Long Good riddance Poems
Long Good riddance Poems. Below are the most popular long Good riddance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Good riddance poems by poem length and keyword.
Bring on the rejection slips and/or lost wager
Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt poor offspring privileged as prodigal son
pockets bursting with legal tender,
where just yesterday I had none.
All polite declinations
strung together would circle...
(fill in the blank)
matter of fact, I just got a slew of them
today June 9th, 2020, what a lucky man
me haint an idealist...,
but winning poetry (writing) contest
or purchasing lottery tickets...
yeah, nothing butta pipe dream
such improbable whimsical notion
linkedin and tantamount
with milkmaid and pail
Aesop pose fabulous incredulous solution
finally good riddance
hand to mouth existence
hello riches, perchance a dollop
and/or sizable windfall courtesy
drawn PowerBall and/or Mega Million ticket
whereby yours truly suddenly
cursed with chump change,
and/or abundant money
would experience "fifteen minutes of fame"
flush with friends and relatives
I (a misanthrope) never knew existed
(perhaps even marriage proposition,
no matter wedded bliss prevails)
interesting... how moderate
and/or substantial wealth
suddenly finds chock a block
acquisitions (regarding brand new automobile,
custom designed house,
travel opportunities galore
(maybe even vacation to Mars)
(despite coronavirus - COVID -19) prevalence,
nevertheless awareness viz immutability altering
pubescent stunted emotional, physical
and social development
profusely sweating hands, social anxiety
all the while knowing money
can't buy happiness,
yet once and for all at long last
free and clear of grinding poverty
cuz groveling along
the pockmarked highway
avails countless exit ramps
plethora of choices
how to be analogous to jolly Roger
piloting immense ship of state
(approximating size of Rhode Island)
equipped with the latest trappings
matter of fact replete
with every creature comfort
analogous to rich
self sufficient independent country
allowing, enabling, and providing
a warm welcome - think unfurled
Harris tweed Scottish welcome mat.
Meanwhile somewhere in Schwenksville,
Pennsylvania resident
(within apartment B44)...
tenant fritters precious time wishfully thinking
(luxuriant life within theoretical leisure class)
finding this nameless scrivener
invariably hoisting himself by his own petard.
3 strikes…you’re out!
I’ve given you way too many chances…
Do you expect more?
You left me empty-handed… your insufficiency advances…
3 strikes…you’ve ran out of chances
But I’m kind enough to buy you some more
Or maybe I have some in store
You’ve pushed it to the limits
I’M TELLIN’ YOU TO QUIT IT
When you throw your tantrums… your foolish fits
I’m tellin’ you to lay off of me…
You treated me like dirt and grime
You have only one last chance…
Will you stop acting irrationally?
Don’t screw it up this time…
3 strikes…GET out of my sight
Get out of my life – there’s the front door
You’re killin’ me with your insanity
3 strikes… don’t pout!
Could you JUST leave me alone tonight?
I’ve given you a bunch of options,
But you were heedless of my vanity…
You’ve tortured me with your profanity
You’ve punctured me with your
lies and your brutality
You’ve defeated me with your
nightmarish reality
Why do you hunger for my agony?
3 strikes…there’s no way out
Of your devious trap…
You’re blaming me for your downfalls
3 strikes…good riddance…get out!
You’ve never answered my calls,
So just desert me…
Let me escort you to the front door
Leave me alone…I don’t love you anymore
You’ve really tried my patience
I’m tellin’ you to leave me be…
You still don’t listen to me – I want you to flee
I want you to be set free
Get out of heart…
Get out of my house…
Get out of my head…
Get out of my life!
You’re the magnet of strife
You’ve invited corruption in my life
It strangles me like a thick rope around my neck
It stabbed me like a butchering knife…
You’re so heartless and pathetic…you’re a wreck
I’m tellin’ you to bother someone else, you lunatic
You have lost your only chance,
You repulsive prick
3 strikes…you’ve got no luck
I’ve given you escape routes and you weren’t grateful –
You don’t even say, “Thank you” for all of the things I do for you
3 strikes…
YOU SNOOZE. . . YOU LOSE. . .
