Long Joan Poems
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December 2nd 2013 4:00 am (o400)
Detoxing from drugs pychotrophically speaking
My couch was an aroma of deadened sweat too putrid to mention
You came to call not long after I thought I was pregnant by my boyfriend and
coididently was at the time of my detoxidation
night sweats for weeks
and yes he had my key
He messed up my hair and tangled it a bit
as I cried when hospitalized at the cutting my hair (tangle free)
You, John Cayton spoke to me lovingly
of everafter all in a lifetime
You went to town, home on a personal leave to see me
and all the women thought you were the most handsome, a perfect form
as I expressed to the hardware store owner he is really overworked
I'm not too much for the muscle bound type
You loooked at him in despair I heard,
as our blue eyes had met before
when he said to you that I was concerned
and all that small towns attention was upon you
You got us a condo
Then you left after leaving me full of desire of a close encounter of another kind
John, I truly do not know how to explain my days on a log
I have no itenary to show when we will see each other
I do know that when God puts two people together it surely will happen
I've tried to block you out of my mind and I don't know why
I know that each and every star has its reasons just as the money hungry in Cali have no rights to this heart of mine
but as I explained, I would feel secure with him
I would never be tempted to have relations and could sleep by his side
and rest well
You look good now
You are perfect and I find myself shy to you because I feel like an out of shape over 40 country girl and have
the stretch marks humanly to prove so
You say, well that is why I love you so, because while I've been away,
you've harshly been handled and I only want to hold you for my life's worth
Far beit to me to rain down on you as my tears fall, I know how I feel, that is all
Words do not compesate the very soul
yet though tired and worn and jagged around the edges I am loved for me by you
only you, and God has His hand upon us
Sincerely, Lucinda Lu Cayton
To: Sir John Cayton
( we are not related but carry the same last name- Dad would be astounded! We are not French (related to Joan of Arc) and his family is) what a story of America and beyond! Perhaps we will agree me acting like another ancestor BraveHeart is a poor choice.
Form:
well, woman has been around for a while
hypno-teasing men with her wicked smile
been known by many names starting with Eve
Boadicea, Cleopatra and Genevieve
she can fly-by-night, be out with the bats
purring and prowling with sly slinky cats
never a tame girl, sometimes receptive
with hidden secrets, deep and deceptive
see her in twilight, creature in the dark
flames flickered when she was Joan of Arc
think she has been here for just a few years?
think again, 'them' hills, they flow with her tears
woman has been teacher for aeons of time
wrote most of " Homer ", taught Plato to rhyme
as Archimedes' hand-maid, she had a laugh
when he shouted " Eureka, get me out of the bath! "
around when Adam gave out those spare ribs
her name is on parchment writ with rare nibs
her time here with us, a mere interlude
battles over centuries, a bitter feud
with men from the past and future I'm told
man on her arm, just her latest cuckold
well-rounded dame or seriously slim
cheerful demeanour or chief sister grim
close-quarter woman talking loud and fast
words over-taking like a blast from the past
so hard to keep up, so hard to break in
leave you behind in the wake of her din!
what's this I hear, is she now slowing down
pausing for men, is she wearing a frown?
perhaps she's starting to shuffle the deck
departure dreaming on a very long trek
maybe no point in moving on once more
the greater challenge is here at the door
as men they shout " I am invincible
I've the biggest Archimedes Principle! "
late at night she now walks the floorboards
seeking a new role, a song with new chords
" where and when will I go, who will I be
will I stay in this land or else oversea ? "
men of the future and men of the past
treasure this woman as head of the cast
whenever, wherever, whoever you are
she will always twinkle, shine like a star
bring her some chocolate, bring her some wine
make sure she stays and has a good time
but watch at midnight in case she's outside
all alone by the road hitching a ride
silver moonbeam and finest curb crawler
then down to the port and onto a trawler
far out to sea where she thinks of those days
when Gods fought Neptune for sight of her gaze
He worked at the local newspaper office.
I worked for his employer’s wife as a mother’s helper.
