Long Helper Poems
Long Helper Poems. Below are the most popular long Helper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Helper poems by poem length and keyword.
A ball of ripe green lettuce teases Miss T. Goat
She studies it from afar, nothing in her throat
Along comes a handyman who is fixing the moat.
Do you want it down? He asks Miss T. Goat
Miss T. Goat is not the kind to make up her mind.
She sits and stares, until her ideas unravel and unwind.
The handyman moves on, to fix the moat, of course.
Along comes another helper, G. Wiliam Til, a loud horse.
Shall I get it down for you? Asks G. William Till now.
Miss Goat is in a pickle, she does not know how…
To ask for help, so she shakes her head “no”. To G. William Till.
As far as I know the lettuce is hanging there still.
I didn’t choose the role,?but it settled on me early.?Before I knew what I was doing,?I was already responsible?for more than myself.
I learned to carry things?that weren’t mine?small things at first:?a bottle, a backpack,?a sibling’s tears.?Then bigger things:?disappointment,?expectations,?the silence between questions?no one wanted to ask.
They said I was “mature,”?as if that were praise.?But all I wanted?was to be little?a little longer.
No one saw me?as someone who could fall apart.
someone who could break?Only as the one?who holds it together?for everyone else.
I was the first to know better,?the one who had to lead,?even when I didn’t know the way.?I became a blueprint?and a warning.
Sometimes I wonder?what I would have been?if I had been allowed to just be.
Not the example.?Not the helper.?Not the second parent?with the same last name.
Still, I love deeply.?I protect quietly.?I show up—always.
Even if no one remembers?who taught them how.
Born shackled with globe sized
yoked millstone around my neck
rivaling the world Atlas shrugged,
or outsize boulder Sisyphus
eternally obliged to toil uphill
steepest mountain side
in concert with
Battlestar Galactica pièce de résistance
ear splitting discordant cacophonous din.
Simultaneously analogous twin tower
of Old Faithful geyser
Googleplex times Mariana Trench
aqueous oceanic chasm amply housing
Rhode Island sized fountainhead
constantly spewed vitriol
out subterranean mouth
scalding yours truly
with deadly skull king poison
(parenthetically), metaphorically, hyperbolically
approximates, nee aforementioned
actually an understatement
how whit sir yours truly
psyche dashed, manhandled, whipsawed
post parturition mine birth
subjected to class sic
biochemical, environmental, neurological
pummeling, oft times the cudgel
inherent, latent, salient...
genetically scripted torment.
Case in point
constitutes psychosocial (mine)
extreme introvertedness,
painfully shy reticence
exiled within zapped
writhing, wrenching, wracking
emotional, physical, spiritual isolation
plaguing mein kampf,
a worse fate than death
experiencing brutal and
nasty schooling as outcast
never feeling linkedin among peers,
nor family of origin
particularly latter years
minimally functioning just squeaking
to advance from one grade to the next
hidebound by invisible manacles
weighted heavily with severe anxiety
debilitating, paralyzing, unrelenting
panic/ anxiety attacks.
Scattershot employment track record
poor credit rating
the bane of misery
bias, discrimination, prejudice
throughout hand to mouth existence
impacted two innocent grown progeny
the eldest unforgiving,
no matter this papa coped
with demands of child raising
the missus easily overwhelmed
deferred domestic duties
birthday party arranger,
chauffeur, cook, homework helper,
summer time planner,
medical appointment scheduler...
Vanilla is a bird child, the villagers say
who leaves a feather as she flies away
But she'll return when all are asleep
for she has promises that she must keep.
Vanilla has never actually been spied
She just makes dreams come true--
The scent of vanilla she leaves by your side
So you'll know when the dream is through
So, one night a young boy hid for a look
and opened his sleepy eyes
In time to see rich old McDonald Brook
putting out another longed- for surprise
Shocking, the boy thought—wait till I tell
McDonald saw him and took him outside
He said, why would you spoiil their magic spell
You can be my helper; together, we will hide
When you grow to a man, you can work for me
That is, if a secret you're able to keep
vicc president the young boy's title grew to be
and Vanilla continues to come when villagers sleep
Released royale Holy King
Eternal mercies granted rise
Sured solemnly saves mankind a assured Savior
Unexpected deliverers soul deliver rise
Reprieve return to the Father to make a place for us
Return to the Father reprieve us, thank you for saving us
Ecclesiestical Lord early champion lifesaver rise
Calls on choicest mercies Christ sympathies
Tender, tenderest mercies of blessing rise
Incarnate saviour delivers His word
Outward praise to the Father outward mercies to the people rise
Noble Lord, noble rescuer, noble Savior rise
Domestic pieties rose against the sinners
Able helper absolute Lord grants absolute pardons rise
Young deliverer Savior of thee entire world didn't die, He rose, today
You are a divine creative inspiration to me, one that never ceases to amaze
all encouragement is mine when you catalyse my poetry with your displays
of guiding light, you are like a vaccine shot in the arm when you goad my ways
Motivated to the hilt you rouse my stimulus and help me to present myself
you are my lift, my boost, my perfect little helper kind, my secret magic elf
and thanks to you I own a happy flow, a writers afterglow an inspo self
You are my incitement and my provocation, my little willful spirit of excel
sweeter then honey more scented then Channel No 5 on the wrist pell-mell
you got something I cannot live without , something I can touch and smell
You're an afflatus of divinity a subterfuge and there is no monkey business with you
you put intent in all that you do and each time I write you come to visit me anew
we follow each other in parallel route, and there is no mistaking what we can do
You blow onto my senses like breath on a feather and you tether my creative passions
an impelling mental force that you are, you are right as rain without portion or ration
when you bestow and offer all you got, you enable me to write with thought and action.