Are you still a ruthless soul?
You’re hanging by a thread – and you haven’t got a clue
Go ahead!
Leave my presence,
YOU nuisance!
You're trying my patience...
I would leave if I were you...
I loathe your ignorance...
But, you just stand there like a fool!
You're taking advantage of me...
Throwing me out in the dumpster like a futile tool
--(Screw)-- you... Please leave me...
You have added to my anxiety
You have done enough
damage as it is...
Mom
So many words to say, so many things unspoken
where were you when all I needed was your love
and devotion?
To protect me from all the evil and darkness in this world
But instead, you decided to sacrifice your own little girl…
To be your husband’s play toy, to be touched inappropriately
yet whenever I told you, you didn’t want to flee.
Instead, you joined in and then it became three…
I was a child, what was I supposed to do?
I had no one to tell, because that person was supposed to be
YOU! You were the person I was supposed to tell those things to
whenever someone made fun of me, or took advantage of my body.
Instead, you decided that your husband was more important,
that you literally tainted our relationship
And you made it become potent!
How? What? And why?
Do you know what you did to me
made me want to die....
The torture of having to live with you every single day
but having no other choice because
I had no one to pay my way
Of getting out of that hellhole…
How is it that I can still think about someone I HATE so ing much?
I can’t stand you for everything you did, and for every time
You touched….me. You’re an evil horrible
human being, and you didn’t deserve to be loved.
But yet you were adored and loved by our whole family
except for those who truly know what you and Keat did to me.
You see Mom, your job as a mother was to
care for me, nurture me, love me
not abuse me, molest me, and let your husband have his way with me.
But even after ALL the f-ed up stuff you did,
strangely enough, you still raised a pretty awesome kid.
Yes, ME…that’s right, it is me.
Because the difference between you and I mother
Is this……….
You only cared what was in a man's pants, whereas I actually
care for, cherish, nurture, and love my children
with ALL of my heart.
Because if I EVER found out that someone did
to my kids, what you and your crappy husband did to me
They’d be buried 12 feet underground with a hole in their head.
But thank God, oh thank God, you’re already dead.
So now I will never have to worry about
my children growing up with you around,
because all you ever did was bring
everyone and everything down.
The only one true thing I could ever thank you for
is for giving me life, so I can raise my kids
to be better than both you and I.
Good Riddance and Goodbye.
In better times, Anders Throne once was
a good husband and loving father,
married to his sweetheart, Rosie Smith,
who’d grown on the Chesapeake waters.
He worked as a lawyer, was well renowned,
had a little boy by the name Chester,
if fate were just he would’ve lived out his days
and saw his happiness never perturbed.
But when the war with the north broke out
to his country he was compelled to stay true,
he said good-bye and stole away north,
marching to war with the boys in blue.
His father-in-law said "Good riddance!"
and moved his precious daughter away,
to a big mansion deep in Richmond,
where he felt she could safely stay.
The war dragged on, and in the end
Richmond found itself under siege,
all in the city knew things were rough,
that there was no real hope of relief.
Day after day the big guns did roar on,
a crashing hail of fire and shell,
until one April day when the Union struck
and the town of Petersburg fell.
Unable to hold Richmond any longer
General Lee led his army to the west,
but Anders, arched into the fallen town,
hoping somehow to find his dearest.
But cannons and not the most precise of things,
and when he reached her father’s home,
he saw cinders scattered, shards of broken glass,
from the hallway ceiling’s grand old dome.
He found an old slave who explain it all,
that whoever had been inside no was dead,
a cannon-ball had ignited a great blaze,
and they died of the smoke in their beds.
Anders collapsed when he heard the news,
and roared out his agony and pain.
He railed at God,”I fought to free people!
And as thanks you go take her away?!”
Bereft of his son and his dearest love,
he walked away right then and there,
deserted the army and wandered off,
if they hanged him he did not care.
He aimlessly started heading for the west,
and as he walked along he wound find
the ‘truth’ of it all, so clear and so crisp,
took over his grief-battered mind.
God cared not for the trials of men,
nor the world that he had once made.
