Long Lampoon Poems
Long Lampoon Poems. Below are the most popular long Lampoon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lampoon poems by poem length and keyword.
Once again, he dresses himself with flour-puffed face,neck ruffles and oversized shoes ,
all this fanfare for kids wiggling Barney Bailey shrieks :
He juggles coins, flashes a silly mime while blistered thoughts knead in the circus of a mind:
his son lost lying in a bed of snuffed dreams exiting from the ghastly night while clouds dim beneath the marquee...
Giggles flood the rows where laughter drowns a sea of guffaws; a moment when life becomes a lampoon a farce
an illusion :
No one knows the polka dot tears which press inside a clown's leaking heart
as he traces the wild grins of youngsters seeking his presence ,
youngsters like his own lifeless child--
own child he did not watch go the light...
his false laughter turns into silent howls
imploring just an intermission from
the stage.
But the show must go on where the absurdity of man is , once again , enacted.
We had Wonder Woman,
and The Rocky Horror
Picture Show.
We had MASH,
and Hawaii Five-O.
We had Bonanza,
And the Nanny and
The Professor.
We had the Jeffersons,
And Stevie Wonder.
We had The Odd Couple,
And Flip Wilson.
We had Welcome
Back Kotter,
And the Datsun.
We had Hogans Hero,
And Sonny and Cher.
We had Lucille Ball,
and a movie called Hair.
We had Fat Albert,
with the Cosby kids,
and The Exorcist.
We had the Land of
The Lost, And the
Midnight Express.
We had Josie
And the Pussycats,
And the Mississippi Queen.
We had the Flintstones,
and Americans living
the dream.
We had Planet
Of the Apes,
And the Brady Bunch.
We had room 222,
And Starsky & Hutch.
We had the
Midnight Special,
And The Partridge Family.
We had Mighty Mouse,
And Laverne & Shirley.
We had Star Trek,
And Dog Day Afternoon.
We had The Sting,
And National Lampoon.
We had I'm OK,
You're OK,
And Leif Garrett.
We had the Love Story,
and a horse named
Secretariat.
Turbo1904?
is it normal to sear the soul
to let the dormant hate control
Is it normal to mar the mind
with daggered words dipped in "unkind"
Is it normal to hunt the heart
with gleeful zest to maim a part
Is it normal to lampoon love
make it a joke; give it a shove
Is it normal to deaden dreams
out of some envy laden schemes
Is it normal to negate nice
claim that its fake then take a slice
Is it normal to insult ideals
to devour each in packaged meals
if normal's not in one of these
then read the next lines, if you please...
"business as normal" is just pretend
when hurting's not been brought to end
For acting "normal" when one bleeds
Can never clear the painful deeds
The only way to make amend
is to forget the "normal" trend
So be sincere; apologize
own up to wrong and empathize
then back to "normal" things can go
and better still, I tell you so!
Eileen Manassian
*Image of The Big Bang Theory giphy by CBS.
Coronavirus: COVID-19
A knock upon my chambered door, silence foregone, it goes ignored,
Too feeble I, coldness instills, lain I awry e'er filled with chills,
Vice convince spree goes on toiling, thrice has it been, owned its spoiling,
My eyes have seen, I've read the news, tried ears have be, shunned knocked sound blues,
Scores abound knocked chambered door, roars I cannot, for I am sore,
Then suddenly, a stillness had come, my chambered door, went silently numb,
So I, read on, of coronavirus, tis recent so hence be it naught an antivirus,
Kept abreast of things albeit online, inducement, the spread, signs, all be I fine,
Cawing gawked my chambered window, peering through midst raised crescendo,
A black raven tis annoyance it is the calling, disturbance afoot, perpetual cawing,
A chapter be read, of the ailment, fear breeds in verses, amongst confinement,
As a bird scrutinize, belittles my illness, with a litany of awk, pesty nuisances,
Fatal passages beset home and town, beat I the averages, best all around,
A door and window, be I immune, alas, a dreaded raven befalls its lampoon.
2020 March 12
*2nd Place*
Coronavirus COVID-19
~~Team PoetrySoup: Judged 2020 May 12
So that’s it for Rohit…and have to admit his parting gambit
Little to cheer in his career nadir year ..was all rather *****
Hard not to discard someone supposed to be leading the men
Even with Sharma’s zen..when you’re averaging just over ten
Time for a transition so his position was moot and got the boot
Let's not be hasty..Sharma once as tasty as anything en croute
Would loot having a hoot
But the snake charmer can’t toot his flute…went mute
In his heyday…another sashay..was there anyone calmer
Panache dasher with that me oh my hand eye
Rohit nailing it…impaling..derailing hit..sailing past the drone & toblerone
Us hailing on our phone.. run farmer..Sharma karma
Talent awoken..quick fix.. records broken
When he took his swag bag of tricks
From six and began to open..
Nothing could prevent Rohit gusto…heaven sent from the get go
Could tell..hell bent on making sure India showed..flowed and glowed with intent he bestowed
Can’t anymore tune in.. to the boon…swoon in an afternoon lagoon
The horde croon…applaud this loon …they way he scored
Maraud…home or abroad encored.. rightly adored
Remember Rohit lampoon…cherry soared..the bowler..flawed.. ignored..a buffoon floored
May rue with bemusement his denouement
Trifle sad that time did maroon & stifle
Rifle Rohit after his sublime prime & it all ended a bit too soon
A mate of Musk, I’m told I’m going soon
(if NASA still exists, this side of June):
the lack of oxygen might make me swoon
- my rear end is as puckered as a prune!
I feel I ought to leave a happy tune,
an album by somebody who can croon.
That swallows effort, warbled by Pat Boone,
or Herman’s Hermits leader, Peter Noone?
Perhaps a piece of marble, nicely-hewn?
Amid the regolith, randomly strewn,
A DVD by National Lampoon?
The one with David Bowie – what’s it – Dune?
The Brooke Shields epic movie, “Blue Lagoon”?
That stoned director (Stone) gave us “Platoon” –
or how about “Five Weeks in a Balloon”?
Another whistling train speeds by in midnoon,
the jeering lad waves at pensive passengers
absorbed in serene, not adverse feelings;
his youth is vibrant and ready to lampoon!
Daises, jasmines and violets are gently lulled
in their wild and lush meadows as it rushes by;
ravens disperse in pervasive fear so unequaled;
what was too calm turns into chaos: a pitiful cry!
Is it nostalgia he clings to, or something else?
That landscape is as vivid as his happy yesterday;
he hears the shrieking horn, its sound is not terse:
crossing the tracks can be fatal in mischievous play!
The adventurous boy climbs the breezily and balmy hills,
and excited by the spectacular view, he begins to hum;
all sonorous canaries start warbling to accompany him:
they echo in the valley below to awaken church bells!
Another whistling train speeds by in midnoon,
he describes this scenery in an evocative poem;
no tears go to waste, they're precious to him:
it's nighttime, even darkness will grant his boon!
Le Squirrel Sat For Le Painter
His canvass set
And oils based,
He zeroed onto her providence.
His lips miming
Rhode Island here
Big Apples there.
She scowled her impatience.
Her eyes dismissing his.
Although,
Him noting her dark chocolates,
Sweet looking,
Cloaked as balls of fire,
And a posture gorgeous and erect.
And so was he.
She was a beauty
And a beast ...
As levity was short on her,
But long on him.
If only she would give in
It would make for better strokes,
A better potrait.
Thus ill fated
In his mind,
This potrait sat on thin ice.
Little squirrels jumping in,
Ski jumping off her nose.
Swoosh!
Another one.
Swoosh!
The third missed.
Crash landing on her lap,
Smiling.
A caricature off and galloping.
His horse neighing in absentee.
Seeds of a lampoon sprouting.
His mind jumping
To conclusions.
He raced.
The potrait moaned.
He dabbled a little oil here,
A little oil there.
A pinch of rouge
On her cheeks and lips,
And highlighting a reflection
In her pupils.
Chocolates never looked so bitter.
He finished with sparkles
In her hair, flaming.
He paused,
Adding a little depth
and gradation to her forehead,
pointed and blunt,
like a squirrel posing at his party.
After all she was.
For hues,a reddish brown, and swirls,
No mistaking that of Le Squirrel.
He had a little ways to go
And a lifetime of laughter.
He added squirrels jetting
From her mouth and ears.
And that bushy tail,
He thought
Wiser of not making
Her into a **** star
His mind thinking,
her seated, the bushy tail
jetting up between her thighs.
No.
Upon realization,
her eyes squinting at the portrait
in disbelief,
Le Squirrel screamed.
The shrill heard around town,
Making the artist rise.
connie pachecho
8/31/17
Inspired to write this poem after reading entries
to the Artwork-Poetry Contest
After repeat defeats were strewn
The timing was most opportune
Started on an afternoon in June
Bazball did enthrall was a boon
Love new plans fans did croon
Bliss soaring sixes above festoon
Adoring this scoring monsoon
At the gall all pundits did swoon
Can’t impugn change of fortune
Batting assault & new era hewn
For 2 years were over the moon
Luxuriating in the Bazball lagoon
Magical mystical & mythical rune
Could stop Tests from dying soon
Harbinger of gunslinger’s saloon
Save cricket from its silver spoon
From results the cult couldn’t cocoon
Faults and default style won’t prune
Want to party like they’re in Cancun
Down under plunder burst the balloon
Stokes went from typhoon to buffoon
As the ECB and Key he did lampoon
Then Ben again did his team maroon
So it ends like any loony tune cartoon
As high noon for that wee Kiwi racoon
English Test tycoon to white ball goon
"That’s all folks” Baz’s bull finally spewn
Listen to the music of centuries
Remembering looking toward peace
"We must disentral ourselves"
The congressmen
Big black tires
Big black men,black suits
Siphoning your GRIT
The corporate war profiteers
Who are they as bats at night
Chameleons in all natures
Camouflaged at appropriate times
Demagogues!the cause of poverty
Be angry at the sun
The public men,publish falsehood
You are no Catullus you know;
To lampoon these crude sketches of ceasar
Struggle for power;and women for fame
I stand alone dazed words giving way
Blood gurgling down into the mud and sand
This nation,A village of thorns and brambles
The old earth is withered and undone
While decades pass
Pleasured in the dead's heritage
Riots and robs,
some busking in the glory of others
Others salvation
Others the lords of charity,
Splashing dirty millions in altars and Holly stages
You are begot and spawned in shame
Little resources huge demands
Oh wanjiku!How long shall the donkey tire for your load to be delivered?