Long Hat Poems

Long Hat Poems. Below are the most popular long Hat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hat poems by poem length and keyword.


Home

Please do not define me by the house I’m living in.
You don’t know where I’m going; you don’t know where I’ve been.
Just because my house is not a mansion or chalet,
Doesn’t mean I can’t be just as happy where I stay.
 
The circumstances of our lives can change from time to time.
It seems to me that this time, a change will soon be mine.
I’m not sure I am ready to face this task again.
I’m longing for the days of youth and happy times back then.
 
No matter where I hang my hat, my heart is still the same.
Four walls alone won’t make a home when filled with doubt or shame.
A house is made of bricks or wood, but this I must confide…
A house is not a home unless true love resides inside.
 
A home should be a place that reaches out its arms to you,
Some rocking chairs on your front porch, where you enjoy the view.
As soon as you set foot inside the door you know you’re home,
Where Home Sweet Home is always best, no matter where you roam.
 
The welcome mat, it does just that…it makes you feel secure.
It doesn’t matter where you’re at, or if you’re rich or poor.
I think a home can know if you are feeling sad or blue,
And in its way, will do its best to take good care of you.
 
To me, there's nothing sadder than a house no one lives in.
No family to call its own, and empty rooms within.
Its windows are the eyes that blankly stare, as if to say,
“Won’t you come inside and take my loneliness away?”

The houses where I’ve lived before were happy ones, you see.
I loved each one in different ways and I know they loved me.
I left my mark on each of them in one way or another,
Especially the one I shared with Daddy and my Mother.

This home won’t be as nice as some I’ve lived in, in the past.
Financial strain can dwindle down a bank account so fast.
I have to do what’s right for me, and not for any other.
If you don’t like the place I live, I can’t go buy another.
 
I hope I won’t be judged by where I live, because you see
Your circumstances, too could change; you may live next to me.
Tornado Magnet, Trailer Trash…call me what you will.
The only thing that matters is the sweet relief I’ll feel.
 
Although it’s sad to leave this home, I never understood,
The heavy burden of my debt would soon be gone for good.
So if you want to tease me now, I’m sure you will agree,
This “almost” Trailer Trash is very soon to be debt-free!
Form: Rhyme


Shogun Series Bill's Side 11 Richard Pickett Story

(Continued from Bill's side 10“)
     
    "Never  mind that. I know you well enough to know you know what you’re doing. 
Just stick with me and keep me informed especially on this one. I’ll give you as much 
leeway as I can. I got a hunch this case is going to be rough in more ways than 
one. Get me? I’ve been around a while. I didn’t come with this morning’s milk. The 
Captain and I already been discussing this one with the Commissioner. This 
vigilante thing is dangerous and already out of control.”
Bill still didn’t know where this was going but at least so far he hadn’t been 
demoted to walking a beat. His hope and nerve  was picking up. This Griggs guy 
was tough and had a rep for no bull. “Yeah, that’s wha ….”  
“Just shut up and listen, Sgt. Lipton. The Captain doesn’t want any part of that 
vigilante case. He wants a good record for an upcoming political agenda. That’s no 
secret. He doesn’t want anything to do with this case because he’s afraid it won’t 
get solved and his record will be stained with it.
You just stick to what you’re supposed to be doing and keep your ear to the 
ground. From experience I know that vigilante.. if it’s just one,... isn’t going to work 
out his issues in just one precinct. Keep in touch with what’s going on while you’re 
on and off duty. If you got to check something out off the cuff, you are to ask me 
first. Get it? Mums the word to the Captain. If he hears anything about our talk I’ll 
deny every bit of it and you’ll be left holding the bag. Do you get my drift here Sgt.? 
………  …    .. …. “Cat got your tongue?”
“No sir, I just…uh …yes sir I mean ….I get your drift.”
“Good , I enjoyed our conversation…now haven’t you got someplace to go? It’s 
knock off time. I believe your up for mounty duty tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I am. Is there anything else Lt Griggs?”
“Yes, close the door on your way out.” Bill took his hat up off his knee, stood up and 
walked the three steps to the door when Lt Griggs said without looking up from his 
paper work on his desk, “Bill…?
“Yes sir?”
“ Glad to have you back“, he said with a more relaxed tone, “Now get outa here.” 
And he went back to his case file.
Bill smiled, went to his office, traded his ball cap in for his Stetson and left the 
building mulling over what the Lt had and had not told him.   

(to be cont on Richard Pickett poetry site)
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Floating

The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi


I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.

Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.

Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.

I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.

Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.

In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.

Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
© Silent One  Create an image from this poem.

