Long Hippie Poems
Long Hippie Poems. Below are the most popular long Hippie by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hippie poems by poem length and keyword.
Balmy january fifth two thousand twenty three
pardon moi as I self plagiarize
with slight modifications
cuz following words written
at least an Earth's orbit ago
exhibits pearls of jocularity.
I ran than jumped high
into the upper atmosphere
like a faux young American
landing on the lunar surface
frisky buck naked and bare
no matter weight of world
and personal woes oppressive,
yours truly shrugged,
(she loves you yea... yea... yea...
think Atlas) "faking" without care
free, able, eager, ready, and
willing to dare
daubing, muddying, and wading
metrical feet into stream
of consciousness (think)
metaphorical earthenware
placid figurative smooth as glassware
reflecting mine mien
mean disheveled hare
reed state of swiftly tailored body,
mind and spirit long
acclimated, accompanied,
and accustomed
with mental, physical,
and spiritual malfunctions
ever since birth,
(or even in utero), where
biological mutations did interfere
easily availing self
as token "scapegoat
school kids did taunt and jeer
futilely screeching nevertheless
targeted and doomed killdeer
lamely seeking safety, albeit laughable
pencil necked geek longhair
donned as outdated "hippie"
lame excuse for cheesy mouseketeer
every day of younglife (mine) wanted
me "mommy dearest" near,
cuz yours truly
felt like kin outlier
one lonely human
being within alienation
forever seeking salvation
courtesy wing and prayer
ill fitting analogous to round hole
raised to accept unconventional
credo, gospel (according
to Matthew) mores as quare
figurative peg thus revere
ring boyhood, because
growing up scare
re: especially as
undersized withdrawn tear
huff eyed little lad
donning monogrammed underwear
“enlightenment touché”
honoring inimitable Voltaire where
he unabashedly espoused
freedom of religion,
freedom of expression,
and separation of church and state.
...The bear returned to his great feast,
and the trigger squeezed on back.
The gun barked, led striking deep,
the bear roared at the attack.
It raced off into the woods,
dashing for a creekside,
but the bullet had rent it’s heart,
it stumbled, fell, and died.
Conner walked up to the bear,
reloading quickly as he went,
ever ready to let loose again
if the bruin was not spent.
But the bear was truly down and dead,
it would pass no more this way.
Then Conner glanced in horror at
the grizzly’s final prey…
He saw a spot of blue amidst
a horrid, scarlet smear,
then a touch of orange and green,
he knew it was no deer.
Pacing close he saw the ruin
of what was a human face
torn by claws and awesome force,
he gagged and turned away.
Despite the damage he knew the man,
he’d seem him the day before,
twas the young hippie who’d led the fools,
who’d led the protestors.
Conner fought the urge to vomit,
to just take off and sprint,
fool or not, no man could deserve
what had been done to him.
He knew he had to find a place,
where he’d get cell reception.
the police needed to see all this
and take the proper actions.
He asked himself how this had come,
but knew the answer clear,
the problem bear had walked right in,
devoid of fright or fear.
He figured that it had found their camp,
maybe drawn by food smells.
it had come at night, found this young man
and dragged him into Hell.
Conner shook his head and sighed,
Then said to the empty air:
“Damnit kid, why couldn’t you let me
hunt this stinking bear…”
Gleeful happy joyful jubilantly wonderful exciting times
Unknowing about pandemics, upbeat feeling climbs.
Two-thousand-twenty sobering, history unprecedented.
Wishing China bat-eating fetish never invented.
Family laughter disappeared suddenly January weekend.
Hugging, kissing, contacting, unacceptable, distance recommend.
Turning USA upside downward, Covid-19 virus, dreadfully awful.
Society unbelievably vulnerable, saving family ultimate waffle.
Willingly educated medically, socially emotionally, mostly ready.
Epidemiologists attempt delivering materials timely, steady.
Many seeking antiquated untimely methods, yearning nostalgically.
Brilliant refreshingly, newfangled ideas prancing forward magically.
