Long Keeper Poems
Long Keeper Poems. Below are the most popular long Keeper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keeper poems by poem length and keyword.
something about you today
so beautiful like a blessing array
i cannot stop staring at you
right now your vibe is the perfect hue
comfort and warmth never felt like this
i am addicted to your being, which i just cannot resist
i just want to kiss you everywhere and more
never have i met a sista i wanted to totally explore
your body is exemplary, but your mind is the apex
the genuine foundation of your personality invigorates my every reflex
your knowledge of your self inspires me to dig deeper
the magnificence of your character alone in my eyes makes you a keeper
however it is your heart that i most admire
my own heart grows to love you even more with an innovative type of desire
'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella. Get to tickets to Cairo tonight.'
I looked up from my desk, picked up the phone and sullenly said ‘alright’.
But before I could make that call, I had to cancel with Eddie;
Our first real date as a couple; I was making Italian spaghetti.
I spent the rest of the day, calling keepers, curators and aides,
Searching for missing elephants, until we boarded the plane.
Cairo was warm and amusing, but my heart was with Eddie tonight;
I wonder what he does for a living; but I love him, so he must be alright.
'That’s not my elephant, Miss Ella' I woke to hear him speak;
'Cairo shipped him to Paris; he’s featured at the Louvre this week.
Do you know a guy named McGregor? Got his hands on this deal somehow;
Thinks D.C. is the only location; more second graders to see him there now.'
'This McGregor, he’s got strange ideas; thinks Obama has brought a new voice;
With young children to raise, a desire to learn... museums must make the right choice.'
But I’d never heard of McGregor, I just wanted to know the next plan;
For my heart was still dreaming of Eddie, and of when we could meet again.
Then my boss told me that this McGregor nearly ruined the Bill of Rights;
He said the small second graders couldn't see without radiant lights.
He got lots of support from other curators and keeper and even some aides;
I even heard tell he went out on a limb and asked one of them on a date.
'Now I hear it wasn't my elephant, posing in Paris this week;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to take charge, but turns out he’s really quite meek.
Get two tickets for home, Miss Ella; we found my elephant tonight;
Mr. Eddie McGregor tried to get smart, but turns out he’s not very bright.'
'Why, Miss Ella, there’s no need to cry, we're shipping my elephant home;'
But my tears had begun a minute before, when I had answered my phone.
It was Eddie, and he poured it all out, then said he'd no longer come 'round;
The government takes a dim view of theft; my Eddie had been sent down.
The young giraffe ate a hot red pepper
The poor animal felt like a leper.
The spicy fruit was too hot and it took
Her long to digest for some greens to hook.
The zoo keeper called it a Giraffe Park.
Ostriches buried their heads in the dark.
The ostrich wanted to say I'm sorry,
Took too long for its neck just to worry.
The ostrich and the giraffe meant to race.
They came neck to neck and both had great pace
Medals won. Giraffe needed a ladder.
Guard fell from a height, it did not matter.
A new male giraffe was brought to the zoo
Lovingly they twined their necks through and through.
Soon life took its course with a baby boy.
The ostrich buried its head with no joy.
It starts with you stretching~
a heroic, over-the-top reach
across the bathroom counter,
your fingers barely able to
graze the empty cardboard tube.
“You’re unbelievable!” you groan.
“Who in their right mind
leaves the toilet paper roll like this?”
I lean against the doorway,
crossing my arms and enjoying the drama.
“That, my love, is what sailors call a broad reach~
you’re almost there, but the wind
and the toilet paper have abandoned you.”
You shoot me that look.
“Oh, please. You’re the one who used the last of it.”
“Incorrect,” I reply, “that was the cat.
She’s been plotting a coup d'état for months.”
You ignore me and continue your dramatic stretch,
trying to snag the new roll~
the one sitting just beyond your reach,
your fingertips doddering like an old quarterback.
“You know,” I add,
“if you installed the roll under,
you wouldn’t have this problem.”
You freeze mid-reach.
“Don’t start.
We agreed—over is civilized.”
“We agreed nothing,” I say.
“You declared.
I quietly rebelled.
It’s called balance.”
You sigh like a disgruntled woman
who has endured many things~
my thermostat treachery,
my dishwasher loading heresy,
and now my toilet-paper insurgency.
“Fine,” you reply.
“Hand me the roll, O Keeper of Chaos.”
I pass it to you with exaggerated ceremony,
like I’m presenting a royal scepter.
You snatch it, triumphant.
Then, with the precision of a general
placing a flag on conquered land,
you install it over~
smooth, confident, victorious.
“There,” you proclaim. “Order restored.”
I grin.
“For now.”
You narrow your eyes.
“Oh, you wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would,” I retort.
“And I will.
A broad reach is nothing
compared to a well-executed midnight flip.”
You laugh~
that warm, reluctant laugh
that always ends the battle,
even if it doesn’t end the war.
I am cutting ties
that I knotted to a faraway soil.
Exiled no longer at the tiller
of a long beached fishing boat
that bobs only on the legends
of ancient waves.
Those fluent in soul-breathing,
the Celtic poets,
those wind-chiming lyricists,
are pulling me
to the bottom of Lake Erie
where drowned sea-captains still quote
what the Irish once wrote.
And here’s me, even today
caught by the mouth
from their linguistic fishhooks
yet cutting myself away.
I am a handmade citizen of a land
that is my own meat and gristle,
a subsoil am I
and my father and mother
the grubbing worm and the turtle dove.
Still Irish, but rootless
with no anchor in Galway Bay.
I have cut the trap lines
become a jobbing teller
of tall tales,
not a keeper of any traditions
planted by hands not of my own.
And if once in a while
I lapse into the sod and bog-speak
of my unlearned brethren
it is no literary affectation
of a better education,
for I remain this common creature
determined to be tied to a smaller rock
of my own choosing.
Perched upon my window seal while looking up at the moon
I was listening for the night bird's song when an welcoming
"Who", echoed across my room.
Hello Wise Old Owl, with your bright eyes and gentle call.
Tell me how to achieve such wisdom sitting in the trees
that stands so tall.
He turned his head and again he gave a "Who".
You, I said, Your the one I am talking to.
Don't you have any words of wisdom for the one
sitting in your presence and talking to you?
Another "Who" danced into the air and just then I realized
why he didn't share. It wasn't because he didn't care.
He is the keeper of knowledge in the forest place and he
charmingly protects the animals from the human race.
I understood his wisdom and questioned him no more,
and wished the Wise Old Owl a goodnight before closing
the window and heading to bed, across my creaky floor.
I will have to pay if I stay here another hour my lady. He told her whilest he waited for her to tip him . She told hinm the Inn keeper wished to have he and his brother stay as guest might they help bring wood in in the morning. Yes that would be fine he said but what of the exspence of supper dessert and breakfast, he if willing to pay for you to chore, labor for profit mind you he said. Thank you for the arangment. I must thank God and you that we are protected this night from the wilds of the elements and the Brutes who would take advantage of two lonely drifter in the rain. Yes as a woman I do understand, my freind has arrived and I am so glad to see exuse me sir. Yes my Lady. She is as lovely as an onion: and as freindly as a net of honey bee's. I can see she want someone to take her lugage to her room: I will do so kindly for a tip. Oh Doosty, yes my lady he creid to her knowing what she wanted before she had asked. He walked to them with is soaked hat in hand. My luggage please kind sir, she said yes my lady. He bentover to grab the bags and was met with a slp to the ass, "stout are we with a nice ass she said laughing, The tip is for the berry mind you she said laughing the laughed the whole way up the stairs. Her freind paid the tip in the room, a find and healty tip too I might add. She told him if he washed up later on she give him a ball bouncing time in the night if he wished to Rumpy Bumpy. I thought you and she were you know, we are you smirker Clam, you and your brother can can come up here and partner up with me and this Ole agal, they started laughing. Woopie and a roll in the hay. The tip should have told you I really like you, gone and rag that thing clean: i wanna love you later. I like em stout honey! She said. Ostinato the viloen shall play as we kiss and hold one another close. I can't wait my lady, I can't wait! He said. She told him romance is passing a couple pints around and getting hiccied up and when the gas runs out the lanterns are off!
Why do you come now?
Why do you besiege me
with your fowl unholy presents?
You are the Prince of Darkness,
the keeper of tormented souls,
you are Satan himself are you not?
Oh call me what you wish!
History has seen fit to adorn me
with many provocative names
and I detest each one of them.
For they perpetuate the myth
that every bit of the world's evil
springs directly from my loins.
Why do you come now?
Why do you torment me?.
I have been a great man of God.
I spread his word with relentless zeal
wielding the sword of righteousness
toward all I deemed evil and wicked.
Why I have come to take you home.
You have been a fantastic disciple.
Few have served our cause better.
You have made the worst sins
tolerable to the great masses.
Cloaking evil under Godly robes
was a masterful work of genius.
No! No! This cannot be?
God has spoken through me.
I have been his earthly conduit.
I am one of God's chosen people.
I devoutly followed his teachings
and actively preached his word.
You perverted God's so called revealed word
into a twisted rendition of your own creation.
You stoked the fears of the ignorant into a inferno
and reaped all you could from the true believers.
You have spawned a most delicious type of hatred.
One that will continue to bear fruit for years to come.
Evil has many faces, but none more hideously vile
than those who hide behind the curtain of religion.
Depression drains your body of,
The energy that is needed to carry on.
The positivity that you bring,
To the melody of your soul,
Gives us the level of understanding that is needed.
Making you feel inspired by the,
Good deeds I have received can,
Only be perceived as Karma.
This philosophy brings about,
Humanity and the good deeds of others,
That will guide us in the future.
Which holds that love and passion,
Within the heart brings about an,
Emotional connection.
This leads us to understand,
That the heart is truly a map to our Soul.
Which allows us to fully trust,
Someone with our mind, body, and soul,
Who Will always be the keeper of our hearts.
If I were a fluttering butterfly,
I'd claim you as my own
If you were a flourishing flower,
You'd pretty and full-grown
If I were your keeper,
I'd immediately be there for you
I'd claim you as my own
I'd mend your broken pedals
I'd scrape off the weeds of worthlessness
If I were your beautiful butterfly,
I'd forever land on your excellent exterior
If I were your sun and rain,
I'd douse you with delight
I'd embrace your iridescent interior
If I were the ground of might,
I'd hold you up on eagle's wings and take divine flight in a heartbeat
I'd fix what's left of you, being your cure so tender and sweet