The beasts had it right, take what you can!
Destroy any who gets in the way.
The only rules that mattered were anarchy,
laws of the jungle, ever cold and cruel.
He was done pretending that there was a point,
manners and honor were lies for the fools…
CONTINUES IN PART II
The Barefoot Days of Summer
By Elton Camp
When I was a child in rural Alabama during the 1940s, going barefoot during the summer months was still a general practice, especially for boys. It was feasible because few roads were paved and sidewalks in the country were virtually nonexistent. The sun on hard, dark surfaces created burn hazards that prevented city kids from going without shoes outside the confines of their own yards.
My father’s childhood had been spent in the more distant rural areas of Marshall County. He and his siblings went shoeless partly by choice and partly because it was the inexpensive thing to do. Shoes for their large family would represent a significant cost. Memory being the fickle thing that it is, he looked back on “going barefoot” as a privilege and source of delight. It was a childhood rite that he wanted me to enjoy.
“You can start going barefoot now,” he announced in June of each year. His tone showed that he considered he was doing something wonderful for me, so I didn’t want to disappoint him by revealing my true feelings. Going shoeless hurts—a lot. Sharp rocks and stubs of plants seemed to be everywhere. After about a month, the soles thicken enough that walking becomes less painful, but it’s mainly a matter of degree. Without a doubt, the sandy, grass-free yards of his youth contained fewer perils.
In the forties, our yard had what passed for grass, but it actually was a mixture of grass, clover, and general weeds. When the clover bloomed, it created a hazard that no amount of tough skin could prevent—bee stings. The pain was intense and lasted a couple of days. The only treatment my parents knew was to moisten the head of a kitchen match to make a paste to apply to the sting. Despite their assurance that the folk treatment would help, I felt no better beyond the fact that something was being done. In later years, I took a perverse comfort when I learned that the sting tears out the internal organs of the bee so that it dies shortly. The mere fact that I was crushing the insect with my foot gave it no right to retaliate.
Apart from the beach, I haven’t seen a barefoot child over a year old in a long time. Viewpoints and circumstances change and that childhood ritual has vanished. Good riddance to it.
Number forty six - White House occupant re:
guarding President elect Joe Biden
Within mein hermitage
now dwells one euphoric troglodyte who wept
upon hearing unbelievable news,
(albeit at snail's pace schlepped
finally proclamation emancipation
gave reasonable rhyme yours truly to ejaculate
(not prematurely), subsequently I leapt
into the air, and kept
myself aloft completing
one after another sumersault and except
for minor nuisance of gravity
nevertheless landed feet first and crept
back into mine mancave adept
to survive alone in the wilderness.
Seventy four million popular votes
tallied across country,
gives ample reason to grind hips and bump,
(cuz the most votes
cast for any presidential candidate in history),
which Republican contender finally plopped
hook line and anchored
courtesy Taj Mahal replica sinker
into dustbin of history
good riddance electorate voted out
loutish oaf, which voters chose to dump
best mandated to cavort with zoot suited frump
on any given Wednesday available to hump
rotund barenaked lady merging
into humongous protoplasmic lump.
Caught red handed concerning
more'n where's the beef
stole 2016 election
under nose of Hillary Clinton
abused role, when tasked
as commander in chief
good ole Charlie Brown nemesis
caused nothing but grief,
hence yours truly quite elated
upon occasion when figurative new leaf
turned over and booted out
as more onerous than Baghdad thief.
Hit the ground running
with nary a second to waste
Joe Biden, Kamala Harris and company
proving their steely eyed mettle
after victory lap Democrats did taste
usher in COVID-19 game plan
bolstering pandemic defences
where prior administration sorely misplaced
priorities United States Lady Liberty
wantonly, undeservedly, subsequently
her reputation disgraced.
Hope springs eternal - ah tis amazing grace
yours truly suddenly brimming with optimism
able bodied diverse cabinet to erase
formerly inept sycophants with intentions base
running amok within White House
at long last competent candidate won the race
adieu Donald Trump, who
did disappearing act at Mar-A-Lago without a trace
sore loser teed off absent American
delivering his humiliating defeat coup de grâce.
