Long Joyce Poems
Long Joyce Poems. Below are the most popular long Joyce by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Joyce poems by poem length and keyword.
St Patrick’s Alphabet
A is America land of the free
B is for Beatles as Irish as me
C is the great Cliffs of Moher so pretty
D is for Dublin the capital city
E is for Eire – true name of my land
F is for Fionn and the Fianna his band
G is for Guinness a world-famous name
H is for Hurling a rather rough game
I is my Island and what it creates
J is for Joyce, Stephens, Swift and Jack Yeats
K is King Niall and the old kings at Tara
L is a leprechaun called MacNamara
M is for mise, me fein and me too
N is for Nuala, Naoimh, Nora and crew
O is O’Reilly O’Keefe and their worth
P - Patrick saint in the land of my birth
Q is for quiz, gob, cailin and the rest
R is the River Shannon in the west
S is for Shamrock a flower of three
T is Tramore, Tullamore and Tralee
U is U2 who are still going strong
V is from Ulster – he’s Van Morrison
W – whiskey a very strong drink
X is eXcuse me no word can I think
Y is for You when like me you agree,
Z ’s not in Ireland there no last can be
A birthday is a special marker
inside your volume, "Book of Life."
Between the markers lay the pages
of each year's happiness and strife.
And, like a story, life progresses
unfolding gently page by page,
the character and growing wisdom
that magnifies with each new age.
Joyce, with the coming of this birthday,
a special marker joins the rest,
the hundredth one among your pages,
says you are living life your best.
Your gardening, your moving poems,
and love of family so dear;
your gifted years of life we honor...
applaud your day with love and cheer!
April 12, 2018
For Premiere Contest, Occasional Poetry
Sponsored by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
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Written for Joyce Johnson's 100th Birthday, July 2018.
Joyce is a PoetrySoup Premium Member
and posted her first poem, March 21, 2005
Heather
Thoughts for you to see – never to be sent –
about the relationship between parents and son.
Joyce and Bud Lissimore
Tender miracles should await
compassionate forgiveness, – your fate –
your son’s need and need to state,
if he is to take wing, be set free
of all that binds his spirit, his soul
to that forest - he cannot see the tree.
To see all that hides, you do not know
of all that is meant, that does not show.
Left in the darkness with nowhere to go.
Lost experiences, experiences never to come.
Lives apart, moments without sum
add up to life without your grandson.
Pride dominates, and a world of grays
will fill your days without the feel of son
without the experience of a warm sun
as you end up living nothing but gray days.
B. J. “A ” 2
July 3rd 2004
Hip hip hurray it’s our Christmas soirée
With Georgia and Mark and Hugh and Ray
This is the only time we meet
To kiss and hug and meet and greet
There’s Sam and Maureen and Fred and Doreen
And not forgetting our Great Aunt Flora
She’s unattached and lives alone
A favourite Aunt, the kids adore her
And then of course there’s Uncle Michael
Arriving on his brand new cycle
Not forgetting Freya and Joyce
Travelling in style in their vintage Rolls Royce
Of course our dearest Grandma Elsie
Who travels down to us from Chelsea
Boarding the train at Victoria Station
With a hamper of goodies from Fortnum & Mason
Dear Auntie Edna and Uncle Howard
Last year, too much food they devoured
They sat in the corner both turning bright green
With bulging great tummies ~ a sight to be seen
But for Phyllis and Jim who are both rather thin
We baked them a cake all scrumptious within
With sugars and spices and all things nices
They have now become vegans eating all things rices
My niece and my nephew Rosie and Jim
Were totally legless ~ what a state they were in
Whilst Jim with a grin drank a bottle gin
Rosie got merry with my bottle of sherry
Dora and Flora second cousins once removed
Are extremely outrageous even borderline rude
They talk about everyone else in the room
Like a coven of witches flying off on their broom
Flirtations ~ Frustrations ~ even Hospitalizations
all welcome to attend our Christmas celebrations…
Written 7th November 2018
Contest COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE 35
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st PLACE
Contest "X" contest
Sponsor Constance La France
HONORABLE MENTION
In a brilliant enchanted faerie forest, where deer were fed,
There was a mature, yet slightly miniature thistle bed,
Under shiny maple leaf completely opposite of red,
Was a tiny waif named Joyce resting her sweet empowered head
She had an independent streak, this petite, yet precocious mite.
Some people were afraid of her pure willingness to incite.
She questioned everyone in her village, with all of her might.
She let them know her opinions too, which were exceedingly bright.
She started with her parents, who role-modeled communication,
“Why? Who? When?” She would ask, “How can we get peace across the nation?”
She worked with some teachers, many who wanted reunification.
Pulled out community leaders, and neighbors, some in hibernation.
She advocated for the downtrodden, the unrepresented, and the oppressed.
“I’m here to help you fix the forest,” she answered, with understanding and finesse.
“Let’s listen to her,” the forest king said, “A child can help us clean up this mess.”
“Okay,” the committee agreed. They were all feeling exasperated and stressed.
She gave them her fantastic ideas of ruling the people by giving them a choice.
Some were dubious, irritated they had to listen to a knowledgeable elf named Joyce.
“Children still know how to follow their hearts,” the Forest King said. His amber brown eyes were moist.
The room hushed, and a corpulent engineer named Beau brought in a giant purple and pink hoist.
Joyce lifted high stood proud and tall, and spread her beautiful silver and gold translucent wings.
As she spoke the truth, her parents smiled and her credit-taking teachers began to sing.
