Long Nanny Poems
Long Nanny Poems. Below are the most popular long Nanny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nanny poems by poem length and keyword.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
Jack is learning so much at home, he’s bright and cheerful and never alone,
there’s always something good to do, like playing with bubbles or a trip to the zoo.
Experiments with water and soap, testing if objects sink or float,
painting and drawing are so much fun, there’s so much to do, we’ve just begun.
Last week we went to BCLM, and learned how coal was mined back then,
no shower for you, when you got home,
a tin bath it was, but you didn’t moan.
No electric for your light, no tv to watch at night,
no pre-pack food or take-aways,
no fridges, freezers or microwaves.
History, science and a life of nowt, all learned about in a fun day out,
to actually see, with their own eyes, helps children’s brains to realize.
Being told things read from a book, is not the same as having a look,
to experience things through seeing and doing,
teaches us more in this life we are living.
A picnic in the museum grounds, then jump on the bus to look around,
down stairs first, to take a peek, then upstairs, to choose a seat.
Into the town we went on the bus, a man stood waiting and waved at us,
cobbled streets and lumps and bumps, down the road, past the petrol pumps.
Then to the narrow-boat for a trip, through the tunnels, watch that drip!
The limestone is white and crystal like, then out of the dark and into the light.
Legging the boat, through the narrow gap, is hard work for 2 at the back,
but we get through and come out at last, Jack’s glad he didn’t live in the past.
The chain-maker is doing a demonstration, he has a chain, for a link to go on,
he makes the link as we watch a while, “you would start at age 6”, he tells Jack with a smile.
So much fun we’ve had today, laughing and learning along the way,
looking at things, we’d never see, while stuck in school, at least till 3.
Jack looks at me with a smile in his eyes “thank you nanny, it was a lovely surprise”
“I didn’t know we were going today, to that museum to learn and play”
” I love being taught at home by you and seeing all the things I can do,
like making cakes and playing chess and doing experiments that make a mess”
We get home and Jack sits on my knee, “I’ll get that book you bought for me”
he reads his book to me out loud, I tell him ” I love you, you make me so proud”
A Message from My Mother
In a dream I saw my mother welcoming guests into her home.
She had been expecting them and had been busy preparing and organising everything.
She rushed to greet with open arms and led the way through the hall and into her rooms.
She didn’t see me or look at me at all as I watched, a silent witness.
Her guests followed fully assured that they would be looked after, at home in her presence.
Knowing just what to say she turned to speak, words I couldn’t hear, words that weren’t meant for me.
As she spoke she smiled, and as she smiled she turned, her hair revealing some of her face.
She looked youthful and happy, but that’s not what grabbed my attention.
The most amazing beautiful soft white light radiated from her face.
Her face, her skin, shone translucently.
‘Now I know what an angel looks like’, I thought.
Again she turned.
Again I was granted the grace of not only seeing my mother’s face again but of witnessing all God’s love emanate.
No star could shine as bright. No angel could compare. The depths of this light went to Source.
O Joy! A glimpse again, only partial but always the same white softness and depth.
'In God's house my mother dwells.
She welcomes all her loved ones and leads them home.
I look forward to the day she looks my way.
.... my mother, God's Heavenly Hostess'.
by Jean McLoughlin
Winning Second Place in Nayda Ivette Negron's "Angels" Contest 1/1/2016
A Note from the Author
In this poem I describe a dream I had about my mother who sadly passed away many years ago.
But what I don't mention is that I had this dream the same night my Auntie (my mother's sister) had a tragic accident and passed away soon after.
My Nanny (my mother's mother) and another Auntie (another of Mum's sisters) who had been suffering from cancer, had just been buried.
My mother was the oldest of 12 children and this poem was passed to all my relatives to let them know that she's there waiting to welcome them.
I take great consolation from knowing that I will see my mother again.
My mother opened the door that night, not only to her guests, but to my writing as well, as this is the first thing I ever wrote.
It was written in loving memory of my mother and her deceased mother, brothers and sisters, family and friends.
Thank you for reading.
From Jean
So after I told the crowd
in the store that I was
not Dolly Parton,
they quickly went away
disappointed and forlorn like,
going over to the dairy
to pick up some milk,
tried to stay calm as I
noticed pictures on
the back of the milk cartons
of my former self,
then I quickly drove home
and put the groceries
on the shelf,
thinking this disguise
isn't doing me any good,
decided to wear a
long red wig around
the neighborhood,
thinking now I can
finally relax again,
until people started
thinking I was Naomi Judd...
Then I noticed the
amish mafia guy
at the local 7-11,
I quickly drove away
to the local police station,
where they put me up in
a convent for
witness protection,
where Mother Superior
gave me my habit to wear,
and with it some long underwear,
calling me by new name
which was now Sister Rose,
she made me feel inferior,
as she was always looking down on me
with her big holier then thou nose,
the routine was to wake up every day at 4 a.m.
going to the chapel to pray
and say a lot of amens,
then having a quick breakfast of
coffee, bread and water,
then onto the cleaning
which lasted several hours,
washing and ironing the nuns
and priests clothes everyday,
cleaning the floors and toilets
with a tiny toothbrush
to my dismay,
dusting and vacuuming
all the rooms,
maintaining the large
farm using an old broken down mule…
At night I'd go to bed on
the lumpy old mattress,
feeling exhausted, lonely and famished,
hearing nothing but my stomach
complaining and grumbling,
thinking to myself
this is worse than the amish!