He had served his apprenticeship
and was now a full fledged printer
earning a magnificent sum of eight dollars a week.
My wages were three dollars per week.
Mrs. Miller found reasons for sending
me to the office frequently
and he was easy to talk to.
It wasn’t long before
he asked me to go to a movie
and I readily agreed.
Movies tickets at our local theatre
were twenty-five cents, usually.
The first movie we went to was called
“The Housekeeper’s Daughter”
starring Joan Bennett.
I don’t remember a thing about the story.
The next week he called again
and this time
the movie he wanted to take me to was
“Gone With The Wind”.
I protested that it was too expensive.
This time he would have to spend
fifty cents each on tickets
and the movie was so long that
there was an intermission
and I knew he would want
to buy refreshments, but
I didn’t take much persuading
and we went all out for that
evening of entertainment.
This time I did remember the story.
From that evening forward ,
he was a daily caller at our home
and my mother did her best
to keep him fed.
Most of our dates were merely
a stroll down town and back
as we had no car.
We heard on the radio that
Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour
was coming to a bigger town
about thirty miles away
and both of us decided we would like to
attend that function.
Money would be a problem
on our wages, so we decided
to save up for it.
One of us bought a dime bank and
we each put any spare dime we could,
into the bank.
It held five dollars.
We managed to have
five dollars worth of dimes
by the time the big day arrived.
Dad lent us his car
and off we went.
I don’t know what the tickets cost
but we had enough to buy them
plus enough to
indulge in an ice-cream soda
at the big town soda fountain.
1940 was the year our story started.
In March of 1941
he left for Detroit, Michigan
where he had heard he could find work
at a decent wage.
He sent a telegram
that he’d found a job
at $50.00 a week.
He had a minister and marriage license.
I had never been away from home before
but I traveled to Detroit and
we were married in July of 1941.
Honorable Mention
.
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf;
For suddenly and without any fair warning came,
an enormous black cloud that stationed itself overhead and
obstructed the sun from my first redwood seed in sprout
and with a great fury it released a violent torrent of rain,
drenching it completely, until alas my sapling did drown.
My budding redwood tree, destroyed before its time,
the damage is irrevocable and my sapling is no more.
Like a cannon ball shot from its cannon, fire shoots
from my mouth with all fierceness and in rage I roar….
“Who really is to blame for this unfathomable demise of
my precious sapling, my budding grand redwood tree?
Was it the black cloud with its tools of destruction or
the lack of assiduousness of those with their expertise?”
Yes, regretfully my sapling was not planted by the stream.
As a seed, in ignorance it was sown upon soil rocky and dry;
yet against all odds, my seed sprouted with some foliage,
but its roots did not run deep and so with the specialist I relied
to care and strengthen it so it could withstand the bad elements.
Sadly, they were specialists with an expert eye that could not see,
they were worthless and of no avail, lacking the assiduity needed,
for their eyes, mind and heart were blinded by their own greed.
Rage, despair, grief, devastation and regret, flowing like
hot lava spewing out from a volcano through my veins,
pushing out my red hot blood onto this white leaf.
For the black cloud is now set above me like a fixed stain,
with all might I struggle to escape it’s dreadful grip, but
still it hovers over me obstructing the sun from my days,
releasing a torrent of pain and in the agony of my loss it
drenches me and the answers to my questions are still opaque.
Oh...but take heed all you with your degree, my roots run deep,
I will not drown and like a raging bull I push forward so valiantly
for the lucidity of the answers, lucid as a glass made of crystal;
all for the love of my departed budding grand redwood tree.
Written by: Joan Marie Peranteau
copy written May 3, 2014
Dedicated to and written in regards to my beloved son;
Nathaniel Blaine Gibson
Adventures With James My Grandson
by Joan Donnelly 1995
He doesn't walk but runs to his subject on interest,
and upon arrival, leaps into the air.
With bended knees and flattened feet he lands like an athlete,
and his welcoming, "Hi," cuddles my heart as I wipe away a tear
Then he wraps a wee hand around my finger leading me into his realm of
Adventure and joy.... with enthusiastic anticipation,
though he hasn't turned two yet, my youngest son's eldest boy.
