Long Jenny Poems
Long Jenny Poems. Below are the most popular long Jenny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jenny poems by poem length and keyword.
Another Christmas season has arrived, at last
and like so many others from Yuletides past,
I'm glad some things have remained unchanged
Although the furniture has been rearranged.
Across the room, a fire crackles and burns
Jenny has grown; for love, her heart yearns
I recall when all she wanted was a baby doll
and skates for the new ice rink in the mall
I've been unpacked in just enough time to see
my family hanging ornaments upon their fir tree.
Garlands of holly berries and popcorn strung
The green velvet stockings beneath me are hung
There's gingerbread scent and carols on the radio
Dad sneaked a kiss from Mom under the mistletoe
The angel nods to me as she's lifted into place
atop the tree. She once told me her name is Grace.
There's old Kaci, the collie, fast asleep on his rug
Grandpa looks sad. I wish I could give him a hug
Mom is headed for the mantle to give me a shake
She's always gentle, taking care I don't break.
I was a gift from her Mom on Christmas, long ago
when she had asked Santa to please bring her snow,
but snow didn't fall in the South where she resided.
I was the closest thing Santa had lovingly provided
Tears fill Mom's eyes as my snow starts to flurry
I've become a bit cloudy and that makes her worry,
but I'll see her smile again Christmas Eve night
when she puts me in Jenny's stocking by fire light.
December 15, 2020
Christmas Poems ~ Old or New
Sponsored by ~ Constance La France
Sir Spoonsalot was a bit of a snot
His breath was stinky, smelled like rot
We were shocked when he began dating Lady Chatterbox
He loved her a bunch, they both had a crow and a fox.
But what about Sir Gigglefritz? My cousin Vi asked me.
I heard that this weirdo was at Lady Hopsincrotch’s afternoon tea.
This was news that had gone around, but I was sure untrue.
Later I got all the gory details from another gossip, Miss Jenny Sue.
These rounders have all been around the block and up a tree.
I would never date such fools as these, I told Wanda and Bree.
They gave me a look that said they thought I was lying.
Which I sometimes do when my stories they are not buying.
It seems awfully naive to think that you're the only ones
In such a vast universe you know so little about.
There are millions and millions of planets, moons, and suns
That can harbor the possibility of life, throughout.
The smartest people of the human race on planet Earth
Can't even fathom the knowledge of what really exists.
Your species is so young, comparatively, in its birth
To what's really out there beyond that with which you subsist.
I'm of a species that your mind can't even understand.
We came to Earth millions of years before you existed.
We stuck around longer than we originally planned.
When it was time to leave, many of our kind resisted.
So, we left them behind, something many of us regret.
But we thought, at the time, that it was the right thing to do.
Our friends died a horrible death, and we were so upset.
We all took a vow to never again return to you.
But you dig up their bones like some sort of disgusting prize.
You rebuild them and put them in museums on display.
Soon, you will be gone and after your horrible demise,
We'll return to Earth and bury them in a proper way.
The Visit Part 6
The hospital room was bathed with a warm light. Prisms of luminosity shone
and fired out through a mass of flaming red hair. She was the most beautiful angel
she had ever seen. "Hello, my name is Pietra, I'm your guardian angel. She
wanted to speak but words failed her, " Save your breath. I can hear you through
your heart and soul. " (she smiled, and an ice castle crumpled from within)
"From the looks it Jenny they are struggling to survive. Follow me. This will help you
change your mind"
Love, Your Mystic Rose
full story found on the stories section of poetry soup.
Enjoy ! it will be completed by Valentine Day
In the year of 1853
So poor, it’s to the workhouse for me
No Mum, no Dad no family
I am just another bastard you see
Inside the place it’s cold and damp
I suffer ailments, like colds and cramp
Sitting here I feel so forlorn
Beginning to wish I had never been born
Work in the laundry from dawn to dusk
Living on gruel, and sometimes some rusk
Beaten, starved and they call this home
Is it no wonder I feel so alone
Only ten years old am I you see
I should be living happily
Skipping gaily as a child
A little girl so meek and mild
But here I am so often used
Beaten, damaged and abused
I work so hard every given day
but still get treated in this way
Mr Bartlett runs the home
I think he has a heart of stone
Takes no notice of my plight
Ignores my screams throughout the night
Young Johnny takes such a great delight
IN hurting me, this is my plight
Bullies others, just like me
Would tell but no one listens to me
Calloused hands and chilblains on my feet
As a child I’ve changed, no longer mild and sweet
I have to steal to stay alive
Or sell my body to survive
Another long day, a sad one too
I lost a friend her name was Sue
Found dead in a doorway, having run away
Starved, half naked some did say
My heart grows heavy by the day
In this place I have to stay
Washing, Ironing sheets and things
Whatever arrives, what the rich people bring
Today I feel so tired, my body weighs a ton
And the day has only just begun
By noon I need to go and rest
To an alcove I know best
Down in the cellar, cold and damp
I lie on rags, behind a ramp
Out of sight, not to be seen
No one will know where I have been
As time rolls by, sleep turns to passing
Another child not everlasting
My name is Jenny, but who cares
Just another orphan living downstairs
The plight of children in these times
Can’t be put into nursery rhymes
Sad but true, no one dared
In truth and reality no one cared
For the poor it was the workhouse plain and simple
To the rich, these people were just a pimple
On the backside of society
Not interested in Jenny and where she may be
Another lost soul, no one would miss
Was found early next morning, no one to kiss
Her goodbye, died all alone
No longer in that horrible home
FB, ficklebook, fakebook, friendbook
In our modern world social media is king
A new way to communicate, a new look
It seems strange at times, a weird thing
Birthday wishes and condolences are posted galore
Sue and Jenny post their troubles and relationship issues
Pictures, selfies, trips, and celebrations are all shared and more
News posts and important posts from community officials
Many of your friends may leave comments and like or love your posts
Running into these same people in person however is not the same
Sue walked right by me in the store and ignored me like I was a ghost
Jenny acknowledged me at the supermarket with a quick hi that was lame
FB, friendbook, I refer to as my ficklebook now
A nice social media site but mainly with acquaintances
Still a nice place to play games and post pics anyhow
But it doesn’t change all the years passed and the distances
1/26/20
The two Cowboys stood at the cliff of a great divide.
