Long Lucy Poems
Long Lucy Poems. Below are the most popular long Lucy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lucy poems by poem length and keyword.
He calls me names, the teacher said.
Her arms were crossed; her mouth was tight,
She was mean-face-angry. Furious maybe.
What names? The boss asked her.
Does it matter? I wondered but later I was glad she had.
The teacher yelled out three names
“leave me alone Lucy”, “sound it out Sarah”, and
“Fix it yourself, Yolanda.”
These three names fit her personality better than a snakeskin.
I looked at the brilliant eight-year-old who had one-upped our own nickname for her.
and bit my lips as hard as I could, so my personality did not escape.
The boss’s eyes met mine; I knew we were on the same amused wavelength,
headed toward Uh-oh-land.
Good friends we both looked away but not before
Sound it Out Sarah figured it out.
She saw the look and knew
“Let’s go,” Fix it Yourself Yolanda said to the eight-year-old felon,
A psychoanalyst in the making,
maybe already there without a degree.
He and “Leave me Alone Lucy” had traveled
several meters down the hall
before the boss and I clutched each other,
sobbing with happy laughter.
“Oh, we are going to get it now!” I thought.
Our own nickname for her was “Retaliation Rebecca”.
I am a man who breathes
A man who believes
In the whispering of trees
And in the buzzing of bees
Sailing across these oceans seas
The wind in the words to receive
As I listen to the breeze
This is what I perceive
The light itself
It exist within its self
Sitting upon a book shelf
These words sting to health
The cry for land and its wealth
Look what you’ve done to yourself
Look what we’ve done to our self
Living, I explain myself
Even though it may sound quite looney
As I look up at the full moony
The hooting of an owl does do sound groovy
Staring at this ruby
A magnificent treasure not just a bootie
Yea, she has such a nice round smoothie
Dare I even to say, that indeed it is magnificently beautiful cutie
Darling be my Lucy
Angela, Andy, Amber, angels, ambience, attitudes, altitude, all-purpose flour.
Beds, breakfast, brightness, brevity, butter pecan ice cream, bald eagles.
Cali, Carolyn, Chelsea, creativity, compassion, craftiness, cleverness.
Dick, Daisy, Dwight, Deborah, dare devils, delightful deeds, designs.
Emily, Elise, enthusiasm, excitement, eggs, empathy, eagerness.
Faith, fortitude, friends, family, faeries frolicking, frying.
God, generosity of others, gladness, geese, gulps, gargoyles.
Helen, helpful heartfelt friends, hands, hearts, hearing, Heaven.
Ingenuity, imagination, idealism, individuals, illustrations, imps.
Joe, Josh, Jack, Josie, Johnny, Jerome, joyfulness, juice, jubilation.
Kindnesses, kin, kinesthetic learners, kings, ketchup, keys, karats.
Lucille, Lucy, Lou, Linda, Listening, light, likeability, love, limberness.
Molly, Max, Marianne, merrymaking, music, messes, minxes, mini-coopers.
Nests, near misses, nuts, nerds, needles, Never-never-land, nuthatch.
Ostentatiousness, Om, orange, oil, oatmeal, orange juice, organdy,
Purple, pink, plaids, paisleys, prettiness, plumes, peacocks, porcupines.
Quiet, quickening, quail, queens, qualms, quizzes, quotes,
Rita, Ruby, responsibility, respect, regards, religion, remembrances
Susie, Susan, Sophie, seriousness, sensuality, sex, sizzling steaks
Tracy, Tony, TV, Tennessee, twins, troops, twisters,
United States, understanding, umbrellas, udders,
Venus, variety, variegated yarn, vim, vigor
Weddings, wind, watermelon, wheels, wonderfulness,
X x’citement, ‘xtra niceness, ‘xaggeration for poetry
Youthful attitude, young people, yellow yaks
Zany friends, zealots, zeal, zest, zippers, zebras
Written 7-16-2020
Contest: Abcedarian
Sponsor: Beata Agustin
Before there were rainbows, I roamed ambidextrously,
I streeled out into predawn air, senseless between Moon and Mars,
Reeling under Calvinistic cinder blocks, I hid from my shadows.