He guides me to a rest area and seats me by patting his hand on an outdoor substitute for a chair.
At his, "Sit, Sit,"I oblige him as he runs through rain puddles...then..
gifts me with a bouquet of dandelions and a honey-filled , "Here."
Once I presented him with a learning toy, his repsonse delighted my soul,
"Awh, Awh,"he uttered appreciatively while tilting his head ia sideways to and fro.
One day he noticed a kitten curled up 'neath a sheltering tree
Swiftly he raced toward her with an over-the-shoulder, "Come," to me.
I couldn't help but chuckle when he repeated, "Come," once more.
He never caught the enlightened feline but brightened my day for sure.
Then he ran down the street where he sighted a wooden plank on the ground.
"Bat, Bat,"rang his happy chant at the treasure he'd found.
With effort he maneuvered the narrow plank over his shoulder gleefully
"Ball, Ball,"he urged and I followed his searching eyes co-operatively.
To my amazement, as if waiting to be found ,lay a beach ball on a grassy mound...
Though I've not known baseball to be played with such.
It was of balloon size and as I looked into James' sparkling eyes..
I wondered if he'd become the baseball player his Dad hoped for so much.
I could see James straining to keep the awkward bat raised so with a..
"Ready, Set,"I pitched ball and prayer as James let out a sigh.
The bat he forward inched as he licked his upper lip and by gosh got a hit,
Then said, "Cool,"as we watched the ball fly.
"Get it, Nanny,"James gave me the order and I retrieved the ball intending to extend our fun........when.....Was it my imagination or did I hear....a crowd in a filled stadium cheer at the announcer's , "Well I'll Be, Folks! Young MacMaster makes another home run !"
Talk to the Dead
When you talk to the dead,
They give you advice,
Buzz on your finger,
lightly touch once or twice,
I told Trish about dead Joan's Goldfish,
In her fish pond swimming pool,
When a loud voice said this,(to Trish)
They're bloody Koi not Goldfish,
You silly bloody fool,
Trish and Joan looked much alike,
And sounded alike,same voice too,
Same giggle and sense of humour,
Two parts of one soul connection,
Perhaps this is true?
And one nursed the other before her death?
After Sue died in April 2015,
she jumped in my body too,
And I felt as sick as a dying dog,
Till she jumped right out too true,
Later without her deathly illness,
It was ok for her to,
Jump into my body,
Possession is OK blue,
Sometimes a concept arrives in your head,
The impulse to drive a different road Instead,
Check out my old house Suey did say,
When I drove past house had gone away,
The point of her contact a thread,
You must ask a question,
An answer to get,
Cos they need an invite,
Then words you will get,
Though some of the buggers ain't nice.
Don Johnson
Guess I was blest with the seeing,
At 4 me Kero fridge just went Om Om Om,
The shutter in me head clicked open,
And a room full of Greys. Frowned upon,
Boogie man was I a seeing,
Grumpy Greys round my bed stayed too long,
Unfriendly grey men came at night not no friends,
Till I clicked the door shut, no more Greys in the hut,
Yes bugger off Grays don't belong.
Suey and I had long discussions about possession, and she said she wanted to jump inside me. After her death she did as in the top above poem.
A day before she died in my arms, we were joking about my Granny not paying back a loan . Sue spoke sternly to Grandma and I saw her face above my bed
Grandma was crying and begged my forgiveness, of course I forgave her.
Insight to the other side.
I asked Sue how old she was now,
She said I'm 10 and am confronting child molesting Grandpa
Also confronting her Father for doing nothing about it.
Seems you get to bring justice on the other side of the veil,
And possibly decide the punishment when baby's are Constantly reborn in the Earth, just doing your time, in little Hell Earth.
