Long Nancy Poems
Long Nancy Poems. Below are the most popular long Nancy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nancy poems by poem length and keyword.
Dear Griffin,
I clearly remember the first time we met. Jim had brought you at all of
four months of age to my families summer reunion. You were shy with
those striking bi-eyes and those massive white paws accentuated by
your thick brindle coating. Jim had purchased you from a local pet store,
not long after you had been flown to Maryland from a midwestern Indian
reservation where you were born. Those white paws were wobbly still as
they touched the unfamiliar grass and were overwhelmed by all the people
attention while your senses soaked in the great outdoors.
I was still in mourning for Tobin, my Australian shepherd dog but as each
day passed I grew more and more amused by your puppy antics as you
warmed your way into my life.
I also remember the day when Jim and I went to Rockville in the snow with
you to find a dog companion and were fortunate enough to find Izzie, a
ridgeback and your soul mate. From that first day, the two of you rough housed tirelessly and were inseparable for many years to come.
Griffin, I must admit that you presented a bit of a challenge to train after
Tobin who would have died in the stay command. Jim and I went to numerous trainings before you were molded into the obedient dog you became.
I was always in awe of your gentle nature and innate connection to
other wildlife. I remember the time a cow licked you thru the fence at the
Department of Agriculture and also how a deer sat down near you once in your dog paddock.
It's really hard to say good bye after fourteen years to such an integral member of our family. You have carved a special place in our hearts forever.
Until we meet again dear friend at the Rainbow bridge.
Rest in peace, Nancy
The group you are in did not win
Now your mind begins to unwind
Fear grows for "They" are different
Dangerous and a threat akin
To a fascist re-emergence
The things you hate about the winner
Are the things you fear lie within
So you project onto others
The motives you've repressed as sin
Feeling powerless and ashamed
You lash out hiding from inner pain
Seeking momentary solace
Attacking a man whom you disdain
Truth too difficult to accept
They are the haters, it's not us
Evidence abounds on the grounds
That hateful acts are all around
Fake Russian collusion hoaxes
Laptop lies, lawfare convictions
Two assassination attempts
Maxine Waters shouts in the streets
Nancy Pelosi rips up speech
The news knowingly speaks untruth
How many can now see the pattern
Can you not see where hate happens
At the time of the incident, I lived in an old mansion,
that was undergoing renovations and expansion.
Outside the night was dark and a storm was raging,
but, I was cozy in the library with hundreds of books aging.
I was reading and petting my big old cat Fred,
until a flash of lightning lit the night and Fred quickly fled.
At first, I did not worry but after hours I went searching,
I expected to find Fred on a shelve perching.
I could hear him meowing and it seemed very far away,
sometimes, he is hard to find because he is dark gray.
For hours I searched the house and I was getting worried,
so, to call my friend, Detective Nancy Drew I hurried.
Come fast Nancy, my beloved cat has gone missing,
suddenly, I heard Fred growling loudly and hissing.
Nancy and her team arrived through a deluge of rain,
by this time, I was weeping and my heart was in pain.
The team searched all night the house from room to room,
but could find nothing and I was feeling a sense of doom.
The odd thing was no one else but me could hear him,
they came back day after day but finding him looked dim.
After months and months I could no longer live in the house,
so leaving it behind I sadly moved to a farmhouse.
The mansion was empty for awhile until someone bought it,
there was a problem though- the cat meowing that would not quit.
_____________________
August 25, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/The Case Of The Missing Cat
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1483-308-25
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Start Sleuthing
sponsor, Natasha L Scragg, Judged 08/02/2022
Fourth Place
Kindheartedness
Ellen had a lot of experience in washing nappies, six bairns in less than eight years. William
Chapman had a lot to answer for. Everyone knew, or thought they knew, what poor Ellen had
to put up with. His drinking, his womanizing, and, some said, his violent behaviour towards his
uncomplaining wife.
The other women in the village tried to lighten her load without appearing to pity her. That
would never do.
Grace, Isobel, and even Nancy left bits of worn soap and washing soda by the scrubbing
board, and with Ellen being fourth in line, very often there was a good full boiler already
warmed with her neighbour’s coal. Most miners’ wives had plenty coal, but Chappie was not
above selling his allowance for beer money.
The van men from the local co-op store were also heroes in this respect. Davie the butcher
always made sure that the soup bones Ellen bought had more than the required amount of
meat still clinging to them. Her half pound of mince got another dollop after it had been
weighed and the odd sausage found its way into her meagre purchases. Then there was
Jimmy the baker who... accidentally... squashed some bread so it was not fit to sell. Ellen’s
brood did not mind squashed bread, it went well with the very slightly overripe bananas from
Ben McCabe the fruit man.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure if this will qualify as a poem on kindheartedness but kindheartedness is what it was
in the 1940s
When I was your age I walked sixty two miles to school and back
Because our horse was dead, or given only to my brothers.
We did not get to wear pants, even if our legs were red with frost.
Until 1960 when they finally let us wear them under dresses.
If we did not take them off at school we were whipped with belts.
We put MATHEMATICS at the top of arithmetic papers.
Math to you. We did not have pre-algebra until doctor’s college.
We would zoom around on dangerous motorcycles without helmets.
Daring the pavement or semis to kill us. They got some of us but not all.
No one thought to drink water. We had milk and soda pop.
Our druggist put cherry into our Coke, and we thought we were grown.
I read an Archie comic book a week, and paid for it with my money.
Money I earned babysitting or mowing lawns.
When I was your age everyone did not have a car or a TV set.
Everything on the TV set was in grayscale until 1964 in my world.
Uncle asked “What color is it?” When Dad told him we got a colored TV.
Underdog was the first cartoon I ever saw in color when I was your age.
I had chores, and I did them. I also knew to respect my elders.
I knew when adults were having a conversation, I had better get lost.
Did not get to watch some TV shows, and there was no TV in my room.
If I wanted to be entertained, I read Trixie Belden or Nancy Drew.
Impeachment Now Moves to the Senate
By Franklin Price
12/19/2019
Impeachment now moves to the Senate
Nancy wants to come along
To control the people in it
Have them sing the House's song
Fair is fair and right is right
The Senate now presides
The House no longer has a say
Has already taken sides.
Impeachment for them said and done
In history written down
They voted Trump to ride the rail
On the first train out of town
Republicans have the Senate
Have the votes that are required
Unlike the left side Democrats
Will not tell the Trump, “You're Fired!”
Things may have turned out differently
If Democrats were smart
And when they lost the presidency
Had not taken it to heart
Had not spoken of impeachment
Before Trump's oath was even said
Had gotten the unfairness
Of the college from their head
Waited for a real High Crime
And /or a Misdemeanor too
Not starting out from nothing
To make nothing stick like glue
Whether Trump is innocent
Or whether he is not
When the Senate finds not guilty
The left will stir again the pot
Not much consideration
For the Constitution's voice
When voting in November
We the People make the choice
hanging in the air
humidity’s heaviness . . .
the river’s slow crawl
On the Mississippi lies the beautiful little city where I once lived. How many times I trudged up inclined streets; or leaning forward, red-faced and panting, pressed up slopes with all my might, feet on pedals of my purple Sting-ray bike, urging myself not to dismount prior to reaching glorious level ground! The damp beneath my clothing in those days was a given. Simply stopped to rest. . . sipping pop underneath a tree, I would often feel rivulets of sweat that trickled down beneath my underarms, a surfeit which caused circle stains to appear beneath the arms of short-sleeved shirts or on Sundays, beneath the flowered dresses that I wore to church. However, despite the heat’s discomfort, it was summer, after all!
counting down the days
until the school bell’s last ring -
a fling with summer
Released from stifling classrooms for vacation, I eagerly embraced the sun. . .and how I played! Kickball with the neighbors, visits to the city pool with my sisters and friends, bike rides to parks or into town, where I spent my allowance on records and treats, and hours racing eagerly through the pages of Nancy Drew books in front of a cooling fan - all these things consumed me.
It was in the month of August, and more than a decade of muggy summers later that I found myself transplanted in a desert. As if thrust into a giant pre-set oven with a noose about my neck, I learned firsthand the meaning of “slow roast.” Here, in the new and different place where I've now lived most of my adult life, the heat can leave one with a burn like acid watered down, a deep sensation lingering in skin long after sun has left the sky. Perspiration may just evaporate before it has a chance to wend its way along the body’s contours. Discomfort notwithstanding, there’s no pain. Acclimated to these summers now, I find that it is easier for me to breathe in August heat than it was the first time I’d ever encountered it. Released from stifling work, I go outside into the oven, pen in suntanned hand!
sunshine reflections
so many summers have passed
writing till twilight
Deborah has a fear of flying…it surfaces before we even step onto the plane…
The problem:
This summer we’ll be flying to Seattle, Washington…
and back home from Bangor, Maine.
A friend of hers said, “What a coincidence…I had a fear of flying too…
but now…when I’m getting on an airplane…this is what I do.”
“When they call for me to board the plane…before it’s doorstep I have crossed
I think of Karen and Nancy (two friends they both have lost!)
"I picture them as angels in heaven floating happy…cancer free.
and I like to think my two old friends are looking after me.”
“When the airplane takes off and heads high into the sky…
I like to think that Karen and Nance are hovering nearby.”
“Now…once I’m in an airplane…I don’t worry about a thing…
because I know nothing bad will happen…with an angel on each wing.”
So…Deborah’s going to try this technique this summer
as we fly to Seattle…then back home from Bangor, Maine…
It brings her joy and comfort thinking Karen and Nancy will be joining her on the plane.
And isn’t that a great way to travel through life?
Doesn’t it help bring joy and happiness to everyone…and everything…
knowing wherever we choose to fly…we have an angel on each wing.
LILY VILLANELLE
My bosom- friend straight forward Lily
always attractive in elegance
as flower Lily stands straight merrily.
I love her from core of heart so dearly.
She is loud, slight little on arrogance,
My bosom friend straight forward Lily.
She raises her head righteous proudly.
perfect in cheerful performance.
As flower Lily stands straight merrily.
I appreciate her nature really,
Pleasant personality on mere glance
My bosom friend straight forward Lily.
I adore her, she is pretty, lovely.
I admire her smile in smart appearance.
As flower Lily stands straight merrily.
Like Lily she is firm amazingly
never bends but gets ready to enhance.
My bosom friend straight forward Lily
As flower Lily stands straight merrily.
08/23/16
And in words, She blooms Contest
by Casarah Nancy
I did it, I really did it, something got passed,
Nancy and I succeeded at last,
What a huge pain convincing my team,
When all I could do was silently scream.
The Squad were blackmailing,
The media loud blaring,
Republicans laughing while doing high fives,
My only solution to hide and dodge knives.
But now it's all changed, back on my horse,
Steering the country without fear or remorse,
My path controversial but who gives a bean,
They'll all get the message that I say what I mean.
I want kindness and peace, fairness far all,
My social ambitions unashamedly tall,
What do I care about finding the dough,
That's for bean-counters, the ones that should know.
I remember a story while riding a train,
The details are fuzzy but I'm racking my brain,
This Gal said to me "you're Uncle Joe,
That guy from DC, the father of Beau",
I smiled and just answered yes I'm the one,
She went on to say, "If not for me then your son,
Make your time count, bring us relief,
As too many of us are living in grief;
All kinds of big bills piling on high,
Nowhere to turn, just left out to dry,
The rich getting richer, the rest of us stuck,
Flailing and wailing in ankle deep muck";
Wages too low, options too few,
You must find a way to this country renew.
I gave her a smile, patted her hand,
Made her a promise that I'd make a real stand.
So to that special Gal whose name I don't know,
This for a start is what I can show;
For the rest of my goals I'll fight night and day,
To prove I will do and not merely say.