Long Lennon Poems
Long Lennon Poems. Below are the most popular long Lennon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lennon poems by poem length and keyword.
She hid me for months in isolation,
withholding the truth about her mistake
from a past when innocence was ruined;
yet, strong enough to keep an embryo pulsing..
as this baby born with a man’s same features
labeled her as the town’s new outcast.
Oh Mother, it’s not your fault, not your fault,
to carry me and be shamed for a noble choice.
Those who judge you for letting me grow;
have they walked your shoes; felt your doom?
I am a product of unplanned conception;
but your love cradles my eyes to trace all stars.
It is my wish that life stages be our exultant music …
here I am, a bundle of promise as we pray
that our moments flourish through angel tidings;
mocked pain you once bore turns into harps of joy
serenaded by interludes of many tomorrows!
*Dedicated to beautiful people like Aristotle,
Edgar Allan Poe, John Lennon, Eleanor Roosevelt,
and millions who survived abortion.
----------------------
Contest: Olive Eloisa’s Guts and Gain
7/24/2015
I never round-or-flatly disagreed
with Johnny Appleseed,
so red, so crisp, so...quite.
Never in the dawning, evening dawn
did I fly up or s*it upon...John James Audobon
in the evening, morning night.
Ah, I'd never be rude or eat the food
of the pulchritudinous Johnny B Goode.
How could I?
And why would I harm
odorless, flightless John Barleycorn
or give him Spanish flea?
I'd sail the vast untarted sea,
or play drums obstreperously,
with that flapjack, John Paul Jones,
but what kind of pancake would I be
if I revealed I was bigger than, by three,
that wunderkind, John Holmes?
Would I ask Johnny on the Spot
for a rag to wipe my snot?
Unindubitably!
Would I surprise him with mascara,
or do the backstroke in marinara
like a mushroom in a noodly sea?
I'd be on time for Johnny Come Lately,
and eat bon bons till I sat, oblately,
under the midday moon.
I'd tell Johnny Carson, "That's a wrap"
and neatly wrap my dog's crap
up with cellophoone.
What about John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt,
that diaphanous, novelty hit?
Would I blast him with the guns of Navarone
under a sky that sticks like the glue
of a colorless, humid, hue?
Would I deny him a raisin scone?
No!
When Johnny Comes Marching In gets home,
I'd serve him grits and iridescent cornpone,
and sit him on my knee.
Then I give him a lavender shout,
and set up an appointment for my gout,
superciliously.
Would I ask John the Baptist to convert?
No, I'd offer him some camembert
and crackers!
And the sprightly John the Apostle?
I'd offer him a waffle.
and crackers
(for dessert).
Oh John Keats, dear clapboard poet - you left too soon,
before I could offer you a macaroon,
or anything that leaves a crumb.
There's a reason I asked you for tea.
Give me a sign. Tell me honestly,
do you think I'm a doofus - dopey, dippy, daft and dumb?
Would I pull the leg or make fun...or steal a tart, chocolate eclair, pineapple upside down cake or cinnamon bun
from the beetle, John Winston Lennon?
Nope, I imagine I wouldn't, in truth,
but I'd surely pull the tooth
of the weevil John Wilkes Booth
under the midnight sun.
Who would I bring back, if I had only one
Perhaps a great leader, Kennedy or Lincoln
Or I could choose a musical icon
Such as John Lennon or Michael Jackson
Maybe a legend of the silver screen
Maybe Marilyn Monroe or James Dean
All gifts to the world, but the selfish truth
I would bring back the mother of my youth
The mother who, with sublime grace,
Applied lipstick and blush to her ivory face
The mother whose delicate jasmine perfume
Filled my childhood's every room
Whose all-day-long-to-cook beef stew
Was the first comfort food I knew
Her dancing steps, so full of ease
Until the claws of arthritis seized
Her laughter so free, her hugs so giving
Before these days of assisted living
I would return the fire to her hair
And raise her from the wheelchair
And, as I used to, watch her choose
Her dress, earrings, necklace and shoes
Then she'll softly kiss my cheek
Before going out, coiffed and sleek
To her I would give my own energy
To be, again, the woman in my memory...
10/09/18
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Who Would You Bring Back' contest
My pulse is high and the heart beats double punch
Paul McCartney, George Harrison, John Lennon, Ringo Starr
Music, lyrics, melody in beautiful harmony
"Love me do" ..... yes, it feels like love ....
Strawberries crown in my hair with the boys
"Strawberry Fields Forever"
Quite a sweet dream ... "All You Need Is Love" .....
Paul, George, John and Ringo sings "Is not She Sweet"
I lose my breath, this must be "Real Love"
"Penny Lane" ..... Who is "Penny Lane"
"Please Please Me" - feel a little tired - "A Hard Day's Night"
"Help" they are behaving like "Bad Boy"
"Abbey Road" is a nice place .... but, "Let It Be"
I'm going home with a "Yellow Submarine"
"Cry For A Shadow"
28.10.2013 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Sponsor Rhonda Johnson Saunders
Contest Name Beatlemania!
[Youtube clip attached as the source of my ‘copper through your
letter box line... and because I just love the song!]
Don’t slap a copper with a kipper
Don’t catch your todger in your zipper
Don’t put the peas on if you cannot watch the pot
And if your wife should ask don’t say the weather girl is hot
And don’t play Twister with a hippo
Or light a firecracker with a zippo
Don’t date a sure bet if you’ve got holes in your socks
Don’t try to post a copper through your letter box
For that will be a squeeze but you won’t get past his boots
Don’t pull you’re little sister’s hair out by the roots
Don’t hold a bank up with a plastic BB gun
Don’t ski down K2 just because it sounds like fun
Don’t drive a Datsun in Stetson
And don’t wipe your visor with a wet one
And don’t quarrel with your wife, or venom she will hurl
She’ll say why don’t you run off with your little weather girl
And don’t dress like Lennon at a Rolling Stones revival
If you have inside your head the notion of survival
Eye candy of literacy
Sit with me under the poet tree
It's colorful leaves with windy wet dreams
Glowing growing holy wise sandy seas
Raining sonnets psalms songs of gold
Beige yesterday, neon now, future silver soul
Of foreign of home
Of saint sinner some other zone
This black leaf is Emily
So dark smart sharply bleak
The red leaf rouge and profound
As Alice Walker's words painting nouns
The blue leaf a jazzy ballet
Of sonnets haikus John Lennon's yesterday
The green leaf with promises of now
From music the ears of poetry sound
Alex Haley, Dr Seus, ancient poets and the new
Prophetic stars of heart and writer monsoon
Romantic rage roulette of moon
All are priceless jewels alone or in unity
All behold gifts of God, heart,soul, poet tree.
1964, Saturday night, 7 p.m.
Mom has prepared meatloaf, scalloped corn and baked potatoes.
We are okay with this, sitting behind our TV trays
In the living room, waiting for Lawrence Welk to come on
Surrounded by wallpaper of giant green philodendron vines.
We are impatiently waiting for our favorite TV show.
So we can see the fabulous Lennon Sisters.
We have their paper dolls, don’t we?
“And now a word from our sponsor”.
But it is more than one word.
It is “see the USA in a Chevrolet”
and then it is “Plop Plop Fizz Fizz Oh What a Relief it is!”
Suddenly a Spaghettio commercial comes on.
“Mom! Can we have Spaghettios next Saturday?”
We say this in unison, not understanding
We just insulted the dinner she had spent an hour preparing.
So This is Over
A living legend now dead.
All grief and sorrow
Flows through my head.
I can't understand
Why such things must be.
I wish there was someone
Who'd explain it to me.
John Lennon was human
This we cannot deny.
But, I can't understand
Why he had to die.
Was his resurgence
Not meant to be?
For creativity and love
Is what the world needs.
When I was younger
I tried to relate.
But, I can't believe
John's death was just fate.
A world stops and wonders
What has God done.
John didn't just die,
But, a part of everyone.
So This is Over
A million voices have died.
Who'd sing his new lyrics,
No only can cry.
Sometime in New York City
They murdered John.
But, his memory and music
Will Always live on.
12-8-1980
new year's teenage must
casey kasem counting down
the top one hundred
led zeppelin
a whole lotta love up the
stairway to heaven
hey jude
bringing me up
when I'm down
mamas and papas
california dreamin'
~ idle winter days
knit one purl one
two-tone phentex slippers
to beatles tunes
elvis
love me tender
with caramel kisses
engelbert
singing his heart out
a man without love
beach boys
god only knows
whispered in the rain
tom jones and
green green grasses
of home
sounds of silence stir
with simon and garfunkel
darkness an old friend
otis sitting
on the dock of the bay
till evening comes
me and mrs jones
sax and blues
the morning after
barry white
can't get enough of your love
on red satin sheets
nancy sinatra
strutting her custom boots
made for walking
neil diamond
sings to
sweet caroline
cash johnny and june
getting married in a fever
~ lifetime parole
patsy cline
crazy
missing you
band of five
driving old dixie down
into the night
janis joplin
hanging out with me
and bobby mcgee
playing the cd
jesus christ superstar
each sunday
cher
halfbreed
by harvest moon
last schoolbus run
alice the first out
no summer school
joni mitchell
hailing
big yellow taxi
santana
catering to his
black magic woman
pink floyd
laying another brick
in the wall
john lennon
imagine
dark clouds rolling in
c c r
putting a spell on you
just because they can
elvis still asking
if you're lonesome
he's willing to sing
memories of
hotel california
you can never leave
hemming bell bottoms
summer radio blaring
to seventies tunes
Ó Poe, why did you
accept this function
of scarecrow !
Ó Thomas, if you
were a singer you would
be superior to Dylan...
Ó Lennon i could never
imagine that the dream
would be over...
Ó Emile you said that
you were nobody. !
But you are somebody
special, you are an admirable
poetess...
I am nobody... my poetry
is lousy...
Ó Frost, reading you
i did not feel cold...
I felt warm in my
heart...
Ó Shakespeare, to be
or not to be !
I simply prefer being
poet as you are...
How i would wish Neruda,
be the postman of your
letters...
Dear Gabriela, i always knew
Mistral were you...!
Ó Pessoa, how could a man
be so many poets in one... !