Long Jones Poems
Long Jones Poems. Below are the most popular long Jones by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jones poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m using memories as brushstrokes
On a canvas of feelings each day
I wake up with a line, or a thought in my mind
Then, I put a pen to the page
Verses and rhymes, about my hard times
On display, for the whole world to see
Just what it is, that lives
On the inside of me
I’m painting pictures with words
From past love’s and hurt
And on occasion, even sunshine comes thru
I speak of hard times, all the mountains I’ve climbed
And it seems I only echo the truth
I’m painting pictures with words
Try’n’ to live with this curse
It’s a love I wouldn’t trade for the world
Jones their Van Gogh, and as far as I know
The other masters, were Gosdin and Merle
Some stories I tell, are my personal hell
Others, are nothing but dreams
Its the void you can’t see, on this easel of grief
That tears me apart at the seam
Each thought is for sale, If it relates to you well
Take a listen, I’m guessing you’ll see
The nouns and the verbs, will emotion’ly flirt
With feelings, that need/long to be free
I’m painting pictures with words
From past love’s and hurt
And on occasion, even sunshine comes thru
I speak of hard times, all the mountains I’ve climbed
And it seems, I only echo the truth
I’m painting pictures with words
Try’n’ to live with this curse
It’s a love, I wouldn’t trade for the world
Jones their Van Gogh, and as far as I know
The other masters, were Gosdin and Merle
I’m painting pictures with words
Let me paint, a picture for you...
Their eyes widened, and the group leaned in with curiosity. “What’s in it for us?” one of them asked, lowering his phone and adopting a tone that suggested a wild adventure was imminent, perhaps even Trans storytime or "Elementary School Teachers Gone Wild", in class. Maybe even genital mutilation and Jones Kool Aid + visual aids, plus umm, aids, and monkey pox and band aids. OK Gus was getting ahead of himself.
“Help us distract Michael! Promise you’ll get the real story behind the Easter Bunny,” Penney pitched.
The teenagers exchanged glances, and with a shared nod, they sprang into action. One of them grabbed an absurdly large basket of fake Easter eggs from a nearby store display while another started a group chant: “Bunny! Bunny! Bunny!” The noise attracted attention, echoing through the mall like a siren call.
“Where’s the playboy bunny?!” a kid shouted, turning the heads of middle afed Men. “We need her for a photo op!”
The Bunny, momentarily flustered, turned to the group, delighting in this unexpected attention. The teenagers began prancing around him, flinging eggs into the air as Michael, caught in a haze of confusion and rage, stumbled toward them. I am the playboy bunny, just Baroke wokey Bear !
“Why is everyone so obsessed with real women?!” he roared, shaking his fist in frustration, but momentarily losing his focus on Penney and Gus.
“Now’s our chance!” Penney hissed, taking Gus's elbow as they sprinted toward the Escape Rooms, leaving the staged chaos behind. With the door to Room One in sight, their hearts raced with momentum and fear.
Inside the rooms, walls transformed with dazzling illusions and outrageous puzzles awaited—a place where fantasy ruled and magic reignited the thrill of adventure. As they bolted through the door and barely managed to slam it shut, laughter erupted from behind them.
“Isn’t this just a tad absurd?” Gus panted, hands on his knees.
“Absolutely! But if it distracts Michael long enough for us to figure out our next move, then let's embrace the madness!” Penney winked, trying to catch her breath amidst the resurgence of adrenaline.
