Long Ish Poems
Long Ish Poems. Below are the most popular long Ish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ish poems by poem length and keyword.
To be yourself-ish
Or to be yourself-less
That is the question:
It's like not knowing yourself
to be “yourself” that you'll be
everyone else but you
But knowing yourself
that being yourself
cause all but hurt for you
If they know themselves
they’ll save themselves by
knowing they can't save you
So you think to yourself
To end yourself to
spare them the truth
But don't refuse yourself
and turn yourself-less
It's okay to be yourself-ish
Got to be yourself-ish
or remain yourself-less
Both are all but hellish
Lose yourself or
Warp yourself
None can offer help
And yet. I could care no less
The answer, I shall relish
Forever, I’ll cherish.
Deep in caves in Aldershot
Lives the hairy windybot
Many friends he has not got
Because he gets the wind a lot
What does he eat? I’ll tell you what
He just eats curry... really hot
So if you’re in a picnic spot
You’d better hope that he is not
For windybots they cannot smell
So when they trump they cannot tell
But when kids all go green and stiff
They know they’ve made a nasty whiff
So, for the sake of Jill and Dave
He trumps alone inside his cave
And though his trumps are not corrosive
What they are, is high explosive
It’s dark inside his cave at night
But windybot prefers the light
Alas his torch he had forgot
He struck a match, though he should not
So one match put him in a spot
When flames out of the cave mouth shot
Believe it or believe it not
There’s volcanoes in Aldershot
As I live, I like to learn
and learning's fun for me
Music, science, Physic's
Math and History
Art and Language Are most fun
I love Geography
But lately some new subjects
Have really challenged me
Looking at my cell phone
I have just one more wish
That in time I could find
A way to speak Spam-ish
Chorus
I really am sorry and I don't mean to be rude
But until I learn this language,
There's only one thing I can do
I know it's not very nice
And surely that is true
Cause it seems I have no other choice
I'm hanging up on you
Looking at my cell phone
I have just one more wish
That in time I could find
A way to speak Spam-ish
He gave me a gift, terribly good-
but it was clearly misunderstood.
Good grief, what does it do?
looks pretty ugly too!
Like huge chunky goggles, there it stood.
Deafening silence came over me!
Seriously funny, for you see
this was his only choice?
For me there was no voice?
A cruel kindness- how can this be?
The sound of silence he broke with shout-
Falsely true is what this is about!
Awfully good, you see-
virtual reality!
Definite maybe, you will freak out!
Alone together, now bittersweet
our short minor crisis, we did meet!
In a true fiction world
open secrets unfurled!
These chunky goggles cannot be beat!
Halloween-ish Memories
For Suzy Von Geldern
I miss you most of all at Halloween.
The way you'd greet the 'little munchkins'
as you called them, and praise them
for their costumes. With your laughing eyes
you'd feign surprise or fear -then invite them
to take candy from a basket by the door.
“I vant to bite your neck.” you’d say,
with the empasis on ‘vant’ and we’d all giggle
in our costumes and delight in the escape.
Why, you'd make the hallway dark and spooky
with a flickerin' Jack O Lantern-
a pumpkin face that Ned would carve each year.
My mind fills with memories of the plastic ghost of Dracula
hung each year in that same spot on that same wall-
We’d pull the chord repeatedly
to hear the awful moans .
Yes! It really is at Halloween,
I miss you most of all
Halloween Contest
The fall of sixty-three, an incongruity!
I saw myself on a Queen's float, a title rare -
"Miss Sorghum" of our Hancock County fair.
I aced the talent part - piano was my art;
but needed practice wobbling in a brand-new pair
of pointy, spiky heels I'd bought to wear.
Fate came about too soon, that fatal afternoon,
my clever escort list'ning for the judge's cue,
had grabbed my anxious hand for our debut.
I stumbled, did not trip but felt my gown unzip.
My hero bravely shielded me from public view;
his jacket 'round my waist and shoulders threw.
My chance was gone, undone. On three-inch heels I spun
and left the judge in awe, escaping with my knight
to a storage room and a most peculiar plight -
A ladder 'gainst the wall, wobbly toddler set to fall.
I reached for chubby feet, my gaping rear in sight
outstretched across the rungs, I held on tight.
A twist, he made a track, came headfirst down my back
as mom returned to see my escort catch the bloke.
(Her child asleep, she'd stepped outside to smoke.)
He'd torn my gown she guessed, and offered me redress.
I refused her check and reclaimed my cohort's cloak.
No float for me - the fall my zipper broke.
A child unhurt - his fall my zipper broke.
September 9, 2013
mountains, with baby-clenched palms,
birthed in red, green and dark
blues - the chaos erupting!
slapping the canvas on the…
cherry red pits,
hauntingly beautiful.
one dares not slide
their fingers over the crevices.
the green team,
slime-like Nickelodeon-ooze —
forest green sans trees.
colors develop and mature at the horizon -
mustard yellow, blue, white, pastel-
green haze. a green claw on the far left;
far right — belle in yellow and orange hoop.
this Bull-ish masterpiece
of nature’s calamity,
stimulating to our base side,
beautiful as emotions rise.
simple with no defining lines —
hues of an unsettled womb, the vestiges of life.
1/11/2022
*thoughts on a Simon Bull painting
I wandered and pondered my bleak isolation
As I slowly perused this wide open space
That one cloud above me seemed, like me, quite lonely
Its passage was slow as it matched my own pace
And then I saw poppies so tall, red and bold
I wished they were daffies in yellow and gold
The lake in its vastness reflected the skies
And sprinkles of sunlight beyond that lone cloud
Peppered the ripples with myriad eyes
And led me to feel like I walked with a crowd
While unopened poppies stand tall with bowed heads
They’ll stand even taller displaying their reds
Could there be any more precious a day
I all at once yearned to be no other place
With sunlight and ripples and poppies that sway
I found that a smile had enlivened my face
For such a sight might make an old poet gay
(Which one should interpret the old fashioned way)
For oftentimes upon my old sofa lain
I reminisce of all those poppies so red
Their petals occur to me now and again
But gold hues hold sway in my head
Though poppies, that day, cleared my mind of its ills
I still wish that they had all been daffodils