Long Loafer Poems
Long Loafer Poems. Below are the most popular long Loafer by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Loafer poems by poem length and keyword.
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!
big Yawn Productions presents
the daytime drama Living Therapeutically
as others live randomly or habitually
you'll need a supply of 3-D glasses
and I know just the guy
a trailer park Samuel Becket
cheeks rosy like Mr. Stalin
sitting atop the dustbin of history
a loafer researching activity
with plenty of typos under his airbrush
did we mention the amnesia
mind like a document shredder
but as the italicized print will indicate
Big Yawn will take you back to a time when
we used fact to be stupid with
we were trained and armed to the arm pits
for the great battle between
the grunting instincts of ownership
and the suicidal embrace of empaths
cadavers of man and animal everywhere
though the limbless victims of the empaths
were more carefully arranged in rows
we had to take sides to survive
galley slaves of the world unite
oh yeah you're already united
chained to your oars and all
well then don't let the trolley
to the asylum leave without you
the inmates are management again
I banged my cage door for an eternity
Tex Lester the cowboy yodeler
came to my rescue somewhat
Tex once played 8 ball with the Devil
had to let the Devil win of course
swear to God for what it's worth
municipal records will prove my case
they have been weaving the world together
for over a thousand murky generations
starting from the premise
that life is an unbridled miracle
yes logic is anti-coercive
or is it vice versa where are my bifocals
one tends to go in the direction he's looking
intention being a common denominator
of some influence
Samuel's DOA toe tag read
tried to die with a smile on his lips
left only a cartoon grimace
had it most of his life
so it was hard to tell
if he was actually dead
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
You came into our lives a spark.
A blur of chestnut red,
Igniting us with canine love,
And nestling by our bed.
Chasing swallows in the park
That teased you in their flight,
Relentlessly you chase them still.
In the fading springtime light.
Every time I make the tea,
Teaspoon clinking in the mug,
I feel your paw around my leg
captive of the setter hug.
I take you into work sometimes
But you’re not always compliant.
Nudging my elbow with your muzzle
Sniffing each and every client.
When, bleary eyed, I rise each day
A drum beat from the sofa
Peaks as I descend the stairs,
From our dishevelled, four legged, loafer.
With head bowed low, the “trophy trot”
Announced my kitchen blunder.
I’d left the butter on the bench
A prize you had to plunder !
On our summer twilight walks
You stand and raise your paw,
If dawdling rabbits dare to stray,
Gun dog rising to the fore..
Sometimes I have to leave you
Shut the door, put on the sneck.
I glimpse those brown eyes widen
Just like “Puss in Boots” from Shrek !
You have a penchant for my socks
They disappear most every day,
I’d love to wear a matching pair
But you have stashed them all away.
On lazy Sunday afternoons
Lying peacefully asleep,
The noise of next doors wheelie bin
Soon pulls you from the deep
Then with scamp and scatter
Scrambling to the patio door,
Take your position by the fence
Bark like you’ve never barked before !
I never would have walked the miles
Seen the seasons come and go,
On every walk, see natures wealth,
Red gold sunsets fading, glow…..
You are always at my side
I know life could not be better.
A bond so precious and secure,
I am blessed to own a setter.
Copyright © Mike Miller
the gulf circle is where
brown pelicans dive for their
dinner over the heads
of the hungry masculine
wood storks looking men
swarming in schools like shark
preying on beautiful elderly women
for they jewels life savings retirements
pensions property and real estate
anything he deems of value
wearing khakis by day tropical
shirts baring parrots coconuts
both hands in their sunken empty
pockets scouring dreams and life
savings of grandmothers and somebody's
aunts strolling along the antique shops
thrift shops following artists writers
thrive awaiting a time to dive his prey
shoulders raised and back knees knocked
feet flat turned outward over canvas
looking penny loafers he smells of cheap
hair tonic his eyes lock beneath dark
sunglasses while the woman approaches
big straw hat beach bag retired poet
brilliant writer removing her own book
she took years to write the pink flamingo
sings a warning for all ladies sunbathing
to watch out run for cover while his knees
pop and stretch backwards he opens
his long beak of a nose and grunts
he raises the longest arms unusually thin
smooth fingers as if he never lifted not one
of them to work ever he snatches the old
woman book spilling her pink grapefruit
juice grabbing her change purse retrieving
her coin collection finally the last coin falls
a very rare Abraham Lincoln penny he picks
it up the woman cries contadino contadino
he mumbles quickly removes one
of his tattered and warn penny loafer
places the rare coin inside his shoes
strolls along simply singing the blues
When I was a kid of maybe six
And I put on my favorite kicks
I had a problem a kid faces
I couldn’t tie my own shoelaces
And with four kids, Mom’s precious time
Could not all be spent on mine
She had to find another way
To keep me in my shoes each day
And tennis shoes were not allowed
In a Catholic school crowd
So shoes for school and Sunday best
Had to pass Mom’s laceless test
A penny loafer wouldn’t fit
I’d walk and slip right out of it
Elastic laces she couldn’t get
And Velcro’s not invented yet
She searched and found this shoe with tongue
That opened like a spring was sprung
And once you slipped your foot inside
Unsprung the tongue – you’re good as tied
And I didn’t have a handicap
When I took off my shoes to nap
I just had to flip that flap
Slip in my foot – close with a snap
I thought my gadget shoes “the bomb”
And I never had to bother mom
I wonder if they make these still
For little boys who lack the skill
Who every morning he still faces
Fumbling with his long shoe laces
Or could a guy like me get rich
Reinventing for this niche
And saving Mom’s their precious time
Like these shoes once did for mine
Mdailey 6/20/11
You probably have to be a man of at least 60 years old to remember these shoes.
