Long Household Poems
Long Household Poems. Below are the most popular long Household by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Household poems by poem length and keyword.
Complexity of their makeup would have caused more fright.
It’s too bad all the episodes were in black and white.
In the mid-sixties on television we would see,
this strange group that was not your typical family.
Nobody would ever consider these folks as “plain”.
They resided at thirteen-thirteen Mockingbird Lane.
Head-of-household Herman was a Frankenstein monster.
Lily, Grandpa, and son Eddie were each a vampire.
They all lived in a dark and dusty haunted mansion.
Living with them was a pretty blonde female cousin.
Unlike the others, this sweet doll’s name was Marilyn.
She would not understand why her dates would never stay.
One good look at her folks, and they would all run away.
Each week, this bunch would be in a new predicament.
They never failed to provide funny entertainment.
absence was noticeable like the wood yet blessed with nails of plenty
hellfire snuffed out gossiping walls abandoned
vacancy in one's upper regions merely invites painful issues
focus compliments across the forsaken
propped-stand sits Vellums of ex-calf-hides that's flat-parched-rolled
of late scrolled deeds tied scarlet ribbon like a pious girl's hair ditty
furnishing and wall hangings the whole household
all except the mirror mirror on the wall
widow-black then Sister Golden Hair America
methinks it's the wind howling reshuffling some untruths
how does one tease battleship grey adrift weigh anchor
realtor waits parched deed to house and land sits for a signing encore
am I adding that one-size-fits-most-everyone to the bill of sale
again he picked golden she picked Beethoven
that night if truth is not in the heart you'll find it here
back of the mirrored wall bed case Emperors Concerto no America
exacting soul of equal heartbeat climbs a facial grin decent suave farewell
behold a view bears true of song close to his heart forever buried
lunch graveside Filipino traditions his song copied pivotal choice trends
mirror to luster pure strand of gold for an emperor is now placed on hold
The house is quiet,
as Knothead’s asleep
Hershey Kisses in place
on the staircase to reap
There’s snow on the roof,
with the chimney unblocked
For Santa to enter,
new soot on his frock
The cookies and milk
on the hearth reappear
With Rudolph’s one favorite,
chocolate chip to endear
The sound of his footsteps
arrive on the roof
As Knothead awakens
to Santa’s reproof
“Get into the sleigh
as I’ve told you before
“TC and Melissa
deserve so much more
“Your mischievous wandering
has caused quite the stir
“Mrs. Claus is upset,
the good Elves much deterred
“And clean up your mess
before we move on
“Those wrappers a danger
to those woe begone”
But as they departed,
the naughty Elf smiled
Two silver reminders
ensconced to beguile
Both hidden in cupboards
for children to find
Christmas 2021
—to forever remind
(Christmas Poem: 12/24/2021)
Backstory: Knothead is the naughty Elf who has plagued the Behm household for over 40 years at Christmas time. To catch him, you need to put out Hershey Kisses, so that Santa can follow the trail of wrappers, capture him, and take him back to the North Pole.
Somebody please tell me where we went wrong
how we as a people go from we shall overcome
to uplifting these ghetto drug infested slums?
How we go from dreaming about and reaching
the promise land to teaching generations that
for money pu$$y & power is what they
should take a stand for? since when was
the same streets that killed our
brothers & sisters ever worth fighting for?
what happened to rec centers &
positive role models? all I see now is
so called...real men that teach youngins
to throw up gang signs & pop them hallows
yeah that's the motto...marriage is a joke
nowadays we live in a day where kids
look up to d-boyz & self proclaimed gangsta's
yeah this is what Martin Malcolm & Nelson
died for to see you destroy the community
y'all the real wanksta's...maybe we should
look at them parents who thought they were
to good to spank ya! what because you providing for your immediate fam illegally
you want me to thank ya? But you know what they say if the shoe fits...wear it
most these people won't even look their self
in the mirror cuz the truth they can't bear it
I swear it everybody's glorifying these
rap stars like they the next prophet
I ain't never seen a thug wit skinny
jeans on man y'all need to stop it
looks like history is bout to repeat itself
just imagine if the hottest rappers & diva's
in the game started to lift up our
Lord & Saviour's name, Imagine if they put
down their diamonds & necklaces
and went back to rhyming & singing
bout some life changing messages
how bout if women went back to owning
their territory got off the block
and back in the household, Imagine if
these men were lovers of their families
instead of being disrespectful too the same
people that... wiped their ass feed em and
cleaned that nose Imagine if we as a people
went back to that mission
to following God's laws on Holy Living
THIS SHOW MUST STOP
When will you take and know that you have taken enough?
Is it until take all the chicks from the mother hen and there is none left to take?
Do you want to take the father cock and the mother hen from the chicks too?
Why are you bringing pain to every household you enter; even when uninvited?
Don’t you see that you were never and not welcomed anywhere?
Nobody wants to be your friend; why don’t you try staying on your own?
The old hates you just as the young despise ever knowing of you
All these and more; still, you seem not to care at all
Your ear is sound proof; that’s why you don’t hear families crying and wailing
Are you that so blinded that you cannot see the tears and sorrows of mourners.
If you render a home homeless; will you live there?
What now happens to the orphans? Will you be their parents?
Are you going to be the child of those whose children you have taken?
Your wickedness has robbed you of your right sense of thinking
What are you doing with babies and the young?
Are you tired of taking the old? Do you now prefer children?
Are you that stupid that you don’t even know when and where you are invited?
Unwelcomed gatecrasher; nobody invited you to this party
Look around and see if anything that resembles you is here
You are a thief; you take without being given.
What will you gain from the wicked acts you perpetrate?
Do you ever have a sober reflection? You really need to think twice
We are tired of surprises; can you just tell us when you are coming?
