Long Jelly Poems
Long Jelly Poems. Below are the most popular long Jelly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jelly poems by poem length and keyword.
bunny wanted to host Thanksgiving and we said yes
Not realizing the tastiest food would be watercress.
Carrot soup, cabbage jelly and the lack of starch or bread
Meant we went home ready for turkey, feeling unfed.
Next time, I will host it said Slobin, the Robin.
Not him! Chickadee whispered while my head was bobb’n.
He always gets the cheapest birdseed ever found.
The squirrel couple stopped in their tracks and turned around.
Well it could be us, Mrs. Squirrel offered, if nuts do please.
The mice shuddered, for nuts were not as great as cheese.
We finally agreed to start bringing our own potluck food.
And at the next Thanksgiving we were in a better mood.
Some fried chicken and frying sliced spam
a tasty beef steak and Virginia fried ham
link sausage patties sausage sausage casserole
chicken fried steak and a pork chop on hold
Bacon of pork, turkey, beef and Canadian
a smoked fish and just in case another can of spam
Eggs eggs eggs scrambled poach over easy
sunny side up hard boiled and omelet cheesy
Hash browns skillet potatoes potato pancakes maybe
rice and a big iron skillet of morning gravy
Butter pancakes waffles biscuits and a honey bun
muffins corn bread, toast with jam or jelly by tons
French toast cinnamon roles and maple syrup to pour
a Pop Tart some bananas peanut butter on something for sure
A glass of cold milk or OJ and hot coffee with sugar and cream
So much food to feast on but why do I want to scream
A morning breakfast to feed and satisfy any living soul
but all the kids want to eat is Cap'n Crunch in their bowls.
Okay! Time to get off the weather kick
There's lots more to write about
Like how many jelly beans in a 2 quart jar
If you leave all the red ones out
Or why do pigs have such really flat snouts
A fart that did damage to an edifice
Or the last time someone went over the fall
Both are considered quite perilous
The biggest boob size on the planet Venus
We're talking about aliens here
Not the biggest chest size ever recorded
But a creature with really big ears
Has anyone noticed a decline in my brain power
Father Time has caused it to freeze
Normally I'm lucid and really coherent
But recently I've been talking to bees
Now that in itself is really not unusual
But I tried to tickle one's tummy
Got a nasty old sting on the tip of my hoohaw
Medication cost lots of money
Of course this is fantasy and all made up
Did you really think it was real
Oh oh I'm more than a wee bit concerned
That you'll think I'm a wee bit off keel
© Jack Ellison 2015
Form:
let me lean into me winnings educate bout you Achilies so I can send you spinning, with threads strung on me limbs
thin thinner thinnest billyboard me insecurities it ain't an issue but it really hit a nerve now me is training, try me you will witness the power and maybe live to tell the tale
couldn't hand me a little peace handle me sweet though me not entitled, but it's a request
jelly jelly bout you lack of freely used cuss knowledge I love the impact and damage, one day might mirror it and die
"do things my own way darling" it ain't easy I don't got the capacity cause I choose to let you I choose to let you choose though you never respect me oh
darling smooth unshattered like the legs of a virgin sharp, and useless when throw down so never miss that instructing
when me is talking try not to butt in or push a button cause I'm random who knows I might charge you like bison one of kind but always on your mind like a floating web babe learn to respect me before I lose what's left of this me inside
As time and space dimensions jelly-fish…
Quiet falls the cement-turf of lock-box seas;
Milky Way kisses answer my wish -
She nestles ‘neath an orchard cloak of apple trees:
---
Gray! Everything is gray! Gray is the sun!
But there she is…Providential Happenstance;
Butterflies turn. Acceptance - There’s nowhere to run.
Besotted silhouettes all but shadow dance
Achromatic Royalty speaks by way of muted denial.
Her silence floats fire upon fairie-flute notes. Clair de Lune.
She is a piano; She is forbidden fruit.
Unwrapped, she plays me to please the colorless moon
But still, magnets dance in tight embrace -
Our feet float fire upon cement courts at Wimbledon;
Wrapped by love - loved by shadows their hearts erased -
A queen’s colorless eyes briefly firefly flicker forbidden sun
---
And now, when time and space dimensions intertwine,
And with my fate convene while I’m in dream;
Where sleep disbands, awakened thoughts opine -
Not unlike pink, does Cleopatra seem.
2/1/2017
Gazing across the Trailer Park morning dew glistens on overgrown lawns, as the sun rises, empties strewn randomly in the grass sparkle like jewels in this dawn of day. Saturday night has past, Hank Sr has fallen silent, distant echoes of Stand by your Man and the wailing of police sirens, shouting and gun fire ebb from my mind. The prayers of the neighbors wife heard through the walls at 3am "oh god-oh god-oh god" have apparently been answered, silence stills this morning.
Hot coffee flows and warms my tired bones as the roaches scurry across the kitchen floor seeking refuge from the invasive light into the dark recesses of a cockroach underworld. A constant flurry of church vans pass by my window, come to gather those that have repentance for their sins of the previous Saturday night. A house-coated neighbor groans as she reaches for her morning paper, the folds of her belly fat strain the vertebrae that have given her the gift to walk upright to the kitchen for yet another jelly roll.
Some would see this community as a melting pot of emotional turmoil but what lies within this spiced stew is nothing less then life at it's purest form. Instinct, or whats left of man after crawling from that slime pool of life. There is no pretense of society or false empathy, nothing less then want and need. The establishment of being ruler of a 30X80 tract of land, King of all that their drug and alcohol induced visions might encompass.