Remember we are here to do our best, to inspire each other to really shine with zing.
“So be kind and gentle, thoughtful and good; and our amazing village will really be something!”
When people comment
on the style or way
I write and the words
I use to express and convey
my thoughts and views.
I tend to stop and ponder
my road less traveled .
Acknowledging, appreciating ,
admiring the authors, teachers
scribes of many nations
and the outer regions of the universe ,
who have inspired , guided encouraging ,
me to develop and advance
my writing skills along the way.
People like Manly P. Hall
Socrates, Plato, Thales of Miletus ,
Thomas Aquinas , The Apostles ,
Sigman Freud , Carl Jung , Galileo Galilei,
Benjamin Franklin , Thomas Edison , Nikola Tesla ,
William Shakespeare , Homer , Aesop
and other well known Philosophers and
critical thinkers in the world's history.
Authors like Dr. Edgar Cayce
Dr. George Brown ,
Literary genius and artist such as James Joyce ,
Walt Whitman and of course some of my favorite
Authors George Orwell , Robert Frost , with their
extensive and vibrant vocabularies
and their ability to bring words to life.
The most impressive author
with the ability to put you in the room
And stimulate our sensations such
as aroma and taste and sound to make you feel
as if you are sitting in the cat birds seat.
An author with incredible and fascinating
writing technique , a man with a colorful and sparkling array of words , and superlative writing flair and talent
that tickles the imagination.
Capable of painting a scene with words ,
bringing it to life ,
like no other author has ever done before or since.
A story teller who can magically ,
create a vision so vivid so profound ,
one just might forget and step away
from reality for a brief moment in time.
An individual who can descriptively describe
the Animation of his imagination
like no man or woman in the history of recorded time.
Creator and contributor
of some of the finest sculptures
in the world of literary works of art.
Born into reality in the year 1809 , on the 19th day of January.
He would go on to reside
in the harts , souls and minds ,
intricately woven into universal fabric of time
October 7 Nineteen Hundred Forty Nine.
The individual who put the authenticity of Poe
Into Poetry
Ladies and Gentlemen.
Edgar Allan Poe.
Michael E.Harris
10072024
Her name was Janet.
My wife and I were friends of her sister.
I met her as she lay dying, with never a word.
Her eyes were closed. She was all but gone.
His name was Jack.
I heard that he and his wife Joyce
Were going through a divorce.
I felt the need to do something.
Over the years, I had written
Articles, reports, and sermons,
But I found myself writing a poem
For the very first time. That poem
was written especially for Jack in
Hopes of saving his marriage. It
Did not. In retropect, I can't believe
That I was so naive. I'm not sure of
The present whereabouts of that poem,
but my best recall says that it was titled,
'Stranded Up a Tree'.
As I sat at Janet's bedside, I felt words
Flowing into my spirit from inside of her.
It was strange to me. But I went with the
Flow. My second poem was written in
'First person' words from Janet to her family.
Janet was saying goodbye to her dear family.
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of late, a solitary fireman’s sedate, sad sobs
sought some balm for his own dreadful sighs,
missing the “arffs” of a terrier he so adored
his eyes slept alone on nights deep in aching ardor…
till he was summoned and exposed to a blazing
untamed flame, raging a tower wired in wild hazing. in
one giant flash of courage, he threw himself unto screams
of canine thunder. then, a fainting spell. a whisked escape…
brave smoke fighter gradually revived from blinks
of quick stupor by warm licks lapping his ashen skin.
accepting tender scratches of mommy dog’s paws,
the flapping ears of puppies awakened his kindred desire…
as he gazed into a gauze of grateful reverie , hounds
clung to his belly as if he were a daddy pooch leading
a lost pack, now orphaned from dreadful calamity,
yet his rare touch dissolved tiny pups’ grating anxiety…
a blessing poured from all this catastrophe… fireman
was awarded three doggies’ full custody. for gratitude
is known as a prize for risking one’s life; the bliss
of God’s gift bestowed on a man and his new family…
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(( for Joyce Johnson's " Doggy Gratitude" Contest ))
If I may quote from Joyce Kilmer's poem "Trees" a line:
(His poem "Trees" is an all-time favorite verse of mine!)
"I think that I shall never see, a poem lovely as a tree!"
(I suppose there are few who with that lyric would disagree.)
A spreading sycamore with its dancing leaves of jade,
Provides a nest for robins and an inviting summer shade.
Ah! The beauty of crimson maple leaves carpeting the lawn;
The shimmering dew gracing a ponderosa pine at dawn!
Mighty oaks shed their emerald leaves that we held in adoration;
In fall their bare limbs reach heavenward as if in supplication!
There are so many species of trees - I could babble on ad infinitum!
But, never mind, humankind could never survive without 'em!
'Tho I like trees and Joyce Kilmer's ode to trees, I have a little beef:
I hardly enjoy raking and disposing of each and every doggone leaf!
Homage To The Leaf
Miracle Man
10/28/2024
From buds they sprout in early spring,
providing the tree with its summer wear.
They shade the songbirds as they sing,
and provide an escape from summers glare.
Powered by sunlight photosynthesis occurs,
they’re living food workshops for the tree.
Each coming spring this phenomenon recurs,
they provide a shade for drinking iced tea.
From naked branches leaves sprout and cling,
Little attention is given until colors turn.
For only once each year they do their thing,
Each autumn, I rake, I bag, mulch or burn,
“Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a tree”
Joyce Kilmer