Long Jingo Poems
Long Jingo Poems. Below are the most popular long Jingo by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jingo poems by poem length and keyword.
Samuel P. Jingo was destined to be the king of kings
The color of a skunk or dairy cow, we called him Jings.
He kept saying he did not mean to pull the sword from the stone.
It was an accident, something he had done, all alone.
The town would not hear of anyone else having the honor.
Although the reindeer wanted the crown, especially Donner.
Jings was worried, and kept saying that he needed a sign.
He is full of integrity and honesty, this cousin of mine.
The day of the coronation God sent cherubs from heaven.
They brought in some treats, some lox, bagels and leaven.
We know you have been selected and by the very best.
They said as they helped Samuel P. Jingo get dressed.
This was the sign my cousin had been waiting for.
He put on that crown and he strutted out the door.
The religious men gave him a speech and a prayer.
I admit that I am thrilled that I could be there.
Some folks would tell you that a Demon
Lived in all of us
A rapist is a thief
Some public defender isn’t smarter than his client
One is not required to serve as a juror: on every case
With that in mind:
To create a mental trend is easier.
A train to the plane;
It’s really surprising to find
A hockey player who is tame
A police officer with all his fear and anger
A cook without a kitchen: Is like tango without jingo
A philosophy without any gaps
The new breakfast drink debut
Ice coffee in the morning
Mocha latte` all day
Please don’t interfere with what work
To help us during the day
I am a woman that follows the warmth
A tree that wouldn’t blossom
it's worthless creation?
You can eat tree bark
While the lark
Build its lowly nest
On the ground
A philosophy without any gaps
past passions passed parting
present pains pleasured prolonging
love's longings lowered lingering
world's weight winded waiting
sadness's solo silenced singing
freedom forgotten feared freezing
brittle bones bruised breaking
taciturn tears tattered tumbling
mind's memory mangled melting
reason's remnants ruined remaining
kneels nobody nighted knowing
gutless ghosting gathered grimacing
careless cacophony caged constructing
mammon millions murdered meandering
demons divinity damaged dividing
hearts heads hooked hungering
chastised children chunked chasing
betrayed bought banned burying
jingo jeering jaded judging
kindness kisses kindled killing
quiescent quakes quieted quivering
vapid verses vanquished vaping
words' world wearied wounding
zealot xenophobe zeroed zooming
past passions passed parting
present pains pleasured prolonging
love's longings lowered lingering
world's weight winded waiting
sadness's solo silenced singing
freedom forgotten feared freezing
brittle bones bruised breaking
taciturn tears tattered tumbling
mind's memory mangled melting
reason's remnants ruined remaining
kneels nobody nighted knowing
gutless ghosting gathered grimacing
careless cacophony caged constructing
mammon millions murdered meandering
demons divinity damaged dividing
hearts heads hooked hungering
chastised children chunked chasing
betrayed bought banned burying
jingo jeering jaded judging
kindness kisses kindled killing
quiescent quakes quieted quivering
vapid verses vanquished vaping
words' world wearied wounding
zealot xenophobe zeroed zooming
It’s time, by now, we did away with nations.
I tell you, hand on heart beneath the flag,
This jingo jag has now become a drag.
Those puerile patriotic palpitations
had meaning only when we lived in tribes.
Today our people mix and mingle freely –
so can’t we now dispense with Horace Greeley,
and wetbacks, wops and wogs, and all those jibes?
Since nations never have a sense of humour,
it’s little wonder why we have these wars.
We need a change of heart. Embrace the cause:
don’t split us into gooks or spooks or squaws,
or hicks or micks or spicks, or baby-boomers.
One nation under God, we’re all consumers.
It’s time, by now, we did away with nations.
I tell you, hand on heart beneath the flag,
This jingo jag has now become a drag.
Those puerile patriotic palpitations
had meaning only when we lived in tribes.
Today our people mix and mingle freely –
so can’t we now dispense with Horace Greeley,
and wetbacks, wops and wogs, and all those jibes?
Since nations never have a sense of humour,
it’s little wonder why we have these wars.
We need a change of heart. Embrace the cause:
don’t split us into gooks or spooks or squaws,
or hicks or micks or spicks, or baby-boomers.
One nation under God, we’re all consumers.
Old Inky dinky parlay voo
Had a race with a green kangaroo
They stood side by side
Inky’s laces got tied
By jingo it caused a foo doo
Poor Inky fell over a murdle
Whilst kanga the murdle did hurdle
Kanga leapt on ahead
Inky’s twang how it bled
He mopped up the blood with a turdle
Kanga ignored poor Inky’s dilemma
And sped off like Pete Smockeremma
With a boing and a bounce
He did loudly announce
I’m the winner of this no problemma!
But Kanga was deemed to be cheating
The lace tying was his unseating
The squidgehawk of the race
Wiped the smile from his face
And Kanga got a blubber beating
The moral of this quindy story
No cheating to obtain false glory
Just ensure you squok fair
And make sure you’re aware
The squidgehawk’s judgement’s mandatory!
Inky Dinky Parlay Voo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
03/25/20
**Therapy Session**
Some people insist that a demon exists within all of us.
A rapist is nothing more than a thief,
And it's clear that some public defenders
Don’t have more intelligence than their clients.
Remember, you are not obligated to serve as a juror in every case.
With that understanding, creating a mental trend becomes straightforward.
It's astonishing to discover a hockey player who is anything but fierce
or a police officer controlled by fear and anger.
A cook without a kitchen is ridiculous
as tango without jingo—a philosophy that leaves no gaps.
The new breakfast drink is here: iced coffee
In the morning and mocha lattes all day.
Don’t interfere with the work that empowers us each day.
I am a woman who follows the warmth,
and I refuse to believe that a tree that doesn’t blossom is a worthless creation.
Yes, you can eat tree bark while the lark builds its nest on the ground.
A philosophy without any gaps stands strong.