Long Greenwich Poems
Long Greenwich Poems. Below are the most popular long Greenwich by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Greenwich poems by poem length and keyword.
Non-bachelor (batch chiller)
"FAKE" horror thriller
available Netflix starring
ghost of Phyllis Diller
stand up comedienne killer
brought down haunted house
witch sea hunt accompanied
theme song referencing Argonaut tiller
Greenwich Village location Barney Miller
lite precinct brewed fare of corpse
unearthed dead comedy duo Meara and Stiller
with surreal stalking candy corn canes
as bon appétit gnashing
gobbledygook filler.
Ice scream aghast with
blood curdling shriek,
the dearth of satisfactory
FIOS shows bleak
readying jump into polluted creek
thus, I bury alive yours truly
except his sharp pointed beak
exhuming him after rotted
flesh doth reek
perfectly tricked out
for Halloween treat
masks long haired
pencil necked geek
October thirty first when freak
alias Gadshill gadabout
poetaster doth sneak
feigning antonym anthem of meek
oh my dog, I lyft hind
uber leg to take leak
hoop fully haint nobody dares peak
urinate kidding ma bladder weak.
I long since waved
channel surfing adieu
much prefer silence
meditating under blue
skies peering into
infinite space nary a clue
intellectual conversation many disvalue
perched edge of seat and hunched over
how riveting story doth ensue
ah... time for commercial break
culinary wizard abracadabra
whips up fondue
easy as pie (are squared)
with consistency of glue
methinks Elmer stole patent,
cuz secret formula Hebrew
what with identical hue
as aforementioned adhesive liquid
doubling up to keep igloo
air tight even against
global warming, anyway would Jew...
aye betcha already knew
yes believe Yahweh endowed Semites
like me with high ike kue
of course after dumping
a load (reed) I feel sue
per ream intelligence dumbed down
(mine), especially after using loo
naturally decrease smarts
stings like poisonous
scorpion size of Eee moue,
which aforementioned papa's
poetic poppycock nonissue
saturating plethora home entertainment
most people overvalue
linkedin - shoot all stemming from
"idiot box" I rarely view.
P eople all over the earth were shocked to hear that a Comet half the size of the moon, would
A nnihilate every human being and most animals on earth on Friday, August 26, 2016; no one would survive.
N othing could be done as the comet was too big to be destroyed or nudged off course by missiles.
D eath and destruction would be almost immediate at 1111 AM Greenwich Mean Time on that day.
E veryone was panicking, rushing to be with loved ones, gathering families together, not knowing what to do and when.
M eetings of authorities and police failed to stop rioting, looting and the rush on banks, shops and chaos on the roads.
O bviously, no one went to work and this caused chaos as there were no planes, trains, buses, no transport, no police, nothing but chaos.
N othing worked any more, and there was no way to gather families together as service stations stopped selling petrol, food shops closed, lights went out; panicked buying and looting emptied the shops.
I nside the cities it was mayhem, as people ran about trying to do everything they promised themselves, and others they would do before they died.
U nable to travel people huddled together, cried and tried to call loved ones on clogged and failing phone lines; the internet stopped.
M any people planned ways to end it all, humanely holding hands, calmly drifting away, well before the fire ball hit, as the pandemonium became sheer intolerable terror.
