Long Jacks Poems
Long Jacks Poems. Below are the most popular long Jacks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jacks poems by poem length and keyword.
Old CAP'N CRUNCH was hanging out one day
With the bunch at SPECIAL K Ranch
When FROOT LOOPS from the city rode by
With their pay CHEX in their pants
Greeted them each with warm CHEERIOS
Asked them if they'd ever SHREDDED WHEAT
They were full of PEP and said no not yet
His shock was TOTAL and COMPLETE
So he thought he'd show these SUGAR PUFFS
Just how cow pokes get their KIX
He mounted his faithful horse APPLE JACKS
And performed a bunch of neat TRIX
He turned on the JETS and performed like a vet
Wearing LUCKY CHARMS on his belt
Landed on his MUFFET when his horse reared up
Crushed his NUTS 'N HONEY they swell't
I once met a man with ears so large
That “Dumbo the Elephant” had less by far.
Protruding outward from his head to the sky
Way up to the clouds where the birds did fly
Landing upon his outstretched sails
Building their nests inside his furls.
And so he lived with birds too many
Hanging ‘round his ears a plenty
With people looking on chagrined
Wondering what on earth transpired with him
To make his sweet sound catchers grow
Larger than Jacks Bean Stock
Wouldn’t you know?
And so he lived his life with nests
Inside his lobes and gave his best
To all those birds and people too
Laughing and joking ‘til they turned blue.
No less than the air he often shared
With those who came to see
This man with the pair of unflappable flappers
Was no less than you and me.
She lifts the one-piece blue gym suit toward the camera,
that relic of our girlhood trials~
the stretchy, scratchy, sweat-soaked uniform
we wriggled into like reluctant acrobats.
It hangs from her hand like a captured beast,
its elastic edges still whispering
of locker rooms, loud whistles,
and the long-ago tyranny of mandatory jumping jacks.
Her grin is bright, almost defiant.
“I survived the blue gym suit,” she says,
as if announcing a medal earned through
endurance, embarrassment, and sheer adolescent grit.
And truly~
for every teenage girl who fought that fabric,
who peeled it off after class like a second skin,
who learned early that some battles
are won simply by outlasting them~
it is a lifetime achievement award.
A small, silly triumph.
A shared secret.
A reminder that even the strangest struggles
become stories we hold up proudly
once we’ve lived long enough to laugh.
Deeper and deeper, my mind goes cold, like a disease, it spreads to my heart, now stone-cold.
Deeper and deeper, my demons rub their hands, belittling me while despairs settles in.
Deeper and deeper, I sink into the chill, feeling old, as my soul is wrapped in despair, cold from misery, encased in stillness.
As they say, a cold mind breeds a cold heart- my blood now frozen, solid as stone, chilled by fear, numbed by careless despair, cold from my anxiety.
Anxiety does jumping jacks within me, keeping me frozen, paralysed by dread, seeping into the crevices of my mind,
Cold mind, cold heart.
Tomorrow is Wednesday; I shall leap from my bed.
I will dash over the dog, and eat marmalade on bread.
I will call up my great aunt and put her on speaker.
She will hear me playing with dog, and her duck squeaker.
We will laugh at memories of my mother, her and I.
We will snort and smile and hop and I will eat cherry pie.
If you think I have a sweet tooth, then stay around friend.
I will do a couple of jumping jacks and a back bend.
Thoroughly limbered up, I will bake up a brand new pie.
I will slap on some ice cream, and eat as I sigh.
The dog will beg me for a bite, and I’ll get her some steak.
Then I’ll put on my pajamas and dance ‘til I break.
My husband will come out to see what I am doing.
I will throw him some kisses, and make up some blue-ing.
I will wash up some clothes, and throw them in the dryer.
If I don’t do all of this, I guess I’ll be a liar.
So I am making a list right now, on Tuesday. Right here.
I am putting it on the frig where it will be abundantly clear.
I may add some other stuff as I do and I go.
But the main thing I’ll do is stay out of the snow.
On March Seventeen on St. Paddy's Day
Finbar and Connor drank close to the bay
they ate green saltines
and caught wild sardines
but without any jacks, they couldn't stay
they whized and staggered up dingle harbour
sat at the marina, and ate hot spicy chowder
they whistled and sang
while their stomachs? oh dang !
out to the jack, they pushed it out farther
Finbar and Connor off to Dingle, County Kerry
to join the big parade of pompous dignitaries
light and airy feeling Holy
tooting out just like a Dooley
the day just fell away like wind in the prairies.