Dressed From the Inside Out

it's Fashion Week in New York City and the people just can't wait
to see the lastest trends that the designers will demonstrate
to all the fashionistas with their obssession to impress
tis the season to be a woman of style in the way that you dress
for true fashion is about representing one's identity by the clothing one wears
but fashion is fickle and it's a crazy and unpredictable world out there
one day you may be in and the next day you may be out
but if your wearing the garments of God your fashion style is never in doubt

celebrity endorsements, designer labels and someone's logo on your butt cheeks
there's nothing wrong with the external facade but it's the internal you need to seek
you've been baptized and now you are a new creation in Christ
wearing Divine Designer garments to go with your new life
you have been stripped of the old way of dressing
now wearing the virtues of God in a way most impressing
high fashion from that Universal Designer known as Our Lord God
wearing His Divine creations to go with your brand new heart

Patience is now the pantyhose where your divine foundation starts
Compassion is now that delicate silk blouse worn over your heart
Kindness displayed like a heavenly pair of shoes upon your feet
Humility is now that stylish hat that makes your outfit complete
Forgiveness worn like a precious and expensive pair of gloves
and last but not least that glorious overcoat that God calls love
dressed in Divine Designer garments from the inside out
dressed for success with a stylish spiritual clout

you don't need a Louis Vitton sash around your waist
if you have the Belt of Truth cinched firmly in place
you won't need a Ralph Lauren chemise to cover your back
as the Breastplate of Righteousness will protect from any and all attacks
you don't need a pair of Jimmy Choos stiletto high heels
as the Readiness of the Gospel of Peace is a much better deal
you don't require a Prada handbag just to show you're with it
if you have in your hand the Biblical Sword of the Spirit
and it's not necessary to put on Ban de Soleil
as the Shield of Faith will cover you each and every day
and you don't need a Kate Spade hat upon your head
as the Helmet of Salvation will have you spirit led
dressed from the inside out now totally and spiritually clad
dressed in the virtues of God, the finest garments to be had

Open Windows

I stayed awake all night listening to the sounds fighting with the night and battle raging in the street erupting my heart beat, one bad news after the other the body lie waiting in the gutter and the morning crowd kept walking on without a music or a song, and I said to myself what on earth is going on?  

It is the question you usually hear when the dogs’ barks late at nights and the stars over your head are shining brightly and hope looks at you from the window. You cannot read it; you cannot understand it and you cannot deny it.  

It looks like a pecan pie rolling sitting on the table with shoes and hat getting ready to connect the dot and the man in the dressing room is walking with a gun strapped to his side and a beach ball bouncing in front of him. 

I am still wrestling with this heavy feeling inside it is not pain or any form of physical aliment, it is the environment and its occupants that is sucking the raw energy out of me and the urgency to tell a prolific story. I can’t tell it alone; I have to tell it in a night gown with incandescent lights around my bed and a bulletproof roof over my head. When the tension fades and morning weight subsides, we will write this story together and it will serve for the next century. 

The temperature is rising and the squirrels are coming out of the ground they have fist like man and sand to cover the entire land. They are running up and down the streets trying to escape the beguiling heat but the sun creates a simple track and mercy is holding on to the rock with the pipers and the minstrel playing a merry tune 

It is not the rhythm that you usually hear or the one that is saturated in the atmosphere, it is not the sound of death that is running the marathon around the track, it is the formula that you dig out of ice and the jewel that is sold at a very high price, it is the type of rhythm that make me feel nice. For one moment the cluttered space around me evaporate in thin air. 

The window is wide open in my face and I can see everyone that entered the race, they are still walking under heavy burden covering grounds and surveying the town, and looking for substance all around but just before 2:00pm the ship will dock in the harbor and you will have fine spices and tea for th rest of your life; the window is open wide and I can see you standing in awe gallivanting with your new bride.
Form: Narrative


The Adventures of Enea, Part 5 of 13

Enea Gets the Red Hat

Finally, he's getting somewhere. 
Fifty years of age and almost crippled, 
prematurely aged, but at last, 
sweet recognition rains down 
on the poet. Kneeling before Calixtus, 
he accepts the Cardinal's hat. 
Fancy that. 

With every triumph, we're swept nearer Hell. 
Each anthem that we sing's a kind of knell. 
No matter what we get, or grab, or gain, 
we're human, and our lot is death and pain. 

Both Frederick and Ladislas 
had to do a lot of lobbying 
(Calixtus was a Borgia, after all: 
and family is family.) Por fin, 
esta elevado. Behold the scene. 

Frederick with his back to us 
and Ladislas holding on to him 
(shouldn't that be the other way round?) 
deserve their pride of place. 
The seething swell of humans 
swirls around the little altar, 
but can't budge it. 
The clear-cut marble doesn't give. 
What is the painter telling us? 
Men move, and flow, and live, and go, 
but soon or later, their 
energy is spent? 
The Church is permanent? 