I watch from the window of my kingdom, It is the dawning of a new day and life begins again.
RC
an enormously ambitious bumble bee
refused to help her hive with the royal jelly
she flew away and was now wild and free
settling in the Ozark Mountains of Tennessee
She loved bluegrass music and slapping of a knee
squatted in a hickory and there was no fee
her neighbor’s muscle car was from the Grand Prix
She was delighted to see this in Tennessee
Her new roommate was a lively chickadee
the art they used was made by handsome Paul Klee
a convict found them and begged to live in their tree
it was the first argument if you ask Lee or me
convict arrived anyway with his wife Merry Dee
His wife was a llama, he was a brown monkey
welcome new friends, said the loving chickadee
his wife was not happy; she could not climb the tree.
He fell one stormy midnight clear,
His feet upon his head,
He deaf of mouth and blind of ear,
All purple, green and red.
He dined politely on a rose,
Then with a speckled hen,
He quickly drew himself a nose,
And put it on again.
He paid the hen all shiny pound,
Then gave his ear a flick,
A tiny thought leapt to the ground,
And scurried up a stick.
"Hello there little sky-fall man,
A bildog, blain and ned.
I live inside your gumble mind,
That's right, inside your head".
"My name is wonder where and how
And who and what and why,
And what you're wondering right now?
How fell you from the sky?"
Down trouble eye our little man
Shed single Silver tear,
As off to forge some further plan,
Thought flew back down his ear.
So down he stood and set he off
To answer up his quest,
His head puffed out, his feet aloft
And walking on his chest.
He walked through woods where gilbroks played
Upon the purple moss,
With trees all trunked of plasticine
And leaved with candy floss.
For three long days but not so long
He walked on through the wood,
Until he heard a silver song
that tickled 'neath his hood.
The song it came from purple rock
Amid the Numbum trees,
Upon the rock, the Dandy-dock
Sat singing to the bees.
"All hail the Dandy," our friend cried
Before the purple stone,
"Hello there!" Dandy-dock replied
"My haven't how you've grown!"
"I am afraid I cannot help"
The Dandy softly groaned,
"You must search out the Bollynelp
Near the lake of Sollynoad"
So off he trekked to find the stream
That led out to the lake,
Across the lands of pink ice-cream
And plains of chocolate cake.
The stream ran on and skipped and played,
And sang it's tales of old,
But in the lake the waters stayed,
All tinged with green and gold.
High in a tree beside the shore
The Bollynelp sat chatting,
He talked a little then some more
Of chalk and cheese and matting.
"I'm sorry," called this strange old bird
To our hero down below,
"A quest like yours I've never heard
But the Dumble dog will know"
"The Dumble dog I'm sure you'll see
Upon that distant beach
Where our fine land does cease to be
And the jelly ocean's reach"
He thanked the Bolly with a sigh
And turned towards the shore,
And off he walked, still feet held high,
And chest upon the floor.
“All Points Bulletin”... be on the lookout
For Jackers' rotund belly
It's been missing for almost six months now
Watch “Missing Bellies” on your telly
Wiggles and jiggles like a bowl full of Jelly
Bouncing up and down, side to side
Little kiddies are always bugging their Moms
To ask Mr. Jackers for a ride
It's just my way of describing the impact
Losing weight had on my psyche
Upbeat and ready to meet all life's challenges
Now wearing my hair all spiky
It surely can be a life changing experience
Walk around with a confident air
Tossing red roses to the curious onlookers
With a feeling of devil may care
Can imagine the mental picture you're having
Must be pretty strange I would guess
My life has become exciting once again
Next week I'm on 'Meet The Press'
“All Points Bulletin”... if you see Jackers' belly
Ignore it, he doesn't want it back
He's doing just fine but thanks anyway
He's finally on the right track
© Jack Ellison 2012
I was four when I partied like it was 1999.
Didn’t know what Y2K meant—
thought it was a new kind of Ribena.
Mom said the world might end,
so we had fish fingers and Angel Delight
like it was our last supper.
She danced in the kitchen—
hip in one hand, remote in the other—
Prince on the telly,
sky outside grey as school uniform.
She said,
“If the world’s going to blow, we might as well boogie.”
So I did—
in jelly sandals,
on sticky lino,
thinking bombs were just what happened in cartoons.
The grown-ups were worried about computers—
I was worried about monsters under the bed.
Same thing, really.
I built bunkers from sofa cushions.
Told my teddies we’d be safe.
Asked Mom if I could stay up ‘til midnight
to see the sky explode.
She let me—
even though it didn’t.
Instead, we counted down
with paper hats, party poppers,
and a bowl of Wotsits big enough
to survive the apocalypse.
Prince said life was a party.
Mom made it gospel—
taught me the sacredness of silliness.
She sang with her eyes closed,
as if she could out-sing war.
As if dancing could un-plug the world’s doom switch.
And maybe it could.
There was a lion in her pocket too—
fierce in her softness,
roaring through a tinny tape deck.
She had a knowing in her sway,
like she understood what purple skies meant
long before I did.
Now I’m older,
and every headline feels like a countdown.
Still, I keep Ribena in the fridge
for emergencies.
Still, I dance—
barefoot on carpet,
arms full of invisible glitter,
like I’m four again
and nothing bad can touch me
while the music plays.
If the world ends again,
I’ll dance.
I’ll think of Mom.
I’ll play that song—
loud enough to shake the windows
and remind the sky
that we were here,
dancing,
as if forever still mattered.