One must imagine Sisyphus’s
boulder, marble-sized these days
And Ozymandias’ plaque,
spinning despair into praise
Look on, ye hypocrites,
and sneer at my undoing
Your universe is a giant sandpit,
entropy accruing
Their legacies long crumbled,
eroded by rust
Gods built the wrong way,
on scaffolds of dust
Virtue or vice register
equally the same
Except between stars,
there’s space for one more grain
Down here, we clock in daily,
stack hours like prayer
Worship strong Wi-Fi,
evangelize on thin air
Imagine heavenly echoes,
because the silence isn’t fair
Some develop connection,
others a thousand-yard stare
Our Earth splits naturally,
along seismic lines
Greenwich claims centre stage,
only for the meantime
Sisyphus, still aching,
gets an epidural at last
But only in hindsight,
for his hump blocks the past
Redrawn are our own lines,
watchtowers in the sand
Sketching new borders,
carving up the promised land
Exhume ancient treasure,
and black, viscous stuff
Addicted to all things buried,
as if our dead weren’t enough
Still we write blindly,
tracing glyphs already faded
Helps lift the mood
when depressed and jaded
Gods stand on shaky ground,
myth holds them together
In schisms that bind billions,
then sever forever
Oh, look on—ye poet
Sisyphus now rolls his eyes
He’s seen the apps, wars,
hoodies, and cable ties
His hamster wheel’s a meme
for gods who merely try
Small wonder he mutters,
at least Ozymandias gets to die
And sometimes I pray to gods,
or maybe their ghosts
About versions of me
I’ve been missing the most
They don’t directly answer,
but do leave this guess
In the end, to keep on rolling
may be my passing success
By David Kavanagh
Once twin towers stood.
In the city king kong fell in love.
Yellow taxi's swarm like stripeless bees.
and a sky line thats silhouted on your mind.
with police sirens screaming
and broadway calling.
Times Square lights hurting your eyes.
With Central park its breathing lung
a countryside oasis in a concrete corsett.
Greenwich village with its arts and crafts
and wall streets big business and brash.
United nations share this town.
musical and big fight nights.
basket balls globe trotters strut thier funky stuff.
and the yankees play class baseball.
all in all
new york as blown my mind.
From Queens to Manhattan, I rode the subway.
I will never forget that late spring day,
when I walked into that Greenwich Village café.
This young girl practically stole my heart away.
With a long white dress, and a six string guitar,
she was just another wannabe star.
I was sitting not far away from her at the bar.
Between sips of my glass of seltzer,
I listened to each sweet note sung by her.
The end of her performance brought a light ovation.
She sat next to me for some casual conversation.
After an informal introduction came a sweet little smile.
I was attracted to her all the while,
even though she was Jewish, and I a gentile.
I told her I also performed in a band.
She wrote her phone number on my left hand.
Everything with this female appeared just right.
I asked if I could see her tomorrow night.
She emphatically said “okay” and smiled with delight.
Later that night, disappointment would encumber.
When I tried to call her, I got a wrong number.
Hustlin' Soul Jazz to the beat on the street/
Straight ahead Hank Mobley Art Blakey Seven Steps to the cool sounds of Harlem, diggin' deep into the subway, Harlem-148 St get off, take off/
whatcha say, bright moments, Man, bright moments the Pharoah Sanders way Milestones on the eight track Blue Mitchall's trumpet at the Sweet Basil, a jazz club in New York City's Greenwich Village/ a great place to play jazz and hang with no big pay day/
Wow, what a scene, Cecil McBee, Leroy Jenkins, Junior Mance, heavy heavy hitters of the jazz day/
So dig this, don't forget Wynton Kelly and his trio/
cool jazz covers and slick sleeves to get the record-buyin' hipster to hit on vinyl. Man, let me get you a bird's eye view, cause there ain't no cover charge to dig these words to view
The Village Halloween Parade*
Is famous through the land,
The costumes so creative
That they surely beat the band.
But I was sent some pictures
And some video as well
From a local school parade
Much cuter, far as I can tell.
The kindergarten students,
Dressed in various disguise,
Sang their hearts out in the schoolyard,
An adorable surprise.
They’d been practicing for weeks
And their performance a delight,
With choreography to mimic
Witch’s broom or vampire bite.
Of course, you’ve figured out by now
This was my grandson’s school,
Which, with him inside, will always
Be the best. (That’s Nana’s rule!)
*in New York City’s Greenwich Village
How refreshing to experience
a reprieve from sultry weather
when hazy, hot,
and humid warm front
unleashes a very short sweaty tether.
