Long Kipper Poems

Long Kipper Poems. Below are the most popular long Kipper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kipper poems by poem length and keyword.


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Eyes they speak truth 
In the dungeon deep 
Shackled and chained, 
caged by you 
Hell of a making 

Judged not worthy 
Imprisoned alone 
Here I saw the light, 
in silver strands 
Written on the walls 
My answer 

Weeping willow 
A past nightmare, 
casting shadows 
Water in darkness draped 
Thrown in hell 

Silently to the wayside 
A bitter blow, 
the stomach curled 
In its silent scream 
Drooped heavy 
Inside pain 

Dragging myself 
To the crossroads, 
dagger of truth 
In a bolt of lightning 
You shot me down 

The eyes told me a story 
Popping out 
from your face, 
inner skeleton spoke 
Upon the mirror 
The heart 
did not lie 

Written all over 
Your bare face lie 
Ending became ice to me, 
the titanic sunk 
Ending dreams 

Words hold no truth 
In the foul deed, 
caught like a kipper 
In the net 
ending love 

Without heart 
Attacked feelings 
Falling into an undersea current, 
swallowed truth 
Words spoken 
untrue 
My end


Champagne reign of Shane

It’s been 3 years since the low blow of nadirs 

As we said hooroo to you..goodbye to our top guy

Still feeling...reeling from the pain

Of all the polished veneers of careers

Which is the best palimpsests of Test contests..conquests

The class...VIP pass..no glass ceiling 

Why..has to be the insane arcane Shane gravy train


You know they’re in the hall of fame..like Elvis

When they just get called by their first name

Palpable fears cricket will never ever

Be quite the same game again


Cricketing Gods above showered their love.. on an upstart.. 

Who didn’t just play his part but resurrected

The respected but sadly neglected.. leg spin art


Vision of befuddling precision & derision lingers

The dawn of Warne

Muddling aplomb of his first ball against a Pom

Fingers flipped…it dipped..gripped..ripped

Nipped..skipped..clipped off stump

Leggy bomb….under the pump

Down in the dump chump 

Plump Gatting slipped..pipped

We quipped..ill equipped..standing sentry for 

The outstanding ball of the century

Shane twirled & quite simply 

Changed the world of batting


Gandalf's celestial staff...walks the walk...talks the talk

On some extra terrestrial path

And at tother end..you're having a laugh..where

When there's then the zen 

Of his old friend Glenn McGrath


Warnie’s masterplan of..flair…elan and despair

Devious...mischievous...had plenty of previous

Alright unfair trite slights about hair implants..highlights

Off the square delights…did revel with rare

On another level.. seedier devil may care flights


Done like a kipper by a ripper

Wannabe chipper skipper's flipper again

One of the game’s greatest readers & media feeder

Should've been.. hallowed.. not fallowed leader


Memories never wane of how 

Shane did forever entertain


A whizz doing the biz with such fizz

Legendary larrikin of sin & spin


So let's ordain the Champagne 

Campaign & Reign of Shane!
Form: Rhyme

His Speech Is Very Rude

My husband is naughty a very naughty man
He throws down the newspaper on top of his beer can
He buys himself a sandwich in a cardboard box
And puts it in the laundry with his woollen socks.

He takes off his pyjamas and chucks them on the floor
He uses hankies  frequently, so I have to buy some more.
He wants to have thick sauces on top of all his food.
And when he has a hypo his speech is very rude.

I gave him such a shock when I learned to curse and swear
But we really need to,as “eff off “is everywhere.
Why, even in the Bible there are some wicked words
I’ve not read it all yet, except Psalm 23rd.

I mean to finish reading it and then when I must die,
I’ll come onto a cloud and shout,Oh pi is in the sky.
For transcendental numbers give a hint divine.
Although you can get it better with a glass of  dry, white wine.

