Long Mame Poems
Long Mame Poems. Below are the most popular long Mame by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mame poems by poem length and keyword.
They called him Jumper
He preferred Prancer
When he was happy he would prance
Giant circles of joy
And the dizziness
Too many beers and staggers
For 365 days waiting times 4
He would dress himself outlandishly
Feathers and painting his face
He loved the Mamba and espresso
Dancing to the beat and the heat
But February 29th he could leap and pride
Gyrating crazily leaping from space to space
Time warp again
Disco fever
Never tiring
It only happens once every 4 years
Leap frog when he was a child
Monty Python taught him how to leap from tree to tree
He did the Lumberjack
His jeans had done the Hop on Bandstand
He had bell bottom genes
While in South America he did the Anaconda
Bunny Hop with children as he walked
Loved the song Fandango
While hunting his horse taught him the Foxtrot
Auntie Mame be proud
His favorite was Leaping
Once every 4 years
Just bored so I typed nonsense
Lately each morning I wake wanting to cry
Trying to figure it out
Don't know why
Pondering the cause, recounting yesterday
The day included cooking, cleaning
Nothing significant, everything okay
In the morning, at noon, at supper watched the news
Oh my gosh, no wonder I have the blues
Most of the stories are tragic and sad
Some information makes me mad
Stories of tragedies, bombs that mame
Searching for clues for who to blame
Political people covering their lies
Political parties refusing to compromise
Both sides claim to be right
Not giving an inch, so on goes the fight
Come on Congress, get your act together
No one side has all the answers to make things better
Together we are stronger, divided we fall
Come off your high horses
You look silly, not tall
God must look down at us and shake His head
Men are fools, wish they would look to Me instead
Gosh, I feel better, now that I have had my say
I am going to get down on my knees
Hope you will join me to pray
Many resigned people accept humdrum and boring as their usual
Sadly, it is not supposed to be this way, this was not the plan
However, society allows them to stew in their own gravies, with chunks of who cares.
Which is why musicals will always do well, especially the ones with the bright-eyed optimists.
Rose colored glasses make for terrific story lines and scripts.
Poems full of happiness, hope and enthusiasm will always attract a crowd.
For two hours we can parade outside of our same oh, same oh,
And become Dolly, Auntie Mame, and the Unsinkable Molly Brown.
If you want more, you have to give yourself opportunities for more.
Hone your talents, figure out what gives you pleasure, go after your soul dream.
The poets, artists, dancers, singers, quarterbacks, and wrestlers did not get there accidentally
They followed their heart, gave their soul what she needed and lived their truth.
This could be and should be you. Do whatever you have always wanted to do
Before you run out of time.
i sit and focus on my purpose//
provin to myself, and then the world, that im not worthless//
contemplate measures to take to make it hurt less//
the pain that courses through my viens//
every thought seems to go against the grain//
nothing i do that i used to feels quite the same//
but i sit and smoke and zone out to see the world simple and plain//
everything we do is a play in a game//
with consequences that are real and can potentially mame//
and mutulate your vision of whut is ur true fate//
a date with destiny that will eventually take place//
but until then the physical is stuck in the same place//
but the mental roams around freely at its own pace//
sometimes rapid, other times sluggish//
life has the potential to proceed the smoothest or the roughest//
its all what we make of it//
the way we roll with the punches//
and counter with hooks that cause us to be triumphant//
able to look through the dumb and evaluate quickly on wut to come with//
whether to duck left right or back//
then to determine the best route of attack//
and like that the obstacle that had us seemingly trapped//
has passed like a mic in a cypher at night//
filled with only kids who had hunger and drastic appetite//
to hold that device that aids our raps so nice//
see life is like a blunt u twist//
its all what u make of it...
HORUS AND ISIS
HORUS
Mame,let me off to the dam,
The thane of korus getting off the pride of
the rams.
Go to,heretofore,be stayed me no longer,
By heaven,I'm famished,I'm of revenge
hunger.
The lain are laned on the train,
To make of his folly,I'll make of art the main.
ISIS
'Son of the sun',the rain will fall.
Mend the net,prick the tatched tall.
Raise the pitch of the atmosphere,
Gird the abode,of us,make the rain fear.
We'll sleep by the day and lay bare,
If you stay not awhile,'My Horus dear'.
HORUS
The cloud being scold severally,
Swelling swelling,preparing to burst already.
Then the hay made for his way,
To make him of the tears stay.
'Weep not,ho weep not',admonished be.
But he'd wept uncontrollably before close be
the gate of her glottis.
How would she of such say,
When the host of his treachery would not
stay?
By heaven I would return before the morn
funeral,
Let me hence to pounce the general.
By this matter I crave!
By your heart,Mame,do behave.
ISIS
Get thee hence now to my order,
Thou make not,thou hop not yonder.
HORUS
Cursed be the apple of my eyes,
That beg of mildness my heart.
I will get all I will,
By force,choice or by Will.
Enough of my word with thee Mame,
My sword shall do the remaining saying.
At least you would,perchance you return,
Know that actions are ought to be strangle
not be punned.
Thy head will go off now,
When i return,Mame,i'll replace in it house.
