Long Karaoke Poems
Long Karaoke Poems. Below are the most popular long Karaoke by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Karaoke poems by poem length and keyword.
River Findings
The Ohio winds around hills
and streams down the hollows
passes steel mills, brick yards and scrap yards.
It carries tug boats, pushes barges, and hauls
black coal stripped from the mountainsides.
The Ohio’s littered banks
are home to train yards
filled with graffiti-covered box cars
rusting relics of the Southern Pacific
and the Norfolk and Southern railroads.
Erector set bridges span
the murky river and link Ohio
to “Wild, Wonderful, West Virginia,”
the Weirton Mill,
and Homer Laughlin China Company.
In towns called Powhaton Point,
Shadyside, Bellaire, and East Liverpool,
houses are stacked on hillsides
with an array of slate,
tin and asbestos shingled roofs.
Ball fields and corn fields,
concrete parking lots and shopping malls
are full of busy people
who fail to appreciate
the river’s charity.
There are roads with cryptic names like Goose Run,
Pinch Run, Riddles Run, and Rush Run.
There are towns named Brilliant,
Costonia and Calcutta,
each with their own secrets.
North on Route 7 bars advertise Karaoke
and all you can eat fish fries.
A plethora of car lots and gift shops,
bait stores and gun supplies
dot the countryside with
a never-ending display
of marketing profanity,
but the river rolls on
never compromising her dignity
never surrendering her boundaries.
White-steepled churches
stand like beacons of redemption,
while billboards promote“Hell Fire Fireworks,”
“Gentlemen’s” clubs, sleazy motels
and the “Forbidden Zone Exit.”
Still the river moves along
around the hills and down the hollows
proud and powerful
chanting and rippling with satisfaction
a stalwart testament to her tenacity…
I might be a few years too late
As this has been decades in the making
But I'm going through with a commune
To give a few hippies something to do
So I wrote an ad, put it on a list
They say this guy Craig is the best
Now my yard is filled with hippies by the score
Or would the proper way be to say hippies galore
I hurried them all into the house
It wouldn't do for the neighbors to find this out
I set up booths in different rooms
I handed out name tags and colorful kazoo's
Don't let it be said I run a shabby commune
You gotta keep the hippies happy in all you do
That's why I have a calendar of special events
From karaoke kazoo to rug making with hemp
On Tuesday's we basket weave, Wednesday's we kite
But never in the day as hippies burn in the light
(Or is that Vampires...scratch that, that may not be right)
I even hired a Jerry Garcia look a like
To call out the numbers on Bingo night
All this hard work hasn't gone for not
Communes and Jefferson Airplane tunes last week called me up
They'd like to feature me in their magazine
A full page article on living the dream
Where I can help others to have their very on
Commune to invite a few hippies along
So go out if you can to a magazine stand
Read how it's done then buy you some land
We'll have hippie commune's from one end to the other
No color nor creed just sisters and brothers
Lead me to the island of the rising sun.
The place where Mount Fuji looms over.
Sakura blossoms bloom and fall like rain.
Where Amaterasu shows her face.
Welcome me to the foreign island in the sea.
Where its history is alive.
Both ancient and modern meet.
Culture and tradition are sacred.
A large city overflowing with its people.
the skyscrapers tower over you.
the neon lights glowing up the sky.
where fashion is created, clubs are full.
games are played, and karaoke is sung.
The countryside is living its antique past.
Rice fields are plenty, the sake is poured.
Temples are built by their ancestors.
Where the geikos are dancing at the ochaya.
the samurai swings his swords,
and the sumo wrestles.
Show me the site with its many festivals
and the food is plenty.
From Udon to Sushi, I want a bite.
and the sweets are just as unique.
Guide me in the mountains,
where the springs are naturally hot.
where the rivers flow, the forest is peaceful.
and the gardens are made of rock.
A country where the people are polite.
Bow in greeting, tea in the pot.