As a late teen
She came into life
As a pre adult her sister named her "Sprite"
You better not never, ever do nobody wrong
You have to deal with Jessica Jones
She a private investigator
Who after a rough day
Which is everyday drinks a whole bottle of liquor
Almost indestructible
Can fly and can throw cars and buses
oh, and did I say
You better not never, ever do nobody wrong
You have to deal with Jessica Jones
Her favorite color not purple
He's that man who once controlled her
She married a man by the name of Luke Cage
Together him and her Iron Fist, Daredevil
Are members of the Defenders
oh, and did I say
You better not never, ever do nobody wrong
You have to deal with Jessica Jones
Can't fly but does short leaps
She's very rough, tough, private dick
She a very, very sensible chick
Wouldn't hurt a fly, but don't hit or abuse your spouse
she'll throw you through the floor or out your house
All those unfaithful, adulterers
Better watch out she'll spy on you and take your picture
You better not never, ever do nobody wrong
You have to deal with Jessica Jones
She a private investigator
Who after a rough day
Which is everyday drinks a whole bottle of liquor
Almost indestructible the woman private investigator
Alias
Jessica Jones
10/30/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
“You may say that I’m a dreamer”,
With such presumption in my youth
Beyond school age, yet hardly saged
I hoped to use my wits to change the world…
I dreamed I would…I dreamed I could…
I declared to fight, what seemed so right
With eager zeal, I leaned so hard against the wind
The breeze just caught my spouted words
And tossed them where it would
I feared my crystal world would splinter
Would shatter without my spin...
"Never knowing who to cling to,
when the rain set in”
But that was then…
So naively in my eagerness
I hoped to see a world at peace
Hoping my dreams would come alive
From thoughts I shaped on winsome days
Imagining, ….if you please …"It doesn't have to be that way!"
But now with logic’s eyes, I do recall, and tears well up....and fall
my tears well up ....and fall....
How changeless is a planet
Glimmering in search of answers
And still not wringing answers from the slightest sound
And words I held, with vigorous shape
And hopes expressed, my look for guidance…
Are uttered now, by younger voices…
“I’m dreamin’ again, like I’ve always done, and way down low, I know”…
my tears well up.....and fall.....
“My words like silent raindrops fell,
and echoed in the wells of silence”
my tears well up......and fall.....
~
_________________________________________________________________
Inspired by Tracie's Contest: "Sing A Song"
Lyrics From John Lenno--“Imagine”
Elton John--“Candle in the Wind”
Jim Croce--“It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way”
Norah Jones--“The Prettiest Thing”
Simon and Garfunkle-- “Sound of Silence”
Taking photographs is really great
Ideally this snapper has such taste
Moved between Oakland and DC
So that’s the way it’s gonna be
By diving into his poetic blog
Will undo your writer’s clog
Read his lines and you will find
Every syllable is truly refined
With words of hope for the soul
Leaves the reader with stories untold
Yes, William poetry also has zest
Now he is being put to the real test
Hello my friend William Jones
We are here to pick some bones
You better raise the white flag
Because you have just been tagged!
Comments: Okay Bill, I was tagged by Carol Brown. As a result, I have to pass
the tag along. Your name is on the top of the list. Your poetry is just wonderful!
Now, you must find a poet whose poetry you enjoy reading, and tag that poet with
a poem. Man, aren’t we having fun! Chau!
We were in a fast car
Running with the wind
Listening to the radio
Bruce singing Born in the USA
Us singing along
Me not knowing the words
Carried away by the beat
And the powerful male voice.
The sun went down
Red streaks in the sky
Feeling brave and invincible
We drove on
Three of us
Mike and Bobby
Me in the back seat
The music becoming stronger
Hypnotic
Like a powerful magnet
Joining our voices together
Until it stopped.
Up ahead
A sign
Pointed to Jones Beach.
Walking along the deserted shore
We found a dry stretch
Sat down facing the ocean
Rhythmic sounds of crashing waves
Calming us down
In the darkness
We talked about things
Questioning our teenage doubts
In anticipation of the exciting lives
That was sure to await us.
Occasionally I think about that night
But it never bothered me that we didn’t keep in touch
Last I heard Mike was somewhere out West
And I lost Bobby’s number
Years ago.
Recently
I had the chance
To read the lyrics to Born in the USA
Lyrics that I thought were so catchy
And so right
In fact described the callous treatment
Of Viet Nam vets
Who came home ignored and forgotten.
As for the Three Kings
From that summer night
Forgotten friendships
Made in youth
Don’t seem to ever come back
Such are the mistakes in life.