(Head went off)
ISIS
Spell be spelled on earth,
The life go not,loan me the life of death.
The cow of Iris totter to me,
Sword of Lily,come unveil the mystery.
My head,had Horus,sent on a journey,
But god-ful mystery be my merry.
Come,oh,my head is gone off now,
Come replace it with the Brenham Cow's.
Thus did she with her head bargain with
the cow's.
But by magic,no one knows how.
18:02:12:11:53
The transport - imposing, loud, on time.
Rising smoke, intoxicating black cloud.
She steps past the tracks, onto the platform.
Ebonic eyes float up to her waiting kin.
She ascends the steel stairs, as hearts
Beat faster, and shyness slides behind
Mom and Dad. Dark braids, high cheeks,
Red lipstick - all envelops her mystique.
Melodic voice, a fashion designer. She
Arrives from the Big Apple - New York City.
She seems quite like Auntie Mame,
And Like That Girl, cute and single.
She’d collect Egypt, Africa and Europe;
Display them and marry a movie star’s son.
Like Brady Bunch Jan, she interests me.
The transport leaves its tracks behind.
Flawsymay Mindgone is here to play.
I look in the mirror and know I am in trouble today.
She roller skates in the house and puts mud on the floor.
She calls up the neighbors and runs nude out the door.
My husband was looking in the mirror over my shoulder.
Come on! He said. Why can’t you calm down? You are a year older.
Flawsymay Mindgone comes when she wants to boogie and dance.
I'll ry to get away before midnight, without a rumor askance.
The last time she came over my friends huffed off all irritated and mad.
Told Mame she looks like a porker in her dress, which was kind of bad.
I am calling in sick, for I dare not arrive anywhere close to my school.
The principal there does not put up with any kind of irritating fool.
Mame Blackwell, small light-skinned woman with harsh gray eyes.
That told a grave story of her encounters with death and hardship.
The edge of her mien was sharpened by the blade of the wicked and taken grip.
And her spirit for life was drained years ago, and her tears have long since dried up.
She had a stern manner of makeup.
She was a non-conformist with modern styles of flimsy dresses.
She wore a white scarf around her head to hide her thin gray tresses.
Her skirts were faded and worn, and drag the Carolina soil with her.
And the thin blades of grasses likewise concur.
For many years she wrapped her strong twig-like fingers around small bodies of all hues and gender and pulled them into this rigorous existence.
With tenacity and persistence.
Many rugged seasons ago, she squatted in the center of her one room shack and pushed to the floor her one and only child.
To her, at that moment in time life seemed reconciled.
She was young in years but knew not how many.
The ones that possessed her; thought little of the importance of telling her., and this insensitive act was the object of her acrimony.
copyright 2016 Looking At The Light From The Bottom of The Lake
.
it's like this
yuh nevuh cut in
twixt uh man and woman
you know not 'bout
yuh evuh hear'd
"oh he'z just uh big ol'
teddy bear"
yeah
no
they were talk'n 'bout
my neighbor
i'm thuh one they gottuh
shackle
when mine think
'comez twixted
v
v
v
*Thuh poetess and I go back uhlong way Dude...if she becomez offended
and asks you to champion her; we can step, only 'cauze ewe dude insult'd me
in public here on this awesome forum...you may have destroyed uh perfectly
awesome mistletoe kiss twixt two friendz uv almost 20yearz... hm sad
anywho, I learn'd how to drop think from intruderz...it ain't gonna mame or kill
me, but your intentional insult hurt my ego Dude... whut; you ain't got one...
Dude, I happen to like being sweet tuh thuh feminine...let's not have this meet
again...and if'n yuh ain't got an apology for me...sit inthuh back row with Tom....
he'z been back there......way back there for uhbunchuh yearz....lol...much love ")
She was Auntie Mame, Cher, Bette, and Liza with a Z to those amongst us.
Children clamored for her attention, twirling and whirling in her presence.
She was happy, joy, enthusiasm, personified, if you got to know her, you were delighted.
She was the most upbeat, positive person I had ever met, and I had no idea how damned depressed she was.
No one knew that she felt hated by her own mother, who resented everything she said, did or wore.
No one knew how sad she felt every second of her childhood, convinced she was too fat to love.
No one knew how much rage she was holding bottled inside, hidden away deep in the recesses of her heart,
Enraged that other children’s mothers hugged and kissed them, and said, “I love you.”
At school she was the epitome of happiness. Everyone knew when Mrs. T. came into a room, the party began.
I loved her in kindergarten, and kept loving her throughout my entire childhood and adult life.
She was music, she was marching, she was sunshine, she was joy, she was always volunteer of the year,
And she did not believe in volunteering.
which I always thought was curious.
She was the grand marshall of the parades, the head of every committee that helped children.
One time when she wanted a particular teaching job, she called every member of the school board, and told them to give it to her,
And they did,
Because they all loved her
Because she had been their favorite teacher,
Because she was puppy spice, and cinnamon kitten, and bunny love.
So they gave it to her,
But she did not take it
Because she could not believe in herself,
Because no one had ever believed in her,
Until they did,
But by then,
She did not see it.
She was a child herself, having never having a real childhood.
And no one knew.