Long Gran Poems
Long Gran Poems. Below are the most popular long Gran by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gran poems by poem length and keyword.
Isn’t that my grandma standing right there in that queue
Where that queue is heading to I do not have a clue
So I don’t know why Grandma’s there or what she plans to do
But I do know, if I don’t know, then frankly… nor do you
The queue is moving slowly, just one step now and again
But just once in a while it seems to move on nine or ten
I still don’t get the reason Grandma’s standing in that queue
But I do know, if I don’t know, then frankly… nor do you
The attraction, I don’t get it
Why do they stand in line
The answer? You can bet it
Isn’t destined to be mine
A little satisfaction
I would get if only I
Could figure out the reason
That my grandma seems so high
I’ve noticed that my grandma’s spent some time upon her hair
And when I look I see that there’s more older ladies there
They all seem keen but I can’t see, the reason for this queue
But I do know, if I don’t know, then frankly… nor do you
I know it’s Grandmas’s business and I wouldn’t want to pry
She’s putting on her lipstick and I cannot figure why
I don’t know why she’s using drops to make her eyes more blue
But I do know, if I don’t know, then frankly… nor do you
The attraction, I don’t get it
Why do they stand in line
The answer? You can bet it
Isn’t destined to be mine
A little satisfaction
I would get if only I
Could figure out the reason
That my grandma seems so high
I simply had to find out what my gran was all about
Could she be mad, confused, or should she not have been let out
I snuck in just behind her and we moved on with the queue
And when she turned and spoke to me, I got myself a clue.,.
She said, I’m not so old; I’m eighty years and then a few
And, Darlin’, by the looks of it, I feel younger than you
But I got word that men are sitting upfront of this queue…
It’s a dollar for a kiss…… and so I’ve paid up front for two
My dear old grandma winked at me and begged me for a buck
She said, “Now I can see the front, I can’t believe my luck.”
I had to ask why did she want a dollar out of me
She said, “I’ve paid up front for two…… But now I fancy three.
“Your gramps and me had sixty years of faithful, married bliss
but now he’s gone, it’s been a while since I enjoyed a kiss
But one of them there fellas looks like David Hasselhoff
If only I had known… I would’ve left my knickers off!”
White Christmas is not what many people think it is
As we know Christmas is a lively annual festival
Celebrated seven days before the end of the year
Of the Nativity of Jesus. Christmas is a joyful, colorful
And wonderful feast, where stars glow and glisten.
People who live not too far from the cold North Pole
Always dream of a snowy or white Christmas
Where Mother Nature is frosted and crystallized
And the streets are paved with black or clear ice.
Christmas is celebrated by billions across the universe
It is a major festival of hope, happiness and lights
Northerners often dream of a very cold or snowy Christmas
Which brings powerful nostalgic feelings of yesteryear
When children used to listen.
Nowadays, Christmas is multicultural and highly colorful
Bing Crosby wrote of a ‘White Christmas’ for everybody
Living in the world, where imagination brings Hope, Noël,
Yule and Joy, regardless of the religion, creed, gender or race.
Copyright © December, 2023, Hébert Logerie, all rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Blanca Navidad No Lo Es
Blanca Navidad no es lo que mucha gente piensa que es
Como sabemos, la Navidad es una animada fiesta anual
Que muchos festejan siete días antes de fin del año
La Natividad de Jesús. La Navidad es una fiesta
Que es alegre, colorida y maravillosa, donde las estrellas brillan.
Personas que viven no muy lejos del frío Polo Norte
Sueñan siempre de una Blanca o Nevada Navidad
Donde la madre naturaleza está congelada y cristalizada
Y las calles pavimentadas con hielo transparente o ngro.
Millones de personas en todo el universo celebran la Navidad
Que es una gran fiesta de esperanza, de felicidad y de luces
Los norteños suelen soñar con una Navidad muy fría
Lo que trae poderosos sentimientos nostálgicos de antaño
Cuando los niños solían escuchar.
Hoy en día, la Navidad es multicultural y llena de color
Bing Crosby escribió de una "Blanca Navidad" para todos
Que viven en un mundo donde la imaginación trae esperanza
Festividad y alegría, sin importar la religión, credo, género o raza.
