Long Hatter Poems
Long Hatter Poems. Below are the most popular long Hatter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hatter poems by poem length and keyword.
Tore
Sat on a phone, waiting for love.
Got her number on speed dial, but love is not enough.
Spoke to her just yesterday, but that is history.
Need to speak with her everyday to satisfy my need.
Loving her is easy, but I am never freed.
Hypnotised by killer lines. Meet her in my dreams.
Actually managed to tell her,
She’s my kind of drug.
Picture me with somebody married.
We are us.
Want to tour her state-of-the-art mind.
What’s mine is mine and what’s hers is mine,
Because I give her all I have.
Don’t need possessions, just lessons, in laugh.
If we last another year I guess that makes us two.
I need to breathe her into my life.
I only write for you.
Ignore the chatter, that does not matter.
Fall madly for me like a crazy hatter,
And I will follow your rabbit wherever it may go.
In your life I find a wonderland that I can’t leave alone.
(C)2026 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Beware the Cheshire cat
whose advice is here or there
and says there are just two paths -
again I say beware.
Carroll had it right
as he wrote behind that grin:
Alice could also stay put
or go back to her begin.
She ate the cake to grow big
and drank potion to be small,
yet there was always the third way -
not to eat or drink at all.
Beyond the looking glass
and down the rabbit hole,
a heartless queen asks questions -
any answer and heads roll.
Watch out for false dichotomy
and the choice that does not matter
or you’ll be writing on a raven's desk
to answer the Mad Hatter.
(07/2023) See Chapter 6 of ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’ by Lewis Carroll.
This is the story of Norm and Nate,
And Hank Williams, the great balladeer,
And what was to be their horrible fate
As they spun on this rotating sphere.
Nate the needle played hits on a platter,
Spinning the sad songs Norm had made him.
Norm, as they’d say, was mad as a hatter,
But Nate the needle meekly obeyed him.
In a circle, the platter would revolve
As Nate would sing sad sounds he found there,
While Norm, crying bitter tears, would dissolve,
As Hank’s words and voice, he couldn’t bear.
Hank’s million-dollar voice came from on high,
But the Lord gave him a 10-cent head.
He wrote the song, “So Lonesome I Could Cry”
Lamenting leaves that would soon be dead.
On New Year’s, ‘53, Hank Williams died;
Norm could play only that song and not move.
Hank saw the light, while Norm cried and cried,
And Nate was buried in a watery groove.
please lemme know and honestly profess
if profusion of words create a lingual Loch Ness
(when hens canst come home to roost
especially, encountering
the following conglomeration
in matthew scott harris patois).
He readily admits writing inventive
attempts usually ten tubby a literary mess,
thus finding innocent cyber cruisers
Angle fishing for Saxony fundamental fluidity
courtesy of Freudian stream of consciousness,
gabbling gibberish, muck not done on purpose
and certainly less
to impress.
Gnome hatter intent toward
cogency, fancy ingenuity,
levity, the inevitable
resultant wrought gobbledygook
fascination for Lingua Franca
feeble endeavor splutters, splinters,
and splatters Asia Yukon guess.
Paramour status analogous with twenty six letters,
sans En gull Lush Mother tongue confluence
finds me submerged (as an Arctic Monkey)
swimmingly enervated
via erotic laced sentiments
perhaps finds bravely daring soul madly
hollering, gesticulating floundering,
(in close proximity to Davey Jones's locker)
to avoid drowning at sea
perchance comprehending passionate influence.
Upon espying a signature poem of mine
forces one pre ponder ring lurking predilection
tib hush anonymous re:
dears (dares) adventuresome mettle
taking him/her to the brainy
(briny) deep brink
Icon fess
this (NON FAKE) pretense, why
aye metaphorically express
(via medium of ordinary Anglophile
alphabetic wanton soup,
or figurative egg drop bub
bling broth (el) doth brew)
pronouns Sibyl affectation
affliction sans plethora,
where each ladle full adrip with
richly flavor Verdana Font lee
and sincerely textured vocabulary.
Pluperfect mortals beings undoubtedly feel
(blindsided, how this hunger stricken author
suffers said sesquipedalian syndrome
particularly expectorating flashy
hoping tum bark on successful literary quest)
hyper aware aspiring paperback writers wannabe
might stoop to conquer, cheat, cadge
vis a vis plagiarize plethora
amidst storied plentiful English droppings.
Rather than succumb pretense feigning paucity
temptation to bask exultantly,
professed glorious unrequited love
announcing required sworn vow,
(el lye ding) avowed consonant covenant.
Form:
First off my friend
Let me begin
By saying I ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen
Now with those pleasantries
Out of the way
Let me proceed to say
What I need to say
I've written different poems
On different subjects, different matters
Some soft as a kitten
Others mad as a hatter
Every now and then
I stand on the serious ledge
But more often than not
I fall right off of the edge
Like I said before
I'm just a fool with a pen
Drooling from my smile
Cross eyed in my grin
Separating in rhyme
All the boys from the men
Cackling in crazy
From the beginning to the end
Thanking my lucky stars
Rhyming comes so easy
Like a trip to Venus or Mars
Half baked brain and over queasy
Like I said before
When all of this began
I really ain't no poet
Just a fool with a pen
His booming laugh made the tea cups rattle,
As he enjoyed his bubbly tea, his friends rat and mouse came round to the house
To join their friend for tea
They all wore masks to protect each other
No sickness between them would come
He was no mad hatter but he knew what mattered
So sanitiser he used, he tried hard not to cough
As he slowly rocked to make his friends their tea
He put in bags and sugar drops too, waiting for water to bubble
In a moment, he walked to where they sat, a tray of treats in his hands
He moved kind of slow, as bolts kept him from racing,
But this special night was his.
No bolt or stitch could stop his itch for his long awaited treat
He cut up some tea and cheese for rat and mouse to share,
Mouse sipped first and was the first to spit out,
Confusing the big old monster,
What's happened my friend, he said with a frown,
Rat giggling, now on the floor.
It wasn't water you used to make the tea
But hand sanitizer, is what you gave me,
Mouse now laughed and nodded his head
In my cup too, it smells.
Frankie blushed as he realised what he had done
His eyes danced with a little of laughter too.
When he saw that instead of water in the kettle, h
Heb boiled the hand sanitizer gel
And instead of tea, he kept everyone well.
I glanced at him on his knees, donning tears and a robe.
Wiping bullets and blood off the streets.
He slowly made his way toward the broken business zone.
A worn carpenter's belt in tow.
A soft light was around him.
The crowd began to grow.
He helped the last hatter board up his store.
A nail between his teeth.
Broken glass and bottle caps
played taps to a windy city beat.
He placed a few signs in the ground.
That said, vote for candidate faith, believe in the divine.
His time was up; it was time for him to go.
Once again, he was called back home.
As he left, he turned around and simply said.
"Love one another... greatly".
THE BALLAD OF CARLIN 2Fingers Mad Hatter Williams
Oh, allow me;
To tell you a story;
Bout a little toddler named;
Carlin Williams;
He’s a boy;
Carshra and Nathaniel's joy;
Some call him
2fingers Hat Matters;
Why you ask;
Cuz, he’s got more hats, than the Mad Hatter;
And if you’re at the kitchen or dining room table;
Don’t git up, or he’ll eat all of your vegetables?
Oh! And not only just that;
He’ll dare you to come back;
He’ll finish his plate first;
Then give you a dirty look;
As he’s finishing your desert;
Some call him;
2fingers Hat Matters;
While sucking on his two-fingers;
His cute button eyes, dares you to come hinder…
He has a hat for every purpose;
Ooh, and all that curly hair not an Afro, it’s just natural,
Why you ask,
What he sucks his fingers for,
Maybe his tooth itches…suck, suck, suck,
Maybe he’s sucking the remains of chocolate candy,
Maybe he’s sucking off salt from the butted pop-corn,
Or maybe he just wants to rub his salivated wet fingers on ya!!! LOL!.
He’s a boy
Some call him eatM up, some say don’t leave your plate on the table;
Or when you come back, won’t be nothing left;
He ain’t no Mikey whose know for not eating his food;
Carlin eat his first then will be eating yours too:
He’s a boy;
Carshra and Nathaniel's joy;
Some call him;
2fingers Hat Matters;
Why you ask;
Cuz, he’s got more hats, than the Mad Hatter;
And if you’re at the kitchen or dining room table;
Don’t git up, or he’ll eat all of your vegetables?
Oh! And not only just that;
He’ll dare you to come back;
He’ll finish his plate first;
Then give you a dirty look;
As he’s finishing your desert;
You see this toddler under three
Is the Grandson of PaPa James Edward Lee (Sr.)
10/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
I shared with a poet
that I’m sad and angry
My heart is going to a place
it doesn’t want to be
I know you are hurting
you want to be free
But around that last corner
There are things you can’t see
Absence my friend
does not remove suffering
It passes it to others
there’s no peace it can bring
it’s a cold and empty place
the ending of everything
Closing eyes, not waking
won’t make your heart fly or sing
I know I’m a small footnote
in a chapter of your story
Yet I want more for you
I wish for you to know Glory
So I’ll press one more time
make a moment feel like forty
I want more conversations
I pray You won’t be gone shortly
To me my friend
you are significant and matter
So my spirit feels anxious
I’m like the Mad Hatter
I climb up ten rungs
to try and meet you on your ladder
I don’t want you to jump
My heart’s heavy and grows sadder
So please tell me my friend
in your words how you feel
Even though I won’t pretend okay
please know that my love is real
I will be with you now
at this junction on your wheel
Maybe we can just sit here together
because I don’t really know how to feel.
I wrote this piece from a friend’s perspective. He is distraught
because his friend has chosen assisted suicide and the day
is quickly approaching. My heart and prayers go out to both
of them.
Madness, the Hatter blinks.
Madness, Oz's link.
Repercussions of concussions.
Madness was Portnoy's complaint**,
Madness must reciprocate!
Hallucinations filter by....
Leary* winks at Dali's eye.
A house lands on Dorothy's thighs...
Chicken Little wanders by.
"Madness," Hitler's honcho’s sneer.
Madness splices genes with fear.
"Lobotomize!" becomes the cheer.
Kellogg’s* enema's find waiting rears.
"Are you the ass? Or is it me?
Have I ears and a nose? What do you see?"
"Hehawww," said Pinocchio's friends.
"Heeehaw," said Darwin* back again.
Round and round went Steven Hawkings*.
"Madness," said Lenore's raven* squawking.
"Madness," said Einstein* in a blink.
"Reciprocate!," said the missing link.
Reference Poem Knock Knock by The Archaic Poet - topic madness
* Art by Salvador Dali
* Portnoy's Complaint by Phillip Roth states
if you know you are crazy than you must be sane.
* Timothy Leary explored LSD and other hallucinogenic drugs.
* Kellog [of cereal fame] proposed enema's as the cure to
all health ills, plus loads of sex!
* Darwin proposed man evolved from apes.
* Edgar Allen Poe was mad when he wrote The Raven.
* Einstein had aspergers syndrome a type of
* Steven Hawkings is a wheelchair bound scientist who autism.
extrapolates on the edge of mathematical reality.