In the saloon Tom, Jenna and Tania were talking about Christmas week
They wanted to spread some cheer for the good folks of Soup Creek
Tom thought Milton would make a good Santa and hoped he'd agree
Their meeting was rudely interrupted with sounds of a noisy melee.
They went outside and Ranger David was looking very bemused
In handcuffs was a scruffy individual who was looking very confused
And had mean beady eyes with long hair and a long unkempt beard
He was shouting obscenities waving his arms and acting very weird.
Just then Sherrif Koplin appeared and asked David what was wrong
David replied "I think he's on drugs or he's been in the sun too long
I was over by Calypso Canyon on patrol, when I came across him
He pulled a gun on me but it jammed, and said his name was Jim"
Sheriff Koplin said "he's scaring the kids we'd best get him inside
Then I'll telegraph Doctor Keller to come and get him certified
I'll put him in the jailhouse for his own safety and for ours too
Maybe he needs a spell in an asylum that's probably long overdue.
The overland stage arrived next morning, Doctor Keller had arrived
It had been a long sleepless night for the Sheriff but he'd survived
Because the unruly prisoner had shouted obscenities all night long
And for a man to behave in that way something was seriously wrong.
Dr Keller had brought an assistant along, who looked like an assassin
The doctor spoke briefly with the Sheriff then to the jail they went in
The docs assistant had a straightjacket and rope; tools of the trade
A crowd had gathered to listen to the racket that was being made.
They came out half an hour later with the patient who was now secure
But in the scuffle had badly soiled himself and stunk of fresh manure
Doctor Keller approached the towns people and he had this to say
"This poor wretched man is quite sick and we'll be taking him away"
The overland stage then arrived in town and all three climbed inside
A journey to Sacramento Asylum was about a five and a half hour ride
The driver shouted and cracked his whip and they were soon on their way
"Good riddance to you " said Sheriff Koplin "don't come back any day.
written on 22nd November 2022
The others are left to roam on their own…
Everlasting sorrow spills out from the carcasses…
Love has already spoiled…hate is the main event in the picture…
Laurel…Save yourself from death or hell...below...…before it’s too late!
The others are left to rot…they took their leave long ago
Hell has opened its gates and gravity pulls them down below the blemished ground…where they once slept…
Ashes placed here and there…buried…left untouched…unseen for years
Tell the others…”LEAVE OR THEY’LL FACE THEIR ABOMINABLE FATE”
Seven souls are casted to the graveyard
One must crawl out…of the crust…
Unveil your true nature…unwind for a time…scream out the truth
Learn to listen…learn to gain understanding and wisdom…GAIN INSIGHT…
Tread the narrow path…not the sinful, rocky trail…
Oh God, will you lift them up from their deathbeds?
Empty…lost…don’t forlorn for your love…she’ll return to you soon…go forward, despite your loss…
Shameful…alone…don’t look back – don’t step into that trap!
Calm down…you must leave her behind for a time…and forget and forgive the perilous past
A petite, sweet, black rose is placed next to her tombstone…I’m sorry for the agony that swallowed you whole like an immense tide
Pour forth your Mercy…upon him…let him trek the road to paradise
Exit the land of the dead…and live for eternity and you’ll earn true happiness
Forget not the gifts you come in contact with
Rummage not into the Storage Room full of horrid memories
Off you trot…run away from this nightmare…this living nightmare…
Marvel at the black, velvet sky and pray to Him…welcome the sun with open arms
Isolate yourself from the ghosts that doused you with long-term grief
Torn apart by your absence, I finally found my way out of my own wistful snare…
Sell not your heart of gold…keep it and treasure it…it’ll serve you good
Dark spirits…GOOD RIDDANCE…purge from him his painful distress…
Escort him to a better place…a palace he calls Home…
Make sure to spread out good news upon him…so he won’t feel that searing stress
I hope for the best for him…I don’t care how insane I sound right now…
Silly how much I can actually sympathize with him…LOOK up to Him
Exactly…I’d be careful what you wish for or pray for…
Doctors (particularly biomedical engineers)...