The time and the place what your worth,
Anchors Aweigh...
destination unknown
for this Earthling
stardate: February 26th, 2022
At sea since time immemorial
I relish being alone
upon oceanic expanse
yours truly doth bemoan
me gal Sal (one among
numerous female confidantes),
no matter, she easily
mistaken as a crone
magical powers keep
her manning far aloft drone
as surveillance hovers above me
(to intercept encrypted
communication maintained
courtesy bluetooth earphone)
the two of us sol survivors
I feel like a foreigner since
global thermonuclear war
bombed webbed wide world
into pulverized power
vaguely similar landscape
to age of Fred Flintstone
and Barney Rubble
recurring memories redolent
of yesteryear, whereby I groan
though simple living
such as me and the missus
did Potschke coaxing homegrown
organic fruits and vegetables,
though, I attest we did
get violently angry with each other
and unwittingly cross interzone
where brickbats exchanged,
especially after she discovered
an illicit extramarital affair
between myself and Joan
since kindergarten her I known.
Weather beaten cap'n,
and watertight bewitched craft
time tested since maiden voyage
(circumnavigating the globe
back in the day of my youth),
I ranked tough as a pitbull,
when severely pitted
against raw elements
of swiftly tailored,
harried stylish nature
against leathery faced
reptilian skin, hard drinking
(actually as corked
poetic convenience - vermouth
arbitrary bottle of choice
if for no other reason,
than to rhyme
with the above line),
and tobacco spitting, while
colorfully swearing as an uncouth
Furies (of Agamemnon)
fighting (tooth
and nail) Pirate,
where rickets, scurvy,
and thrice unconscious,
currently ample proof
could not forsooth
bring me to Davy Jones's locker,
cuz I never wanna
get relegated to an underwater
whale schooled booth,
this raconteur can nonchalantly,
glibly, and blithely attest,
with braggadocio, despite
no warm welcome will
ever greet mine tinnitus
pained ears, I can plainly
imagine acrimonious retort
upon me behest
his far more'n lifetime
bobbing (like a sponge)
square pants float
buoyed atop crest longing e'en for
(carping, caviling, hen pecking,
or shrewish) wife.
I love listening to Bach on late evenings, especially his flowing ‘Ave Maria’,
just as I like tuning in to Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’, far too many Ave Marias!
Nothing compares to Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata', it’s simply beautiful;
George Handel had he lived would have found Ludwig’s piece rather cool.
Amadeus Mozart, truly he was a musical genius, that Austrian son-of-a gun,
it’s high there among the classics, the elegant ‘Theme from Elvira Madigan’.
Give me Antonin Dvorak’s ‘New World Symphony’, so serenely majestic,
that, like Tchaikovsky’s ‘Concerto in 1st Movement’, creates instant magic.
Let me tell you a little secret: my days in the cradle had long ago passed by
yet, till this day I drift off to dreamland with a few strains of Brahms’ ‘Lullaby’.
Chopin he tinkers with his piano dreamily, that young romantic Polish chap -
etudes, nocturnes, mazurkas, you name it, though he could not do hip-hop.
I adore the songs of Bobby Dylan, though not necessarily his croaky voice;
honestly, I prefer listening to other minstrels sing his tunes, if given a choice.
Joan Baez, Joni Mitchell and Judy Collins, those gals sounded to me so fine;
I once volunteered to produce them but they said “Are you out of your mind?”
Could not do nothing with the three J’s, so I turn to Lennon & McCartney
who once rocked my childhood with their irresistible “yeah, yeah, yeah”.
Leonard Cohen, does that man ever smile? so moody and stark his music
but I love him anyway, though figuring out his lyrics often makes me sick.
Denver and Donovan’s stuff are sugary for my taste at times I would say
and there are occasions when I crave for songs that sound kinda lonely.
So I often give way to my old buddy from country land, Kristofferson man,
and let his somber ‘Sunday Morning Coming Down’ get me all undone.
Sad songs, joyful songs, all styles, will they ever come in just one package?
so I won’t have to spend much on CDs that is straining my minimum wage.
Given those great musical influences I have painstakingly mentioned above,
it is a sure bet I am off to greatness if I just behave and do what I truly love.
Mama's here, little one.