[FLUSH = Fearless League of Unlikely Super Heroes]
______________
A communique received today from one Nicholas Saint
Said that he had misbehaved, an honest chap he ain’t
He thought that he could ruin FLUSH by framing their inventor
And destroy the kudos of an old saloon frequenter
He sees the error of his ways and now must tell the truth
For nobody, except for fate pushed Santa off the roof
He tried to frame the Mayor, you see, with evidence that’s fake
And getting Mister Flood sent down? The icing on the cake
But then Ms Logan got involved, she owns the best saloon
He likes a brandy everyday, he’s always there at noon
See, Santa battled justice using methods out of hand
But he won’t fight Ms Logan for he fears he might be banned
It’s time, he says, to tell the truth, for we deserve to know
What took place upon that roof, it’s quite a tale of woe
For Mrs Jones at number three was so scantily clad
Her curtains were wide open, oh, what a view he had
He couldn’t help what he could see but hoped he would see more
And then she dropped her nightie… for the wife from number four
But when they looked right up at him he tried a quick step back
He didn’t jump off on a whim, he slipped… but what went crack?
To his shame he’d been ‘excited’ he asks that you don’t scoff
He’d landed on his front, you see, and broke his manhood off
So now if you should hear him speak, his tone no longer low
His big gruff voice is now a squeak; he’s lost his Ho Ho Ho!
He had to frame somebody else because where he comes from
You cannot work with little elves when you’re a peeping Tom
[An old joke from longer ago than I care to believe]
The wizened war vet raised his fist in distress
Them Fokkers, he said, they kept coming
Each Fokker that came was as bad as the rest
The sky, full of Fokkers, was humming
First there’s one Fokker and then one more Fokker
Them Fokkers was everywhere
But one silly Fokker met Davy Jones locker
And crashed in the sea over there
The reporter then turned to the viewers
And fearing foul language complaints
Advised them that ‘Fokker’ ain't swearing
The Fokker’s were old fighter planes
And Fokkers like every old war plane
We’re flown by the pilots own wits
The vet said a Fokker was as you explain
But them Fokkers was Meschersmidts
Nymphs over oceans ignite cyber wonder
kindred sparklers twinkle, lips of girl-talk flutter
though faces never met, distance can’t keep them apart
as cheers of ”huggs” and “yo's” flame kindling hearts
yes, nette gypsy-angel and nancy funky rebel
jive cool insomniac ripples, sisters in one pebble
having much in common like buds' triple-decker spring
they share giggly musings as wavelengths go soul-rocking
two "N" lockets of warmth, time polishing them well
rare duet linked by unity, aren’t they freaking swell!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
for: Tracie Edwards' Grab A Mate... Contest
by: Nancy Jones and nette onclaud
Song by George Jones
God your work leaves me in awe
We are birthed into this life of chaos
Some try and be good in own ways
That one might make you happy
Surely to be better than another beside them
Some just reject all your word
And the beast is seen by the tongue
Their throats have become their grave
On their back they carry this large tombstone
If only they could get rid of it to ease the path
For most we are brought up to enjoy this world
To see wealthy are the ones that are blessed
Why do so many of them live in chaos and strife
Oh how we got to try our own ways without you
This is the beauty of it all
The more we hate what we see around us the better
The quicker we just give up and seek the better
The ones that are poor in spirit and wealth
The quicker we find out we are no good
The more we hate our life that we might receive life
The quicker we see wow these people are
Becoming like walking beast
They have come out of darkness trying
To walk in the daylight to deceive
Sadly it's in blindness if they knew the source
That was leading them they would cry out
It's only the eternal life at hand no worries
Carry on as usual in ones own path
God you sent your son to be the true sacrifice
That we might receive His spirit promised
To lose the chaos of this world at hand
That we might receive treasures within
Which will make one want to be alone
This world can have earthy treasures that rot
Just instill this new joy , peace and love within
Let me die daily to my will and path
It holds me here in chains
With your presence within one shall break free
To escape this deception that creates blindness