Where I can dress in yukata in the summer
and Kimono in the winter.
I want to be at a place that's different than my own.
to smile like them, pray at the shrines for them.
So take me to the land far from here,
and let me live out my dreams.
My closet, since you ask, is a cramped space,
Chosen and cherished fashionable base,
Essential part of my enchanted place,
With charm and chic to complement my face.
Shows off all hues of my life if I may -
From baby pink to darkest shades of grey,
Reflecting the intended role I play,
Engaging gaily in Societe.
Levi’s slim fit - my favourite by far,
Red miniskirt to storm a local bar,
Sleek diva dress as karaoke star,
Extra large sweatpants, running chores by car.
Stylish business suit for formal dinner,
A little black dress, my boss’ head spinner,
Bikini thongs as hot summer sinner,
Levi’s slim fit still my all time winner!
My closet caters to the latest trend,
Adjusting to occasions I attend.
I love all walks of vogue but in the end,
Levi’s slim fit - my easygoing friend!
Wide range of footwear I wouldn’t omit,
But shoe department in one poem won’t fit.
(The arsenal of bags, a dazzling hit,
So is the lingerie, I must admit).
But if a pair of shoes I ought to pick,
Without moment’s hesitation real quick -
I would grab cowgirl boots, sexy and slick,
Vibing with my Levi’s through thin and thick!
They were one pulsar away
From obliterating all of humanity.
I had eight armed and activated lasers
Attached to my cobalt helmet,
Augmented as it was,
With enough meta-metal
To take me and the FHN
Into a Super Worm
(What we now call worm-holes
Light-years in distance.)
The AI unicorns flapped their metallic wings
Through the non-air of space,
Zip-zapping their own laser cannoned cones
Towards the Floating Human Nursery,
The last of humanity.
I loaded my one and only
Particle Incinerator
Into the back of my helmet,
Jet-thrusting into position
So to spray the evil unicorn robots
With enough sub-atomic destruction
to send them to Kingdom Come.
I pressed the button
Inside my helmet.
(Nothing.)
Damn technology.
Plan B:
I activated the karaoke mic
On my side holster,
Breaking straight into, "O Holy Night..."
Thank God for the unicorn's emotion chip.
They all hovered languidly about
In their deeply moved throng
Crying unicorn robot tears,
Buying me just enough time to route
The floating orb of baby humans behind me
Into a far-off universe
Where they'd have a fighting chance
For survival.
Once my song was sung
And the moment fell away,
Each robot unicorn, in perfect unison,
Tilted their cones to my direction,
and pulverized me.
Only my ghost is left now
To endlessly retell this space tale,
As I float through the distant nebulae
Forevermore.
I was excited to go to college a couple of months ago
I wanted to meet new friends and go with the flow
I was also so nervous and speechless at the same time
But, I knew singing was my talent and choir is so sublime
I stepped foot on campus at PCC one sunny afternoon
I was wearing a confident, yet sheepish smile, wiping off the sweat from my brow
I probably looked like a fool who lost his wisdom so soon
I’m afraid I’ll have to sing my best and run the extra mile somehow
I walked into class at last – fear faded away into the past
I looked around the classroom full of happy-go-lucky students – life is one huge test
I waited patiently for the teacher and he arrived so fast
Most likely, I didn’t look my best, but I tried to look presentable and leave out all the rest
I assumed that I belonged in the bass section…hopefully, my voice leans that direction
I was holding on to my backpack till I put it under the black chair
I saw my sister on the girls’ side, looking calm and reserved …I was, well, an exception
But, thankfully, I was good enough at hiding my shyness just a hair
Then…the teacher put us into our four sections and we happily accepted it
I was right all along – I did belong in the bass group fortunately
He picked out group leaders and I met eye to eye with him – he seemed legit
He introduced himself to me in a kind manner and smiled in a jiffy
We became friends fast and he taught me how to sing out more – he made me feel like fresh morning dew
He also taught me how to read music more effectively and accurately
His name is Ronald Spriggs and he hung out with my sister and I – we had so much fun and had so much to look forward to
He complimented my voice, so that I can feel comfortable and encouraged me
Lastly, he invited us to a Wednesday night karaoke event
Our cousin was there!