Please tell us what and who you want; let’s prepare ahead of time
Nobody wants to go as of the moment; so, you can as well go empty handed
It is not funny but funny; here I am talking like it’s just you and me
Am not afraid of you any longer; I have seen pretty much of you
I know your tricks; I have lived with your surprises for too long a time
What other surprise packages do you have for me? None, as it’s just only me
Am tired of telling you to correct your ways; your wickedness precedes you.
Lordvip
—A page does not become empty because nothing is written upon it.—
There is a page no printing ever keeps,
Whose margin widens when the daylight fails;
I found it where the patient silence sleeps
Between two ordinary household tales.
Nothing was writ. Yet, looking long, I knew
The blank had somehow recognised me too.
A sparrow lit upon the window-sill—
Forgive me; not because the poets must.
It only came because the air was still,
And shook one feather free into the dust.
I watch'd it leave. The feather stay'd behind,
As if departure keeps another mind.
The room contain'd no emblem to explain,
Only a coat hung quietly by the door,
One cup half-fill'd, the whispering of rain,
A shoe whose leather bent a little more.
I thought: perhaps the world is deepest where
Nothing has labour'd to become more fair.
Then something small, so small I almost miss'd
The manner of its entering the room:
The sleeve within the empty coat made fist,
Then loos'd itself before the fading gloom.
No wind was there. No memory was sought.
The cloth forgot the difference from thought.
I cannot tell what alter'd after this.
The rain remain'd; the cup remain'd half-full;
The feather kept the grammar of its bliss;
The evening neither quicken'd nor grew dull.
Only the blank page lost its vacant art,
And waited like a chair inside the heart.
If ever words should fail thee—and they shall—
Go not in search of loftier tongues than thine.
Stand where unnoticed certainties befall,
Until the common yields its hidden sign.
The truest poems are seldom those we start;
They are the ones already writing us apart.
Could there possibly be a single topic
I haven't as yet explored
The love life of the lowly earthworm
Or why most chickens don't snore
And have you ever considered this
Why dogs and household cats
Never wear off the shoulder evening gowns
Nor do horses as a matter of fact
Now that's absolutely outrageous
But not quite as much as this
Two ostriches locked in a warm embrace
As they try to figure out how to kiss
Another one for the books my friends
A basset hound drinking beer
Staggering around drunk outside a bar
Grinning from ear to ear
Okay okay I know what you're thinking
What's in the coffee I'm drinking
Six lumps of sugar, a squirt of cream
And an unknown substance you're thinking
Could there possibly be a single topic
I haven't as yet explored
Methinks that these pretty well sums it up
Till I come up with a couple more
Let us sit together
And let me dwell in your mist
And I will tell you a story
About city life versus rural life.
Now, the city has been known to be a place of lights
But many have discovered many fights
And a violation of a list of human rights.
It is a place where so many people you meet
But people barely stand to properly greet
And will often look down at your feet.
-For this is a place one has to fight very hard to be heard,
To be respected and to get ahead.
You will further be told about finding so much gold
Though one soon learns that they grow old
Before you can see it or at least hold.
It is also said to be a place of opportunity
Where one has to reach the possibility
To showcase their innate capability.
A place where you can reach for one's dream
But have to really always scream
To get hold of your cream.
Besides the frustration of daily traffic always bustling
You will in some ways be introduced to the game of hustling
If not being lured into the activity of gambling.
-This is because while fighting to be heard and ahead,
you have to compromise your sense of morality to get what you want.
The city has clusters of buildings so high to tower
And various people on the mission of gaining power
With the innocent and poor getting driven lower.
In the city, it is said that there is a lot of honey
Where you can either make lots of money
Or end up being called a donkey.
Many get attracted to the city's glitz and glamour
But then one learns that you have to do a certain favour
In order to keep up this fervour.
-On the contrary on the streets you see more beggars
And hawkers begging for cents.
When you are in the city it is vital to stay awake
And you will notice that most things are fake
And be sure to make no mistake.
-In the market you have a choice of buying organic vs non- GMO fruits or vegetables.
Whether to buy hundred percent hair products, make-up or household produces.
Along the way things remain the same
Very important not to forget your name
You just need to keep up with the game
Of being humble and tame
In order to win the fame.
-Now, one soon learns that they actually
Yearn for the peace and reality
Of rural countryside life.
In a palace of cushions and silky delight,
Lives a cat, all pampered, oh, what a sight!
Spoiled and regal, with a snobbish air,
She lounges on pillows with a feline flair.
Her food served on silver, a gourmet feast,
Tuna and salmon, fit for a beast.
A throne of velvet, a regal seat,
She rules the household with velvety conceit.
The humans bow to her every desire,
A spoiled feline queen, a fluffy empire.
She bats at toys, with disdain in her eyes,
For only the finest will earn her prize.
Oh, the life of a cat, so fabulously grand,
With servants at beckoning, at her command.
Her purrs and meows, a majestic song,
In the lap of luxury, where she belongs.
Yet, in her eyes, a mischievous gleam,
A whisker-twitching, devious scheme.
For a spoiled cat's life, in humor we find,
A kingdom of comfort, a royal feline kind.
With concentration-knit-brow pose,
She reads and holds the letter close,
There's good news, her joyful smile shows,
Rays of hope shine through the windows;
In anticipation's mad throes,
Left all household chores to compose
a fitting reply in love rose,
Passion has turned her quite verbose;
Shares it with her sister who knows -
"Do you think he'll like my plain prose?
Or should I pen a verse that flows?"
"Just let your heart speak, I suppose,
he'll love you more, you're whom he chose."
Finger on cheek, smitten soul glows,
Billet-doux* breeze fervently blows,
It reaches him, her kiss enclosed.
*Billet-doux ~ a love letter
Painting #1