Regard the four main players, 
the upper crust of Mankind's many layers, 
yet each one a loser clone. 
Calixtus took the throne 
already old, and singing one stale tune 
(and that, corrupt!) 
He didn't use a long spoon 
when he supped. 
There's Frederick, the Emperor, 
a joke. Bullied by his minions, 
unhappy, hapless, broke. 
And Ladislas, a king without a kingdom, 
a cock without a crest, 
he's Frederick's long-term guest 
(another kind of jest). 

A prisoner -- or let's say, at home, 
he and Frederick make a palindrome: 
august additions to this Pleasure Dome. 
Enea: worn out, homesick, ill. 
Surviving now on sheer will. 
Is that Nature's tonsure, or Man's? 
He's kept alive by feverish plans 
to mount a Great Crusade -- 
but we all know it won't be made. 

Two rigid windows and an altarpiece. 
The Trinity? (The painting is the Holy Ghost.) 
Or are those plain, framed panes 
the Empire and the Papacy? 
You think we're reading too much in? 
We point you to one subtle artist's touch. 

The youth, right-centre, in the azure cloak, 
who's smirking at some "only-I-know" joke: 
head cocked, as if he's watching all, askance: 
he finds the dainty, double-dealing dance 
amusing. Isn't he Rafael? 
Hatted like some crimson Cardinal, 
he's watching how they rise up, how they fall. 
He's waiting, calmly, to inherit all.
Form: Rhyme

One100eight

ONE100eight 
ONE100eight 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
www.three 
 
SUN TRAN history 
 
 Passenger Pigeons carry messages to people entrenched at 
www.wwone/ditched in doughboy britches wearing Army boots of wool 
 August 3, 1914 special free edition of the BerlinTageblatt announces "The War 
with France” The Kaiser rolled away and fell from Germany the world is saved 
they proclaim the war is over 1918   
 His hat was very black and ebon his vest hung down in back front was cut in 
western sling style his hair was off white gray an old gunslinger out of old 
Tucson days. He took a transfer out of his pants pocket and tried to slide it in the 
bus to make it work but the driver had turned it off to see his face light up he had 
been caught for this was the very first bus. NO the driver said simply with a smile 
that will not work and left it at that and up to him he did not frown but added the 
dollar paid the money for the fare the first time not again his bogus attempt at a 
free ride had failed. He took his transfer paid he learned his western lesson 
there the driver being kind and understanding could have been demanding that 
he leave the bus and March 24, 2008 has come the carrier pigeons are taking 
messages to www.wwtwo.com the war is over Hitler dead go home and live 
without a gun without a dread.  She simply simpered she opened up her bag a 
purse no doubt without a dime or dollar amount inside her friend paid for hisself 
one dollar kept the transfer in his hand she kept repeating to herself for all the 
crowd to understand eye left the wallet with the money in it at home the wallet MY 
wallet is NOT in this bag it has been left at home the man he seemed astonied 
when she said in certain tones did you get a pass for me NO he said don't you 
remember my pass and your pass is both in your wallet left at home the driver 
moaned a bit but let her be she let them ride he said eye gave to you my pass to 
keep for me she said so sad MY WALLET is NOT in this bag it is left behind at 
home IT'S EVERYTHING the carrier pigeon flew with messages to the troop in 
the trenchment ditch at www.worldwarthree.com/apocolypse 
The message simply said 
we airmailed 
 every missle 
that we have 
to hit the enemy 
the world is over now 
do not try to do anything 
just pray 
we are all going to see 
JESUS 
NOW 
TODAY

Musicals - Part 1

Have you ever been in a musical show?
I have done some, so this is how I know.
They first hooked me when I was in high school,
but stage fright made me feel the fool.

So, I began on the backstage crew,
Oh the things we had to do.
Painting sets and handling props, 
sometimes I wished I was a farmer harvesting crops.

Dressing all in black the day of the show
moving sets in the dark so no one would know.
We did some things that only a crew can do
I'll try to list a few here for you.

For example, during the "King and I",
There is a tearful scene with a Buddha to cry.
Since our Buddha was a person who spoke to Tuptim,
We did all in our power to get a laugh out of him.

Two of us moved his pedestal onstage,
his scene was to be all the rage.
We had to hide below his pedestal for his soliloquy,
So we tried to crack him up for all to see.

I worked behind the scenes again, for "My Fair Lady",
Some of the things we did there were also shady.
Professor Higgins takes a big drink in one scene
so we decided to pull one of our pranks on him.

The bottle he poured from was usually filled with ginger ale,
when we switched it to the real stuff he turned pale.
He could barely speak the next few lines
and was off key in his song the next time.

The classic we pulled was in "The Unsinkable Molly Brown",
our prank was the talk of the town.
If you don't know the story let me enlighten you
because then you may get a laugh or two.