Before there were rainbows, I thought my heart was wooden,
In those days, they had shiny suits of armor awaiting me.
I tried filling them with my syrupy fluid, but it always leaked out.
Before there were rainbows, everyone was Fred or Ginger,
Ozzy or Harriet, Lucy or Ricky, Sonny or Cher, ones, or zeros,
Machine language with a chokehold on the imaginable.
Before there were rainbows, the age of innocence in yearbooks,
In high school pictographs, we were anatomical imitations of expectation,
Like Rockwell paintings, we were predictable, amusing, and safe.
Before there were rainbows, I dare not believe in my spectrum,
No fella sang “I Feel Pretty!” No boy “…could have danced all night!”
It was all covert, something dirty in a bathroom stall
Before there were rainbows.
My muscular lightning belied my vulnerable rain-soaked downpours
Before there were rainbows.
My secret Preludes to the Afternoon of a Fawn went undetected
Before there were rainbows.
I’m a senior now admiring all the hard-won freedom,
All the fluid beauty of the young, recalling the canned laughter
with what we tried to be before there were rainbows.
Published: July 10th, 2022 - Dissident Voice
~Lucia~
She is looking at me wide lovely eyes
Am asking for a favor as i recall
Our sweet sour innocent relationship
That has endured the last few years
I still recall that fateful night we met
She was going home after a days work
Twas late in the night and by chance
We met as i was keeping vigil
I escorted her home there started
Our sweet sour relationship
I told her a lie on our fist meeting
She was elated to help me on the second
She became too attached subsequently
Lovely Lucia didn't like to be dependent
She started pulling away me allowing it
She is looking at me with those lovely eyes
I do still feel them emotions after so long
Am gonna miss her in the next few months
For i so love our bitter sour relationship
Which has survived the test of time
(a dedication to Lucia)
We married not beneath a sky,
But in the belly of the Earth —
The Mponeng mine, where shadows cry,
And gold remembers sorrow’s birth.
No roses bloomed, no organs played,
Just echoes where the diamonds wept,
And in that hollow heart, we laid
A vow so sacred, silence kept.
Her name was Lucy — fierce and kind,
A flame that lit my wounded mind.
Our souls were forged in ancient crust,
Bound not by flesh, but molten trust.
We left the depths for sacred ground —
Easter Island, where time unwinds.
The moon was blue, the stars profound,
The wind composed what fate designs.
At 4:44 — the veil grew thin,
The Moai stirred with stone-cold skin.
She faced the moon — her golden face
Reflected light no sun could trace.
We kissed beneath those ancient eyes,
And suddenly, the stone replied:
“We are not just what time forgot —
We are the truth your love has sought.
We do not stand in rows by chance,
We are the echo of romance.
One cannot heal by waiting still —
But by the giving of the will.
Complete each other not by need,
But by the soul’s eternal deed.
Two hearts must give, not seek to steal —
That is the secret to all that's real.”
And as they danced — the Moai stone —
We felt a grace we'd never known.
A dream? Perhaps. Yet pain had fled,
We woke in silk and royal bed.
The Royal Atlantis, floating high —
Where sorrow kissed the desert sky.
The dream dissolved, but not the vow —
We still can feel their wisdom now.
So let the world forget our names,
Let memory burn in earthly flames —
But in the dark, and in the blue,
A deeper love was born — and true.
I am black and I have the ability to glorify the King
I am great and in believing in him, I have authority over all things
I am the Father and Mother of past, present and future
Peacemakers, Educators, Scientists, Musicians, Scholars, Kings and Queens
I am John Love the sharpener inventor
I am Mae C. Jemison the astronaut
I am Martin Luther King the peacemaker
I am Toni Morrison a contemporary novelist.
I am Muhammad Ali the boxer
I am Wilma Rudolph the Olympic track and field champion
I am Tiger woods the golfer
I am Lucy Laney the educator.
I am Jack Johnson the heavyweight
I am Rosa Parks the segregation leader
I am Jesse Wilkins the physicist and mathematician
I am Serena Williams a tennis player.
