Long Mose Poems
Long Mose Poems. Below are the most popular long Mose by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mose poems by poem length and keyword.
I would call out to someone
I have no one
Do I need anyone?
Am I not someone?
Am I someone to you?
I prefer though... a stranger
If you knew...
I’ll be everyone no better
Is there someone you need?
Someone you know... never to find?
There is no one you seek
For no one can ever be someone in your mind
There are... everybody
There is nobody
Have you that warm body?
Or are you the seeker for somebody?
Do you have someone to call out to?
Because I have become your perfect stranger
I would call out to who...?
A nobody to no one perhaps the better
............................
Genre: World
Song: Naturaleza (Mose Edit)
Variations On A Theme...
Ach'n (ache Ken) Existential Struggle...
(NOT by Bellini, Paganini, Rossini...
Eeny Meany Miney Moe - si,
nor the three stooges tee hee hee)
twill never end till...this oft writ trend
of mine will never end,
only when...mortality
ike'n no longer defend!
Thus...once again, (or...as per usual),
this poem iz a boot
ruminations about bout,
who else except this ole coot
at das receiving end damned
lifetime role, and goot
raw end of deal, sans docks side of
moon efficient intervention
(teachers never gave a hoot)
as they appeared oblivious,
how moost all classmates did loot
mine emotional account, viz
cheap trick super tramp ping coot
tees reviled, renounced,
and wreaked havoc as root
of all misfortunate previous
to mine existence,
as iced (sic culled) hood
reaper remained mute
and scythe lent,
while (cue in dolorous)
melody issued from
Mose Arts magic flute,
whereat serpent (also known
in political circles as
Sally Salamander Newt
Gingrich) charmed goaded,
and relentlessly needled
Eve with snake hushed snoot,
thenceforth viper got ramrod
rigid taut as jute
of course this a fallacy as
just smore hove my fruit
fully "FAKE" pre fabric hated
discombobulated trumpeting ill suit
head prevarications – more
offal than glute
tee us expulsion, donned
as invisible faux poetic
apparel clothing with astute
cheeky effects, thus allowing,
enabling, and providing
adapt tub bull usage as zoot suit,
or as space age jumpsuit,
when I travel (with my cute Malamute
outsize prairie dog like fine home
companion) to the outer limits
of the twilight zone,
which groovy farout signals
detected by vodafone
and desperate plea made
to aliens to abduct me
(receiving an affirmative
digital binary tone)
courtesy of publishers,
unlike the negative responses,
predictably forecast, no complex koan
but clear as day -
inducing a slight inward moan,
which figurative slap in face
finding yours figuratively prone,
hence...a recurring well known
fantasy regarding plucking
this chicken (198920) heart lee
moss see rolling stone.
Muddrocker, the moose, crossed the reindeer’s picket line
He’ll be okay, father reassured mother, he’ll be fine.
Dasher and Vixen wanted to scratch out Muddrocker’s eyes.
Santa was thrilled to see him on Christmas Eve, no big surprise.
Reindeer were pouting and snorting as sleigh drove away.
Santa realized he needed no more reindeer on this sacred day.
Fired them all after Muddrocker took him all around.
Reindeers’ wives left them too, we all soon found.
It’s not fair! Said Rudolph, they needed my nose!
Apparently not, said a new reindeer named Mose.
Santa and Muddrocker had fun that wonderful night.
And children were amazed by their terrific sight.
Picked up Jane and we're walking to the balcony,
and shown where we'll be sitting as the crowds mose-in,
and there's some excitement 'neath the floor we had left,
sparked favored light applause from one estranged bereft,
we're bemused fetching about well anchored split views,
what fabled then hath waned onto a seasick cruise,
be no mistake of it with drinks, friends do what's best,
hotel days reminisce thanks to Clint' absent guest,
as they all three turned out as definite no show,
with the place still hoping Jane decided to go,
particularly since she got to go to work that night,
lead's A.M. show and luncheon, I'd sleep on-site.
Jane is a night auditor, a night accountant,
close a hotels daily in and out dependent.
Pebble Beach Lodge is a five-star golf course hotel,
be rooms, restaurants, banquets and bars, is the nutshell,
spas, saunas, massage, yoga, thereapeutic and
salons, horseback riding class, pool concession stand,
and yes, golfing lessons as par for the course, please,
they're not free as they're taught by legends--like their fees.
... home tomorrow ...
Moses supposes and poses to know
what god had in mind to show
so when he wrote on the notes of gold
he wrote them onto a page of stone.
...
Men who penned in a constant
Thought that sense was heaven'S.cent
And so notes were created and called just rent
...
Out in the sands and long ago
Nations came and removed the snow
Carried it far from the seas of foam
And set it upon bright peaks of sun
Then floating in the Earth we became as One.
...
Roses the poet awoke one day
and said to Mose "come along this way"
Some men penned in a rhyme
A tale of a cat who drank sublime
So out to the sands the pair did go
To find what their hearts and minds did know
That the scent of Love becomes a form
Heaven sent and Heaven Born
...
"Come play with me, in the star filled dunes"
Form:
I have a unique talent everyone knows
I can balance cheerios on my middle toes
On both feet, and sometimes off of my nose
If I dunk them in chocolate and one of them glows.
Thousands want this secret from the Eskimos
Does it start with butterfly kisses, do you suppose?
The rumors run in circles tight like my garden hose
Here is the first part, you have to wear orange clothes
Secondly, you have to know two cousins, both Joes.
I cannot tell you the next two parts, said my Uncle Mose.
I rolled my eyes at his silliness, he wears pantyhose.
His stories are crazy, and blow as the wind blows.
Great Grandpa Moses first built the old shack
in the summer on nineteen twenty-three,
thrown up with big logs, hard maple and oak,
it only measured twelve feet by fifteen.
There have been two expansions since those days,
a real bathroom and a whole upper floor,
with the bunkrooms it will sleep eight people,
but gets crowded if you add any more.
It sits way back in the Northwoods forests,
in an empty corner way up in Maine,
amidst logging roads sits four hundred acres
that have for so long boasted of our name.
In the Fall months in has been the site
where we’ve taken close to one hundred deer,
one at a time, you got to follow laws,
we’ve just been doing it for many years.
And though the hunt carries its own appeal,
it’s comradery that has made this place,
all that goes on when nightfall has settled
and we sit ’round the fieldstone fireplace.
The amount of beer consumed on these grounds
may strike a rock star as very obscene,
not to mention the cards tossed fast about,
and the stories told that nobody believes.
Outside stretches a ground-level deck,
an outdoor room in the long, warmer months,
a hand-made table sits there upon it,
a good space where we often clean our guns.
The land is mostly an evergreen swath,
though forty acres cleared form a good plot,
to keep the herd big, it’s around this place
where we get them more likely than not.
Though it was deep in a small old-growth patch
where my father bagged the family’s only moose,
he’d been lucky, got a permit that year,
and shot the bull while it fed under spruce.
I’d like to say I got a deer every year,
but hunters can be well-known for their lies,
I usually get a buck every other,
those whitetails really know how to survive.
These days some of my older nephews
want to run power and wifi to the joint,
whenever they do well all roll our eyes,
they seem entirely to miss the point!
And now my boy Mose, though you be but one year,
I pray you will not become like those fools,
and grow to have may adventures here,
one day I know you will love this place too.
Muddrocker, the moose, crossed the reindeer’s picket line
He’ll be okay, father reassured mother, he’ll be fine.
Dasher and Vixen wanted to scratch out Muddrocker’s eyes.
Santa was thrilled to see him on Christmas Eve, no big surprise.
Reindeer were pouting and snorting as sleigh drove away.
Santa realized he needed no more reindeer on this sacred day.
Fired them all after Muddrocker took him all around.
Reindeers’ wives left them too, we all soon found.
It’s not fair! Said Rudolph, they needed my nose!
Apparently not, said a new reindeer named Mose.
Santa and Muddrocker had fun that wonderful night.
And children were amazed by their terrific sight.
Cap’n Jordan was a scallywag from his nose to his toes.
He was determined to follow the gold through rumors galore.
Trusty companion tried to follow him, his name was Mose.
But Cap’n Jordan came just as Cap’n shoved off the shore.
For a decade or two Mose searched for his favorite pirate king.
‘He sang sea shanties in honor of him with an elegant ring.
Cap’n Jordan had apparently finally found the coins he sought.
His skeleton holding fast to the treasure chest, deteriorating a lot.
Mose was horrified when he received the horrible news.
He demanded the forensics which showed a couple of views.
The skeleton was wearing a wicked smile, a pirate’s glee.
At least he found treasure! Mose said. That’s better than me!
L inda-Marie Instantly
A wakens the mind and shares coffee
U would be instantly delighted so
G rab a great cup and join the table
H umble with a smile we sat a while
S haring our sugars and cream
! and parting the SeeS, Mose did agree
T his is a friendship that is good indeed
SO in the UP of Poetry, Mose stirred the Soup
And instantly....
Linda-Marie Poetess extra-extraordinaire!
Sweetheart of the Soup Write Hear, and I,
;Put our mugs up in the air to cheer!
..... More Cream and Sugars dear?
Hugs the Moses!... ;)
He picked our Knows... lol!
What a sweet instant cup can be!
A dedication to my friends,
Poetess and Mose :) What a pleasure to read them.
Form: