Long Mayor Poems
Long Mayor Poems. Below are the most popular long Mayor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mayor poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, how I love my home, good ol’ Gotham City!
It’s just enough grimy and just the right gritty.
It has Batman, the greatest crusader against crime.
I wouldn’t leave this cesspool, nope, not anytime.
But lately, Batman is gaining the upper hand.
Time for the sleazebags and criminals to expand.
The Dark Knight has no sense of humor when he works.
His face never changes when he beats up the jerks.
The Joker finds humor in any situation -
Laughing his head off at some sick deviation.
He said he’d grow into a comic, and they laughed.
They’re not laughing now, as he practices his craft.
The Riddler gives our brains some things to consider.
He’s a laughing puzzle and conundrum transmitter.
He asked us, “What does a liar do when he’s dead?”
“He lies still” is what he eventually said.
The deformed Penguin’s mother threw him in the river.
He’d grow up in the sewers, but he would forgive her.
The creep learned a lot in that revolting world of slop -
He owns the mayor and police to the very last cop.
Add a new weirdo to this corruption and slime,
To tip the balance to the purveyors of crime.
Batman, meet the man who speaks only in rhyme.
The Rhymer makes your face look like it just ate a lime.
Senses overwhelmed, history revealed,
I step into Plaza Mayor.
Antique hues of pinks and grays stun.
Madrid welcomes me.
Late sun casts golden shadows.
Camaraderie envelops.
I peel my brain for words.
Spanish brass serenades,
a musical aperitif.
Thoughts turn to supper,
as I walk and walk.
I see it, “Menu del Dia” in amber and red.
Savory breeze guides me.
It reads, "Tapas, Chorizo y Jamon",
I can’t resist
Vino Tinto completes me
as I wonder the day.
9/28/17
Everyone said, “Always order the Menu del Dia”
With that and little else, I headed for Spain
A clockwork sun began to climb the skies,
Predictable, a measured, metered rise.
The town awoke, a rhythmic, pulsing sound,
With every step on consecrated ground.
The mayor, proud, declared the day serene,
“A perfect order, a beautiful scene!”
The people smiled, a synchronized display,
And praised the structure of their perfect day.
A sudden gust, a whisper of the breeze,
Disturbed the dust beneath the ancient trees.
A single leaf, historic in its flight,
Ignored the rhythm, fought the civic right.
The crowd gasped, a collective, startled beat,
A flaw appeared upon their ordered street!
The mayor frowned, his perfect world askew,
A tiny wildness, something fresh and new.
“Restore the pace! Contain the rebel leaf!”
He cried in panic, drowning in his grief.
For in their perfect state, well understood,
All unexpected motion was not good.
The town, so free, yet captive to the chime,
Had lost their spontaneity to time.
Their life, a song with every note defined,
A perfect prison for the human mind.
There was much chatter about the new mad hatter
He is madder than the other, said my sister and brother
I want to meet him, I told them, intrigued by the new him.
He was a bit crazier than expected, nutty as suspected, on a whim.
How else would he have met the council’s approval? I said.
He was upside down backwards weird, named himself Odd Ted.
He could run for mayor of crazy town, I suggested immediately.
It was agreed upon unanimously, and delivered with expediency.
For if there is one thing we know about our delightful city, Crazy Town,
It’s undeniably the weirdest, zaniest place under, over, above or down.
Mad hatter turned down our offer to make him mayor and ran away.
The sixth crazy mad hatter mayor that had gotten away that day.
With the heart of a Lion, a tribute to John Fetterman
John was the Mayor of a ghetto town and used his
family resources to turn things around. Where
buildings were abandoned and things looked stark,
John brought new life, parks and art...
With the heart of a lion John worked night and day,
homicides dropped, crime was held at bay...
Recovering from a stroke with an occasional pause,
this 6 foot man debated the polished Mr. Oz,
because that's just the things he does...
Some might view John as cavalier, he made a
few enemies here and there, but isn't that politics
every where??
Vote John Fetterman, Pa.'s better man!!
The notorious Jones gang had robbed the bank in town
And as they made their escape a man was gunned down
It was Bill the mayor and he'd tried to stop the gang
I'd been walking by the river when I'd heard a loud bang.
I ran towards the bank and saw the gang ride away
Bill was so badly injured he died later that day
I was sheriff of the town and asked for volunteers
Ten good men raised their hands to rapturous cheers.
I had a hunch they'd head west to the old copper mine
Where a deserted cabin stood by the railroad line
It had a well for fresh water that their horses would need
They'd be so thirsty having run at a galloping speed.
We all saddled up our horses and headed west out of town
It was now starting to get dark as the sun was going down
A few hours out we found the cabin where they'd rested
The fire was still warm as the dying embers suggested.
They'd split up their haul we found the empty bags discarded
We too stopped for a rest and soon the cabin we vacated
We carried on and reached the badlands that godforsaken place
Where many a poor soul had disappeared without trace.
We came across the outlaws camp later the same day
And for the murder of Bill I was going to make them pay
We surrounded their camp and a shootout began
I shouted to the posse "we need them alive if you can".
The gangs bullets ran out and they put their hands in the air
They cast aside their weapons they hadn't a care
We handcuffed the four of them and headed back to town
And we arrived back that evening just before sundown.
The townsfolk were ecstatic and our praises they sang
The next day in the courthouse all were sentenced to hang
Their lawyers plea for leniency by the judge was rejected
But if you rob and kill then swift justice is to be expected.
Written on Friday 19th June 2020
For thesaurus -Abandon Or Abandon Poetry Contest
Sponsored By A Dear Heart.
The last three weeks have been a seemingly endless series of welcome parties, get-togethers, receptions, meet-and-greets and cocktail parties - every kind of cheesy or ostentatious soirée my Grandmère can throw together, she’s dragged me to. It’s hard to match her energy.
“You have to meet people,” she insists, “and they have to meet YOU.”
“And why?” I asked, eloquently, but there’s no use resisting - she’s tireless.
The Prime Minister of France - met him. The mayor of Paris, met him, the CEOs of Paribas, L’Oréal, TotalEnergies, AXA, met them, the ministers of the economy, interior and foreign affairs - met ‘em. The US ambassador to France, met him.
In the play “My Fair Lady,” Eliza, meeting people frantically at the races, repeats “How do you do,” over and over and over to great comedic effect. That’s how I feel at these parties, “Enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté, enchanté.” I say, turning in circles. I’ve met Emmanuel Macron before, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. I haven’t met his wife though - I’d love to ask her about that slap.. hhmm.
Is it shocking that I’ve now met anyone who’s anyone at Université Paris Cité? No, because that’s how crazy-lady operates. “You meet everyone, eye-to-eye,” she lectures, “you have to get out of your bubble, and experience the world as interesting,”
That’s her favorite saying these days. “I don’t HAVE a bubble,” I replied, defensively, but she’s left the room - she’s never still. She seems to know we’re on the clock, that once med-school starts, (in September) I’m going to be all about that.
It’s Monday morning. I’ve been at the Shangri-La hotel pool, where we have full privileges, and I’m coated, like a potato, head to foot, with SPF 50 sunscreen - when who shows up?
Peter (my bf). “You’re early!” I say, not at all displeased, but I’m SO conscious of my tacky skin and chemical smell that I face-palm him as he comes in for a snog.
EEuuww. I can’t make-out with a guy when I’m all greased up.
“5 minutes,” I assured him, heading for the shower.
“I’ll join you,” he offered.
“Well, ok,” I chuckle.
.
.
Songs for this:
Better Days by NEIKED, Mae Muller & Polo G
This Girl by Kungs & Cookin' On 3 Burners
Cake By The Ocean by DNCE [E]
And here is our list of winners:
Bernie Sanders, Brandon Johnson
Alexandra O. Cortez, Elizabeth Warren
Cory Bush, Ayanna Pressley
Ilhan Omar, Rashida Tlieb
Joseph Biden, Kamala Harris
O, you lucky duck progressives, you!
Your tour guide will be the hologram of Chicago's late Mayor,
Richard J. Daley
Who will show you his administration's 'crown jewel,'
its experiment in 'public housing'
The Robert Taylor Homes on the South Side
Cabrini-Green on the Near North
'Hizzoner' the Mayor will show you apartments in the cinder-block buildings
on the day of their inauguration, gleaming-clean and pristine...
... Then you'll view them a handful of years later
Boarded-up windows, graffiti everywhere
Gunfire crackling, drug addicts cackling
blocking entrances and stairs...
The best of progressive intentions gone a-glimmering
Give tenants something for nothing, they get ~ angry
"Why we gettin' this sheet"
-Come in! the landlady ordered me
From the apartment building
In the Habsburg Quarter, Madrid.
It's a shame to waste
That magnificent ******** of yours.
-No rush, I replied.
I'm going to be your horse
And you my mare.
I went in, I saw her lying on a bed
Naked and with her ass raised
On a cushion made of books
All about erotic literature.
I was a little scared
When I saw her Mount of Venus all covered
In yellow and white
Because she had just been ed
By a street sweeper from the Plaza Mayor.
I ejaculated on the threshold of her
And then I started to urinate
On her lips
So I could discover her ******** and slit.
-Don't bother, I told her
When she tried to grab a sponge
From a bucket of water
That was next to the headboard.
-I'll do this!
I thoroughly cleaned her
From which I saw sperm emerge
Running invitingly
Towards her anus and the crest of her mons pubis.
Once it was well cleaned
Of tartar and dried buds
Of used es and testicles
I opened her slit putting my whole mouth inside
All the way to the roof of the mouth
Of her .
-Oh! To eat all of her mons pubis
Hair and all
Without any qualms
It was my true passion.
What I wanted most!"
-I'm going to have your for a snack now
I told her.
-You're the one having snacks
You son of a , she replied.
With her l fluids
My catarrhal sputum mingled with hers
And with my long tongue
I made her Fallopian tubes ring
Because I heard a moan inside
That made her stick out her tongue.
-hy don't you take me with you? she asked.
Was your snack sweet?
Will you come back?
I answered her sulkily:
-It wasn't sweet. It was ing !
Sister Filomena's ******** was sweeter
When, while at the Seminary
I enjoyed her in the kitchen
With her and for her
Until I realized
That it wasn't made of flesh but of plastic
Bought from a street vendor
On Desengaño Street
Beside Gran Vía.
Fox has the keys to the town’s coffers
So, they make him mayor and make him a crown.
It’s an easy chair! He yelps, delighted.
His petootsie feels warm and soft next to the cushion.
His fluffy tail curls around the back as if in tandem agreement.
What else do you need? His subjects ask.
They run to fetch him hot lemon tea and cucumber sandwiches.
He spits them out, so they are replaced.
They bring out trays of meat with horseradish cheese sauce.
Tasty and delicious! He assures them.
Bring me a large book to devour, he demands.
They bring him all sorts of volumes.
He keeps the one that shows photos of plump hens.
These pin up photos make me salivate! He tells his wife.
She leaves home shortly after and it takes him years to notice.