Long Intern Poems

Long Intern Poems. Below are the most popular long Intern by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intern poems by poem length and keyword.


Theres a Pedophile In the House

There's A Pedophile In The House...
(ah...ah...ah...ham eye white...???)

OMG,... and he looks...
     SAY WHAT??? just like me???,...
     absolutely NO WAY!!!,
would this sensitive,
     respectful, "FAKE" veejay
quiet-natured, mindful,
     loving, kind, underplay
justice invoking, hew today

mainly, gentle, friendly, "I say"
enlightened, democratic chap redisplay
any besotted abominable,
     blamable, culpable, quay
esse chin hubble
     despicable, execrable prey
dot door formidable,
     inhospitable...overplay

ying faux indulgent,
     NOR be mistaken
     to assay, betray, convey,
display, expressway more fay
     writ his'm to
     gainsay hearsay, inveigh
jaw dropping "FAKE"
     yuge weak accusations

(by a long shot), sans
     basket of conspiring deplorables
     attempting to assassinate
bigly believe me tubby "stupid"
     winning loser to berate,
who doth unequivocally create
mine substantial vocabulary rumor,
     versus 4th grade reading level

     trumpeting librettist - thee great
test Don Quixote
     (as falsely sung with hate
full sotto voce), and ramped up
     as ill suited mate
a minus [sic] zero moron,
     which doth hapt
     tubby incredibly tremendous

     disservice to bona fide classy idiots
     with a lot of money
     (like the millions and billions
     of my golfing confrères)
given bent iron golf clubs
     used by crooked Hillary,
     when former Secretary of State
     ideal for Putin on the Ritz

by far less exciting, with
     Bill Clinton's flirtatious flits
trained pudenda purse
     sin null property
     of intern (NO FALLACY)
     topped as southern delicacy dish
consume mated with buttered grits
     pricked prurient peccadilloes licks

suddenly recalling seminal kicks
starting, how with Little Rock kits
he received assistance,
     sans starts and fits,
eventually then nubile
     ingenue Monica Lewinsky
     called time out, cuz at her wits
end once assisting helping

     express his "naughty bits,"
when done completing
     cum mincecd secrete mission
     blue dress draped 
     expensively furred

(i.e. tricked out) in her
     "FAKE" minx hiding
     sable animal spirits,
when animal rights
     activists vehemently protested
     out-coming result
     slapping former president
     with a PETA file.
Form: Elegy


A Poetic Assault (Slamming R. Emerald)

Shhh....Ok, quiet down, quiet down; let me smash this clown.....

Ryan, kneel before your father, or I will pop you like a cyst!
Writing this slam I shouldn't bother, you're not even on the "top 50 best poets" list!!
You've soupmailed me twice, so since you don't know, a "warlock" is a "male witch!"
I'm not here to play nice; what are you , P. D.'s bit#%?

I see you left me a comment or two, practically begging me...
Who the hell are you for me to read your lame poetry?
You need to check the soup news, I don't have a computer, I'm an inmate!
So you need to pay your soup dues, then your slams I may educate!

Look at your poems title; In "Destroy" you forgot to add the "E.R.!"
Is P.D. your idol, or are you just attracted to the bizarre?
Talking about my slams are "odd," are you mentally ok?
Download some Eminem on your I-pod, and learn some word-play!

And you do know a "shamrock" is for good luck, right?
Slamming with the Poetic Warlock you need to prepare yourself for a fight!
How many rhymes do you have in your vault?  Not many?!
Watch my poetic summersault, because I've got plenty!!

I'm about to slam your butt for days, until you beg for mercy.
My stanza's will set you ablaze, so feel my fury!
You gave me a 29 line slam with no meter, that should be a sin!
Damn, if you're gonna be a cheater, don't you dare pick up a pen!!

This is 22 lines, the sixth stanza, now that's what cha call poetry!
Oh-my-God, it's a "stanza bonanza," so Ryan are you following me?
You're a poet-in-training, but I don't want your ass in my class!
These poetic bombs are raining, so don't throw stones if you're made of glass!!

I see you ran to Sidneys' rescue; Man, are you "Captain-save-a-hoe?!"
I'm gonna lyrically beat you black and blue until a "Souper" yells, "TKO!"
That's right, I'm going for the knock-out, straight for the heart.
You'll scream and shout, as I poetically tear you apart!

