Long Hop skip Poems
Long Hop skip Poems. Below are the most popular long Hop skip by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hop skip poems by poem length and keyword.
I live in North East Florida
That's just a hop, skip, and a jump
From the land known as Georgia
Where "Honey Boo Boo" once held court with her mom
If'n you never knew "Honey Boo Boo"
You're in for a treat or more than one
She was a multi car train wreak
That you couldn't turn your bugged eyes away from
First let me explain the state of Georgia
So this family ya'll will understand
Not long ago they re-dirted both paved roads
Said progress was getting way out of hand
So with that said and done son
With formalities out of the way
Lets turn our attention back to our star attraction
And see what all she had to say
Her fame started out on Toddlers & Tiaras
Reality shows we all seem to love
From The Crazed Housewives to The Kardashion's
America can not get enough
And since it's on T.V. it's gotta be true
Did you ever try her drink sensation
Of Red Bull and Mountain Dew, she liked to call "Go Go Juice"
It'll put hair on your derriere for extra pad in relaxation
And who wouldn't want to see a six year old
With that kind of Hellacious Buzz
What went through my mind when I looked at it was
Ahhh, Redneck Motherly Love
So now do you redneckonize her
Where all I just said is quite true
A dolla used to make her holla!
I sure miss "Honey Boo Boo" on the Boob Tube
As I'm sure all of you do too...
Have you ever had a dream where you were herding puppies,
But they were piling on each other, licking, and lollygagging,
Laughing, and giggling, and incessantly playing?
Have you wished perpetually to dance, and color, and sing, and play
All day long?
Do you understand that children want love
More than food or water or air?
Do you get excited about silly stuff?
Can you tell jokes?
Do you know what a riddle is?
Can you put all your sarcasm on a stove burner and burn it up?
Do you like to dance?
To sing?
To skip?
To hop?
Would you like to dress in a bunny suit and read a story, as a bunny?
Do you respect and love children?
Do they amuse you?
Can you be amused without making fun of them?
Congratulations.
You, my dear, are a kindergarten teacher.
Every morning at a quarter to six, I can hear my he him trotting down the hallway to the bed where I lay, shriveled up under my weighted blanket, so fat and un-tall.
There’s a part of me that should feel sorry for my little Cowboy husband Joe, but the other part is as angry as Sophie Dog, who snarls and snaps when she hears him in the hall.
“Time to get up!” he says in a sing-songy way, being a nice guy, who truly, only ever wanted to be a child, outside, who could laugh and play like a kid with honey bun food.
“Son of a mule’s *******,” I say, in the kindest cowboy-kind of way, knowing he’s going to feed Shark next, and he’d better tip toe as I am in that kind of I-HATE-EVERYBODY-KIND-of-Mood.
Big Joe.
Big Joe.
Big Bad Joe.
“I saw that the baby opossum on the porch was out of food again, so I banged on the window, and he ran off with that little hop-skip he has,” Joe babbles on. “After he left, I took some cat food out. He’s eating it now.” Joe is wearing his best hat, and boots, but I don’t give them no mind.
Son of a horse’s behind, does he always have to yap like a coy dog? I think as I try to get a growling Sophie dog’s butt off of the covers I’m trying to put back over my head, so I can have some peace and QUIET; “Get OUT OF HERE!” I yell, I’m 11 minutes behind!”
Big Joe.
Big Joe.
Big Bad Joe.
Sophie and I get woked up three more times by him, and we chase him out each time, baring our teeth. It reminds me of my early days with my mother who used to be just this damned happy and annoying in the morning. She used to give us pancake rolls. Which means she used to jump on our bed and roll on us making us extra angry before we left for school.
The last time, the final time, the I mean it this time, he brings me my usual Chuck Wagon Caren is hungry as a giant Stegosaurus on speed breakfast. Five pounds of hash-browns, a three egg omelet with bacon, and it damn well better be the exact temp I like, he has learned the hard way Sophie and I are
Very particular about the temp of our bacon. He takes off his 10 gallon hat, sitting it on the bed, and says “anything else, my ladies?” Before we can speak, he magically produces my jalapeno peppers which we dump lavishly over our hash-browns. Yes, he is the perfect cowboy for this fool.
Big Joe.
Big Joe.
Big Bad Joe.
I wake up, to celebrate the morning
It's gonna be, a beautiful day
Birds are singing, without warning
I'll take my pills, last night or yesterday
You know I've got, no patience for complaining
Who gives a hoot, if cats and dogs it's raining
Even if, the sunshine is abstaining
Deep in my heart, it never went away
How do you do, How do you do
I want to see the real you
Shout for joy, dance and sing
Positivity's the thing!
So get up, put on your best smile
Take a run, even go a mile
Wave Hi to folks, you see in the turnstiles
Hop, skip and jump, you are so versatile
How do you do, How do you do
I want to see the real you
Shout for joy, dance and sing
Positivity's the thing!
