Long Joey Poems
Long Joey Poems. Below are the most popular long Joey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Joey poems by poem length and keyword.
Woot Woot Personal Memories
Monorhyme Form
Jeremy, a teen, is baby sitting
his siblings. They swallow him up playing.
Berry sits on big brothers lap giggling
in the big comfy chair sinking feeling,
while tightly squeezing, Ella’s enjoying.
Admiration of big brother’s loving.
Frankie and Joey, watching, role-playing,
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles winning.
Michelangelo’s, stealth bomber punching,
Donatello’s, Chi Gong skill in slamming,
Leonardo’s master swordsman slashing.
Ninjutsu skills, arms swinging, feet kicking
Following every skilled move they’re making.
Heartbeat of siblings bonding, like breathing.
Big brother is always encouraging,
Never giving up on our life squabbling,
protective, understanding, still willing
to play, do fun things, smiling, ensuring.
5/25/2016
5/25/2016
Poetry Contest ; Personal Memories Monorhyme II -
Sponsored by: Laura Loo
Jinxed by the J's except in Scrabble
Because playing a J alone is ten whole points.
I get out scrabble cheat
Jo, jeu, jin, jine, just
Jo is great. It can become
Joe, Joey, Joes,
Jeu is pretty much only able to be pluralized.
Jin can turn into jingle, jingles, jinx, jinxes, jinxed, and jinxer
Wait a second.
Not sure about jinxer
But the J like the Q and the Z instantly gives you ten points
just for using that tile alone which you cannot do.
The shortest J word they allow is Jo.
However, J is a prime tile.
I am looking up jingleheimerschimdt now.
For no real good reason since we can only get seven tile at a time.
I want to be ready however if the rules ever change.
You can never be too ready.
right?
Six wonderful people very bright and young
shared a cramped apartment...
is that because they couldn't afford the rent,
or they loved to have fun?
What a hilarious circus, if they had teamed up!
They got angry, but still apologized and made up;
they seemed to have many problems,
some more complex than the others.
Rachael was very pretty and cool,
Phoebe was so naive and not too witty,
Lisa was refined and very beautiful,
Joey was a womanizer extremely funny,
Chandler was the sarcastic guy who loved sensual Monica,
and Ross was the nice dude who was embarrassed by Erotica.
These talented actors have entertained us
for long years fascinating us with their charms;
they were a close family rather than good friends who struggled...
they must have felt deep sadness when the final episode was aired.
Written by Andrew crisci
for Michael Falotico's contest,
" Ryhme Me An Old TV Show "
Chosen show: Friends
I followed milky and mouldy scents,
down cobbled and narrow paths,
only to see it riddled with rats,
feasting on Feta and Camembert,
whilst the wine sipping Uppers prepared to
clash against the cider swigging downers!
The Fromage Frenzy and Curd Craze deli.
across from the Dizzy Duck and the Boastful Bard taverns
had been ransacked with only cracker crumbs on the floor.
All the cheesemongers were hiding in their basements.
All the landlords locked away in their cellars!
Bar stools dripping with Chardonnay and Merlot,
carpets soaked in 'Scrumpy Jack' and 'Strongbow.'
It was utter chaos as the 'cheese shed' raged on...
The goats and the cows watched,
as the town folk gathered on either side.
Anger in their eyes, yelling insults like;
'Cheap cheddar gobblers' and 'stinky Stilton munchers.'
This was not cultural tensions,
nor issues with tariffs, quotas or labelling practises-
this was a war of the social classes!
They were not fighting with fists or weapons,
oh no, no no..
The Downers started squirting stinky cheese sauce,
drenching the Uppers with its reeking stench.
However, when the Uppers started hurling
Storico and Caciocavallo Podolico,
back at the Downers, they simply,
started consuming it with their cider!
Both fractions kept pelting and sprinkling,
until little Joey from the farm,
reminded them the football had started,
so off they plodded to watch the game,
singing and laughing together,
arm in arm, munching on cheese
they had salvaged from their skirmish.