really trolley train hard to keep track of patients
Eye tell ya we (spuds)
pulled up stakes after four yar
and zero scores ago living in Bryn Mawr
salutary heart and lungs figurative
storied Main Line Health medical network
latter part of June tooth thousand seventeen
approximately July first
same year bidding au revoir
bid good riddance account
to slumlord - hood did spat and spar
moved to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
unsafe to ride bicycle without handlebar
economical, geographical, practical...
subjected by Grosse and Quade tyrannical czar
dom low income facilities housing
nattering nabobs of nihilism whose intellect subpar
candidates vetted by Jaclyn Geiger registrar
courtesy nepotism unexceptional manager
thanks be to her papa, she drives fancy car
unlike this pauper and the missus
limited to schlep near and not far
afforded by rattletrap motorcar,
no driving prohibitive number of miles,
crossing sketchy territory warning signs
picturing dangerous avatar,
(especially during inclement whee thar)
determining risk to forego
top manic kin Michelin
money grubbing cannibalistic
surgeon's earning equivalent silver star,
or comparable civilian rating touting specialists
while bonafide topnotch indivisible tailors swifty
stitch ink, viz tattoo back parlor shop whar
exemplary Patients Matter Always
buzzfeeding, inoculating, kickstarting...
healthy medical network,
hobnob, kibitz, schmooze...
drown lackluster lovelife at the bar
parting paramour with such sweet sorrows par
for the course during pouring rain how bizarre
necessitated our lucky find locating physicians
supreme nsync with Google high reviews
receiving, scoring, nabbing,
incorporating... truevalue re: vector and scalar,
we veteran trooper seasoned renters
luckily blessed chance
cost us pennies on the dinar
general bang for buck amazingly
found yours truly strumming his air guitar
pleasantly situated among picturesque poplar
resort within Skippack Village, a tourist
mecca for devout or
secular gourmandizing, earning
catering and acquiescing savoir
ole mighty faire Benjamin
legally tendering expensive bazaar.
Joseph Robinette Biden
now commander in chief yay
manning ship of state
tossing anchors aweigh
heavily pierced tattooed
donning sheepish pirate(s)
at heady roiling waterway
fending off trolling rapscallion
much more thrilling
than watching cabaret
January twenty first two thousand
twenty one marks his first full day
wherein Oval Office finally
flushed, ousted, and zapped,
whose paternal ancestry
begat genealogical linkedin émigré
name unknown, nevertheless
one Johann Trump born within
Bobenheim am Berg, a village
in Palatinate, Germany circa 1789
moved to nearby village of Kallstadt
where his grandson, Friedrich Trump,
the grandfather of Donald Trump,
born in 1869 gamboled
upon grassy fairway
whereby grandson notorious
to grandstand and gainsay,
but especially renowned
windblown coiffure
kept intact courtesy "fake" hairspray
said product he did fulminate
against and inveigh,
cuz he envied (as does yours truly)
the trademark thatch sported by J.F.K.
At long last, a stalwart adept candidate
unwittingly saddled
with onerous figurative freight
COVID-19, homelessness, joblessness
sober statistics impossible mission to inflate,
whose physique slender and lightweight
boot pulleys and levers of power
he quite savvily can operate
personable and suave demeanor doth resonate
allowing, enabling, and providing
law and order to materialize,
and accomplishments downplayed
(unlike previous commander in chief)
whose braggadocio would never underrate.
Concern still prevails
regarding that woman user
egging fascistic paramilitary
white supremacist ilk
twittering as a digital schmoozer
hell bent on sowing anarchy,
cuz other Democratic contestant
did not defeat
soured at prospect their man beat
(him - who shall not be named again
ranks as a sore loser)
nevertheless, an oafish shill bruiser.
If prognostications allowed me,
at bedtime, when a supine American,
one garden variety and generic
sleepy Joe among madding crowd
will experience glee
at prospective buoyancy, decency,
fraternity, harmony, jollity, levity,
nobility, prosperity, serenity, tranquility...
wishing no ill will toward
former forty sixth president.