Ding Ding!!!  This round has come to an end, but you'll not return.
So go on and tell a friend, how you failed as P.D.'s intern!

*Note: my fellow poets are encouraged to read "Ryan Emeralds" slam "War-locked with a 
Poet Destroy"...My fellow soupers tell young Ryan don't slam with the champ!  Peace and 
love ...Jimmy Anderson #0459587 ;)
Form: Rhyme

Nathan's Song

*Nathan's Song

Nathan loved to be playin' baseball
Talk with his friends everytime they'd call
He would rather be doing for others---any day.
Nathan loved the lake in the Summer,
Skiing in winter--one slope or other.
He was full of life and had an easy goin' way.

Nathan loved to eat Mexican food,
Jelly beans, when he was in the mood.
He would rather wear his flip-flops than shoes--everyday.
Nathan loved dogs and playin' guitar,
All kinds of music--he was a star!
His heart was full of love and he showed it every way.

You were my joy...You were my joy...
You were my joy...You were my boy.

Nathan loved to laugh and be funny,
His impish grin was on the money:
He dressed up like a 'Sugar Daddy' at school that day.
Nathan loved his family and friends
Especially one girl---to the end...
And his death was full of life by what he gave away.

Though he's gone from our presence, he walks with Jesus hand in hand
And now, up in Heaven, Jesus says, "Well Done, Nathan...

You are my joy...You are my joy...
You are my joy...You are my boy."

by Deborah Burch©11/8/2006

For: PD's contest of sorrows and make you cry poem

*Note: Nathan was a senior in high school 6 years ago, the son of my BFF. He was killed in a MVA; his girlfriend was driving, ran a stop sign and a tractor trailer truck hit them broadside on Nathan's side of the car. The other 3 in the car lived...as did the driver of the truck...he had just talked to his mom on the cell phone--which was never found...I wrote this as a song and sang it for them as my gift...It doesn't end there:
Nathan was an organ donor. Many lives have been saved because Nathan donated all he had left to give--the gift of life. This year his Mom will get to meet the recipients and they intern meet her...She, with the Red Cross, hold Blood Drives each year in Memory of Nathan: 'One Love Blood Drive'...This poem is dedicated to Nathan, and to the awareness that we can all save lives...
Donate blood...and be an organ donor...be someone's joy. love,deb
Form: Rhyme

Poetry In Motion With Madison Thomer

Sorry Madison I fell asleep, for you took far too long to respond.
I expected a poem a little more deep, because I thought we had a stronger bond!
You wrote three stanzas only, damn I thought you'd write a lot more.
Why you leave me so lonely, and close your cold heart's door?
It's a blast from the past, I now demand something new!
For your poem was wrote like the last, but hey, I'm still fond of you!
You say, you wear the crown, but you need to look at your poems first sentence.
Don't mean to make you frown, but it doesn't make sense, so here is your penance...

Two months or so, just to write a poem of 12 lines?
Look beyond the rainbow, for this poet came from the lost corridors of gold mines!
You have no respect, for you did not comment on my last Poetry N Motion with you.
I was baptized by a satanic sect, so maybe you can't grasp what I've gone through!

Who on the soup can poetically match my raging demonic pen?
You see the royalty, for I am king of kings among men!
You say there are more moves on the board to play?
I patented that board with a blazing sword and cut off your lingerie!
Are you serious pretty girl, calling my words poetic theft?
I'll rock your little world, and make you hurl till there's nothing left!

With this poetry tag, tell me, how long will it take this time?
Raise the white flag, for my dark fantasy will be my only crime!
Next I'll explain in detail how I'll tie you naked to a four poster bed.
I'll enter your mind beyond this cell, and make passionate love in your head!
So I'll be waiting my dear Madison, and hope you'll soon return.
Bring ammunition for your poetic gun, you sexy poetic intern!
Please, please hurry back, because I love the smell of your femininity!
I'm gonna give your cute ass a smack, as I take your poetic virginity!!!!

*Re-re-retag Madison;)  He He He
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Coronavirus Covid-19 Part Two

The Snohomish County Health District is using the Angel of the Winds Casino's Everett arena.  In order to treat victims of COVID-19.  Whereas in Seattle 300 Army medical core medical professions are being utilized to treat patients not being effected by the Coronavirus.  In Kent and Issaquah motels are being used to intern people affected by it.  They are being monitored by the police. Yet in Kent, a homeless man broke lose and robbed a local convenience store.

