Long Light hearted Poems
Long Light hearted Poems. Below are the most popular long Light hearted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Light hearted poems by poem length and keyword.
would what that be junior? senior? sophomore?
since this brother in law rarely emails,
ye may scrunch countenance puzzled,
or on verge of emitting flatulence,
that if a ripper got let loose (by Jack),
would possibly find ja propelled,
thru Edgar Allan Poe's churchly
sepulchral tintinnabulation
(where for greater effect
yukon envision imagistic ravenous bats
in belfry resonating air,
or perhaps blasted back
to the House of the rising sun),
BUT...gnome hatter,
no win tent may starkly appear
explaining inexplicable reasonable rhyme,
why aye dash communique
minus virtual trumpeting blare
(sorry, but in the interest
of belated birthday cheer,
without computer generated imagery)
rendered hoop fully readable,
sans black and white Scottish matted pixels
constituting beloved appellation
unsure how to address ye perfectly clear
while sitting atop padded office chair,
pondering as already writ,
how to acknowledge thee, whither with dear...
meanwhile, this scribe experiences
comfortably numb derriere,
now scrambling, resorting, and toying
to fetch acceptable, catchy light hearted endear
mint, that seems tolerably acceptable
(of course) with flair
acutely perceptive, though NOT overboard with glare
ring obeisance, NOR USE ALL CAPS
TO SCREAM so ye kin hear
soap hull ease excuse this incurable
Harris scribe with thinning heir
yes...oye gevalt, infantile regression finds me
burrowed in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania lair
still emotionally inchoate, though grown a mere
speck within the flotsam and jetsam near
to boyhood Collegeville abode NOT saved by a prayer
re: home companion bachelor Norwegian farmer
replaced instead by vinyl city
all in the name of progress
which (once a pawn a time)
open farmland did dis app pear
so...a gam bulling gambit
to avoid moseying down Level Road...
may NOT seem *****
for insufferable sadness
with eyes bursting with many a tear...
(gulp) tis best to veer
away from topic uh viz er rated razed homestead,
and mainly wish ye another birth year!
adieu...from math tha hue
She!
Intimated by guilt broken by perplexity
Waiting for the love her life but until then,
committed to memories of forlorn moments
Threading on the joy rides of halcyon days.
Her!
Heart of a woman in the depths solitude
Plunged and played by people she called friends
Lonely soul tormented even by happy melodies
In her emptiness void her soul forever shivers.
He!
Four and half years in self enclosed walls
Loosing very essence of youthful love in a rage
Finally tumbled down the walls of solitude blind
Enclosed soul spirited away into the blues
Man!
Living in the love of the common people
Somewhere in the back streets of the slums
Upholding the dream of becoming a hero
With nothing more than hope and love from above.
Woman!
Years upon years of sitting at lecture rooms
Graduated with a class but no pass for a job
You know the norm of the day
If it’s not in she won’t be on board
Keep calm hold onto your faith
God is at work .
You!
Balancing ambition with conscience
On the road less traveled.
A tapestry of soul breaking fortuity
That eyes the very core of your maturity.
The start ups ,the gigs and realities you quest,
Gradually you will get there .
I
In my simple form in rolling waves
Light hearted or heavy ladened
With poetry or with spoken words
Even in my nothingness and in my woes
I will forever defy the cryptic void of silence.
She will smile .
Her heart will find home .
Man will find love .
She will be a wife ,A woman of dignity.
His dreams will come true.
Hold on to you faith and let’s go and get it,
Everything we’ve been dreaming.
God have our backs
We!
We are a work In progress
There will be fails but we will never regress
Steady and gradually we will evolve
In love and in laughter all the pain will dissolve
In due time when we are done,
They will thread here to see
From far and near they will travel over the seas
The atheist will sing hallelujah
The doubters will lurk in their disbelief
Our tales will be history
Our memories will be legacies
For we are a work in progress; Winners
within.
Humor, humor where did you go, I have missed your show. So light hearted are you, you make me happy and never blue. Your laughs have me crying, my sides are now dying. I need you my friend humor, not later but sooner.
Date Written: 11/23/2020
Note: A daily dose of humor is the best medicine.
