Long Leonard Poems
Long Leonard Poems. Below are the most popular long Leonard by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leonard poems by poem length and keyword.
The chatter of small birds frame a window of light.
My kettle is coughing; soon its shrill whistle
will startle me, even though I know exactly
when it will erupt.
Two pelicans have been sighted in Northern Ohio.
Elsewhere, the plague has been seen
crossing rivers on ferries and jet skis.
I pour morning tea, singing a tune
from 'West Side Story.'
‘Today I too, am Puerto Rican’ intones the ghost
of Leonard Bernstein to his open switch blade.
Many dead form a choral threnody.
Fox News and CNN, for once agree. Just kidding.
The birds sing something from ‘The Magic Flute.’
or Bohemian Rhapsody – hard to tell
but the tunes bring tears to the eyes
of truckers and nurses.
I imagine lost pelicans hitching a ride to Patagonia.
A first responder has reported blue sky’s
in Kentucky.
Death rattles - all things pass away singing
with their own tune
inside their own heads.
The End of Love
A secret grief rips apart all that was
Slaves to the sexual caresses of time
Stallions in black gallop gallantly in fields
Of spring full wishes
Thou seeith the birth of love
Naked hopes surrounded by sweet perfumes
Seduced by the gods or by demon fools
Dancing, towards our own charades we sing
Funerals consume autumn’s dead poets
The gravestone cold and gray
We hug it like a long lost friend
One may see a battle lost
The other a battle won
In November we reminisce the soldier and singers too
Didst you know I was a prostitute?
Selling my soul to the hourglass of eternity
Foolishly hoping to sleep upon her breast
Shivering as others seem to fall right at deaths door
Brimstone, black and rose
The underbelly of St Laurent
Youthful boasts as the old man in cane hobbles
Generations sailed down the main
Some seeking solace others finding fame
Vaguely the recollections appear
Visions inside dreams inside the darkest fears
The end of love is near
For the hand above is reaching
As I float to the end of time
Enchantment in the crypts
Ravens dancing as they consume our mortal
Hearts
No smiles, no sleep
Thou did knowest I’m surely certain
The dance of death
Only to be followed
By a piper
And angels violins
Rags and shrouds, kiss them all goodbye
Hallelujah
In Memory of Leonard Cohen, a fellow Montrealer, 21 September 1934 – 10 November 2016.
Born in 1874 Sir Winston Leonard Spencer-Churchill
Nicknamed Winnie, with a Bulldog spirit ~ resembled my Bulldog Bill
In thinking time sat on his ‘Throne’, Lord Privy Seal rang Winston’s phone
Yelling his retort said, ‘Tell him I can only deal ~ with one s*** at a time’
22nd January 2019
Contest: Educate Me with Humour - Leader Clerihew
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
4th place
Sir Winston Churchill was a British writer, military leader and statesman. Twice named prime minister of the United Kingdom, he was known for his bulldog spirit and his rousing rhetoric; he also won the Nobel Peace Prize for Literature in 1953. Churchill became the first civilian in the 20th century to be given a state funeral, which is normally reserved for kings and queens only. For three days and three nights, Churchill lay in state in 900-year-old Westminster Hall as more than 300,000 mourners filed past the casket, hewn from English oaks taken from his family estate. Such was the country’s admiration for Churchill that Queen Elizabeth II broke with monarchical tradition to attend a funeral for someone outside of the royal family. Even more unusual, the queen gave precedence to one of her subjects and arrived at the cathedral before the former prime minister’s casket.
17th November 2020
Contest Name QUAT-RO your four line Contest
Sponsor Brian Strand
N/A
Topsy-turvy seems so
well, it seems so cute
relentlessly cute
saccharin cute.
Until and unless you're in it
and then, well then the
belly comes to regard
its place in you as
something less than
...certain.
Topsy-turvy, ugh
abounding now
injured this, and angry he
fractured that, and we less she
ugh
pitchforks are being sharpened
and eyes are narrowing
the hits keep coming
and then sooner than
we're ready, before we've
absorbed the first hits
they're covered
before we've recovered
ugh
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his poetry)
and now Leonard has gone
and left us
(his view)
and now and now.
And now
we're left with
only what Leonard
left.
You left too soon
I hadn't yet
learned how to
live up to your death.
Topsy-turvy
Unnerves me.
And my Buddhist rock
has turned to dust
and left us to just us.
The U.S. was fighting against Spain over their colonial policies with Cuba,
And Asist. Secretary of the Navy, Theodore Roosevelt resigned his position just to join the volunteer cavalry. One of three regiment raised in 1898 for the Spanish-American War was the 1st U.S. Volunteer Cavalry fondly known as
The Rough Riders. Roosevelt recruited a diverse group of cowboys, miners, law enforcement officials and Native American Indians.
Roosevelt and Colonel Leonard Wood trained and supplied the men in San Antonio, Texas so well that The Rough Riders were allowed into action unlike many other volunteer companies and they sailed for Santiago de Cuba from Tampa on June 13,1898. There they joined The Fifth Corps, another highly trained, well supplied and enthusiastic group of excellent soldiers from the regular army.
The Rough Riders saw combat at Las Guassmas on the way to Santiago .
In his after action report JULY 4,1898 Roosevelt wrote that of the 490 men he led into battle at San Juan Hill 80 were killed and wounded and another half dozen were MIA.
in traffic there is an accidie and weariness
and flatness and humdrum of the road
but leonard cohen helps with that
and i think about the poor north koreans
without their fix of coca cola
and the mental health of the finnish with
their billabong of coffee and caffeine flowing
out their ears and the best brand of water in china
has the biggest market reach and woodpeckers don't
get headaches because according to a
professional content provider they just don't
and speaking of the chinese
they've found a hut on the moon
some distance away from their rover; who can tell
who might be living in that hut
i look up out the windscreen at the moon
and imagine myself living in that hut
or maybe leonard cohen is living there now
and england have lost the first ashes test
and outside the hut is a scoreboard showing
australia need twenty runs to win
the hut has become a pavilion and there's plenty of
tea drinking going on
no finnish there pal
and someone shouts howssszat! across the galaxy
as asteroid 4660 nereus misses earth
as i miss childhood
it travels on and on into the depths of the saddle
of the universe
Human Nature
Swift swans are swimming fast in quiet stream.
Little ripples awaken in still water
follow the flock side by side
Couple One watches swans putting beaks into mud- cream.
Jubilant pair started boat ride.
Swans quack, lovers chatter.
Couple enjoyed and sank in exciting enchanting dream.
Ripe apples are hanging from tree in winter season.
Flying bird pecked at the stalk with care.
Detached fruit fell right on the ground.
Scientist One Isaac Newton searched for the reason.
‘Apple neither flied, nor was bound
to go up, or could not stand still in air.'
Gravity was discovered to explain the easy scene.
Birds fly free in sky and glide to venture.
They are light and spread wings to flap wings at ease
being expert to propel on chosen direction.
Polymath One Leonard, engineer and painter
observed, analysed and the scientist’s attention
followed the technique of flight perfect and precise.
Great architect designed the first helicopter.
Night is flooded with soft light as Full moon was majestic.
Floating clouds are moving fast shadowing Moon off and on.
Stars are twinkling, glittering as if glued on sky.
Poet One is silent to watch beauty of night becoming lunatic.
The deep feelings, pain and pleasure, joy and cry
dreams and emotions, passion and perception
will be revealed through a verse rhythmic and romantic.
01/24/16
Human Nature 4 Stanza - 7 lines Contest
Sponsor Marugu Mo
Because you’re a poet, that’s why
Behind the thick crimson and gold thread curtains
he stands listening to the din of the audience
searching their seats for popcorn crumbs
while roaming hands brush against the legs
of those sitting closest
The young girls get the winks
and free drinks as the old men
vie for position, straightening their hair
and flashing thick wallets
from stretched out back pockets
He peeks through the slit in the
fancy brocade drapes to find a full house,
everyone is here, the self imposed mayor
wearing a handmade campaign button
shakes hands and seeks signatures
Mrs. Broadmore assigns seats in her row
as the little people gather around, telling her
how beautiful she is while hoping for a glimpse
of the diamond crusted gin filled flask she keeps
tucked away in her left garter
The lights dim as the depressed sulk to their seats in the balcony,
broken hearts fill the back rows closest to the bar,
cheerleaders in pink lipstick and short skirts, the football team
all stoned out of their minds and the debate club collect in the center
while the pretty people, the wealthy pose in the front rows
He gets the signal as the curtain slowly lifts
to the ceiling on well oiled pulleys
There is not a sound as he makes his way
to the microphone at center stage, dead silence
but he reads his poem anyway
It is obvious he is no Leonard Cohen
but he does his best as he recites the verses
he has penned especially for this evening
Upon finishing he stares out as two people
clap their approval and the others whisper and look away
His shoulders drop as he leaves the stage,
head hung low, crumbling the paper he had read from
and tossing it in the trash as he wonders aloud, “Why, why do I do it?”
A janitor sweeping near the exit door hears him
and shaking his head replies, “Because you’re a poet, that’s why”
I reposted this poem because……..I like this one. : )
I watched the magic as the puppets dance
Their fingers moved, I was in a trance
The puppets danced on little strings of wire
From lifeless forms upon the floor
To dancing puppets we adore
The magic as his fingers were on fire
As though on fire
On strings of wire
As though on fire
On strings of wire
The master puppeteer did see
He could make you dance with me
Each wire he pulled each heart he lulled, he had power
Marionettes as though made of wood
He made us all look so good
We danced to the tune he played over by the hour.....
We looked so good
Made of wood
We looked so good
Made of wood
What the puppeteer didn’t see
Was that we were real just like he
Dancing to his merry tune but real flesh and blood
He pulled his strings to tug at our parts
By pulling strings he tugged at our hearts
But still he made us dance so good
Not made from wood
But look so good
Not made from wood
But look so good
We don’t have wire and strings on our knees
But the master puppeteer we please
But if we don’t want to dance the dance he’s playing for us
If we don’t want to dance his way
He twist’s and pulls at our minds that day
We want to leave if and when we want and without the fuss
We don’t want to dance
We want the chance
We don’t want to dance
We want the chance.
We cut our strings we will not dance
The puppeteer takes his stance
But of his puppets he has lost control
We refuse to dance in his way
We have minds of our own we say
So the puppeteer can’t take our very soul
Can’t take our soul
With no control
Can’t take our soul
With no control
Maybe that’s why we have free will
To choose the way for good or ill
That way we can each keep the power
So when we’re given the chance to live
The chance to love the chance to give
Take it and that why life never turns soul
We have the power
Life’s not sour
We have the power
Life’s not sour
~GG~© 18/01/2013
Contest Entry for Franks Contest. Words To the Leonard Cohen Song Hallelujah
My inspiration came from my poem 'Watch the Puppets Dance' I hate to feel manipulated.
*To the tune of "Hallelujah" by Leonard Cohen
I've heard there is a secret floor
That's locked behind your attic door.
But you don't really want to show me, do you?
You keep her there,
A ghost, a fiend -
An angry beast that taunts unseen.
The crazy wife who wants to burn your house down.
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
My love was strong, so I needed proof
That she was jailed beneath your roof.
She showed up in the moonlight to betray you.
She lit the flames, she left you there
To choke on smoke and fight the flare.
The crazy wife who tried to burn your house down.
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
Edward, I've been hurt before.
I've been condemned, I've been ignored.
I used to feel alone before I knew you.
I've seen her face through the attic door.
I've heard her wails through the attic floor.
The crazy wife who tried to burn your house down.
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
There was a time when you let me know
The truth about your scheming show.
But now you wish you'd never told me, don't you?
And remember when she stalked my room
Searching for her cheating groom?
The crazy wife who tried to burn your house down.
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
You have Bertha in your attic
*Based (lovingly and jokingly) on the story of "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë