Long Happenings Poems
Long Happenings Poems. Below are the most popular long Happenings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Happenings poems by poem length and keyword.
I write about everyday happenings
That's my style and I'm sticking with it
I'm not yer fancy, highfalutin' writer
Down to earth stuff is what I emit
I sometimes get naughty, God forbid
Try to keep it down to a minimum
A fine old gentleman from way up north
An honourable upstanding citizen
Have you had enough, are you feeling ill
So sorry, but I really must emote
I'm a Leo you know so don't blame me
Not responsible if I sometimes gloat
A handsome devil, I'll give you that
Learned to live with girlie's attention
Quite like it, makes me feel kinda frisky
And relieves my sexual tension
So that's me, I'm just an ordinary fellow
Not yer fancy, highfalutin' writer
Stick to the basics, just ordinary stuff
Known as a lover, not as a fighter
Donald Trump made nothing so great again
Except his big hair fancy once again,
And the poor old puppeteer of punch lines
Faces a boomerang of mines.
Donald Trump,
Fell into a foreign policy slump.
Forgetting the Strait of Hormuz,
Forced he’s to focus on Hairmuz.
Donald Trump's coiffeur of hair,
Kept his critics in utter despair---
If held together by sheer will power,
Or industrial-grade lacquer?
In Las Vegas Donald Trump
Tried to give the economy a bump.
But no one paid him as much heed
As his massive golden mane did.
Donald Trump’s fuller head of hair
Left media memes in a frozen stare.
The AI-made serum played magic trick,
And his thin thatch turned unto bushy thick.
Donald Trump
Caused rumour mills to take a thespian jump.
And photo shops were suddenly busy
With an over-the-top teased-up medley.
____________________________
Happenings | 13.08.2026 | America, art, humour, political, satire, Clerihew
Here I am again searching for my new found friend
We were walking together hand in hand
And in a fleeting moment the wind spun around
Rooting up trees and flinging light poles all over the ground
and my friend is nowhere to be found. I am still shaking
and my heart is racing…everything happen so fast
there nothing that I could do but hold on to my conviction
until the moment pass. I can still feel the chill in my bones
as I ponder the strange happenings that erode my soul.
I look towards the horizons to understand the nature of man
But all I see was buzzing bee flying around the tree squeezing nectar from the withered flowers, while scores of monarchs and painted lady butterflies gather round the field penetrating wild flowers and making plans for the next mass migration. I kept searching the universe for my friend, but my new found friend began to growl like a bear spilling anxiety in the atmosphere. It hid discretely behind the tree sucking honey from the honey comb and doing a strange dance in the cold, so I have climbed to the top of the mountain to understand the oracle and unravel the mystery that is shrouded in secrecy of man. When my beau comes tell him that I am marinating chicken in the sun
When my beau comes tell him that he has a long distant to run, the clouds are rolling above me and the old man buried in the clouds is waving at the planes as they maneuver in the skies. I stand on this heightened mountain looking across the horizon for my newly found friend and watch the fleeting day’s passes like rockets parachuting in the sky.
I wot of maifaire said the man where people sell
Upon the green where are leafy boughed trees seen
There stand thegen; reeve; and fat geese lay, there
People do sport and horses neigh
Just follow down the earthen track
you will see it where
the colored buntings flap.'
Wow so this is Mayfair the tourist said, place of
Bustle place of style, of well paved streets place
Of happening and moment , Its great to see the glitz and glitter the glazed iced Cakes and Impersonal titter; the endless roar of fervid hordes
Here is everything man adores.' Its so fullfillng
Its really grand to think I stand on such august
a spot just an Iowa man.'
I'm already feeling the culture seep in, I'll return
Home more like Milton I can feel it in my skin.'
In the service yord of a Mayfair hotel people huddle
Homless almost hopeless craving warmth they lay
Under slate or skies of blue its all the same
The pavement is hard whatever the weather they find
Five years you must live near; around or a place
Will not be yours 'never mind' it was David Cameron
Who gifted them so, and it was not expensive I have
Been informed tis a most baneful woe'
Peace gapes at the world
Broken and scarred
Her sovereignty no more her pride
What a heavy price
It has become to be able to walk free
In between the limits of Earth
Peace gapes at the world ever so silently
Her pleas have been left unheeded
Her voice, scorned
Her anguish, looked down upon
On other hand, wars boast of themselves
As they hold the upper hand
On the happenings of Earth,
Aware, that they can resolve conflicts
Aware that the saying goes thus:
Wars end wars,
Wars bring peace!
But peace shudders at the sight of wars,
She glances at the skies
Wishing she could run to some other place
Where she reigns!
Meanwhile, Earth revolves,
And maintains her dance in the universe
Stoic, so like a soldier going through torture
Unable to do anything else
As she remains bound by the actions of her children
And even if peace be her favourite,
She cannot favour her as the wars keep watching her every move!