Jacob stood, starring across the opening with Bill still
in his saddle, close by his side. The rocky scene was like
A kaleidoscope, every color, ever known.
Is there any other place you would rather be Bill?
Bill said, No Jacob, I don't believe so.
Jacob slowly, climbed back on to his horse and pulled the
reins and headed North. He started whistling a happy note
and Bill listened as he followed Jacob to the valley
slope.
Deadwood City here we come, looking for gold and lots of fun,
Jacob shouted! Yep, Bill shouted back, and we need to keep us
a fully loaded gun. The Cowboys laughed out loud as they rode on.
The Cowboys knew Deadwood could make a man so very rich
and they had contracted the gold fever itch. The day's travel was
so very long and hot, and the sun began to sink below the mountain's
amber, rugged tops.
They found a place to camp before nightfall and how that fire crackled
as they ate beans and corn fritters, and over coffee talked.
You know Bill, said Jacob. One Summer could set us straight and you
could pay off the old farm and fix that crooked gate.
Yeah, Bill responded and then you could marry Jenny. Maybe start
a family and maybe even buy the Ole Mill. Yeah, said Jacob, so surreal.
The Cowboys lay starring at the stars in the sky that clear, crisp night
and dreamed of all the things that gold could buy them, until daylight.
The Cowboys made Deadwood and Oh, the sights they seen.
They panned every river and every stream. Then at summer's end
they cashed it all in and headed back to Tennessee, to live out their lives
and share with their family the story of their Deadwood dreams.
If you eat Hoppin’ John on New Year’s Day,
it’s a sure thing good luck will come your way.
At least down south, that’s what they say.
In a bowl or on a plate, Hoppin’ John looks nice.
Those field peas, bacon, and onions go well with rice.
Serve it with green leafy vegetables that are supposed to resemble money.
Putting a coin under each bowl looks like something funny.
Doing so is a harbinger of prosperity.
Yellow corn bread is symbolic of gold.
That is also to bring wealth, so I am told.
The next day, Hoppin’ John becomes Skippin’ Jenny.
That is what to eat if you are pinching the penny.
Further wealth results from frugality.
I thank wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem
Over the horizon is heard the sputtering engine of an unusual bird.
Trailing a billowing plume of smoke, it looked so pathetically absurd!
Coming into view was an old Curtiss Jenny of World War One fame.
Used only as a trainer, faster, more stable planes put it to shame!
The dashing young pilot buzzed the field and waved to the crowd.
Distraught moms covered the ears of their kids to ease the din so loud!
He did a barrel roll and a loop and people thought the man insane!
He made a wobbly landing, alit, gazing about with haughty disdain!
Doffing his goggles, his oil-stained face looked like that of a raccoon.
The handsome interloper caused young ladies to gasp and swoon.
He smiled a smile that would light up the night and gallantly salutes!
He's so striking in his breeches, helmet, leather jacket and shiny boots!
He grandly announced, "For five bucks I'll take you for a ride,
In good old faithful Jenny here, my joy and my pride!
Now don't be shy, step right up! How about you there, Dad?
Let me give the thrill of a lifetime to that there young lad!"
The young fellow with his Ma and Pa did earnestly plead.
Ma and Pa argued about it and Ma tearfully agreed.
That flight sparked a burning flame in the soul of that young boy!
He became a World War Two fighter ace much to his parent's joy!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The number of us children growing up was eight.
Each Thursday night was special, for our Dad got paid,
and we would eagerly and hungrily await
his bringing Henry’s fries and burgers home. Hurray!
We weren’t allowed to pick and choose; we had to take
two burgers each with “everything” and one bag of fries.
While we grabbed our own allotment, happy to partake,
Jenny scraped off from her burgers -onions she despised!
Dori chewed so slowly, from her we all would steal.
The baby, Theadora, just sat there and played
with her food. I was strange and always made this deal:
Both my burgers for two brothers’ French fries I would trade.
And so the number of my French fries always came to three.
Even with no burgers, I loved each Thursday night.
for the Henry’s fast food and time with family.
Oh, to go back to those days with loved ones in my sight!
*Henry's Hamburgers was the name of a fast food place in my hometown
For Paula Swanson's "Traditions" Poetry Contest