PD Traducción de ‘White Christmas Is Not’ por Hébert Logerie
Copyright © diciembre de 2023, Hébert Logerie, todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de varias colecciones de poemas.
One Halloween night as the tired Gran, was
Putting her wee little darlings to bed at last,
The youngest begged her for a bed time story,
Make it scary grandma, please, oh please,
Just one story?
Scary she said, to the wee little lad, well
Then you will go to bed without a fight.
For your Gran is tired on this night
Of fright, the tiny wreck agreed, I will her
Grandson whole heartedly did, promise,
And thus begins our tall tale my spooky,
Friends!
Did you ever hear about the Halloween night
When the old witch had her enchanted pillow
Case was stolen, by a mischievous child?
At first it seemed just a harmless prank,
The youngster went house to house,
Begging as the others did, trick or treat,
Did the lad shout out, and each gave him
A tasty sweet treats confection.
But as the night wore on people started
To run out of their goodie candies delectable
Gifts, but the pillow case wanted more!
At the last house on the young lads block,
The lady beneath the lamp light post,
Shouted to him, sorry son I’m all out,
Better luck next year!
Then just pillow case began to twist and shift,
At hearing this ill news, the child didn’t
Understand what was happening, he
Realized the bag had a hold of him,
And would not allow the child to
Release his grip?
Give me candy or your life will I
So take, what a trick to play on this
Halloween night, the pillow case
Spoke in an eerily haunted voice!
But there is no more the child shakenly,
Replied then it’s your life.
Then just then, in a swishing flash
In swishing flash, the witch came down
From the darker side of the moon.
Bad pillow case, what have you done,
I’ve come to take you home with me,
From this thieving son of humanity!
The lad was instantly released,
As the old hag retrieved her stolen
Merchandise, I’m sorry, so sorry,
The child spoke shakenly, I won’t
Ever do anything like this again,
I so promise, and vow?
As the witch flew away, she said
Next time I’ll let my pillow case eat
You child of man, as she hackled
With a witchery laugh!
Oh my Gran, I’m too scared to sleep
Now, the old gran looked at her
Grandson, and politely spoke, go
To sleep young man, or I’ll get out
My pillow case, it’s hungry and wants
Something sweet to eat, then she so did
Laugh, with an eerie cackle, herself!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
FOG HORN ON THE NEVA
Fog horn on the far off Neva dock
A canal bridge to open and unlock:
Today I heard its sound
Unmistakable note found
Implanted down in my head,
Coming today a word long unsaid
Across the railroad tracks it calls
To me through cracks in walls
And half-closed lattice windows,
Across the shadows and meadows
From far away in the salt water -
An ocean-bound huge transporter .
Took me back to porridge oats
And blanketless beds with cold coats,
Sharing a pillow with gran and mum
In a cold unheated tiny bedroom -
But warm as only a mother’s arm can be -
Listening on foggy nights with me
-To horns open Tyne’s swing bridge old,
And in foggy winter days cold
-To lost ships off Cullercoats moan
Trying to find the walls of stone,
The welcoming piers of heaven:
Sandy river’s saving haven.
I was taken aback to be taken back
Thus, on my hustling life’s track
I forget the real roots. I need
To recall from what did I proceed,
For often does my boat get tossed
And in the fog I am sometimes lost.
The Horn’s lament is familiar
Like a family voice or a prayer,
As a bird recognizes its mate’s call
No need to ask what it is at all.
It is friendly. To it I return.
To hear it I yearn.
Like my mother’s laugh,
Like grandfather’s cough -
I Know it like my own face,
It is easy to retrace.
As I walk on Nevsky Prospekt
Turning back the pages of neglect,
I hear it in the depths of my heart.
It reverberates as a note apart
And I feel it in the mist
Of time. It insists. I have missed
Its plaintive call for so long.
As a salmon returns where he belongs
To his birth river on the foam
I am drawn inexorably home.
Bustling Tyne ships are now gone.
Only pleasure yachts that leisurely yawn.
No battleships or tankers to see,
No river smells of sweat and tears salty,
But the horn’s fossilized lament remains
In sand-banks and sea-lanes
And memory banks retraced :
Memories never to be to erased.
Life’s mist becomes too dense.
Guide me in the fog thence.
Lead me to back to reality.
The horn is searching for me
From the past through the cracks
And lattice of my old bridge tracks,
Opening my mind to echoes of the past,
Holding my soul sound and fast.
What have you done with my beau, I want take it to the show. What have you done with my beau, it time for you to go. What have you done with my beau; I want it back on the show. I like its style, it rhythm is wild and its voice makes me want to smile. What have you done with my beau? I need some explanation before you go.
The grand serenade is on and the big band is on the stand, hip-hop music celebrates fifty years on the land. Oldies and goodies, reggae and streggay, heavy metal, and modern music, romance and classical sounds are on the list so join me to share this special gift.
What have you done with my beau? Everything is in the bag for everyone to feel glad, your sorrows and pain will go away and you won’t have to suppress your emotion for the rest of the day.
What have you done with my beau? It is time to get ready for the grand musical mix. I have not seen my beau all week, it is so discrete, it could be lurking in the room next door but it’s time to bring it out on the dance floor.
Forget the musical hymn and let go for a ride in the gym let’s listen to each other’s heart and romance like lover do in the dark, and watched the curtains come up and the crowd grows wild when the serenade starts.
What have you done with my beau?, the buercrats and the autocrats have crowded the dress circle in the theater , the Italians and the Germans are in the audience and the Austrian and Norwegians prelude is riding in the heavens. The Russians are in the mix too and they have a score that if sang from the heart will take you out of the gutters.
What have you done with my beau?, it is embedded in the show, take me back in time to learn what is divine. The voice of Mozart rumbling in the strings and spirit of gran partita riding in the winds, nineteen century serenade will do ,Tchaikovsky, Josef Suk, Edward El Elgar Ludwig van Beethoven, Hector Berlioz, Franz Schubert, Richard Strauss, and other serenades are on the list for that special moment when my beau and I become one and the musical pleasure will be our distant song.
Everything will fill the air and fine heart will touch souls far and near. Spirits will meet, hearts will greet and the birds will sing again. We will join as one and this eternal bliss will be our destined song. My beau is back, let's go and see the show.
Betty and Johnny, who were seven and eight,
lived close to the zoo, very near the front gate.
They visited often, with their mom and their dad,
and always told Gran about the fun that they had.
One day as the wind blew through the Crumpledink trees'
tickling the crinkly bright yellow leaves.
Johnny and Betty decided to play,
out on the porch, where they'd stay there all day.
They opened the door, but to their surprise,
a blue fuzzy creature, smallish in size,
jumped up from the chair and stretched out his hand.
"Pleased to meet you my friend," his words rather bland.
"Who are you?" said Betty with a sheepish grin
as she held out her hand and his fur touched her skin.
"I am what I am, and my name is that too,
I'm a Grrreeble," he said, "and I live at the zoo."
"Then what are you doing here at our house?"
asked Johnny, his voice squeaked like a mouse.
"I saw you at the zoo in the star gazing dome.
You seemed so nice, I followed you home."
"But you can't stay here," Johnny croaked like a frog, "So,
back to the zoo, to the zoo you must go!"
Betty looked at the Grrreeble and said, "This may be hard..,
You know mom said we can't leave the yard."
But Betty, Oh Betty, what will we do,
How will we get Grrreeble, back to the zoo?
The Grrreeble just sat, head in his hands
"Johnny, I think that you don't understand."
Then he said, "I don't wish to go back to the zoo,
I like it here, I'll stay here with you."
Betty looked at Johnny and giggled with glee,
"Can we keep him? I want him to stay here with me."
"No", Johnny said, "No we can't, no, No, NO!
as soon as he can, to the zoo he must go!"
Johnny looked at the Grrreeble and said with a sigh,
"We really do like you, but we must say goodbye."
So they played for a little
games like frosty fooks frittle
with bright red hats and dressum up clothes
and loud frustal whistles, you blow through your nose.
Then later that morning after eating their brunch
they made him a sandwich, dinklebutter and jelly, to take for his lunch,
and turning away Grrreeble said, with tears in his eyes,
"Thanks, it's been fun, to play with you guys."
Now often they visit their friend at the zoo
with a dinklebutter sandwich, they hope you'll come too.
9/17/2015
Dear 2020!