Feb. 26, 2021
For Bonfire Night: Nov. 5 in England
Watch the rockets shoot into the sky.
Wave your sparklers till their sparkles die.
Watch the Catherine Wheel spin her delight -
whirls of red, yellow-gold, green and white.
Give the guy a penny, for he deserves no more.
Smoke him as you roast hot chestnuts giving him "what for"!
Lose yourself in the revelry of celebration’s hum.
As *cracker jacks are popping, recall where this all comes from!
11/28/16 for the Contest of Shadow Hamilton
*cracker jacks are a popcorn and peanut snack Americans eat at baseball games so I hope the definition I found for it is the one you mean, Shadow!! It was good to learn about this holiday. It's a bit like our 4th of July!
Bowser and Mittens, Pooh, Fluffy and I
sat with the Queen for her afternoon tea.
Minding our manners, all silent and shy -
each of us awestruck by Her Majesty.
We all were rescues, she loved us in spite,
though we were commoners, she took us in;
loved us and fed us each morning and night,
asked how our day was and where we had been.
Sought our advice on all matters of state -
whether she ought to play hopscotch or jacks,
make paper dolls, or perhaps roller skate -
always she'd come back to us to relax.
She was the Queen, but did not condescend,
took time to play with us under her tree.
Though it's been years now that she's been our friend,
we all remember our first "Royal Tea"
Written 3 Nov 2021
The 60's
The look was penny loafers, bobby socks,
pleated skirts, button up shirts,
bell bottom pants and headbands
Flower children were also the era,
Stood for peace and love also political movement
Listen to the music of the Beatles, Monkeys, Rolling Stones plus many more.
My heart throbbed for John Lennon, so young and in love
In my private time I listen to Liberace on the radio
Danced the Twist, Jerk, Monkey, Mashed potato, and the Watusi
I love to dance at the school Sox Hop dances up on the bleachers
Swinging my long auburn hair to the waist, back and forth
My hips moved to the twist
While everyone else danced on the gym floor
Mom’s favorite hair style, the Beehive
Dad looks so good looking behind the wheel of his 1959 De Soto station wagon
A child’s joy jumping rope, hopscotch, jacks,
Rotating a Hula hoop around my waist
Playing marbles with the boys
My favorite, climbing trees but
It always came with a broken bone
Our 35th president was John F. Kennedy
I was sitting in a swing in the playground
When we all heard he had been fatally shot
I was only 12 then
Tears ran down my face when I heard
People weren’t being treated equal
He stood for Equal Rights
We lost great man was that day
Growing up in the 60s was fun, but also very sad
Contest Name: Decades The 60’s * 2nd Place
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Alright all you pigeon chests
Came the sound of thunder from the open door
As Big Bad Bart replaced the space
Giant mountain man of lore
Making his way into the bar
Sweeping Nancy boys out of his way
Stepping up to the the jukebox
Kicking it till some good ole country boy music played
This mountain man has made it his goal
To grab hold and unsissify
Any Wimpy Wally's
That happen to catch his manly eye
He started off his conquest
Out in the great North wood
First stop The Red Eye Back Door Saloon
Need I explain the name to you
He went in with his moral barrels a blazing
But there wasn't much he could do
Village people the only band on the jukebox
Y.M.C.A. being the only tune
He didn't let that little nitch stop him
Or slow him down by any means
Giving America back to the menly men
And not the mousey men with their girly dreams
Till the day that Bart locked eyes with Stanly
In that San Francisco flower bar
Those two haven't left each others side
Going through life now arm and arm
They spend their time skipping through fields of pansies
Giggling freely hand in hand
The way Bart now feels this was meant to be
Mia Mono, Man to Man
Bart's lumberjack buddies can't believe it
And don't know what to think of their friend
Although they all secretly admit
He does look good in those Hot Pink Hot Pants
My apologies to...
The Gays
The Mountain Men
The Lumber Jacks
The makers of Hot Pink Hot Pants
Did I leave anyone out?
If so I apologize for that too!