
So I sent away for thirty one extra large
Gummy-Bears,
Thinking for sure thirty-one ways they knew,
How to fight their way with thirty one set of claws,
And make way for me or you
But what I found out after thirty-one deliveries
Of thirty-one huge Gummy Bears,
Each Thirty-one dollars and
Thirty-one sets of change
And thirty-one shipping and handling
Charges, and this was really strange
My thirty -one huge Gummy Bears
Each melted in the kitchen too
Making thirty one more tons of
Thirty-one sticky gobs of goo
So I sealed off my kitchen
with thirty-one tons of bricks,
In honor of Mr. Poe,
And just to get my kicks,
I placed a Cask of Amontillado
It's seepage made me lick my lips...
Now I Barbeque on the patio,
In the heat, or in the snow...
Scrambled eggs a bit tricky,
But better than that sticky
Thirty-one varieties
Of thirty one tons
Of sticky goo
Gettin' all over my thirty-one
Inch "buns".
And in a pinch reluctantly talk to yours truly,
a very reformed Jew rarely attends Synagogue,
(he who cannot be named) hails from Prague
offtimes provides a wonderful monologue,
whereby his eloquence usually finds me agog.
Propinquity between scribe
of Schwenksville (Pennsylvania)
heavily shuns engaging in diatribe
loathes bombastic, egotistic,
imperialistic, narcissistic, terroristic...
zealot trumpeting art of the deal
if necessary even coaxing bribe.
I would be up to the task and not averse
to extemporize unless stage fright did curse
ambition to chat up intellectual conversation
and/or solemnly soliloquizing regarding
recent deceased driven away courtesy hearse
(yup another coronavirus/COVID-19 statistic)
despite heroic measures
exerted by selfless nurse,
whose tears trickled down flushed cheeks,
while her lips she did purse
methinks she wondered if pandemic
would get worse.
Oratorical predilections quake
these lovely bones, which at lxii ache
after lugging a load of Bananas
after me and the missus did betake
ourselves to purchase said fruit at Landis
(841 Gravel Pike, Schwenksville, PA 19473).
The main rhyming reason
for jaunt at aforementioned market
unquenchable thirst for riches to slake
aware improbable odds winning powerball
nevertheless bought two tickets,
fat and/or slim chance reality would wake
one average dirt poor Joe Biden his time.
A lofty song Enya doth sing
plying her lilting heavenly voice
titled "Marbled Halls"
for no rhyme nor reason came to mind,
perhaps momentarily fantasizing
how gobs of moolah tickle me fancy,
although the lyrics strongly in apropos
especially opening line -
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side...