Even when she's not.
Her arms are wrapped around you,
She loves you a lot.
Mama's always by your side,
Even when she can't talk.
When you're at your best.
And even when you're at your worst.
Kai loves you.
Mama loves you.
Nothing could be more true,
Than the words I speak when I'm with you.
I want to be there for you.
I want to lift you up.
Someday, we'll meet.
Someday, I will.
I'll press butterfly kisses all over your face.
I'll sqwoosh your cheeks and hug you close.
I'll cuddle with you all the time.
I'll never ever leave your side.
One day, we'll meet.
Then, you'll see.
Mama's here. Mama's with you.
She'll never ever leave.
When Tigger can't bounce,
And Pooh hates honey.
When Peter Pan can't fly,
And Mater isn't funny.
That's when I'll stop loving you,
That's when I'll move on.
When Patton can't smile,
And Roman drops his sword and runs.
When Logan can't find a solution,
And doesn't even try.
When Virgil gives up on the others,
And becomes the bad guy.
That's when I'll leave you.
When the world ends.
Only then,
Will I not be your friend.
I may not be good at everything,
Or even good for you.
But I swear on my life,
I could never stop loving you.
Not you.
Not Alex.
Not Al or Kat.
Not Kayden.
Not Katie.
Not Rory or Batts.
Not Megan.
Not Joan.
Not Cassie or Jen.
Not Marie.
Not Zoe.
Not Olivia or Em.
Not Emma.
Not Beet.
Not Caelum or Kali.
Not Cas.
Mot Gabby.
Not Serena or Bailey.
Not Xavier.
Not Rihanna.
Not Natasha or Mac.
Not even Malaya.
Not even Sonnae.
Not even if there isn't a person that loves me back.
I could never stop loving,
All the people in my life.
Past or present,
Even if they weren't nice.
Mama always loves you.
She'll never move on.
Mama won't ever stop loving,
Even if everyone else is gone.
Mama loves you.
Your highs and your lows.
Kai loves you.
They'll protect you from all your foes.
Mama's always here, little one.
Even when she's not.
Her arms are wrapped around you.
She loves you a lot.
Woke up this morning with a head
This is the curse when you try to change the world
Gave Mary just a slight hint Tony might be bedding Jill, Joan, not excluding Alice
Big John, definitely gay, but as I explained, Billy his partner was kissing May
Mark was salivating over the barmaid Rose
God sakes man haven’t you heard, Rose used to be Fred
You could have heard a pin drop when the chuckle brothers walked in
Word on the street, Jill and Joan were in the family way
Which in any other circumstances would be okay
But everybody knew the brothers fired blanks, hence the chuckle reference amongst the ranks
Still, honour was at stake on that fateful night
A slight nod Tony’s way would start the fight
A knife to the heart was Tony’s plight
Then a voice cried out, you sure she’s a man
Well, Rose hit Mark with a pan
Big John headbutted Billy
Who landed on Tony, and one of his cronies
Mary, who had now lost the plot when Alice showed the ring Tony had bought
A bottle of bud over the head, put paid to Tony and his amorous ways
Rose stripped off, shouting, does this look like a man
Mark got up, seeing double as the chuckle brothers pushed him down again
Big John threw Billy into the air, landing on the chuckle brothers like Fred Astaire
The brothers took this as a blatant dare, shooting Billy without a care
Tony clocked Rose in her Sunday best, uttering the words, better than all the rest
This sent Mary totally insane, followed by Jill, Joan, Alice, and for some reason May
Guns were pulled, shots went astray, all aimed at Tony who looked on in dismay
The chuckle brothers in the way, killed outright on that fateful day
Legend has it, a crime of passion, no arrests were ever made
Tony fled the country, followed by Jill, Joan, and for some reason May
Mark and Rose fell in love, got married
Mary and Alice gave them away
Big John and Billy gave it another go
I was going to mention to him, but decided no
Not after all the advice I gave went untold
Still, this is the curse when you try to change the world
This is why I woke up with a head
Though, what a palaver
Was it something I said.