Answers forthcoming furiously, quickly, distrust poisoning recipe.
Many wishing timekeeper resetting calendar daybreak hippie.
Gleeful happy joyful jubilant wonderful exciting times
Unknowing about pandemic, upbeat feeling climbs.
Post-hippie and pre-disco kids were we,
not clearly fitting one sole category.
Girls dressed formal for our biggest dance.
No short-shorts or those fab bell-bottom pants.
Exploring options at each fashion store,
we girls picked gowns whose length was to the floor.
Guys dressed up formal too; perhaps they’d rent
tuxedos that they wore to the event.
Some local band would play; their lead would sing
an upbeat tune for us like “Wild Thing.”
We danced free form, for we were not about
a single style of dance; we just rocked out!
No Bandstand moves for us; we did just fine.
No Salsa, Swing or dancing in a line.
I think the guys preferred the music slow.
Then into their slow dancing mode they’d go.
Around our dates we draped our arms. Our feet
seemed barely moving from one spot; a treat!
A treat indeed – though soft the songs might be,
hearts raced as partners danced romantically.
To “Have You Seen Her,” “If,” and “Maggie May”
we let our bodies sensuously sway.
The threat of Viet Nam was nearly gone.
To “Riders in the Storm” we blissfully danced on.
March 9, 2020
“Kim Rodrigues’ DWM Contest”
The Hippie And Confucius
The sign said ‘Hippies Use Side Door’ but there was only one entrance or exit
and a revolving door she ponders the conundrums sent for resolute resolution
such a quandary to find the way now as she pauses when puzzled then checks it
as it swings freely she wonders if life is straightforward or again she’s been conned
A revolution she reflects on the human condition and what lies beyond
the sign post inside awaits her confusing decision this might be ‘confucian’
life could be so easy we’re the ones to make it complex unless we abscond
decamp to true meaning so just walks round the door and is free once she legs it
06th November 2016
I walked along route 58
There was Mumbai dreams and Harbor Freight
A hippie guy sold sunglasses from a stall
One had a rosy tint, I paid 5 dollars, that was all.
There was a warning label with it, I threw it away
Who needs all the fine print, what could it possibly say?
I looked at the traffic, it was stop and go
I slipped into a side street, out of the flow
The noise of cars faded, as I walked up the hill
Then I saw a big house, I remember it still.
It was painted pale blue, the windows had white trim
Carved railings outside, bright lights within
There were children on the swing, and birds in the air
Their Grandma on the porch rocking on a chair
The lilacs were purple, the flowers dark red
A pony was grazing beside the garden shed.
I walked through nearby woods, got home very late.
That night I told my brothers about this path off 58:
I said, "you got to come; on me you can depend."
Next day they came with me, past the sign that said, "dead end."
I left my glasses home that day, they had a hippie vibe
The shape was like John Lennon's, not my brother's tribe.
My brothers are right wing, and I didn't want them to rebel,
To get them off the beaten track is always a hard sell.
The house was there alright, but the grass was wild and high
Boards were cracked, windows broken, I had to rub my eye.
I sheepishly looked back, they joked, I felt the sting.
Then I waded through the grass, found a broken swing.
I've worn my glasses since, my reality was augmented
Everything looked better, it made me seem demented
I became a radical and shouted world peace couldn't wait.
I marched for no more police, and an end to the state.
Everything looked so rosy, all we had to do was try
My brothers couldn't take it, couldn't understand why.
Many years later, I dropped the glasses in some grass
A football player ran over them trying to catch a pass
The rosy hue was gone, and I finally understood
Too much glamorizing detracts from what is good.
So now I wear bifocals, read the fine print in every dream
We must focus on what is, not on what might have been.
How lucky can one man be
To have the love and friendship
Of so many sweet adorable people
Here on the Soup... male and female
It's like a love-in from the sixties
Minus the beads and hippie hair
(Well I'm supposing!)
Those were wild, free spirited days
Making love, NOT war
I was newly married back then... 1957
Busy raising three young kiddies
And struggling to make ends meet
My rewards though were much greater
With 3 super kids, a gorgeous wife and a new career
The closest I got to becoming a hippie
Was letting my hair grow long (shoulder length)
And sporting a beard
Which, believe it or not, I still have today
Those were difficult times back then
But oh so rewarding... ahhh memories!
There ain’t no two ways about it man,
it just has to be because of you.
Before you came along we could do,
about anything we wanted to.
Man, life was great, life was great, before,
you came along and ruined it all.
There’s Haight-Ashbury’s summer of love,
Newport, Altamont, and Monterey.
And then we hit the road to Woodstock,
and let me tell you man, that was great.
We had free love, drugs, and miniskirts,
we were sure having ourselves a ball.
The Beatles really started smoking,
after Bob Dylan showed them the way.
Next came The Stones, The Doors, and Simon,
with Joplin, Hendrix, and Marvin Gaye.
All of the men burned up their draft cards,
and all the women took off their bra.
There were sit-ins and all-night love fests,
Feminine Mystique, I Have a Dream.
The Hippies knew the right way to live,
there was no end to the fun it seemed.
Black, white, red, brown, pink, purple, or green,
were brothers and sisters one and all.
We had sex, drugs, and hard Rock-n-Roll,
and wore some wildflowers in our hair.
Even left our tracks upon the moon,
man, we could do anything we dared.
Man, life was great, life was great, before,
you came along and ruined it all.
Things might still be a little fuzzy
But that’s how it happened as I recall.
Quote: “To fathom hell, or soar angelic, just take a pinch of psychedelic” -- H. Osmond
In the realm of metaphors, where words take flight,
A kaleidoscope of colors, a psychedelic delight.
Like whispers of dreams, they dance and sway,
Unveiling the depths of emotions in their own unique way.
In groovy swirls, the hippie spirit flies,
Beneath the neon moon and starlit skies.
With tie-dyed shirts and flowers in our hair,
We journey through a world beyond compare.
Our culture pulses with a rhythm rare,
A tapestry of love, beyond compare.
Each stroke of brush, a message to impart,
A fusion of the soul and of the heart.
Metaphors, like magic, paint pictures in the mind,
Creating illusions, where truths and fantasies entwined.
They bridge the gap between the known and unknown,
Inviting us to explore a world uniquely our own.
A metaphor is a key that unlocks hidden doors,
Revealing truths that lie beneath the surface, forevermore.
It's a mirror that reflects the soul's deepest desires,
Igniting passions and setting hearts on fire.
Like a gentle breeze that caresses our skin,
Metaphors embrace us, inviting us to dive in.
They whisper secrets, only the heart can understand,
Guiding us through the maze of life, hand in hand.
I ran than jumped high
into the upper atmosphere
like a young frisky
buck naked and bare
no matter weight of world
and personal woes oppressive,
yours truly shrugged,
(she loves you yea... yea... yea...
think Atlas) "faking" without care
free, able, ready, and
willing to dare
daubing metrical feet into stream
of consciousness (think)
metaphorical earthenware
placid figurative smooth as glassware
reflecting mine mien
mean disheveled hare
reed state of body,
mind and spirit long
acclimated, accompanied,
and accustomed
with mental, physical,
and spiritual malfunctions
ever since birth,
(or even in utero), where
biological mutations did interfere
easily availing self
as token "scapegoat
school kids did taunt and jeer
futilely screeching nonetheless
targeted and doomed killdeer
lamely seeking safety, albeit laughable
pencil necked geek longhair
donned as outdated "hippie"
lame excuse for cheesy mouseketeer
every day of younglife (mine) wanted
me "mommy dearest" near,
cuz yours truly
felt like kin outlier
one lonely human
being within alienation
forever seeking salvation
courtesy wing and prayer
ill fitting analogous to round hole
raised to accept unconventional
credo, gospel (according
to Matthew) mores as quare
figurative peg thus revere
ring boyhood, because
growing up scare
re: especially as
undersized withdrawn tear
huff eyed little lad.