Man hat tin dar overcast skies
hint potential rain on the way
perchance avast dastardly
flickr ring instagram
kickstarter linkedin shutterfly
Taurus headed soundcloud
skidding across celestial
(span hushed) rink
surprising forecasters by yowl
ling whimsically, unexpectedly oye vay
training (laser like),
Asian outsize dark cloud
climatological frontispiece
randomly making next stop Old
Rotten Gotham's Greenwich Village
zero wing in on
Poor (Chuck Keys) Uruguay
neighborhood possibly confidently
foretold by meteorologists today
pointing at map showing
cold air mass as it doth sashay
July twenty first 2018, though
Mother Nature defies pre
diction pulling out all (busted) stops,
vis a vis via "her" quay
zee bag of tricks nay
saying trained forecasters klan
hush all self importance
also to humble those mere mortals
getting paid a handsome buck
by anthropomorphizing viz cluck
king in tandem with duck
billed Baritone Horn
Trumpeting "FAKE" luck
trotting out obstreperous
Sunny Rays, who doth beam
with radiance a
diametrically opposed extreme
over zealous call for precipitation
instead raining one after another quanta
bright blinding meme
outsmarting the seem
ming airtight (cat in the bag)
prediction leaving once supreme
vouchsafing without a doubt forecasters
left holding the empty bag
large enough tuff fit the whole team.
SILENCE SURROUNDED ME CARRYING ONLY
DATA FROM SPECIAL FORCES I'D RELEASED
MY SOUL BEFORE THEE ENTRY MY THOUGHTS
COVERED IN SURVIVAL SKILL
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
AN YET THERE WAS NO WAY OF SURVIVING
THEE ULTIMATE ASSASINATION THREAT
THAT BESTOWED ME UPON THIS DAY
CAREFULLY PLANNED I MUST SAY
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
ASSAULT RIFLES LEANING AGAINST
THE COMPLEX WALLS FRIENDS AND FOE
GATHERED FROM BERLIN TO BERUIT
A SINGLE SHOT MOUNTED
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
OVER MY TEMPORAL LOBE BACK UP
CLEAVERLY PLANTED ABOVE MY FRONTAL LOBE
AN ANGEL GABRIELLE WEARING A PASTEL ROBE
THE JEST OF DEATH IS WHAT I PROPOSED
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
ON THIS FINE DAY THE SUN BEAMED BRIGHTLY
OF LEFT OVER AUTUMN HINTS OF INDIAN SUMMER
GREENWICH BESEECHED MY WITHERED SOUL
CARDINIAL NUNNS RABI'S INSISTED WHITE CLOTH
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
TAMPERED WITHIN AN INFALLIBLE HUSH
WHEN ALL I EMPLOYED WAS A TANGLIBLE SCREAM
I SO DESPERATELY COVENANT THOUGH OUT DI VATICAN
A KNIGHTS OWN SPHERE OVER LOOKING MORTALITY
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
THE HAMPTONS CAMEBRIDGE IN VIEW A SIGHING COO
WE'D MASTERED TRUTH AND FAILED AT LAUGHTER
CREATING A MELANCHOLY SOLACE WHY CENTERED
BENEATH A PAIR OF BLOOD SOAKED BAILEY'S
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
EMPTY AN YET OVER FLOWING WITH BITTER FRET
CONFUSION WRATH A SORTED BIAS TO THE NOTION
THAT FROM NOW ON EVERY SINGLE DAY WOULD BE
NOVEMBER TWENTY SECOND NINETEEN SIXTY THREE
BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
THE DAY SHAMROCKS WELPT OVER ST PATRICKS CATHEDRAL
THAT FINE DAY CAMELOT SLEPT IN NEVER READING
THE MORNING PAPER LEFT FOREVER DANGLING UPON
AN UNDIVIDED GRASSY KNOLL HENCE THE SAME
SIMPLY DONE BECAUSE OF YOUR NAME
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron