Long Joined at the hip Poems
Long Joined at the hip Poems. Below are the most popular long Joined at the hip by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Joined at the hip poems by poem length and keyword.
In loving memory of our Mark,
Better known to most as Skip,
Reunited with Clegg up in paradise now,
Best friends back joined at the hip.
From thrashing about on his motorbikes,
Revving the **** out them in crickmere park,
To his mams house bouncing with hardcore,
As skip raved away to M.C's and afterdark.
He absolutely loved to spend time with family,
Travelling to raves and cutting shapes on the dance floor,
In fact if he was made to choose just one,
Wouldn't be sure what he said he loved more.
All the stories that so many have to share,
In the days ahead filled with both joy and pain,
Means his legacy shall forever live on,
Precious memories will always remain.
We feel you all around us buoy,
Your spirit will never ever be gone,
You never could call it a night,
May your soul forever rave on.
Ivie Twombley
1884-1913
Lottie Gordon and me were always together.
Joined at the hip, most folks would say;
You never met two ladies quite like us.
If you had known Lottie and Ivie,
The two of us at age 21,
If you had gotten to know us for our real selves;
Wild bachelorettes in french garters,
Roaming the Quaker streets and alleys,
Of Greenleaf, Philadelphia and Bailey,
Seeking out young mammon, and innocent kisses,
As we did quite regularly in 1905,
Why, you would have summoned our parents!
And the Elders of the Friends Church to boot!
Lottie and me were soulful sisters,
And best friends, especially in the snaring arts,
Trapping both wild men and civilized beasts alike!
It didn’t seem to matter one way or the other really,
Not after what happened to Roscoe.
We all knew someone murdered him.
As we both knew everyone hated him.
My Lottie, she never recovered from losing that man.
It seared my soul to see that girl so broken-hearted.
…I think of her all the time, even now in death.
She’s buried across Citrus Road in Clark Cemetery,
Over there by the old toppled stones,
And the high, giraffe-like, desert palms…
…The earth moves, my friends.
It moves without ceasing, without slowing,
We dead people can feel it rumble and grind and twist,
Rumble like an old machine in winter...
… I met my demise at age 29.
I died like Lottie,
Drowning helplessly,
Without being in the water.
And that is that.
Silhouettes in fume thump to a doom,
They stomp with the rhythm of drums,
They point to the sky and spread open wide,
Their wrists and fingers and thumbs,
These thousands of people joined at the hip,
Joined by a common desire,
To lose themselves in the roar from within,
As the music soars higher and higher,
To a place where they’re safe away from their thoughts,
All worries are left on the floor,
And they can exist in the happy free now,
Their mind’s been released to explore,
Life without fake, no pretend, no polite,
Life without wearing some wig,
And they can all be utterly free,
At the rock band, the concert, the gig.
I have always dreaded your company; but you are here,
I never requested for your amity; but you are so near,
I have never needed your opinion; but I do things your way,
You were my companion; but I’m pleased to say that you are not.
I wanted you to leave but you stayed; it’s that your grip,
You are even closer than I thought; we are joined at the hip,
I never do anything special; cos you make me feel like a mediocre,
You make me do things of no value; things that are meager.
When you are around; my heart nearly escapes my chest,
You make my face turn red and my limbs become numb,
You make the knot in my stomach tighter; real unrest,
You send a chill down my spine; like an overwhelming bomb.
So I say farewell fear; because courage is at my doorway,
I’ve waited for far too long; to be set free from your obsession,
I say goodbye fear; because strength is at arm’s length away,
Thanks to Jesus; finally I’m no longer your possession.
My one and only, lived next door
our love story came from friendship,
we were close and joined at the hip.
Our union had a solid core
so we valued what mattered most,
and our relationship grew close.
He wanted ten, I bore just four
two healthy girls and healthy boys,
the house was filled with lots of toys.
They left, I ached like never before
I didn’t know who was at the time,
my partner and friend was sublime
He caused me to see so much more
then I could bring him comfort too,
we both were sad and so blue.
As time passed, came a cheerful shore
we parented in brand new way,
I just loved every Mother’s Day.
My one and only, lived next door,
Our union had a solid core.
He wanted ten, I bore just four
They left, I ached like never before,
As time passed, came a cheerful shore.
7/30/2020
Sara married Charlie, and instantly became caught up in his web.
He was a Catholic, so she converted. He was a Democrat, so now she was too.
They were both serious now, even though she had been a party girl before.
His opinions were her opinions. Charlie says. Charlie thinks. Charlie, Charlie.
But that got boring, so she married Bobbie. They were exactly the same
After she converted and became Southern Baptist. She learned the guitar too.
They played the guitar for two years all over West Kentucky. Joined at the hip.
His opinions were her opinions. Bobbie says. Bobbie thinks. Bobbie, Bobbie.
Sara is on husband number nine. His name is Chet.
She is now an independent, not believing in any politics, a New Age convert.
They go to psychic fairs, showing gemstones. They both read Tarot cards.
His opinions are her opinions. Chet says. Chet thinks. Chet, Chet, Chet.
Sara is still trying to find herself, but going about it in a very strange way…
I gave birth to the monster
Under my bed
It spoke softly of a sweeter time
When I was the center of
Attention
And I craved it more than any drug
Intensely lonely
fearful
vicious
Snorted on a silver platter
It does not know of love
And frankly nor do I
For we joined at the hip
When it donned my disguise
To know that we are one
In everlasting war
Until I light the fuse
And detonate the core
I'll never go to sleep
I'll never say my prayers
The shadow's cast
Across my floor
Quoth the monster:
givememore
Form:
A Tear for Don
I still shed a tear over you, Don,
I wish you were still here, alive.
Remember the day we first met, Don,
A pair of young schoolboys aged five?
Remember how we were like brothers, Don?
The way we were always together.
We seemed to be joined at the hip, Don.
Our bond an unbreakable tether.
I think of our time as Cadets, Don,
Playing at soldiers in green.
And then you did it for real, Don,
At the fresh, youthful age of fifteen.
I didn’t much like all that serge, Don,
The khaki like wire, and sore.
So I chose to wear Navy Blue, Don,
And you laughed when that scratched even more!
You served in many campaigns, Don,
As I, in my Unit, did too.
We understood each other’s thoughts, Don.
Each knew what the other went through.
Then as our later years passed, Don,
Our friendship grew stronger and stronger.
I wish you’d been able to stay, Don,
Been my brother a little bit longer.
I still shed a tear over you, Don,
And although some may see it as strange,
My sadness and heartbreak are true, Don.
Can’t see how those feelings will change.
You’ve reached the Final RV, Don,
But I remain, soldiering on.
I’ll keep your memory safe in my heart,
Till we meet again, my brother Don.
Donald Duck Chancellor of this fowl kingdom
wearing an upside down smile's raging hypocrite backwards
this deranged Duck twitters to and fro as his unhinged subjects
unwittingly applaud him onto a victory march that never appears equal
except in his alternate universe of oneness
Calamity Jane perchance is on the horizon
while war looms close by this feathers pride himself
on his big show asking for a mirror to check his orange glow
he jokes and preens fading in and out so it would seem logical
tearing down all good morals he alienates with his constant magic escapades
Sleight of hand reflections move
with this fake news it gets exposed
the big top rotates under an eclipsed lie
fire breathing condemning all those against his way
entering the arena for the next late show
Now Big Bird has been caught fibbing
just when they thought everyone was safe
getting off the band wagon or so to speak
Just signing the pact with her feathered friend
letting on they are getting on so well for the world to see buddies
Almost joined at the hip like in their loyalty reigning over truth
in this ungodly circus of the vainest sort
Where the funfair clowns abound
under fabrications an orangutan watches on
beating his chest in an ape like manner and solid hands
he has no way to express words
puffing and panting swaggers
living under thee umbrella protected from the truth’s influence
Alvin and his chipmunks sing the national anthem
while the confederate flag waves goodbye over democracy
begins the three little pigs stages as they enter the building
their houses from clay flamed with truth
ransomed for vanities sake no good ending can come
Earthquakes separate the earth
floods come with grave disaster
hurricanes winds rise from the greatest source
even this cannot deter or distract this awful Duck
one mission under a selfish chant of
quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack, quack a doodle quack
which only translates to me
only me, me only me, me only me!
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
They met back in school when perms were in style..
Now they’re fifty-seven and wickedly wild.
A sisterhood forged in detention and pranks..
Now fueled by cocktails and cackles and tanks.
Derani and Adrianne? Soulmates for sure..
Joined at the hip and bonded by lore.
They gossip, they giggle, they drink in sync..
And dare you to challenge their best-friend link.
Then there’s Jacqui.. a goddess of stage..
She channels Cher’s drama, Eurythmics rage.
She belts out *"Believe"* with a wig and a strut..
Mic in one hand, the other on her butt.
Michelle may be small, but don't take her lightly..
Her shoulders are boulders, her grip is unsightly.
She once arm-wrestled a guy twice her size..
He cried, she flexed, and winked both her eyes.
Tracey’s just ditched a man full of crap..
She’s sipping red wine and plotting a slap.
She’s single, she’s spicy, she’s dancing on chairs..
Shouting, “Freedom looks *hot* — and I’ve got new wares!”
And dear Marlene, the host with the most..
Baby sis of Adrianne, proud to boast.
But don’t cross her vibe or you’re bound to regret..
She’ll say “ off” before lighting a cigarette.
They toast to the past, to the mayhem and men..
To surviving their youth.. and doing it again.
No filters, no limits, no shame in their game..
These queens of the chaos will never be tame.