I write about everyday happenings
That's my style and I'm sticking with it
I'm not yer fancy, highfalutin writer
Down to earth stuff is what I emit
I sometimes get naughty, God forbid
Try to keep it down to a minimum
A fine old gentleman from way up north
An honourable upstanding citizen
Have you had enough, are you getting ill
So sorry, but I really must emote
I'm a Leo you know so don't blame me
Not responsible if I sometimes gloat
A handsome devil, I'll give you that
Learned to live with girlie's attention
Quite like it, makes me feel kinda frisky
And relieves my sexual tension
So that's me, I'm just an ordinary fellow
Not yer fancy, highfalutin writer
Stick to the basics, just ordinary stuff
Known as a lover, not as a fighter
© Jack Ellison 2014
February dusk descends
Upon Orchard Road;
My walking attends
As feet bear clear loads.
Bright and breezy moods
In crowded walkways;
Casual tour feels good
As curious sights sway.
A sea of faces
In brisk momentum;
Each going places,
Motion feeds quantum.
History lives here
In ample shopping;
This locale endears,
Branded goods shouting.
This tourist belt hurls
Myriad offerings:
Tempting wants that swirl
A spree of buying.
My footsteps tour far
As curious eyes feast;
I see trends on par
That spur the vain beast.
Too soon the dark sky
As bright lights emerge;
Shoppes can ply goods high,
As wants and needs surge.
I observe the scene
With curious feelings;
A climax unseen
In such happenings.
My brisk strides take me
Straight on sanguine flights;
My eyes search this sea
To glimpse odd delights.
Along the streets spy
The way people move;
Scent the lows and highs
That echo these grooves.
My senses soak in
The busy fare and face;
Heed voice unseen
That flavours this space.
A surge of spring air,
Bold shop displays call;
A festive affair
In these noisy malls.
Orchard Road reveals
A dazzling array;
Cash and carry thrills
Can make happy play.
Yet I notice too
The sad and lonely;
The weary day woos
That human worry.
My heart feels the pains
Beyond the trade veil;
The rush to attain
Bread and butter trails.
This brisk atmosphere
Seeds naked contrast,
Confronts sights right here
As loud music blasts.
My walking tour ends
As I circle back;
My hunger now lands
A food court meal stack.
My feet have prevailed
The once tree-lined streets;
Shopping sprees and sales
Call to woo and greet.
My sixty-year frame
Feels fit to yet roam;
Good health wears a name
In place I call home.
Dusk at Orchard Road
Can be like a breeze;
Forsake buying loads,
Forfeit the cash squeeze!
Leon Enriquez
02 February 2015
Singapore
It’s perhaps accident, chaos
Happens to rhyme well with Davos—
A talk shop of the world
Where bales of wisdom’s heard,
A shop known for big talk
Nonstop and round the clock,
Where every voice is virtuous!
____________________________________
Happenings |22.01.2023| limerick, humour
Poet’s note: There might be paucity of snow in this ski resort, but not of sound bites in this talk shop called World Economic Forum. And after A to Z deliberations they all go back to their old ways. Perhaps this is why this year’s WEF at Davos seems to have lost some of its old shine, which sundry god-men tried to make good with some pious talks.
Pursuing more than a fair rightful need,
Man, thou hast cornered every craven toy,
Coveting vulture-like that grabs with greed,
Indulging more, way far less to enjoy,
Chasing false thrills on thy life’s every shore
To gratify thy voracious desires,
Fuelling around furious forest fires,
Yielding less and less, fielding more and more.
Thou hast far fewer brain spots of pleasure—
Those that fuel in thee a raging fire,
Beware, Nature has a rare erasure
On thy streetcar with a brake-less desire
That darts more dots O driving thou to strive,
Yet, satisfaction does seldom arrive.
Beware O man, ye covet in excess
In hedonic hotspots’ frantic mad chase,
Attempting to get more, enjoying less,
Amidst all boundless bounties art thou blasé!
…..
What ancient wisdom of ours long ere knew,
Science endorses now its weighty view.
________________________________________
Happenings | 01.04.2007 | desire, joy, pleasure
Poet’s note: A scientific study shows that wanting and liking are separate spots in brain controlled by different circuits. Only when these urges occur in sync, is the impact on brain powerful. But there is a catch. Brain has fewer mechanisms for pleasure than for desire. Hence humans are susceptible to wanting more than they can actually enjoy. Alas, science is only now beginning to understand the Indic thought spiritually and philosophically divined long ago, that too much desire which always frustrates man is not good. Minimizing one’s needs is the key to happiness.
This poem has four stanzas, progressively reducing in size— from eight, to six, to four, to two— the hedonic spots for desire must gradually reduce in sync with those to enjoy.
My last foray into this arena
Had me living memories, not wished to share
Here I go again, another visit
Into the elderly homes, we wish not
A sunny day, another gathering
Carers working, making things happen
Those in wheelchairs, still smiling
Others in mobile beds, unsure of the happening
A talk by an ancient, born 1917
Strong voice, begging to be heard
Wartime memories, clear as a bell
The telling of a visit into hell
Strong voice, sharing memories
Some good, others not so
I look around the room
Half the listeners, into their snooze
On and on, goes the story
Death and glory, hand in hand
How can you tell such a sad command?
Bravery, such as only you can understand
Bodies of men, only families know
Story goes for one hour
Comment from teller, end is near!
Carers sob quietly, hidden words
Room is quiet as never before
I leave this place, memories flooding
If there is a being, ruling the happenings
Make me safe, send me happiness