I am Isaac Murphy the great through-bred jockey
I am Bessie Coleman the first licensed African American pilot
I am Chester Burnett the blues singer
I am Eleanor Holmes a politician and civil rights activist.
I am Thomas Dorsey the father of gospel music
I am Chadwick Boseman the famous Black Panther actor
I am Barack Obama the forty-four first
Black Afro-American president, we are the future.
We are the hope for the lost and forgotten generation.
THE DAY LITTLE LUCY DISAPPEARED
A serial killer is killing and still not caught,
And the victims he's believed to have killed,
Weren't found, till the day Little Lucy been sought,
As our story unfolds, "KILLER FOUND" as billed,
Little Lucy was playing out in front of the house,
Dad in the garage was fixing the car,
Mom in the kitchen peeked and saw her yellow blouse,
Suddenly a car pulled up in front, was rather bizarre,
Then little Lucy's curdling shrieks of mercy and pleas,
Of parents cries "STOP!" to a car that spun out,
That raced down the road and opportunity ceases,
The family car couldn't start, time lost all doubt,
911 was all over the house and highways searching,
A dedicated force whose vulnerability is now showed,
Time runs out as a serial killer is out there killing,
While a yellow ribbon is pocketed, deed, he felt goaded,
When a bit of luck, the obtuse murderer was found,
A yellow ribbon was given to parents in their house,
The killer, a case of psychiatric help for been unsound,
Parents cry, "Where's our Lucy, this goes with her blouse!"
Date: 09/01/2019
A renowned red head,
Although the color is questionable.
She seems to always have antics…
To pull off on the silver screen.
Her hair isn’t the only thing…
That leaves a lasting impression.
She has those exquisite eyes…
And that stunning figure.
When I think of her and her exploits…
I’m reminded of my most notable experiences,
Especially those moments of chaos…
When I realize I’ve been so hysterically funny.
She is the one and only,
The great comedian of her age.
And I will say it one more time…
I love Lucy – she is truly great!
8/29/19
MY UPCOMING BIRTHDAY (09-03) CELEBRITY Contest
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Through the eyes of one born in 1952:
1950’s TV craze
Muscle cars, blue jeans
Poodle skirts, class ring exchanges
Simple time, grandparents involved.
Girls want to be pretty, men call women girls
I Love Lucy
Topper, Loretta Young,
Show of Shows
Grandma’s house on Sundays. Grandpa’s teach skills.
Girls want to be beautiful, men call women “dames”
1960’s Marauding cold war
Russia cosmonauts
Space race
Grandparents are moved to nursing homes.
Girls want to be Jackie, men call women “wife”
JFK and Bobby
Dr. Martin Luther King
Killed by cowards
Grandparents give advice, but visits are more seldom.
Girls want to be housewives, men call women back home.
Early 1970’s, hippie revolution
Egyptian cat queen make-up, free love, anti-war.
Barbara Streisand, Sonny and Cher, Bette Midler,
Grandparents see an alarming pattern of disrespect.
Girls want to be singers and dancers, men get confused.
1980’s
Fur vests, striped pants
Disco Music, John Travolta, Sundays are just another day.
Grandparents have rights, and try to get part time custody of their grandchildren.
Women want to have rights, be independent. Men call them “busters”
1990’s, Turn of everything, selfishness on the rise.
Assassination of Innocence, church and family are scoffed.
Grandparents back off, not daring to give advice, seeing it is not wanted.
Women are working all over the place. Men are not the only bread-winners.
2000’s Computers are in houses
Children are alone, latch key
911 happens, people pray for a day or two.
Grandparents are nowhere around.
Men and women get depressed; children are too.
2010’s
I-phone. I-pad, I-know. I, me, I, I, I.
Lawsuits, lawlessness, spiritually bereft.
Communication breakdown; facetime grandparents once in a pink moon (rarely).
People sit next to each other and text. Confusion reigns supreme.
Breaking down of family is complete. Sorrowful, angry people, disjointed, sad.