It was awesome – I was surprised how our night went
We lived life without a care…
Our cousin was shocked to see us and gave us a big hug
Ronald, me and my sister sang our hearts out afterwards
Before that, he ate a meal and carried with him a glass mug
Finally, we sang together in harmony like gracious birds
Confessions aren't easy but here I go
I'm about to tell you what you don't know
I secretly dance at home all alone
I like karaoke with a microphone
Singing and dancing I ain't got no skills
Still it's way better than swallowing pills
As I perform I still have one great fear
If I sing to loudly others will hear
Sometimes I practice at home in the shower
Enjoying myself for many an hour
Maybe one day I will be good enough
Then I won't be afraid to strut my stuff
Until that distant day please leave me alone
I will keep up practice to improve my tone
John Travolta moves, singing like the King
Imagine all the joy one day I will bring
Please keep my secret, you made me confess
Others could be worse, perhaps they cross dress
Confessions not easy secrets come out
Now you will learn what Soupers are about.
Sweet Anne's Confessions of a Poetry Souper's contest.
It's the girls night out
at the local country bar.
This time we'll have to try
not to go too far.
We'll have no more
than seven shooters each,
And no more standing on the table
giving a slightly slurred speech.
On with our cowboy boots
and skirts a bit too short
To entice a dance partner,
a cowboy is a good sport.
We'll try and talk the band
into playing our favourite tune
And sing along like coyotes
howling at the moon.
We'll dance a few, and sing a few,
then maybe a few more.
We won't start a fight like Friday night
and get escorted to the door.
It's all in fun, we're just kids at heart,
going out to play.
It's time to unwind and let down our hair,
after all we've worked all day.
There's karaoke and two-stepping
and flirting with the guys
And telling stories, some of them true,
most of them little white lies.
We don't do this nearly enough,
at least that's what we think.
So here's to us, the local cowgirls,
now would someone buy us a drink.
Performing at a karaoke place,
he strode to the stage, such a mammal; oh!
That song he sang! Its words I can't erase:
" I want to f*ck you like an animal."
A pervert he and everything that's base,
yet strangely, I was feeling flammable.
He ambled off onto his girlfriend's arms.
I wondered her impression of his charms.
Then later at a concert i would spy
right smack in front of me and my own mate,
the buck against his girlfriend was that guy
behind her pressed.I watched them undulate,
like having sex, but dressed, and they can't wait!
A yearning suddenly came over me.
That night a strange boy was my fantasy.
(Stanza one is Ottava Rima while Stanza 2 is Rhyme Royal.)
True story from one of the few times I attended a long-ago motorcycle rally with hubbie. Posted 4/6/17 John Lawless' GO AHEAD....I DARE YA!!!Contest
Putting his whole heart into it
Belting out the chorus so loud
Needing a prompter for the lyrics
No one listening in the crowd.
Signing up to sing again
Waiting for his next go
Playing the air guitar
Putting on a show.
The groupies are in his mind
He cannot carry a note
Everyone has left the bar
He needs lozenges for his throat.
He’ll come back again on Tuesday night
To make love to the microphone
Knowing women he will woo
Yet going home alone.
He practices in the shower
He’s gonna make it big he knows
He’s failed three times in auditions
For the American Idol show.
He knows every bar that has a machine
And which nights they plug it in
A regular the bartenders know
Trying not to laugh at him.
No one has the heart to tell him
That he’s wasting his time
I guess living in your own dream
Isn’t really a crime.
So sing it would-be rock and roll boy
Pretend that you’re a star
There will always be a place for you
In the local Karaoke bar.