My husband drinks draught guinness and then he fall asleep
He hollers and curses when the oven timer bleeps.
He eats a piece of kipper and cried out,Oh,dear God!
Nobody caught this b*gger with a fishing rod

He wants to move to Whitby and walk upon the sands
Sit in the audience and hear the big brass bands.
He wants to see the sun rise and to see it set…
So please send God some gelatine in case the air’s too wet!
Form: Rhyme

A Remembrance Day Poem

Christ and the Soldier by Siegfried Sassoon (1916)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-7OEnXw7P60


The straggled soldier halted and clumsily went down  "O blessed crucifix, I'm beat !"
Christ still sentried by a seraphim between two splintered trees did speak  
"My son, behold these hands and feet."The soldier eyed him upwardas he muttered, "Wounds like these, Would shift a bloke to Blighty just a treat !" 
Christ, gazing downward grieving and ungrim, Whispered, 
"I made for you the mysteries,  beyond all battles moves the Paraclete."
The soldier chucked his rifle in the dust, slipped his pack, wiped his neck, then said -- "O Christ Almighty, stop this bleeding fight !"Above that hill the sky was stained like rust With smoke. In sullen daybreak flaring red, the guns were thundering and the soldier cried, 
"I was born full of lust,hungry and thirsty, with a wishfulness to wed. Who cares today if I done wrong or right?" Christ asked , "Can you not trust  my word?  Am I not resurrection, life and light ?"
Machine-guns rattled from below,  high bullets flicked and whistled through the leaves; smoke came drifting from exploding shells. 
Christ said  "Believe and I can cleanse your ill. I have not died in vain between two thieves; Nor made a fruitless gift of miracles." 
"A bird lit onto Christ. a breeze came to pass and shook the ripening corn
 A Red Cross waggon bumped along the track "Lord Jesus, ain't you got no more to say ?" He bowed his head with a crown full of thorns, as the soldier shifted, then stumbled on his way. 
"O God," he groaned,"why was I ever born ?". The battle boomed, and no reply came back. 
Posted by kipper at 14:22
Form: Narrative

Song of the Sea

Sailing oceans on my clipper 
She was named the Song of the Sea
I'm her only female skipper
My name it is Rosie Marie

I love to hear the songs of whales
Sailing oceans on my clipper
Folks gather for to hear my tales 
of a humpback known as Flipper

I would hand feed him smoked kipper
As he swam alongside my ship
Sailing oceans on my clipper
Singing was his bargaining chip

Charmed and entranced by his whale song
Crisscrossing oceans with Flipper
Loving this humpback for so long
Sailing oceans on my clipper

Written 25th January 2020

Contest: Distant Refrains
Sponsor Joseph May
4th Place

Picture 3
8 syllables per line checked with: howmanysyllables.com

Contest Strand  No 670
Sponsor Brian Strand 
HONORABLE MENTION
Form: Quatern


Where I Was In the Seventies

I stood before the mirror, one last check,
a quick inspection, then head off to town,
silver kipper tie around the neck,
shirt of green, sports jacket of light brown.
Platform shoes on, I boogie down the street,
a first date to look forward to that night,
flared pants flapped in the breeze around my feet,
and my jacket lapels both jinked like kites.
I patted my breast pocket to make sure
my cheque book was inside there, just in case
the night I had in mind costed more
and ended up leaving me sat red faced.

She met me outside Ramsdens, half past eight,
I kissed her cheek and said how good she looked,
went in the bar, got drinks for the short wait,
eight forty-five I had our table booked.
Melon boat for a starter, prawn cocktail,
then chicken in a basket with some fries,
two ice cream sundaes, wafers stood like sails,
we ate and gazed into each other's eyes.
Once the Mateus Rose wine was downed
the waiter swiftly took our plates away,
I paid the bill, got change from twenty pounds,
the chequebook lived to fight another day.

I saw her on the bus, a brief embrace,
a kiss, for one second did our lips meld,
she smiled goodbye, I tried to read her face,
her eyes gave no clue what the future held.
Though forty years have passed since that one date,
my mind still recalls every detail now,
I was told she'd someone else by my best mate,
I pause and still remember her.
The cow.

22nd February 2018
For contest 'where were you in the 70's  ', sponsor Line Gauthier.
© Viv Wigley  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Couplet

WTC Postman Pat




Another hallowed arrow from his quivers

One of cricket’s greatest shiver givers

Coursing down your spine like rivers

Fine line..never dithers as slivers 

Of adversaries hopes on the ropes..withers

Tipples tickle our livers

The latest tropes of how

Somehow…anyhow won’t kowtow

Postman Pat delivers


Matinee idol looks tease

Record books hooks please

Finds batters crannies & 

Nooks with such ease


Impeccable length…metronomic 

Chin music chagrin

Such strength..astronomic

Gift of getting the ball to lift

Chronic bounce…hedonic


With his swag bag of quicks tricks

Name on the adored hall of fame 

Lords boards with six..another Cummins elite fix

Beat Bob Willis’s record tome of the best 

Test figures for a captain at cricket’s home..