5 Place Make Me Laugh with Some Humor - Any Form - New Poems
Contest Judged:12/19/2020 Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
I see your face and my heart begins to race.
The sight of your pure gold smile races around my head,
Like flittery, fluttery butterflies.
Butterflies that race down my throat and linger in my stomach,
As I see you walking my way.
You begin to talk and smile that cheeky smile you use so often,
A nervous smile plays across my lips.
My heart is rocketing against my ribs as you take my hand in yours,
Still speaking in that light-hearted, heaven sweetened voice.
I listen and take careful note of your every word desperate not to miss a thing,
At the same time I will my heart to calm and silence.
“how can he not hear you?” I ask my heart.
You stop talking and stare at,
Me?
My face?
My eyes?
No, you are staring deeper than that,
You are staring at my very soul.
A chill of torture ripples down my spine,
“Kiss me! Kiss me!”
In my mind I am mentally screaming and pleading for your lips.
You cup my face in your hands,
The butterflies chase each other in all and any direction in my stomach.
One of your hands ever so slowly and lightly strokes me cheek,
A playful but loving smile runs across your mouth, your eyes soften,
And I feel u relax as my hands snake around your neck.
Suddenly the butterflies roar and soar into my heart,
As your hands fall slowly from my face, to my neck, then to my shoulders, down my body
following my figure to my waist.
You move your face slowly towards mine, closing your eyes,
I follow your lead and close my eyes just as you press your lips against mine,
The butterflies are going crazy in my heart, suddenly darting this way then that!
You gently but forcefully pull me closer to you and open your lips taking mine with yours,
The butterflies rush, crash and speed out of my heart,
Making my quietly and slowly gasp.
On day I will become used to you and you angelic presence.
I lose myself in you, and am happy when lost there,
So I shall not look for directions, exits and other ways out.
I shall simply sit and hum the melody of love to myself,
And enjoy and cherish the moment,
Every time you walk my way.
Form:
Nuit magique (Awesome Night)
Catherine Lara
(A lilting catchy French tune with a " barbed " message addressed to oneself or to any damsel in distress. Free translation by T. Wignesan)
Okay
Il n'y avait rien à faire (One felt free with nothing to do)
Okay
Dans cette ville étrangère (In that foreign outpost)
Okay
Tu étais solitaire (You were all alone)
Okay
J'avais l'cœur à l'envers (I was feeling quite out-of-sorts)
Okay
Tout ça n'était qu'un jeu (I felt there was nothing to lose)
Okay
On jouait avec le feu (Though one sensed danger approach)
Okay
On s'est pris au sérieux (Yet one couldn't help being in earnest)
Okay
Le rire au fond des yeux (Deep down though one kept feeling light-hearted)
Nuit magique (Imagine)
Une histoire d'humour qui tourne à l'amour (An humourous episode that gave way to romance)
Quand vient le jour (When light thrust open the night)
Nuit magique (Imagine)
On perd la mémoire au fond d'un regard (One's thoughts grow blank in the depths of an absorbing glance)
Histoire d'un soir (As the evening drifts by and takes its toll)
Nuit magique (Imagine)
Si loin de tout sans garde-fou (Way away from home with your defences down)
Autour de nous (To keep us from harm)
Nuit magique (Imagine)
Nuit de hasard on se sépare (On an hazardous night one takes off)
Sans trop y croire (Not quite convinced)
Okay
C'est une histoire de peau (It's a question of skin colour)
Okay
On repart à zéro (One tries to start all over again)
Okay
On oublie aussitôt (Yet one forgets it happened just as quickly)
Okay
Qu'on s'est tourné le dos (Turning one's back on it all)
Nuit… (the Night…)
(The song continues with these lines repeated thrice :
Une histoire d'humour qui tourne à l'amour (An humourous episode that gave way to to romance)
Quand vient le jour (When light thrust open the night)
Nuit magique (Imagine)
On perd la mémoire au fond d'un regard (One's thoughts grow blank in the depths of an absorbing glance)
Histoire d'un soir (As the evening drifts by taking its toll)
© T. Wignesan - Paris, December 28, 2018
>Although I love writing, I would also like my books to sell. Then I can grant my wife her wishes and buy her a house by the sea. And if there is enough in the kitty one for me. I never miss a chance of free publicity. Last year our local BBC Radio Station, had an open day. I was raising funds in a small way for their charity of the year Suffolk Family Carers, So I was given a ticket by the nice lady on reception. Lots of local celebrities were there and me. Tractor Boy is football spokesman.
Have you met tractor boy?
I have and him perhaps did annoy.
I criticised them men in blue.
Well it's something, controversial to do.
Was because I'm a writer see.
Wanted some free publicity.
But when him I did meet.
He was sitting, not on his feet..
Was on a certain radio station open day.
The name I'm not allowed to say.
As when on their Facebook page did write.
They struck me off, they did one night.
Was only in a light-hearted way.
I mentioned my Smarty dog's I say.
Alright they spoke, both night and day.
Usually agreeing with what I did say.
But now my laptop's sick and away.
At the menders now I say.
So I don't worry night or day.
About that page, where I have no say.
I can get on with my Smarty book.
But at my files, when I did look.
I see I finished his latest book.
Oh this poem was about Tractor Boy.
I used his name, just as a ploy.
Just so you would read, about Smarty.
And his author, blinking me.
I'll try a short poem.
Having a tiring day.
Come on hands, knees and toes.
As upstairs I climb with those.
When day ends and I retire.
Where can I find new ones to hire?
As when that final step I take.
Make my weary way to bed.
I wish it was a stairless house.
A bungalow and not a house.
I know I used the house word twice.
Both the same reason, not poetically nice.
But if a bungalow I had got.
My hands, knees and toes, knackered, would be not.
I know that last line, sounded not right.
But was how I felt, is that alright?
But as I climb those stairs each night.
A bungalow, would serve me right.<
Form:
I’m calling the Suicide Hotline,
This sad Cowboy poetry is getting me down,
I’m looking for a happy thought,
But one just can’t be found.
I’ve got a case of Cowboy Melancholy,
Depression of the deepest kind,
A malady that causes Cowboy Poets,
To think only in disparaging rhyme.
Perhaps you’ve not heard of it,
It’s a little talked about affliction,
That sneaks up rather slowly,
And attacks a Cowboy’s diction.
It starts with Cowboys talking,
About having to shoot their horse,
Or the death of the very last Longhorn,
And Cowboy life having run it’s course.
They tell about being stomped by a bronc,
About how women will break your heart,
Don’t say there won’t be no more Cowboys,
Please, just leave out that part.
Death, dismemberment, getting gored,
It makes me sorrowful and morose,
I tell you these gloomy Cowboy poems,
Boarder upon the verbose.
Is there nothing to say that’s amusing?
Or perhaps a bit light-hearted?
Is Cowboy life, nothing but strife,
And all about the dearly departed?
Does any one remember,
When Cowboy poetry was fun?
I tell you we got us a Crisis !
Quick ! Someone call COW-1-1 !!!
We need some recitation resuscitation,
If Cowboy poetry we are to save,
Go easy on that couplet verse,
About Cowboys in unmarked graves.
Hook those paddles to our pencils,
And everyone stand clear,
Shock the daylights out of us,
Till we write Cowboy poetry delightful to hear.
I vote we form a support group,
With a name somewhat synonymous,
A two-step Western program of sorts,
And call it Cowboy Poets Anonymous.
I suppose I could surrender to the urge,
Recite just one poem of despondent refrain,
But I took the oath, and from this day on,
From this Cowboy Curse I’ll try to abstain.
" Hi, my name is ________, (fill in the blank!)
and I’m a Cowboy Poet... "
Copyright © 1999 Debra Coppinger Hill
SALAD SALUTE
Listen up everyone, and I mean you peas at the back:
Think you can hide in the mayonnaise?
Some of you peppers feel you are pretty hot stuff, I know;
And our cucumber friends are just way too cool dudes;
And some guys feel they are just beginners - you green onions,
All shifting places to avoid being next to the garlic.
But remember this - we stick together in this mayo,
And we’re like the Rangers - we go in first, and no one is left behind;
Not like the soup or main course,
Oozing into those warmed and ready bellies.
We hit the plates cold -
Even before the metal meets the meat.
The first forks of these people are aimed directly at us -
And they’re hungry, so expect no quarter.
Look around you : in this mixed salad
We got French beans, and jumping beans from Mexico;
We got green peas, black peas, brown rice, and white swedes -
All Americans.
Now here in the US some of you guys may have
Experienced discrimination due to color, taste, smell, or size.
But for you and me now, all that is gone.
We are moving into the shadow of the salad bowl
Where you will watch the back
Of the veg next to you, as he will watch yours:
And you won’t care what color his skin is
Or by what name he calls eggplants/aubergines.
We’re facing a tough, determined, and hungry foe -
Lets stick together.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
NOTE
Imagine a salad being addressed by its leading carrot just before the main serving occurs in a restaurant.
This light-hearted poem is obviously based on the words of a great speech by
Colonel Hal Moore, which can be heard in the movie WE WERE SOLDIERS,
and Mel Gibson does an excellent job of rendering the speech on youtube at
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A7OPPWlKV2A I recommend you to watch this inspiring two-minute speech.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written by Sydney Peck
I was attracted by your beauty, but I fell in love with your aura
On a lust-filled journey, I stumbled over some thing that means a lot more; you
Your youth and apparent innocence, drew me to you, but when I got closer
As I got to know you, I realised that under a glossy, youthful veneer
Lay a mature, grounded soul which would leave an imprint on this world
In my eyes, you were to be my porcelain doll, that I would forever protect
I soon found out that, your looks were nothing but a distraction
Your substance would protect you and your intelligence would break down barriers
Indeed, many doors would be opened to you in this life
You did not need me to protect you and, sadly, you did not need me at all
I gave you my love, you initially gave back in equal measure, then you rebuffed me
But you left me with poetry
I gave you my time and you did the same and then, when you left me
Time stood still and so did everything else in my life
But with my words, I eventually found my flow
You left without a trace, but there are traces of you in every word I write
You may be hidden from my sight but the words that you unwittingly left me
Allow me to see you clearly, they allow me to pause and zoom in on you
I enjoyed every moment that I spent with you and, if I have any regrets
My regrets are few, coz you left me with the gift of poetry
My regrets are few, coz the moments of joy and the sweet memories
Far outweigh any pain I may have felt
My regrets are few, coz moments spent with you were cathartic
They were light-hearted. Besides, you left me with poetry
Our episode exemplifies life itself. We embark on a journey full of hope
In the beginning we haven't a clue how it will end, but we remain hopeful
Now that our earthly adventure has ended, I cease to be hopeful of a reunion
However, I look forward to communing with you in another life
Once our earthly journeys are over
Your soul mate
© Terence Msuku
From my mother, I've learned to savor the present,
To be relaxed and at ease,
To be kind and considerate to all those I meet,
And to keep on multiplying, growing, and achieving.
From my father, I've learned to dance with abandon,
To let go and have fun,
To let my joy show through in every step and move,
And to keep on moving forward, no matter what.
From my stepfather, I've learned the value of silence,
To hold my tongue and listen more,
To think before I speak, and choose my words carefully,
And to let my actions speak louder than my words.
From my grandmothers, I've learned the importance of hygiene,
To keep myself clean and fresh,
To take care of my body and mind,
And to attract love and good fortune through self-care.
From my sisters, I've learned to laugh with abandon,
To find the humor in every situation,
To be playful and light-hearted,
And to stand up for those who need a voice.
From my brothers, I've learned to find the humor in the past,
To laugh at the mistakes and lessons learned,
To not take life too seriously,
And to move on from pain with a smile on my face.
From my wife, I've learned to live in the moment,
To be easy-going and stress-free,
To be kind and compassionate to all,
And to give thanks for every blessing in my life.
From my ex-girlfriends, I've learned to trust my instincts,
To listen to my inner voice and pay attention to my dreams,
To be aware of any red flags or warning signs,
And to follow my heart and intuition.
From my friends, I've learned to be supportive and encouraging,
To uplift and celebrate the women in my life,
To be genuine and sincere in my compliments,
And to appreciate the beauty and strength of others.
From my children, I've learned the power of forgiveness,
To let go of grudges and move on,
To focus on love and understanding,
And to prioritize relationships and connection above all else.