The Army medical core is using the Seattle's CenturyLink Event Center and field. Treating non victims of COVID-19.  Field hospitals are being established nationally and world wide.  Treating this contemporary angel of death.

In Yakima twelve to thirteen inmates broke lose because their facility was being impacted by COVID-19.  In several of the most impacted states, such as New York.  The National Guard has been called out to render assistance. As of yesterday, thirty three of the fifty states have been effected by it.    

There have been non essential business in Washington State. Ignoring Governor Jay Inslee's order to close down.  First they will be warned, and finally they could lose their business licenses.  For continued noncompliance.

President Donald Trump and Congress approved a stimulus package for our nation.  Checks should be arriving  direct deposit by the IRS in about two to three weeks.  His stay at home order has been extended to April 30th.

Online schools are becoming the new normal for students.  Even students without home computers can use their teacher's lesson plans.  And in some areas home computers are being delivered to k-12 students.

We should watch, wait and pray for the COVID-19 to pass over us. By vanishing into thin air.

Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
March 31, 2020
Form: Narrative


Mountain Man

I know how to live off the land
I'm a survivalist
I make do with whatever's at hand
I'm a survivalist

It's a mindset,
it's a lifestyle
You must have a soldier's discipline,
be able to endure hardships for a long while

I'm a mountain man,
got no time for guile
I can ascertain your true motives,
sense the truth behind the smile

I was trained to be a scientist,
I was trained to be a fireman
I was trained to be a field doctor,
but right now I'm a lumberjack
swinging an axe in my hand

I worked on a railroad,
I worked in a cooper mine
I worked at a shipyard,
I was a mean cook when I did a little time

I'm a mountain man,
got no time for those corporate city slickers
I can deduce your true identity,
sense the lies behind the smiling boot lickers

I was trained as a scout,
I was trained as an engineer
I was trained as a wrangler,
but right now I'm a mechanic
fixing a truck with busted gears

I worked for a big law firm,
I worked as a small company machinist intern
I worked at a high-tech factory,
I got recruited by a low-level military attache

Those are just a few of my credentials,
but here is what you really need to know
I'm a student of studying people,
I got a quick wit, but I like to appear slow

Being in the big outdoors
is where I really feel most at home
I love to test my skills at surviving,
I love to operate my satellite phone

Check the cloud patterns,
constantly scan the terrain
Calculate the tide shifts,
learn every animal, know every grain

I know how to live off the land,
make the land work for me
I make do with whatever's at hand,
let the land give me what I need

I'm a mountain man,
I live in an untamed world
I'm a different kind of animal
I'm a mountain man,
who's never gonna get trapped
by modern barbarians ever again

Grabberwocky-2

(November 2016)

Twas Hillig, but the Limey Gove
Did whine and witter in the Brext.
All Szyddly was the Orban cove
And Grabberwock out-Mexed.

“Beware the Grabberwock, my dear,
The salesman’s talk, the dubious thatch.
Beware his leakiwick, and fear
His groomious undersnatch.”

She took her righteous sword in hand.
Her people cried “Deplore, deplore!”
So rested she by the Dumdum tree—
And thought “deplore” some more.

And as in huffish thought she stood,
The Grabberwock, with hair aflame,
Came breitling through the barty wood,
And goebbelled as he came.

One, two! One, two! And through and through 
His virtual blade went twitter-t***. 
She got more voters, but he was POTUS
And he getrumphed like that:- 

“See, I have slain the Hillinast!
I’ll build a wall, hire every mate!
I’ll bigly take America
And make it really grate.”

“I’ll put all Muslims in a book,
Intern them just like Nips,
And make sure Gooks use their own nukes
For the Trumpocalypse.”

“I’ll help the rich (more than that b****!).
I’ll make the bankers fat.
The blacks I’ll hump—and screw the Trump-
enproletariat.”

’Tis chillig. For the Sess-i-ones
Doth Bolt- and Bann-on on the right
All Vladdy are Assange’s tones
And prospects all outsh***.