Feb. 27, 2020
Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 - Tristich -
A dead man and newspapers
It was an extremely cold winter in 1947 the country was exhausted
and the German army who did construction work, building new roads
repairing the old ones had kept many civilians in employment
But the army had surrendered and taken the train home
Mother was not one sitting still; she secured two newspaper rounds
one in the morning and one in the afternoon
I was her helper, more I think, so she could keep an eye on me
In a courtyard, I saw a man sitting on the steps by the entrance
of a house, he sat very still and had ice on his eyebrows and lips
I called my mother, and she said the man had frozen to death, left to
find a shop with a phone (not many people had phones back then)
to ring the police.
The law rang the doorbell a woman opened up; the law said:
“Do you know this man?” She looks at the body and screams
She explains, “he came home drunk; I wouldn’t let him in until
he sobered up.” Well, one officer said he was sober now they
carried the frozen man, still in a sitting position, into the van.
As I didn’t hear the conversation, I made it up.
Why didn’t they put the man by the fireside so. he could thaw
and come back to life? No mother said his heart froze;
the soul had left his body; what is the soul do? I have one.
Yes, you have, like when you tell me lies but insist it is true
when you go to bed, a voice tells, you lied, you can ignore
this voice, but if you do, the inner voice will harden and you
will end up like the drunken man and freeze to death
We’re not a religious household, but mother believed Jesus
was the first socialist who took on the Jews and was put to death
What do I know? She also said Santa Claus was an errand boy
for capitalism making us poorer by buying things not needed.
I wanted to give up but Dr. Jean would not let me.
I had never met the woman. She called me out of the sky.
I was rude, not wanting to keep going.
She was persistent,
and wanted to know
what had gone wrong.
She made a two hour drive to find out, and
paid for my lunch. I was determined not to go back.
I was so hurt, and so ready to give up.
I fell in love with her integrity and her honesty, and
her determination to help me fix things. She did not even
know me! This is the kind of thing I did for others,
not the other way around.
I was shocked into going back, by this fifty-five year
old, unassuming, pleasant, petite, Iowa woman. She
got me through it. It took a year. I would have never
done it without her. I wanted to give up because I
had been so hurt.
She helped me see past the hurt, and I had to give
myself another chance, thanks to this woman's determination,
optimism, and two hour drive to help someone she had never met.
I will be forever grateful.
What does your fairy dragon do? I asked my grandma Murr.
“I cannot share this until after I am gone, Little Dizzy.
This made no sense to me, but it surely did to her.
She wanted to teach quilting to me, but I was busy.
After her death the only one who could see the fairy dragon was me.
He came into Gram’s sewing room, holding fat quarters of cloth.
I have chosen the swatches that she wanted you to see,
He was a great teacher. He has been diligent, certainly no sloth.
He taught me to quilt and gave me enthusiastic praise daily
Grandma always wanted to teach you to quilt, he said.
I was astounded and delighted by this helper, Mr. Dragg-gayly.
Who helped me create quilts until I was also the one to be dead.
Fifty years ago this December, I was taken to the nearby foothills, by the scout leader and his right hand helper, to complete part of the tenderfoot test. It involved successfully tracking the two of them, as I would have studied that part of the scout manual. It included the elements of backtracking, animal print recognition, and other tracking basics. Similar to the childhood game of, "hide and seek", I had to close my eyes and count to a hundred. After the allotted time, I looked around and saw their tracks heading off into the newly snow dusted landscape. Thankful for the white stuff that made it easy to see their footprints, I easily followed along, even through the heavier made backtracking tracks. When the tracks took me under a large evergreen tree, the footprints suddenly ended. I searched carefully every direction, and scratching my head I was completely confused, until I heard their muffled laughter... just above my head!
pictures of Sherlock
show him inspecting the ground
never looking up
date:12/18/19
contest:December Haibun
sponsor: Caren Krutsinger