Long Kidded Poems
Long Kidded Poems. Below are the most popular long Kidded by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kidded poems by poem length and keyword.
To be one like them
They were climbing up a mountainside to get
a better view of the sea.
She reached the top before him, and he
breathed hard when he got up.
She laughed, pleased she had won, and he smiled
too, but was short on laughter.
He was strong, slim, and looked athletic, but
A doctor had told him his heart was weak
and not put strain on it, by too much sport.
His friends kidded him for his reluctance to
partake in long treks in the woods and
sleeping under canvas... slowly they drifted away
Or instead, he made himself absent because
He could not tell his friends about it, and they found
His cantankerous said he lacked the spirit of youth
and fun. Boring, his girlfriend told him before walking
off. He was so big and strong, but didn´t have
the strength- or was it vanity - to be one of them.
My mother’s hair hung thick and to her waist.
But seldom did she wear it in that way,
for always in a bun she had it placed
til it was loosed and on her pillow lay.
She sometimes tells me how I'd kidded her.
When I was small, I said, “Your hair is pink!”
From how she tells this story, I infer
I must have caused her tender heart to sink.
She aged, yet grey was sparse upon her head.
We said, “An older woman cuts her hair.”
Mom acquiesced and lost those locks rare red
she’d humbly worn for years when young and fair.
She’s nearly eighty now, bobbed hair turned brown,
And how I miss her once “pink” glory crown.
By Andrea Dietrich
Snarly ghost gargoyle, spook and ghoul.
Boast that they’d boil Ole Luke McCool.
Frankenstein and gray mummy formed a team.
With sock dummy fruit flies, all quite mean.
Bad black cat crier dragged in new recruits.
Sat slack Fat Flier snagged two in cahoots.
Warlock introduced a magical knave.
Tomb raiders joined in, leaving a fresh new grave.
Who will we annihilate? Asked Ole Ugly Luke.
That he was even here was a computer fluke.
It’s not a rumble, the sage gargoyle said.
McCool’s wife added, are you whacked in the head?
But spook and ghost said they would boil you.
Stated some monsters. More than a few.
Luke laughed, certainly no real shock.
Monsters kidded like this around the tick tock.
We talk tough for children, to give them the creeps.
They love their monsters scary, in huge giant leaps.
It’s just talk? You ain’t gonna hurt anyone?
Certainly not, said the spooks. We say it for fun.
She looked at him and smiled…while he embraced her as they sat.
“I love your arms she she whispered…have I ever told you that?”
“I like to think I am enchanting.,” he kidded… “that I am filled with grace and charm.
but I have to ask,” as he looked at them… “what’s so special about my arms.?”
“They are hairy, they swing when I walk,
most of the time they just hang down by my side…”
She smiled as she massaged them… “They do much more than that.” she sighed…
“These arms hold me when I laugh…they hold me when I cry.
sometimes I’ve felt like they were wings…and when I’m in them we can fly.”
“These arms have embraced the joys in my life…and on the other hand
at moments I’ve been sad…these arms seem to understand.”
“When you put these arms around me it immediately soothes my heart…
I can’t count the times they’ve held me together…
the times they’ve kept me from falling apart.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without these arms.” she said…
“For wherever the two of us roam…
whenever I am in these arms…
I know that I am home.”
He looked at her and smiled…
“No, you’ve never mentioned that…”
and then…
He asked as he embraced her…
“Could you tell me why…again?”
DIALECT recited in an English dialect &
by definitio
n is best heard than read-please go to the above youtube link
here is the words inmy local vernacular English
Aye 'ee is fierce and hale.
Four mile to work,across the vale;
No slommakin' slattern 'ee,
Okkard as an itching flea.
Eee'd fetch hosses to boss's yard,
Garmed with mud,as thick as lard,
Cla'holt of 'em wiv a rope,
On is own,allus could cope.
Niver sees 'im vexed,or aggled,
Even if drenched and bedraggled;
In lightning 'e wore niver frit,
Though the whole sky wore fork-lit.
Grew peas that kidded well,
Allus 'ad a tale to tell.
At the wharf I donned the Wellington boots
Of the fisher deceased, to trace my roots
And see and feel what it was like at sea
For my uncle a fishing devotee.
The clammy boots were three sizes too large.
I kidded myself that I could take charge,
And fill the boots with fishers' gait and guts
Aware the concept was deluded, nuts.
I felt the lure of expectation loom
As the trawler 'Gen' breached to break dawn's gloom
I embraced the hope of a bumper haul
Of keeper fish, not tiddlers, way too small.
I felt the surge of waves tug at the boots,
Like tentacles dragging against the roots
Which held my soles fast on the slimy deck.
The sea incessant for another wreck.
I felt fish guts, innards, blood and gore,
Slather on boots as fish were brought ashore,
And unloaded in bins brimful with ice.
At days end, bootlegging was hard but nice.
I grew up a child of the ’60’s
together my life and the hippie movement dawned…
now when I look back at that time I wonder…where have all the hippies gone?
Those long haired tie-dyed idealists who walked around with our feet bare
who grew our own organic vegetables…who wore flowers in our hair.
Who sang and danced and laughed…who kidded and teased and joked
whose spirituality was enhanced by all that grass we smoked.
Who ate our share of granola…who drove an old VW van
who believed in peace and love and Woodstock…
and who would never listened to The Man.
Who were excited by the universe…who were filled with loving thoughts…
who lived for today and for each other and…did I mention all that pot?
Where have all the hippies gone?…all those innocent…free-spirited pups?
I imagine what happened…happens to every generation…we hippies all grew up.
Our long hair is now white or gone…our jokes are shared in tweets
our spirits aren’t as free as they once were…and we now wear shoes upon our feet.
We still like organic vegetables…but we’ll also eat at delis
and the only pot we carry now…we carry around our bellies.
Most of us drive comfortable cars instead of those old flowered vans
Oh, we still eat our share of granola…but now we throw on a little bran.
And we certainly don’t dance as much…we never know when we might slip
for there is nothing more humiliating…than a hippie with a broken hip.
Never fear however! It may be a little harder to pick out
what was once our claims to fame
but despite the ravages of age…we are hippies just the same.
Sure life has a way of interfering and our priorities rearrange…
but I believe the spirit we brought to our generation
and our ideals have never changed.
So here’s a toast to all the hippies out there…we may be heading over the hill
but we still believe in peace and love and I’m guessing…
we always will!
Aww love sweet love, is there anything finer
Than to snuggle and cuddle and coo
No need to be coherent or form real words
Your moaning will create the mood
You really could be quoting last night's results
Of the latest big-time sports events
Could even be reporting on a horrendous fire
Or a country impeaching a president
In the midst of each torrid lovemaking session
All else becomes actually secondary
Until that big moment, that moment so sublime
And it ends up as anything but ordinary
Now this is reality, have I kidded you before
When it comes right down to the basics
Everything's about satisfying our personal pleasures
And creating our own little oasis
We started as one person, but the cell split
Into two, identicals.
Called “The twins”
Twinsies
The Stone Twins.
Neither of us had a name.
“You can have them both,” The athletes kidded each other.
When we reached Junior High school.
Did not matter what sport.
We were horrible at all of them.
The Stone Twins.
That was our identity.
My sister and I, neither having a name.
I was determined to get a name somehow.
I had to push off, shove off, run off.
And so I did.
Now I am a person.
With an identity.
Finally.
And I thank God for it.
Because I remember what not having one was like.