This Poem was Inspired by an Acknowledgment that this Past Year Was Difficult or Tough, That I Don't have All of the Answers, But I Serve a God Who Does. That I Did Have Some Beautiful Experiences in 2020, that Should be Celebrated and Not Over-Looked. But Most Importantly That I Must Learn To Trust More In My Heavenly Father, Not Just for the Major of Big stuff, But the Minor Challenges or Obstacles as Well.
A Son of Virginia Who is Loved in Philly!
This Poem was Inspired by An Interview that Mr. Allen Iverson had with the Host's of "All The Smoke". In It he talked Candidly about His Short-Comings, Mistakes and Challenges Which he was Forced to Overcome. When You Read this Poem I hope that You can Think Fondly of Those That You Admire, Look-up to, or Hold in High Regard, and that you Let Them Know that you Appreciate Their Positive Contribution(s) in your Life.
What Price Is Enough For a Win?
This Poem was Inspired by the Malicious Events which took place by People that Held Differing Political Views, or Belief Systems, and their Un-Willingness to See Another Point of View, Reach Across the Aisle and Make a Compromise For The Overall Good of Everyone. This Was Also Inspired by the Fact that After Individuals Disagree or Fight, While Holding Their Political Views Close to their Heart, They Still Have to Live Together, as Neighbors, Family and Members of Society, Long After The Election Results Have Been Decided and Concluded.
Holding Onto What May Never Be Again!
This Poem Was Inspired by the Events of Having Older Gran-Parents, Family Members and Close Personal Friends Who Are in their 60's or 70's and Remembering the Special Memories Made and Moments Shared When they Were Completely Coherent, were aware of their surroundings and Understood what was going on in circumstances that surrounded them. In Comparison to Standing by and Watching as they Slowly Fade into Someone that Does Not Recognize You as Time Passes. Even though You Can Remember Every Thanksgiving, Christmas or 4th of July Celebration. It also Addresses the Fact of How Helpless One Feels by Being Unable to Solve or Find a Solution to their Problem. For In Their Eyes One Can Tell That They Seem Confused and are Trying Hard to Recollect or Remember as Well.
Cantas en mi Corazon
Una Colaboración con Michael P. Clarke
Spanish Version - Free Verse
Ven en mis brazos, tu templo tan cerca de mí,
Estoy perdido en tus ojos, la gloria del amor ahora veo.
Escucho la canción de tu corazón mientras estamos en el abrazo del amor,
Cuando en tu abrazo, sé que comparto la gracia de un ángel.
Ahora mi amado, yo saboreo tu glorioso amor,
Tus labios se encuentran con los míos mientras estamos en el Cielo.
Baila conmigo mi amor, de las estrellas de Dios no nos separaremos,
La canción del amor es la canción que canta en mi corazón.
Mi querido, en tus brazos amorosos estoy libre
para florecer como la rosa preciosa que yo estaba destinada a ser.
Un mago del amor, sabes cómo encender mi corazón,
el sabor de tus labios me revuelve con un deseo primitivo.
Amor de mi vida, eres mi única gran pasión,
anhelo tus abrazos porque eres mi adicción divina.
Contigo bailaré entre las estrellas y nunca nos separaremos,
la canción de nuestro amor es la canción que canta en mi corazón.
Sing In My Heart
A Collaboration by Pandita Sanchez & Michael P Clarke
English Version - Rhyme
Come into my arms, your temple so close to me,
I am lost in your eyes, love's glory I now see.
I hear your heart's song as we stand in love's embrace,
when in your embrace,I know I share an angel's grace.
Now my beloved, I do taste your glorious love,
your lips meet mine, as we stand in Heaven above.
Dance with me my love, from God's stars we shall not part,
the song of love is the song I sing in my heart.
My darling, in your loving arms I am free,
to flourish as the precious rose I was meant to be.
A magician of love, you set my heart on fire,
the taste of your lips stirs me with primeval desire.
Love of my life, you are my one great passion,
I crave your embrace for you are my divine addiction.
With you I will dance among the stars and we will never part,
the song of our love is the song that sings in my heart.
06-10-2017
Note: Mike wrote the 1st stanzas in both versions, while I wrote the 2nd stanzas in both versions.
