Long Martins Poems
Long Martins Poems. Below are the most popular long Martins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Martins poems by poem length and keyword.
Johnny MacAlister was six-years-old, young enough still for wishes,
Baby sister, Rosie, was all of three, all giggling and adorable kisses.
With fond, indulgent parents, the family was content in their home,
In a town, sleepy in sunlit day, where a scarlet cock used his comb.
Johnny played with Rosie every day. He loved to get her laughing;
As if a gaudy parade of jesters and clowns, chanced to be passing!
Forget-me-not days brought fast friends, in fruitful times of flowers,
Fuchsia and filled with fragrance, highlighting fun, burgundy hours.
Fair days bloomed where fall had faded, and fortune brought family;
Like festive fireworks of celebration, illuming sunset skies, uncannily.
Johnny lived in the house of joy, and tiny feet, ever pitter pattering;
And of playing, mauve dawn to dusk, like bluebirds, ever chattering.
Sapphire, dusk skies twinkled smartly, beyond their street of scents;
When scanty, pink sun fled, scorching, while night waited in suspense.
With naive, newborn day, came neighbors, for hot coffee and nougat,
In green, noisy days of nearby birdsong, and violet butterfly contact.
'Fairy magnolias' created such magic, and 'hummingbird' blooms knew;'
And hibiscus 'imperial dragon' roared, as eyelash plants, lovelier grew.
Cape primrose 'wow,' awed, while syngonium ‘milk confetti,’ glittered;
And begonia 'ring of fire,' was smoking, while purple martins tittered.
Johnny's birthday wish had come true, he saw when he unwrapped it;
And found a pair of blue, roller skates, like a rainbow, shining for a bit.
But, before he could finish eating, the dreaded rain had begun to pour;
And his childish impatience grew as, instead of less, it showered more!
Yet, Johnny made another wish, magically granted, as skies brightened;
When the rain slowed, midst sunshine, its silvery-gold drops, so vibrant!
Johnny had such fun that day, for all the days of childhood, allow magic;
And never forgot the day silver fell like coins, like an old, golden classic.
'Rain, rain go away,
Come again another day.
Rain, rain go away,
Little Johnny wants to play.'
We had Debbie Gibson,
And Motley Crew.
We had Jon Bon Jovi,
and Scooby-Do.
We had Axl Rose,
And MTV.
We had school
house rock,
And MR. T.
We had Alf,
And Pac-Man.
We had Doc Martins,
and Duran, Duran.
We had Boy George,
And Bill and Ted.
We have Ferris Bueller,
home sick in bed.
We had Where's the Beef,
and Robo-cop.
We had Thunder Cats,
And pudding pops.
We had Ayatollah,
And the Whopper.
We had Spud McKenzie,
And Cyndi Lauper.
We had Ziggy Stardust,
And Family Ties.
We had Michael Jackson,
and Hungry Eyes.
We had Rainbow Bright,
And Flash Dance.
We had Pee Wee Herman
And Puffy pants.
We had Led Zeppelin,
And David Bowie.
We had Pink Floyd,
And Chocolate
Chips Ahoy.
We had Jaws,
And Richard Pryor.
We had the
war on drugs,
and Easy Rider.
TURBO1904 ?
Here comes a generation of substance.
Trouble lies, her name is Constance
Future of tomorrow caught with substance
Imagine Janet, Judith, Tiktok for instance.
Looking Hot another name for Misconduct.
Tell Angela Martins I have her product.
She ordered ring light for brightness
With a future filled with darkness.
Technology is sweeter than Candy,
Sweeter than the candy I gave to Andy.
Teenagers teenaging in Advancement,
With rationality reduced to Entertainment.
Tiktok, Facebook and Whatsapp,
Nigerians are lost in you dear App.
Tell them what you're meant for,
Lest we dance wastefully to Old age.
Strangers but loved
aged pianist's hands
don't die in silence...
The old pianist watches
his hands ... learned
a secret... the music...
Even injured and with strength
touch still finds.
In silence his tips
dactyls hurt, suffer...
But the silence knows that
will speak in his ringtones...
dying toes
suck the last ones out of life
sighs...
The old pianist sweating,
cry dry tears...
But the blessed sound
the piano plays the music
holy, torn from
heart...
Homage to pianist João Carlos
Martins and his extreme pain in the
extremities hands and fingers...
I still remember the suit and Doc Martins,
choker full of X’s, and a brand new mantra;
Rebellion was tricky and full of temptation,
doing my own thing alone with a mission;
Peer pressure never really phased me
I was violently loyal to my own ideology;
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school;
Finding a tribe that shared my firestorm;
No drugs, no smoking, and no alcohol.
Who knew others were my kind of crazy?
I always thought that I was alone,
‘True til Death’ that lyric will never die,
it became a sort of gospel to live by.
Yes, I was clean when I was in college,
as an adult that lifestyle’s harder to follow;
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school;
Now whenever I hit a difficult patch
I don’t entertain any kind of crutch;
Working through it let’s feelings fade
I can handle this just like the next bang;
As time goes by and the world gets heavy?