October 27, 2022
Brian Strand Premiere Choice
Contest Entry
I, (and the missus)
pleased as punch residing
at this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania locale,
(since july first tooth house
sand eighteen), marks one year
and better with (on site
service) wash and wear,
but most irrefutable attraction
comprises rental assistance,
when upon the merry month of May
first, the dollar figure outlay
to occupy a single bedroom
(at this low cost
housing facility) didst veer
dramatically downward
from an initial charge,
sans five hundred, and seventy two unswear
able legal tenderloin monies,
per twelfth of Gregorian Calendar,
when aye didst tear
away the page signaling June,
thine checking account reduced sheer
lee no misprint (to win unbelievably
rosy, piddly, and giddy)
one hundred and seventy
seven buck a roos,
yet lesser benefits appended, asper
this bucolic, diatonic,
and harmonic rear
opportunity to espy
white tailed non *****
yule less doe ting mama
belonging to Cervidae family app pear
ring to take shelter in a narrow
(sunset) strip somewhat near
enough from mine
inside perch oblivious
to this mad capped (Alfred E. Neuman),
who whiz stumping for elections midyear
essentially to reinstate
"FAKE" King Crimson Lear
on the throne,
who strongly objects to killdeer
for eats or sport,
and silences those hood jeer
his reverence toward gentle creatures
including near extinct albino blushing zebra,
hooves warp and weave interlinear
within said (postage size
token) plot here ~ 1+ hectare
secluded upon a tract
off the beaten commercial
domain and glare
with suburban sprawl,
a hop, skip and jump fair
lee quickly disappearing
"in the name of progress"
though vanishing wild
life eyes find endear
ring, though thine psyche
wracked with despair
no matter ample (spacious
free) parking, a clear
bonus as well un
limited water usage
and to top off the list donated
up for grabs non-sellable (stales) breads,
cakes, fruits, vegetables
about twice a week doth appear.
Kindergarten students are on a planet of their own
They dance, hop, skip, sing, in every kind of tone.
Their excited voices raise up high enough to break glass.
If I am going to sub and I see kindergarten, I promptly pass.
Kindergarten students will play with fuzz on your zippers or your shirt.
They will act all prissy when you introduce worms, gardens or dirt.
Their parents have no secrets, they tell everything they ever know.
Kindergarten students skip, prance, jump, nothing they do is ever slow.
They get under your elbows and cry when you raise your voice.
They do not answer to their Christian name, no one told them it was Royce.
They fight over each toy, and they tattle as fast as a snake rattles his stuff.
I cannot substitute teach in kindergarten, it is simply too tough!
I have been here, I’ve been there,
over yonder up and down.
Been back home and been long gone,
been nowhere but been around.
I’ve traveled for a far piece,
just a hop, skip and a jump.
I climbed clear up to the top,
hit rock bottom with a thump.
I’ve journeyed and I’ve traversed,
arrived here and went that way.
Headed out, trekked, and jetted,
fixin’ to go there someday.
Went when the Spirit moved me,
only if the creek don’t rise.
I’ll head out your way sometime,
if I make it be surprised.
I’ve voyaged, gadded about,
tramped, stomped, and drifted around.
Been where the sun did not shine,
just the other side of town.
I’ve flown over the rainbow,
the other side of the track.
I’ve crossed against the traffic,
walked away and not looked back.
Always marched to my own drum,
I’ve strolled down the avenue.
Danced, pranced, and pirouetted,
I’ve had nothing left to lose.
Where I’m bound, where I’m going,
don’t ask me ‘cause I can’t tell.
Some say I’m bound for Heaven,
others swear it’s straight to Hell.
Do you want to play?
Oh, yes! Indeed!
Let’s dance and twirl and make loud steps.
Let’s invite the boy with the wheels.
Okay.
Let's invite the white girl who has freckles
Okay.
Let's invite the kid whose hair is beaded and braided.
Okay.
Let’s invite EVERYBODY!
Okay.
At six, they include everybody.
They invite everybody.
They love everybody.
Unless they have been taught differently.
These lucky children have not been taught differently.
It is twirl, whirl, dance, hop, skip and laugh.
They hold hands and begin spontaneously singing.
Their parents and grandparents’ faces crack from ear to ear.
Enthusiasm, love, inclusion and joy bring hope into the world every time.
I sing a song of joy
For I have a paintbrush in my hand
My artistic soul is smiling
Excited she is allowed freedom to create
I glide along with a bit of a hop skip
Serenaded by robins whose tweets cannot be recreated
By words or by any other means
They uplift me and make me feel wholesome
There are pink geraniums here, sharing their joy
I feel their enthusiasm and love for the sun
I look up, feeling her too, for the first time today
She winks at me, glad to be of service
It is a fine day in Kansas.
I am excited to be me, living free and carefree.
I pick up a pen and write.
On the ice where the cold winds blow,
A group of penguins put on a show.
With flippers that flap,
And feet that tap,
They danced in the moonlight's glow.
In tuxedos black and white,
They waltzed all through the night.
With a slide and a glide,
And a spin to the side,
Their moves were quite the sight.
They boogied to the beat of the drum,
Twirling on icebergs just for fun.
With a hop, skip, and jump,
They would thump, thump, thump,
Until the morning sun.
So if you ever feel blue,
Just think of the penguin crew.
With a dance and a prance,
In their icy dance stance,
They'll bring joy to you too!