Long Houston Poems
Long Houston Poems. Below are the most popular long Houston by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Houston poems by poem length and keyword.
I could say, it's been a long road
We known each other for so long
I truly thought, we were gone to grow old together, like you said
But u left this earth much to soon
I remember in high school, it was just me and you
And people thought how could we be friends
You was different in your own way
You was white and I was black
And no matter what, I always had your back
You became family, and i saw u as my sister
And both of us became good mothers
You moved out of Houston, But we always stay in touch
We had our problem, but what family don't
I Love You
Just to let u know, you touched my heart
And you are still my best friend
You are always in my thoughts
Fifteen years and climbing
Good bye, Briana
Form:
(Sung To The Song "I Will Always Love You" By Whitney Houston...From the film..The Bodyguard)...(1992)
If you do stay
You'll be tempting me to your way
In the bin you now go
I can't risk having you here everyday
Coz I will want to eat you
I will want to taste you
You
My biscuit you
Mmmmmm
Loaded with calories
And the fat thighs given to me
So goodbye
I won't cry
Plus my weight plays havoc with my knees
Coz I will want to bite you
I will want to nibble you
You
You could stay if fat free
And I lost all the weight you gave to me
And hadn't given me chin number three
I favoured you, but now set myself free
And I will always love you
Your soft chocolate goo
Your brown crumbly crumb base
Your sweet biscuit round face
Your taste that I still crave
Each small crumb I would not waste
My
Biscuit, I miss you
I'll always
I'll always want you.
Change The Record Poetry Contest
Sponsor : Natasha L Scragg
Written 15.10.21
Evil is what those devils will not conceal.
At Goliad, we tasted their bayonet steel.
The walls at the Alamo have been painted red.
Davy Crockett and some others have fallen dead.
Many civilians are fleeing to escape
to the Sabine River in a runaway scrape.
Rather than fight and face defeat,
Houston and his men are in retreat.
This has been exacerbating the people’s fears.
Houston’s army faces ridicule and jeers.
Sam said, “I will know when the time is right.
That is when we will turn around and fight.
We will surprise attack that devil Santa Anna.
He and his men will fall during siesta.”
The right time to attack is today.
We heard Vince’s Bridge has been burned away.
They are camped just outside of San Jacinto.
Men, just remember what they did at the Alamo.
We can catch those bastards while most are asleep.
With the bridge gone, the water is too deep.
We can surround them with no place to run.
With surprise on our side, they will become undone.
What is this I hear? The fighting is done?
We have just started and the battle is won?
We got word that Santa Anna is not dead.
With a sweet yellow rose, he was comfortably in bed.
Word is he was captured with a sweet thing named Emily.
Wearing only silk underwear, he was taken into custody.
Finally, those Mexicans have tasted defeat.
With Santa Anna in our hands, our victory is complete!
A big-headed dreamer, pockets full of hope
Say, that and five bucks gets you a cup of joe
Worn out Army boots and my Goodwill coat
Sky's overcast and it feels like snow
Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride
Left Mississippi, too many ghosts back home
So I headed out west chasing my next song
Got hassled in Houston by some local Joes
San Antonio's cool, I saw the Alamo
Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride
California's crazy, Sugarcane Sadie
Showed me a good time
That desert moon and those Dylan tunes
Still playing in my mind
In the middle of nowhere where the wind blows free
I think a while in Slab City might be good for me
Salvation Mountain like a beacon shown
The Word of God painted stone on stone
Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride
Rolling on good time, guitar by my side
I'm gone to East Jesus on a westbound ride
A big-headed dreamer, pockets full of hope
Say, that and five bucks gets you a pack of smokes
Worn out Army boots and my Goodwill coat
Sky's overcast and it feels like snow
©2018
Were it so that a poet could find it:
the perfect combination of words
that would enlighten the hearts and minds
of all who read them.
But we all speak with different tongues,
and languages change,
and, even if they didn't,
the curious, uniquely crafted crystals
of our identities
interpret the one pure light in different ways.
Perhaps the revelation I perceived
on these hot nights here in Houston
touches no other but me.
In life, I believe I am meant to purify my dreams
and elevate my reality
until the two converge forever.
When desire and truth become one.
When beauty and eternity kiss.
When the heart finds the rhythm
to which it can beat forever.
written ~11:40-11:52 PM on 2024-07-30
If you can't,
Or are not prepared to carry your own weight,
Then you had better have understanding friends.
Without being able to carry your own weight,
And not having understanding friends,
Then Houston you have a problem,
And you need to own it,
Rather quickly.
I have never yet met anybody,
Who at some stage in their life,
Has not had to pick themself up off the floor,
Or had to crawl out of the gutter.
I cannot claim to be an exception,
Although I can only claim a half truth about the gutter,
But I have made up for that by picking myself off the floor,
More times than I care to remember.
It has helped having friends and family who have,
Not been in a rush to carry my weight for me,
Opting for a supporting role instead,
A fair measure of the quality of their friendship,
Don't you think?
When I consider everywhere it snows
Looks swell in photos but exposes torment,
That this huge coat does nothing for my toes
Where on black binding boots is warmth incumbent;
When I descend through storms that never cease,
Feel barbwire sleet deplete my will to fly,
Attempt to land on rooftops thatched with grease
And hear no joyful bells while reindeer cry;
Then I abandon sleigh and find a park
In Southeast Houston with a sunlit bench,
Where once my beard has thawed my thoughts embark
To ask this naughty wish of Mr. Grinch:
Because my bones are old and creak in cold,
May global warming hasten, seven-fold.
11/16/2018
Picture #2
4/12/21
"Lonely"
The truth is
Leaving my health and finances in ruin
Towards THC and Alcohol, I've been abusive
I got a problem, Houston
Still driving a Ford Fusion
Why are they so quick to tell Newton
And Susan
After all I'm only human
Most my friends are animals, like Toothless
It's no illusion
I'm not stupid
I've just been reclusive
There's no reason to make up excuses
After all, it's useless
I've been listening to music
And doin' for me what is therapeutic
I could talk about it or just do it
I could show it or shoot it
I could accept such terms or refuse it
I could care less or I could prove it
I was foolish or I f****ng knew it
On came the cataclysm
Followed by a schism
A world full of skepticism
And criticism
As the waters remain murky or glisten
They say it's the truth
But the only proof
Is from what was written
Therefore a lot could be hidden
if they only show what they want you to see and hear
Pulling strings like a puppeteer
Sleight of hand, like a magician
One thing certain, time keeps tickin'
Intuition tellin' me somethin' is missin'
Misery avenue, is where I've been livin'
In addition
To battling a drug addiction
And alcoholism
The plot continues to thicken
Few if any listen
Zero recognition
Oh well, back to my mission
Got to finish the expedition
While I'm still in existence
It'll take persistence
And brilliance, not inconsistence
There'll be resistance
But I've got to cover a lot of distance
Only so much time we are given
Here one second, gone the next minute
Since people are so nosey
Often staying low-key
Keeping to myself mostly
The room always smoky
Drinking so much whatever, such as Peroni
Thought you did, but you must not know me
Still I feel so lonely
Looking for my one and only
Looking around closely
As time passes by quickly yet slowly
The real thing not phony
Or bologna
Still I feel so lonely
... pffft... blows long hair away...
from the eyes as she gently, ever so
moving slow, inserts home grown,
self sewn, Text.mex.i.flux.... there.
... pffft... damn hair, needs a cut.
Will it fit? This crystal duck...?
Into the bit, just a turn and a tuck...
Just a flux.Ca.pacitator... self created
by this Creator, to fit the ship.
Standing hands on hips... near the switch.
~Did it fit?
"Well..." She say....
Warp drive to improbable, possible
improbabilities, which sound extra.
ordinarily possible to the Boss, are
most likely at sum cost but not loss.
Is my calculation.
~Is that YOU? Houston? No problem.
Just a girl with some bootes on,
little music blaring strong,
Sherlock, on her arm...
Ms.Tree.us smile... or was that mile?
~SOL.a.Lite!
You're quite right!
... pffft... blows long hair away...
from the eyes as she gently,
ever so softly replies...
This crystal flies. Without a vent.
;) ~Quack~ lol~
revisited....
there are apparently, some here not familiar with fluxCapacitators and holoducks! ;)
http://www.123exp-fantasy.com/star-trek/
"Live Long. And Prosper"
Says my honey....
lol!!!!
Form:
Wombles In Space
(Split Into two parts because I suddenly got all Limericky )
Part One
The Wombles are not worldly wise
They look to the ground not the skies
They got on a train, which is hard to explain
Cos the train they got on was a plane
Eventually back on the ground
Uncle Bulgaria frowned
How could it be, that all he could see
Was a sign saying Cape Kennedy
The small telescope in his pocket
He took out and saw a space rocket
He said to his wombling clan,
I’ve spotted a big old tin can
It’s stood there as though we’re expected
Just waiting there to be collected
And while it’s a hell of a can
Am I not a wombling man?
Soon they had clambered aboard
A rumbling sound left them all floored
Orinoco was starting to drift off
And somehow he’d started a lift off
Bulgaria sported a frown
Lord knows how we’re gonna get down
But since were all stuck in this can
I’ve got an exiting new plan
They found a box full of space suits
and one full of magnetic boots
The mission: to gather space trash
To trade up or sell it for cash
Part Two
Then Houston said, we've got a gremlin
The crew ain’t the crew we’re rememberin
A furry ensemble
Each looks like a Womble
Perhaps snuck aboard by the Kremlin
Uncle Bulgaria’s explaining
Orinoco, asleep, ain’t complaining
There’s rubbish to get
They’ve not been beat yet
The cargo bay soon would be straining
The craft dragged a net round the Earth
Catching up junk for it’s worth
It then tried to swallow
Some bits of Apollo
The net didn’t have enough girth
Tobermory’s big invention
For over-sized space junk retention?
A sticky harpoon
A scrapyard on the moon
So that’s taken care of his pension
His plan for retirement luxurious
Was blocked cos the Clangers were furious!
So what could he do
Except grab some glue
A womble space walk is quite curious
He glued all the rubbish together
Which seemed really simple but clever
He made a new planet
Of metal, not granite
Which really was quite an endeavour
On Earth there was mass womble mania
Those wombles, it seems, had got brainier
The latest new game
Was to think up a name
For the planet we now call Womblania