Molly is aboard the Titanic's first trip
and the scene has to deal with the sinking of the ship.
We had a lifeboat with people on stage with waves across the floor,
she gets their attention by firing several shots in the air.

During the final dress rehearsal before show night
we knew this scene would be just right.
The Titanic sinking in the background, the waves, the lifeboat,
Molly pulls her pistol, raises it to the sky, and began to shoot.

The auditorium goes silent as the people raise their eyes to her to engage,
When a rubber duck came flying from the wings and landed on stage.
You never saw a director as mad as that
if she had a gun she would have blown off your hat.

"Who did that? Who did that?" was all she could say,
as the stage crew just laughed as we went on our way.
I finally got the nerve to perform in some shows later on,
But for now...this is just an introduction.
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Clown Politics

How am I doing

Well thanking you very much indeed

For being kind enough to ask

Because I am doing just fine

In fact I can't tell a lie i am actually
way far better than that bordering on
great 

Because my business is downright
booming at the minute

To the point I have had to stop taking
bookings as I am now fully booked
up till Christmas

And the reason why you may well ask
well is due and down to this

You see what I do for and earn my living
as my proffesion and business is 

I am a fully qualified certified card carrying
Clown

So much some of the very best in the
business which you may or may
not have heard of

Like for example Sideshow Bob and 
Ronald McDonald who actually based 
a lot of their own act and performance 
on material they stole off me

But they have all but since gone to
ground so now I am all but the last
standing remaining Clown

Due to the dwindling amount of work
after COVID -19 rules etiquette and
social distancing ensued

The best excuse money can buy
when all else other's used have failed 
thus far since the classic good old days
of my dog eat my homework 

And left them without means to
earn a steady income to support 
them in order to pay their bill's and
lifestyle they had become accustomed to

But hey at least this story has a happy
ending and they didn't want and go
without for very long

Because blessed with the particular
skillet they garnered and possessed

They simply just went joined signed
up and pledged allegiance to and
became a fully fledged member of the 
Clown Union 

Because as everyone full well knows
Clown's are the star's and reason why
people choose go to the Circus in the
1st place 

And politics if nothing else is in all
but name the greatest Circus on earth

Only difference being although littered 
with clown's these one's have or feel
no need 

To slap and adorn their face in
makeup or wear a funny customized
suit

Because they are and their act and
material on which it is based upon is 
in itself funnier than hell

But whereas Circus clown's wear big
shoe's for comical affect 

These here clown's wear big boot's
in order so they can fill them up to
brim of their stetson hat

After the pockets of their shinny designer
bespoken suits look like they have
$100 handkerchief hanging out all
of them

Premium Member Eddie Mars and the Solar Winds

EDDIE MARS AND THE SOLAR WINDS

The biggest band in Lisburn and fronted by Eddie Mars
A guy who could play anything, on his collection of guitars
On vocals, Charlie Venus, who was the joker in the pack
He played his fender tele' through a great big marshall stack
On bass was Johnny Neptune, with his yellow platform shoes
He harmonized on vocal, a disciple of the blues
The keyboards were delivered, by Hector Mothership
He worshipped things electrical, and loved the microchip
Ray Uranus kept the beat and he wore a bowler hat
Sure only a crazy drummer, would adopt a name like that

They played all over Britain, with their rockin lunar style
They sold out gigs in Wigan, they were lauded in Millisle
Their stage show was fantastic, with a massive lighting rig
A spaceship and some planets, lit the stage at every gig
That grew a loyal fan base, as they played across the land
They lived a life of excess, just like any touring band
Success soon followed in their wake, awards came thick and fast
And very soon the space machine, had an ever growing cast
Five young lads from Lisburn, fifty people in their crew
An entourage of strangers that they never even knew

Five big trucks, a fleet of cars, a chopper and two planes
A man to do the finance, who didn't even know their names, 
Still, fashions change, the sales dried up, the audience died away
And soon there were no big crowds, to watch the five lads play
Their last gig at the Ulster hall, was an evening to forget
Out of tune, and full of beer, as they stumbled through the set
And things got pretty messy when accountants came to call
They had no cash, they had no rights, seems their manager had it all
Their luck ran out, the band where broke, they had to end the show
They had to sell up everything, the spaceship had to go

Ray could never come to terms, with all the hurt and pain
He took some drugs and alcohol, he just never woke again
Hector went to college and he earned a top degree
And now he is the I.T guy in a light bulb factory
Johnny is the local star, who likes to talk about his fame
He tries to pull the young girls, and dine out on his name
Charlie lost his family, when the alcohol took hold
He shelters in the hostels when the weather gets too cold
Eddie left the country, when it all became too much
He now lives in Australia, but he never kept in touch
Form: Rhyme

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