Yep..yet another done like a kipper

By this chipper ripper skipper

Who’s not found wanting

His chiselled jaw..up there for sure 

With the mean hardcore

Ponting or Waugh

As the best Test baggie green

Top draw Captain (not woke...just a better bloke) seen on screen

Or that’s maybe ever been
Form: Rhyme

Bazball hogwash buffet menu


Bazball pimps now shrimps on the barbie

So low did stoop scoop of Nincompoop soup

Trumpet the thump it Bazball strumpet crumpet


Bravado of trio with brio plus lardo & avocado

Braggadocio Pinocchio mumbo jumbo gumbo

Bizarre under par no cigar mis-steak tartare

Phony baloney mony mony minestrone


Fish & swish delish dish of death wish Gibberish 

Wacky ego from hero to zero tacky shi*show taco

Don’t give a f*ck not once but twice spliced duck


Flame grilled chances spilled one trick pony

Gobbledygook spooked overcooked zabaglione


Slurry in a hurry won’t worry say sorry curry

Baggie green vented spleen terrine
 
Why would you even risk it brisket

Takes the proverbial herbal verbal biscuit


Ashes hope killer dope quesadilla

Oz supernova it’s already over Dover sole

Lamb to the ripsnorter slaughter

Drole rigmarole goad toad in the hole


Baz puns like Mao’s guns in bao buns

Gory no glory story does bore me Tandoori

Bazball goals down golf holes silly sausage rolls 


Canned slices of fanned tanned Barmy army

Starc tsunami lark umami like spiced pastrami

Bavette baguette of bet will forget any regret

Baz & Ben flower pot men smarmy salami 


Stumble derails still no humble pie tales

Scallops with dollops of lolloping Codswallop

Bazball boast spit roast with burnt toast trollop

Snipe this tripe is as ripe as our Gripe


Gabbatoir bete noir Pom bomb Dauphinoise

Done like a kipper without Warne’s flipper

Stellar Aussie fella mortadella from the cellar


Hoodwink stink of our skipper.. all cheesy hype

Shocker if this is our Test best.. zest of fu*k fest 

In the locker of Davy call in the navy cos Bazball ain’t gravy
Form: Rhyme

Fate Smilling My Way, Finders Keepers

Roy moves in grace of seasons
All the good ones gracing him
She approaches offers salaams
Did I Rui say i missed her sooo

That Smile that hidden that look
With muses were at me smiling 
What better way and day to pen
Than with her on mine side now

Of stars twinkling in the lawns
Ode delights spring in gardens
Of hope and artistic ingenuity

Am blessed of the light I behold
I so so yearn its a yes and it fit
Yes it'sa real fit on tha fine finger

If you find a keeper then do this
Put a ring on it with fate smiling
Finders keepers I found a kipper 


Code254
2021 Year Of Love
Return Of The MazRui'

Nice Try, Gundagai

A bloke who hails 
from New South Wales 
will know of Gundagai. 
Some guy found gold, 
or so we're told, 
in days now long gone by. 

I grew up there 
without a care 
when both of us were nippers: 
she was my mate - 
her name was Kate - 
I used to call her "Kipper". 

We loved to lark 
around Yarn Park, 
and sing Frank Ifield songs, 
play hide-and-seek 
on Morley's Creek 
all golden summer long. 

I'd glance at Kip 
(she fielded slip) 
and try to hoist one high: 
but quick as thought 
she'd yell out, "Caught!" 
or "Nice try, Gundagai!" 

Her brain was quick, 
her wit was slick, 
and ready with a joke. 
She'd bat and bowl 
and kick field goals 
as good as any bloke. 

Well, time moved on. 
Those days are gone, 
and never to return. 
I've roamed this earth, 
for what it's worth, 
and one thing I have learned. 

In this wide world 
there's heaps of girls, 
and some of 'em are ripper, 
and dark or fair, 
I've had my share, 
but none of 'em's like Kipper. 

I'm not that grand 
with pen in hand, 
but I've written Kip a letter: 
I may be wrong, 
it's been so long. 
She may not even get 'er. 

So now you know 
the way it goes. 
You've heard my tale unfold. 
I'm like those fools 
with sieves and mules, 
hell bent on striking gold. 

I'm a chafing chook 
on tenterhooks, 
awaiting her reply. 
I know my Kip - 
she's sure to quip, 
"Oh, nice try, Gundagai!"
Form: Rhyme

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