They were black leather with a wide flat tongue that was hinged at the toe like the
hood of a 60? XKE ( my dream car as a teen). There was a spring of some sort at
that hinge so that when the tongue was lowered, the shoe was tight.
Villanelle : Those whom the Muses love die Martyrs' deaths at lone Stockade
Those whom the Muses love die martyrs' deaths at lone stockade
Not yearning for success excuses each seek to elude
Fame stops at no stranger's door the loafer to persuade
Yet legions make it to the top in their time and period
They pass their lives in adoration midst the multitude
Those whom the Muses love die martyrs' deaths at lone stockade
Yet rare the martyr who in his lifetime has it made
Most die in misery and bear their lives in rectitude
Fame stops at no stranger's door the loafer to persuade
Can Art be some pursuit that brings joy to any renegade
Rather the squeezed out sweat which makes much of Life's attitude
Those whom the Muses love die martyrs' deaths at lone stockade
At every turn of the spit their lives roast marinade
The ephemeral breed contrive to block them through feud
Fame stops at no stranger's door the loafer to persuade
Perennial works all prove to us Life's lasting brocade
Shines brighter down the ages as craftsmen toil in solitude
Those whom the Muses love die martyrs' deaths at lone stockade
Fame stops at no stranger's door the loafer to persuade
© T. Wignesan - Paris, November 26, 2018
I will start for love
And I will end for love.
You as a whopper
In love like a mother,
I didn't see why you
Let me captived in queue
Of infants of love.
You showed me love
So I ain't a dealer of dope,
So I know you will kiss me like a dove.
Set me free to know much about love
To teach some who are in hope
For having how to cope
In coping for stumbling in slope
Of love skillfully not like a drop
Of water that comes from top.
I'd been like a mopper
In love that is used in rooms
Not like a loafer
That is used for wearing by grooms
And Brides who got married.
I will be caring about it
And I'll also be thinking about it
But if you set me free towards it
I can survive without loosing it.
I will be happy if you tell me
Who told you to close me
Because I know you will not
Do it without somebody's plot.
You'll never close me
Because I know you love me.
Please baby set me free
If you hanker me to be like a tree
That never got even hurt,
But as far I am in this hut
That is filled with hot
I will only remain hurt.
He’s always So Behind
Hasten,
Mason
Heavenly Guy
Sky glow
Milo
A Great Guy
Maxwell
acts swell
Sure Not Dickie Nixon
Tricky
Micky
Spoiled Guy
Bratty
Mattie
Why We Follow
Moses
Shows us
Such a Cheerful Fellow
Jaunty
Monty
Hope he Doesn’t want Kids
Sterile
Merrill
The Stoic
Spartan
Martin
He Keeps Them in the Family
Newel’s
Jewels
The King’s Favorite
Jester
Nestor
He’s Just so Tall
Shorten
Norton
Almost got Left off the Ark
Noah’s
Boas
I Have . . .
Faith in
Nathan
The Shrewd One
Heady
Neddy
The guy in Charge
Foreman
Norman
Never Sits Still
Goin’
Owen
Stuck at Home
Snowed in
Odin
A Nobody
Zero
Nero
Put Him on a Diet
Fatty
Paddy
Give Him a Shave Please
Hairy
Parry
Never Finished Med School
Nursie
Percy
Kind of a Loafer
Restin’
Preson
Mr. Popular
Tweeter
Peter
His Magic
Patrick’s
Hat Tricks
Worm Man
Wriggly
Quiggly
Time to change myself once more
It's my mantra every Sunday
Be good with food and have less wine
This always starts on Monday
Commence with gentle exercise
And eat a smaller ration
By Tuesday this is going well
I'm full of strength and passion
It's Wednesday I am feeling weak
I want to drink some claret
I tell myself to carry on
So instead I eat a carrot
I put myself to bed that night
Hoping not to suffer
Tomorrow is another day
Of course I'll be much tougher
By Thursday I am back on track
I'm feeling rather dandy
I force myself to eat less snacks
And have a little brandy
By Friday it is getting tough
I'm feeling so much weaker
I pour a glass of cold crisp wine
And then fill another beaker
Come Saturday I am off the plan
I've gelled into my sofa
I fill my face with tasty treats
And turn in to a loafer
The sabbath day I carry on
I may as well keep eating
Hereafter I will start again
And do it without cheating
amble
waddle
search
she strains at her walker
prowling the home's halls
shoe on one foot
bare on the other
in an other worldly time
her soft footed tracks
are marred with circumstance
"where is my shoe?" she wails
a quagmire to be free of
wanting to emerge
sure footed from this hobbit hole
I find her soft black loafer
near her bed
slip it on to her bare foot
like a snap of Cinderella
her discomfort subsides
a "thank you" chipped from rounded shoulders
sometimes a stranger can right hapless motion
when full sight is no longer stitched to an independent will
sometimes things are not exactly in the right place
not fitted with precision
when we can't see what lies ahead
like the end of something hanging over us