Long Larry Poems
Long Larry Poems. Below are the most popular long Larry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Larry poems by poem length and keyword.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
Silly Billy had no fear, he drowned it in a case of beer.
Handy Andie so adept, kept so busy, she never slept.
Dirty Donna did what you wanna, she lived just down the street.
You didn't have to ask her twice, she was so nice and very sweet.
Hairy Larry all alone, made the women grimace and groan.
Very scary in his approach, girls would crush him like a roach.
Steady Betty, always ready with what ever it took.
Found a way to save the day, be it by hook or crook.
Stan the man does what he can no matter what it takes.
Always appalled by what has happened, then says for goodness sakes.
Gabby Abby giggles and talks with nary a concern.
I wonder if there'll ever be a time she'll ever learn.
Bob the slob wouldn't get a job, he did nothing all day.
He looked a mess, and yes I guess, there's nothing left to say.
Chatty Patty talked so much, she developed lock jaw.
You'd think that that would slow her down, but nah.
Dorky Doug had quite the mug, he looked a little askew.
When he'd greet you on the street, you didn't know what to do.
Nick the stick was very quick, always on the go.
He never walked, he always ran, the word slow, he didn't know.
Guilty Milty quite the guy. He never looked you in the eye.
If you caught him at his game, instead of shame, he'd rather die.
Ditzy Mitzy, not a clue, in her ear, you'd see clear through.
Sandy Sandy, on the beach, the young men she would beseech.
Their young minds she couldn't reach, but that's not what she tried to teach.
Loser Lenny always played, what it cost, he never weighed.
Didn't know when to walk away, should have left, but always stayed.
Pervy Peter made skin crawl, I'm guessing his was pretty small.
You felt like you'd catch a disease, even if he would just sneeze.
Surly Shirley, not too girly, and not very nice.
You can ask her once, a question, but don't ask her twice.
Bendy Wendy in the breeze, did everything down on her knees.
The young boys she'd always please, when they would leer up in the tree's.
Kent the gent, his kindness spent, decided it was time.
To let them know just what he meant, but still did it in rhyme.
Holy Holly, quite contrite, prayed sincerely every night.
Oh, good golly, how she yearned for things to be just right.
In the interest of keeping your interest, I think I'll stop it here.
Like Billy up in the first line, I think I'll have a beer. :)
Two hundred and forty seconds or more,
Laying, fetal position in Mother’s fluids,
Fighting for air, for life
Foreshadowing his existence.
Birthed, alone
Taken from one home of solitude to
One of solitary confinement.
To us, a tragedy, to him; life.
December 3, 1930,
Before the stock market crashed
Before this child would be set aside with lost children,
Before he had a chance, he was raised by strangers.
“Institutionalized” from 3 years of age to 18 years old.
Everything being done for him, is measured doses,
Single serving packages were his normalcy,
And nurses squawking, “He’ll never be able to function on his own”
And finally, 18 years old, she came to get him out.
Let him be in the world amongst family, amongst people,
Amongst the living, instead of amongst the helpless.
This “cannot” man, got a job
Cooking for our countrymen
Caring for all encountered on a daily basis,
Permanent smile, glued to his face.
He had done everything he wanted
Even as people looked at him with sympathetic eyes,
He was oblivious to their gaze, yet he knew.
He didn’t mind, didn’t hit the nerves with this man.
He invested money
And made more than most “able” men are capable,
To him, however, it was of no consequence.
He was just as happy to smoke a cigarette and drink coffee.
O, the adversity, the near-death birth,
The late-night mugging, broken mandible,
Never disfigured his smile, or his outlook on life,
Could never dampen his demeanor.
Who ever came, or has come into contact with him, at first
Ultimately felt bad about themselves, as I did,
Never has there been a man so selfless, so unaware,
So angelic.
Like he had already transcended humanity within those
Two hundred forty seconds, and decided to stay for the Ride.
Everything was so new, so awed by life in general.
Family and friends of Larry,
Should know something they might have overlooked.
This man, rather, this man-child, although sheltered,
Institutionalized, disregarded, downtrodden by others,
Accomplished more than most men that have been referenced and revered.
never said a dull or commonplace thing, and for that he will be remembered.
Two hundred forty seconds or Less,
Laying, embracing the life he had, opened his
Eyes, and it’s December 3rd, 1930,
and Mother and son stare at each other for the first time.
WHERE TO BEGIN I LOVE MAN BECAUSE GOD MADE ME FILLED WITH DESIRE FOR MAN A GIFT TO MAN THERE WAS JOHN TERRY ALFRED HENRY CIRO LARRY ANTHONY CHARLES RETIRED SHERIFF THERE WAS DON HAROLD DON II JOHNNY ROBERT PHILLIP LEVI OH MY GOD I DARE NOT SAY THEE ELEVEN WHITE RUSSIANS EACH TAKING TURNS RIDING THE MECHANICAL BULL THERE WAS RICHARD JUNE BUG LOU WAS INTERESTING HE JUST LOVED TO LOOK HE WAS ALWAYS TOO EXCITE ATTORNEY CHARLIE WILSO.N OVER STRAWBERRY CHEESE CAKE BEN HOPKINS WHOLESALER USED CARS TONY BOLOGNY CAB DRIVER KINGS FROM SAIDI IRAQI KINGS YOUR HIGHNESS WAS THE BEST EVER NOT TO MENTION THE MEETING OF THE MINDS SGT MAJORS WORLD LEADERS CLERGY GOD BLESS THEM FOR BEING TEMPTED BY MY DESIRE ME WOMAN NO MAN COULD RESIST WHY MEN SIMPLY
LOST THEMSELVES IN MY DESIRE BEING AN ENTERTAINING A SHOW GIRL MARIETTA ROXY FOXY I DESIRE PLEASURE OF MAN HELL AM I WRONG I TRULY BELIEVE MAN WAS THE GREATEST GIFT TO WOMAN WHY I WAS ABLE TO BREED 8 TIMES THE JOY OF MAKING A BIG FAMILY HAS ITS PERK AND I ENJOYED EVERY MINUTE OF IT TOO THIS TRULY MAKES ME BLUSH FASCINATING TO SAY THE LEAST SGT SAVOY SGT MICHEAL PFC LITTLE THERE WAS FIRST SGT TOP SGT FIRST CLASS WILLIAMS MASTER SGT CHARLIE COMPANY SGT PERRY SGT HENDERSON MY MY MY SGT MAC GODS GIFT TO WOMAN IS MAN THIS IS MY PERSONAL GIFT FROM GOD BUT THERE ARE TIMES MY DESIRES REACH THE HOLY SPIRIT ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL BOTH MY EX WERE CHEATERS SO I LEARNED TO LOVE ME MORE THAN MAN I COULDN'T IMAGINE MY LIFE WITHOUT GODS PRECIOUS GIFT OF MAN I CRAVE MAN GOD CREATED ME FOR MAN HIS REASON MAN COULDN'T BE TRUSTED TO BE ALONE SINCE ADAM WAS TRYING TO BREED WITH ANIMALS GOD KNEW ABOMINATION WOULD RUIN HIS EARTH WHO WOULD BE FRUITFUL ME WOMAN 8 KIDS 26 GRAND TWO GREAT GRAND PLEASURE MY REALITY BEING ME WOMAN THANK YOU GOD FOR MAKING ME FOR MAN WOW OH HOW I DESIRE MAN GODS MOST PRECIOUS GIFT TO WOMAN OUTSIDE OF NUNNS BUT I'M QUITE SURE EVEN NUNNS HAVE DESIRE FOR MAN THAT'S WHY THEY PRAY THE ROSARY AT 7 AM EVERY MORNING FLUSHING THE SINFUL NATURE OF BEING TOUCHED BY A MAN WELL I'M NO NUNN MAN UNDER ME ABOVE ME WITHIN ME DESIRE DESIRE THE COMPLETE DESIRE OF MAN AND WOMAN THAT'S GODS GIFT TO ME MORE MORE MORE MAN FOR EVERY WOMAN AND I WANT SECONDS YES PLEASE MARCO POLO I ADORE MAN EVEVY INCH OF MANHOOD REACHES MY DESIRE CREATING IN ME FRUITFULNESS I CAN'T DENY I THINK I'LL HAVE SOME MAN RIGHT NOW WHY NOT
Johnny Clare is an example of many a young man who Cowboy'd in the truest sense of the word. He did a job. He did it well. Though he met an untimely end, his life did not go unnoticed. Continental Oil Company put up a monument to a young man who worked for them, but Larry McWhorter's words made him real. The essence of who he was is immortalized in that poem. It is more than a poem about one Cowboy...it is a poem about every Cowboy who ever rode for the Brand. It is a poem about the heart and soul of men who built our country through hard work and sacrifice. It is a poem about one man's basic belief that time may march on, but those everyday Cowboys like Johnny Clare will not be forgotten. The monument stands as a reminder of "where," but Larry McWhorter's words stand as a reminder of "why." His words, a tribute to the spirit of man and a lesson on how to live what you love.
I cried that day. Tears of joy for having shared this moment with Larry and Andrea; for having one of my heroes of Cowboy Poetry recognize me and for his gift of words to me. We have been friends since. I love and respect him and Andrea; because they are good, kind, strong people of the land with deep conviction in their faith and strong relationship with the Savior. They live each day with grace, they give that grace to others and they make all strangers friends. Proud am I that I know them. Lucky am I that I got to go to Weatherford, Texas that day.
I have learned that it's not the trail we ride, but the tracks we leave behind for others to follow that matters. Time may march on, but word and deed live on forever; as does the spirit of any person dedicated to living life to the fullest while serving their fellow man. The impression we leave is our memorial to this earthly life. Building a monument with words and telling the stories about others so they are never forgotten is our memorial
to those we love and admire. Johnny Clare, Larry McWhorter, all those men I grew up with and those I am privileged to call my friends; all living life their way by the Grace of God, all fighting the good fight and marching forward no matter the obstacles, all inspiring us to live life to its fullest. When it comes to great men of heart and spirit the memory never fades and the words of praise are endless. And that, my friends, is the greatest monument of all.
I Am: Hello guys it’s an honor, fellows
Moe: HELLO!
Larry: HELLO!
Curly: HELLO!
The Three Stooges: HELLOS!
I Am: You’re known as half-wits, birdbrains, knuckleheads,
Curly, you’re known as Porky pine, right?
As a little girl I never appreciated rough-housing humor.
Moe a mean man and you weren’t very bright
I did adore Curly with sisterly affection.
Curly: You ain’t half bad yourself toots! With my reclamation
Moe: Remind me to kill you later, hmm, maybe strangulation
Curly: OK, I’ll make a note of it! Can’t make me worry
Larry: Stick up for yourself Curly!
Moe: Yeah, what do you have to say?
Curly: Well, I oughta—tell ya another day
Moe: You oughta what? Have some finess
Curly: I oughta mind my own business
Moe: That’s better! Porky Pine
I Am: Moe, would you take another question of mine?
Moe: Yeah, make it snappy,
Larry: Moe’s always been too slap happy
I AM: Were you at one time called Ted Healy’s Racketeers?
Moe: The Southern Gent’s, knucklehead! Like the Three Musketeers
I Am: Your genres are farce, slapstick, musical comedy
Curly is the schlemiel—stupid, childish, and clumsy.
Larry is the schlimazel because he's not quite as stupid
but still ends up unlucky with cupid.
Moe, are you the aggressive and short-tempered leader of you three?
Curly: Why coitainly
Moe: The lady, you imbecile, is talking to me,
Curly: Hey, I resemble that remark!
Curly: Hey Moe, I can’t see! I can’t see!
Moe: Why’s that? Is it too dark?
Curly: ‘Cuz I have my eyes closed!
Moe: Wait’ll I punch you in the nose!
I Am: My best Three Stooges episodes were—Brideless Groom,
Disorder in the Court, Malice in the Palace, Sing a Song of Six Pants,
and Heavenly Daze
Larry: That’s five. Miss I Am are you in a haze?
Moe: Yeah Genius!
I Am: Thank you for your calculation, I quess
I Am: Do any one of you have a real job anywhere?
Curly: Why coitainly, I just got a job in a bakery
Moe: You never told me that numskull. What do you do there?
Curly: I’m a loafer!
Larry: That’s not surprising, and tell her you were a chauffer
I Am: Goodnight “Three Stooges” Love and Luck
Curly: Asta! NYUK! NYUK! NYUK!
There were Indians just over the Brazos
With a buffalo herd in between
They weren’t trying to stay hidden
They wanted to be seen
The chief of these Comanche
Buffalo Hump by name
They say no one's looked him in the eyes
Was ever quite the same
The COL said go parlay
Invite the chief to sup
I want to look him in the eye
And determine just what’s up
With our white sheet fluttering in the wind
Like the scalps on the big Chief’s lance
We started out across the plain
Taking quite a chance
Our crooked-tooth Pawnee scout
Led the way through the herd
Through the smell of a thousand animals
And the sound that would drown each word
I felt and smelled their hot breath
As I rode my pony near
I turned my pony into the throng
A pathway none too clear
Inching through the buffalo
Blinded by the dust
I held on fast to the reins
Just riding my pony's trust
Once through the thundering buffalo
I glanced up to the rise
The Indians still were waiting there
Much to my surprise
The Pawnee scout then turned to us
Said if they should attack
First take out the big chief
Then that little one in the back
I can understand the big chief
But why the little guy
He said he’s like a badger
He’ll fight until he dies
He said that one's a horse thief
The best you'll ever find
He'll snatch a horse from under you
As if you had gone blind
The big chief started towards us
Shut up the Pawnee said
You young boys keep your damn traps shut
I’ll do the talking instead
The Comanche’s body shone with grease
Had a necklace made of claws
He had a stench about him
That made you gag and pause
My eyes met the chief’s eyes
My hand rested on my gun
He had a look could kill a soul
But I was too scared to run
The Pawnee and Comanche
Spoke in some foreign tongue
I vowed to learn their language
While I was still young
Then all at once the chief turned
And rode on up the hill
Our Pawnee scout turned back for camp
But I just sat there still
For he had pointed at me
With that scalp encrusted lance
And said he’d have MY scalp one day
If he ever got the chance
For last week on the Brazos
Someone had killed his son
And looking me right in the eye
He knew I was the one
Mdailey 2/26/12
1st place finish in contest
For PD’s contest dare. Chapter 11 of Dead Man's Walk by Larry McMurtry. It has been years since I read a western but am finding this one interesting.
Christmas was over
the cold winter winds
blew and blew
the sadness grew.
Mother had passed
A time dreaded for
ever so long.
I tried ever so hard
to be strong.
I walked into her home
where she once gathered
her most precious belongings
Wher my small bare foot steps
did once roam.
Though safe within it's walls
her belongings just
collected much dust.
It was a place I
had once learned
to trust.
Now she's gone
who will treasure
these dusty dirty things.
No where to be found
gems or diamond
or saphire rings.
I gazed around
where oh where,
do I start first.
Then into tears
I encontrollably burst.
I first approached
a tall brown dresser
mirror intact,
while polish it lacked.
I pulled open
the small drawers
I was amazed to see
many and many
old candy boxes
and handkerchifs three.
The first, a stack
get well and
old christmas cards
in tied tightly
wrapped ever so neatly.
What on earth
was she thinking
I blurted.
My most swift thoughts
came outwardly leaking.
Then I opened another
dusty dreawer to find
a smaller gold and red box.
Could it hold a diamon ring
I gasped as I
slowly opened it.
My thought did sing.
There, another
whole section
of old cards
among another green
and yellow box.
My memory burst
I'd received these
from family
when I had chicken pox.
There was one from
my maw, another from
Aunt ada, and Uncle harry.
Even one from my classmates
with the one on top from
the cute boy named Larry.
Then I strumed the
cards as a guitar
playing an familiar
old song. So many
I recogonized.
The names
were of many
persons lost
family member or even
a departed decesed friend.
I suddenly knew
just what she
had been thinking
With each card
each broken vase
a sad or happy memory
no one ever could repace.
She'd tucked away
each for obsurvance
for a future a rainy day.
I knew what she
of my life
now a missing part.
She safely kept
each memory
she held once in her heart
tied as neatly there,
as the old cards
in the lovely red candy
box All kept instore.
Each she kept snuggly
in her dresser drawer
I held them now my heart
And sit along where she too
once searched for
old memories, to recall once more.
Linda Terrell
November 14, 2009
"A Widow At Twenty Three" Part3
Left alone with a son of three already had buried a child under a tree
Today she had to set a timing for the funerals when they’ll be climbing
The road to the top of the hill where she and her son will stand still
Until a father and husband would be buried.
Why? again why? only yesterday I was still married? What am I going to do?
What do I still have to pass through? Is my destiny just to mourn?
My beloved one’s since I was born?
All these thoughts passed her way while thinking nobody, will ever take my son away.This time, I’ll take my time to decide should I stay? Or depart?
Until that early morning just after a week when her lawyer approached her to speak and informed her how much money Larry had, astonished, she didn’t even look glad as within she never cared!
She would have loved Larry to be healthy than gone and leaving her wealthy.
But she signed Larry’s will and turned looked at the hill felt everything just stood still even the lawn was dry the birds couldn’t fly just stood on the trees
Watching her tears. She turned away bidding Larry farewell where he will always dwell.
Took her son by the hand and just wanted to land on any other land.
At her age and at that stage she was determined to turn the page
Find a new life.
Exquisite rich at twenty four planned to buy a home with carpets all over the floor have a fireplace ready to be lit when she will meet a man whom
she will desire to never love her the same way not to ever have
a monotonous day.
She bought two tickets on a plane dreaming of landing in Spain…..
Where her ancestors once came when she didn’t even have a name.
She bought her beautiful home by the sea waking up each morning feeling completely free at last she was living in Spain and will never have to complain
Of the past she hadn’t even felt it passed.!!!
She quickly put her son in a boarding school that same day she wanted to act like a fool ran to the sea just got wild swimming against the time naked she had nothing to hide no more rules to abide no more tears no more fears
No more dying no more crying starting today my life will be always gay.
Until my very last day.
The End.
Terry