Thank you my friend, Mike for inviting me to collaborate with you on this special piece and for inspiring me with your wonderful spirit and words!
Si de pronto no existes, (If of a sudden you were no more,)
si de pronto no vives,(if of a sudden you live no more,)
yo seguiré viviendo. (I'll continue to live.)
No me atrevo,(I do not dare,)
no me atrevo a escribirlo, (hardly will I find the courage to write this)
si te mueres.(if you were to die.)
Yo seguiré viviendo. (I'll go on living.)
Porque donde no tiene voz un hombre(Since there where a man be not invested with a voice)
allí, mi voz. (there, my voice will be heard.)
Donde los negros sean apaleados, (There where Negros be skinned,)
yo no puedo estar muerto.(I cannot be counted among the dead.)
Cuando entren en la cárcel mis hermanos(When my brothers are put in prison)
entraré yo con ellos.(I'll be in their ranks.)
Cuando la victoria,(When victory,)
no mi victoria,(not my triumph,)
sino la gran Victoria llegue,(when the great Victory is attained,)
aunque esté mudo debo hablar:(even if I were dumb, I'll open my mouth to speak :)
yo la veré llegar aunque esté ciego.(yes, I'll see it arrive even if I were blind.)
No, perdóname. (No, do pardon me.)
Si tú no vives,(If you are no longer of this earth,)
si tú, querida, amor mío, si tú(if you, sweetheart, My Love, if you)
te has muerto,(were dead,)
todas las hojas caerán en mi pecho, (all the leaves will fall on my chest,)
lloverá sobre mi alma noche y día, (they will rain on my soul day and night,)
la nieve quemará mi corazón, (snow will consume my heart,)
andaré con frío y fuego(through the cold and fire, I'll continue to walk)
y muerte y nieve, (and through death and snow,)
mis pies querrán marchar hacia donde tú duermes, pero(my feet will want to walk on towards the place where you sleep, but)
seguiré vivo, (I'll go on living,)
porque tú me quisiste sobre(because you wished that I were)
todas las cosas indomable, (over all things not to be trampled upon,)
y, amor, porque tú sabes que soy no sólo un hombre (and, My Love, because you know that I am not just a/one man)
sino todos los hombres(but he who stands with/for/among all men)
Pablo Neruda
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, April 10,2019
Yours truly snapped, popped,
and cracked his crown out cervix
(I'll spare ye the bloody graphics),
whence obstetrician able, eager, and
ready underscored with italics
to pass (think football) garden variety
wrinkled newborn asthma
noggin heralded lix
plus deux orbits ago
sported an ordinary
uneventful, nonetheless miraculous
biological secrete reproductive tricks
immediately screaming
without assistance courtesy
Gran Prix (now pronounce as pricks)
also envision Dolby surround sound
nsync with spastic kicks
'o mine straggly mostly
gangly lovely bones mox nix.
Within some nondescript
Cincinnati, Ohio hospital heed gypped
(i.e. none other than me)
thy young mother of prolonged labor
as his bony ass easily
slipped out uterine crypt
whereby with Vernix
caseosa, the waxy or cheese
he appeared made rather dipped
in tallow, thence unexpectedly whipped
minuscule fist ready to bump.
Once placenta and fetal membranes
(unnecessary as wing ding)
discharged out uterus
after birth of offspring,
and thar weren't no more
major contractions in the offing
ma mommy lovingly did cling
to her bundle of joy and bring
maternal breast I ravenously
did suckle fortunately toothless
against her tender bosom trickling
(if mammary serves me correctly)
I presently recall no iota of inkling
what events transpired, nope
no recollection about me circumcising.
Moost likely I felt Jew bull lent
glad yours truly chose decent
mother and father, which opinion
subjected to radical change,
when as grown adult child
living nonsocial under
their roof forced to hire agent
provocateur to practice sparring,
when standoff event on horizon,
which eventually begat ultimatums
their red hot poker rage spent
belittling, cursing, damning...
quiet as Unitarian Church mouse content
internalizing later smoldering
anger I needed to vent
in retrospect diminutive little boy
tied to mama's apron strings
afflicted with mental
health issues inherent
of course hindsight gleaned
social, psychological, neurological...
healthy development got rent
asunder partly explaining
why I became indigent.