Before corporate café`s took over and Starbucks became so ubiquitous, on every corner of your city, small business cafés thrived. There was Antique Row Café Ave; four café`s that stood alongside each other, noted for their unique furniture and boasted their own peculiar interior. The antique row cafés were so cool, as you could amble around and observe intriguing artifacts and some for sale, and pictures of famous stars whom you grew up with. Very nicely decorated.
Tiperillo, sweet and husky tobacco smoke ascending from golden ashtrays, and lava lamps bohemian chic—purple plush couches, and stylish bars. We met twice a week, Flor, Cece, and I, and a few other college buddies. We studied, shared ideas and asked one another for advice.
I met Joey the manager of the café’s, resembling a young Salvador Dali`. He answered my questions about the unique and endearing bar café`s his father once owned, before they were drowned out under the heavy hand of corporate takeover. Hoping one day they’ll return with their indispensable charm and upbeat youthful ambiance. Until then it’s corporate dull and uncomfortable seating at the Starbucks!
Long ago and way up north
Further than you can ever believe
Joey, a jaunty little fellow appeared
Folks wondered what was up his sleeve
Joey was unusual to say the least
Had lotsa neat things on his mind
No building forts or throwing snowballs
Was a kid of a different kind
Went straight to visit Santa one day
Brought him happy holiday joy
When Joey showed him his unique treasure
Santa hugged this unusual little boy
For what little Joey brought with him
Made Santa's heart dance with glee
The magnificent sight in front of Santa
Was a Technicolor Christmas Tree
They placed it in the centre of town
Folks sang and all joined hands
As they danced around this colourful tree
Bells rang out all o'er the land
There's a moral to this charming tale
Don't brush these wee kiddies aside
They're our future come hell or high water
So treat these young people with pride
When Joey was five or six
Good feelings, she tried to mix
And living colors, a few
Dissolved in the morning dew;
Happy landscape of the world
Of starry heavens unfurled
And birds to fly like angels
All ought to live in pictures:
What we dreams on ancient things,
Eternal play of love with wings
And nights on the way and hopes
In round waves and verdant slopes…
Flowers dance at our feet.
Then, a sweet image I meet:
Joey eating her ice cream,
Keeping from cornet a rhyme;
A luminous smile of joy
Like having in hand a toy:
This empty cornet is big.
I let it for my Guinea pig.
She is prissy, stuck up, arrogant, I imagine said Joey Lee.
Have you met her in person though? How can this prediction be?
I can tell because I have met others like her, some are on my blog.
He also threw this in. Have you seen her arrogant stuck up dog?
But have you talked to her? What is she like in person? I queried.
He stared at me as if I had eaten a smelly storm drain curried.
I don’t have to he replied. As if I am not understanding him at all.
I can tell by her look she is not normal or a nice person at all.
I could not help but feel a bit sorry for Joey Lee then.
Can you imagine how hard it would be to not have a friend?
For if you make judgements like this without meeting a she.
It means he also makes judgments like this on others named he.
a funny poem for a 7 year old
There once was a boy named...Joey
He sat behind a girl named Coye, yes he's a bully
Because as he sat behind her he'd pull her hair
He laugh, and fell he didn't even care
Cause you see
In his hands was her wig
For you see Coye turns around smiles with glee
As all the rest of the girls surrounds him, boy they were big
1/30/18
For Contest: a funny poem for a 7 year old
Sponsored by: KEVIN SHAW
At peace in the world, alone with her joey,
A soft breeze ruffles her hair,
Amongst the green of life all around,
In the freshest of forest filled air,
Just sitting and gazing, peering at love,
In tune with the natural ballet,
She sees the birds fly off for nothing at all,
Fly off to a place far away,
Then a little fat wombat quietly scurries on past,
Over dead leaves all ashen dry,
And off in the distance above all the green,
The orange fires up to the sky,
All hell breaks on out, her paws hit the ground,
One final truth she now understands,
No time to think, for today is her last,
As the fire rips through her home land.