I stay sober, I’ve been there already.
I’m glad I met that straight edge kid
back in high school.
Too many lives taken
by the cops
Facing the protesters
hoping things pop
All because of the
color of ones skin
Those sworn to protect
have let evil in
Cameras giving witness
to what we seen
Our streets are now
looking like war scenes
Rubber bullets and tear gas
shot into the peace
The violence we see
now on the increase
What the authority didn't
expect was our voice
We have risen as is our
constitutional choice
See the Malcoms and the
Martins are now grown
Organizing protests for
unjust cops have shown
How a cops knee held
George underneath
As he pleaded to his mama
he couldn't breathe
We are here to say no
matter what their force
Our weapons you see peace
is our best source
So rise above all the
violence take a knee
And please let my brothers
and sisters feel free
The alarm clock sang out, my dad jumps up
rushes me into the kitchen, today my love
is indeed, a very special day for you, my eyes
wide shut, as he continued, explaining civil rights
Cramming memories, into my little head I mean
I'd remember sitting, on my Nona's lap as,
Martin Luther King was killed in Birmingham
my entire family, regressed into deep sadness
Aging over night perhaps, so did I ,our last names
were Parks and King, let me tell you, during the
60's in Chicago, if a riot broke out our names,
were instantly called, over tornado speakers
Sound off Mohammed speaks, we were rushed
into dark sedans, being slowly driven down,
Roosevelt road this was 1969 first grade
I was preparing, to visit Lincoln's home,
and tomb mom combed, through my curl's,
my grandmother ,rubbed Vaseline on my face elbows,
and knees ,this big fuss over me, I was actually named
after Martins daughter, well Miss. Yolanda king
you get to sing, on the steps of Lincoln's memorial,
Marian Anderson's hymn, sometimes I feel like a
motherless child, afterwards the Supreme Court Justice,
we were mourning ,with happy tears, these brown face's
doting on me, five generations in my mist
standing in line, to give me a big kiss
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Darkened skies
That cloaks the night, slowly fade away
And the melodic songs of birds, are heard
Heralding a bright new day
As the earth begins to feel the warmth
Of a sultry, soft sun’s heat
Morning mists envelop the ground
Like a pure white silken sheet
From beneath the shroud, rustling is heard
As small creatures leave their lairs
Scurrying around, on their hunt for food
That will be their winter fayre
Berries, nuts and soft ripe fruit
Abundant on bushes and trees
Will be harvested and stored away
To sustain through winter’s freeze
Dawn’s crisp frost begins to melt
And a tapestry of colour is seen
Of lustrous reds, orange, yellows and gold
As nature changes from summer’s green
There’s a nip in the air,
A chill in the breeze, rustling through the trees
Creating a kaleidoscope snowstorm
Of gently falling leaves
Treading majestically through the leaves
Is a magnificent, male, red deer
His melancholy, soulful, mating call
Tells that rutting time is here
It echoes to the river, where a hint of a splash
Forms rings, as the salmon rise
And from their homes in the bank, sand martins dart
To feast on insects and flies
While across in the meadow, profuse with blooms
Rabbits and field mice run free
As butterflies dance from flower to flower
To the drone of bumble bees
And in a patchwork landscape of fertile fields
Both sheep and cattle laze
Sleepy, from having eaten their fill
Of the lush, fecund, grass they graze
As I take a stroll through these idyllic scenes
It leaves me breathless, with no words to say
On how anything can ever, be compared
To the beauty of an autumn day.
They shot a boy the other day
not far from where I live
killed him in cold blood
they wonder what he feared
they say his hands were in the air
reaching for the sky
but that never stopped the policeman
from making his bullets fly
seven shots rang out
then there was a pause
and two more shot were made
as if there were not any laws
I went to the neighborhood
just a short walk away
and I joined all the protesters
while the world watched and weighed
some were looking for attention
from the whole wide world
and did I forget to mention
the want to be Martins and Malcolm's
opportunist who've waited all their lives
for that white man to kill that poor black boy
but join the people, I must
follow their parade, I must
play the role, I must
because it matters
we marched and so did the white opportunist
who were there enjoying the cameras
one has to wonder how many Martins and Malcolm's
were there really?
Form:
The clock on the wall
Just past boring.
Today’s Big decision is crumpets
And Charlie Stayt on the BBC still boring.
Today’s news is Covid 19.
The homes been put under the hammer
and martins told me to do my homework.
and I've been on a bargain hunt.
I turn the radio on its smooth fm
It’s a constant link of cheesy tunes
and yes I am living on a prayer.
oh I could so easily murder someone
best not as its father brown now.
then more Covid 19 on the news.
out for a walk with the lyra clad masses
and there’s more cyclists than Beijing.
Teas a thing with the shortest expire date.
And im now watching pointless which seems so apt.
then of to help Indiana find a crystal skull
then more news about Covid 19.
Bed
The End
Episode 2 tomorrow in fact no just read it again.