Rob Whitford

Notes: 
1.	Needless to say, this is a parody of “Jabberwocky”, by Lewis Carroll 
2.	The first “Grabberwocky” was a much better poem—a “Jabberwocky” parody written in 1939 (http://www.waxdog.com/jabberwocky/nazi.html). Thanks to this for general inspiration, the title and the sadly still relevant verb “to goebbel”.
3.	Re the slightly nerdy line 3, Beata Szydlo and Viktor Orban were the conservative nationalist Prime Ministers of Poland and Hungary, respectively, at the time.....
Copyright © Robert Whitford 2016

Sorry Appology 4 Being a Poet of Untold Misery

Yes ,

I know I am a total and utter misery

And I never seem to be able to write
about anything other than doom and
gloom

And I also am aware and know that
it's no fun at all

And no one probably wants to read
constantly about that over and over
again let alone me

But they say write about what you know

And obviously that tells it's own story
about and in regards to my life

That I and my life revolves around
and is steeped in doom and gloom
and untold misery

If which I intern must be and play
an integral part

Star of my own personal individual
crap shoot show

And I am ever so sorry for others 
than I am for myself 

As I feel for others more so than I
do so for or pity myself 

And I dare not wish nor want to
be the bearer of bad news or share
more bad tidings or spread misery

As I honestly believe the world has
had and heard enough

To last it a thousand plus lifetimes

So really I also wish I should and
would just shut up and cease as
well

So here's hoping from now on and
in the future for all of us myself
included sake

The next time I choose to pen or
write a poem

It's not about or related to any form
of misery

But instead I offer up a tale of that
speaks of only profound joy happiness
and positivity

To each and everyone who chooses so
that my message or poetry to read

Makes the written word leap from and
off the page uplift and truly warm the
cockles of the heart

Not make the headlines and front
page because it bleeds 

And in doing so make the world seem
wonderful for all again

Slogging Through the Riff-Raff

Fender-bender over there,
the traffic is awful,
ain’t not space left in the lot,
that’s such a load of bull,
and the punch-in barely works,
that’s almost criminal,
this is how we all start the day….
The whole server’s on the fritz,
I.T. just says reset,
I’ve turned if off three times,
but it hasn’t worked yet,
and the boss is running late
yet it’s a safe bet,
that she’ll only get in the way….

Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
every day the same crap,
slogging,
slogging.

Oh I sent in my report,
but boss don’t like the font,
H.R. say the checks are late,
my wallet’s looking gaunt,
they say audit’s coming down,
the boss took a quick jaunt,
the tell me crime doesn’t pay…
Someone brought in fish for lunch,
now it smells like a pier,
and it’s barely twelve o’clock,
but I could use a beer,
the feminist intern
think everything’s a leer,
they say her lawyer loves to play...

Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
so tied of this crap,
slogging,
slogging.

And the printer barely works,
no toner in the back,
they keep promising new chairs
because with pain I wracked,
come back a minute late
they nearly blow their stack,
and somebody just dropped a call…
Speak to you like your kids,
never a bit of trust,
demand all your loyalty
then can you on a bust,
if I had no children
I’d leave them in the dust,
’cause I don’t need this  at all…

Slogging through the riff-raff,
slogging through the riff-raff,
need a weekend so bad,
slogging,
slogging.
Form: Rhyme

Thyroid Awarenesss Month

Thyroid Awareness Month September

Heard that they have removed my thyroid;
And at first really became quite annoyed;
Doctor took care;
No longer there;
Never do need any more and I can avoid.

James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Bolivia, NC

My wife's best friend who is an RN, 
just had a cancerous thyroid removed. 
Might be from being exposed to x-ray 
machines and neck not being protected.

She chose a doctor who specializes in
surgery. Would you want to select an
intern like Trump who has no experience
in that area to perform surgery on you? 
Would you want a piper cub pilot to fly 
the jet you are travelling on? How about 
taking a college course being taught by 
a high school dropout? Yet, we selected
Trump for President who has absolutely
no experience in government or law or
social services. They want us to give
him a chance when he is not willing to
give anyone else a chance. He never
made one positive comment about
police officer who drowned in Houston
trying to get to his job. He made fun of 
a handicapped person in a wheel chair,
groped women, and intimidated a Gold
Star family and then bragged about it.
How am I supposed to respect this person
when he never gives anyone else any
respect except himself. 75% of the
population now does not approve of him. 
Which part do you want to be in: lower
25% or upper 75% of population?
Now he is selling his hats. How about
giving us a break. Jim Horn
© James Horn  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Limerick

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