So tying some bedsheets
together I jumped out
the convent window,
ran all the way as
fast as I could and
started to hitchhike
on the turnpike,
it started raining and a
car finally pulled over,
quickly jumped in
only to discover,
the amish mafia guy
who looked
like Al Pacino give me
a big wide grin…
thinking to myself
not again...
Addendum: She finally escaped again and settled in Timbuktu where thank God nobody recognized her and where she made friends with the natives there who just happened to be so primitive they got her at spearpoint to make all their clothes and food from scratch, clean all their huts, make baskets and pottery, be the nanny for their tribal kids, hunt lions and tigers for meals……….
Adventures With James My Grandson
by Joan Donnelly 1995
He doesn't walk but runs to his subject on interest,
and upon arrival, leaps into the air.
With bended knees and flattened feet he lands like an athlete,
and his welcoming, "Hi," cuddles my heart as I wipe away a tear
Then he wraps a wee hand around my finger leading me into his realm of
Adventure and joy.... with enthusiastic anticipation,
though he hasn't turned two yet, my youngest son's eldest boy.
He guides me to a rest area and seats me by patting his hand on an outdoor substitute for a chair.
At his, "Sit, Sit,"I oblige him as he runs through rain puddles...then..
gifts me with a bouquet of dandelions and a honey-filled , "Here."
Once I presented him with a learning toy, his repsonse delighted my soul,
"Awh, Awh,"he uttered appreciatively while tilting his head ia sideways to and fro.
One day he noticed a kitten curled up 'neath a sheltering tree
Swiftly he raced toward her with an over-the-shoulder, "Come," to me.
I couldn't help but chuckle when he repeated, "Come," once more.
He never caught the enlightened feline but brightened my day for sure.
Then he ran down the street where he sighted a wooden plank on the ground.
"Bat, Bat,"rang his happy chant at the treasure he'd found.
With effort he maneuvered the narrow plank over his shoulder gleefully
"Ball, Ball,"he urged and I followed his searching eyes co-operatively.
To my amazement, as if waiting to be found ,lay a beach ball on a grassy mound...
Though I've not known baseball to be played with such.
It was of balloon size and as I looked into James' sparkling eyes..
I wondered if he'd become the baseball player his Dad hoped for so much.
I could see James straining to keep the awkward bat raised so with a..
"Ready, Set,"I pitched ball and prayer as James let out a sigh.
The bat he forward inched as he licked his upper lip and by gosh got a hit,
Then said, "Cool,"as we watched the ball fly.
"Get it, Nanny,"James gave me the order and I retrieved the ball intending to extend our fun........when.....Was it my imagination or did I hear....a crowd in a filled stadium cheer at the announcer's , "Well I'll Be, Folks! Young MacMaster makes another home run !"
Children were afraid of metallic plastic face robots
So the solution was to make them look real
Real?
Yes, Lifelike Optimum Robotic Assistant, LORA
She will be the best nanny you ever had, she never needs sleep
Programmed in all domestic chores and child safe and friendly
Children just love her...
Model Z12 2-4-6, lets call her Nora our Lora
The neighbors will be so jealous...
The children are happy and getting so smart
As parents no worries if were apart
Nora can protect, dress, feed even play games
Being a parent will never be the same
She's gentle and soft, eyes with a glow
Anything asked of her she already knows
The house is perfection, the meals homemade
Happiness is a LORA android man made
At night we never lose sleep
Nora is there if the baby weeps
If Tommy is frighten by nightmares
Nora can hold him and soothe away fears
We have it easy and are pleased
Nora has everyone at ease
Last night as we played Mommy and Daddy games
Nora came in our room and it felt strange
She heard me call baby and her functions stopped
Next morning maintenance took her back to the shop
The baby cries and Tommy is sad
The house a mess, the food taste bad
When can we get our LORA back?
Another week! Don't call me Jack!
Finally Nora is here
Everyone smiles with cheer
Nora save us from our fate
Parents can go on a date
But as we try to leave
Nora hands Susie a bottle
No Nora you watch the baby
It's just the Mister and me
Nora seems unsettled
Late at night I am in the shower
Nora comes in like a prowler
She begins to wash me
Nora please let me be
Nora no, she gets wet
Her body is anatomically correct?
But Susie it was just a glitch
Nora is reprogrammed and fixed
Besides the children love her...
Nora's eyes seem alive
She sways as she walks by
Never ages always is fair
Even has a pleasant scent in her hair
She is so soft to the touch
Susie is jealous. Too much
Spring and time to mow the lawn
Whose that with no shirt on?
Tan and teen with a gleam in his eyes
Fernando don't forget the trim
Clean the pool..
But Susie he is too lifelike!
Why didn't you tell me you got a gardner robot?
Baby, you hate yard work
Besides who said Fernando was a LORA?
,
A black cloud descends…. , , ,
Each flower grows hopeful! ,,
In jubilation, katydids, laughingly, make noisy ovations! , , ,
Party-planner, Queen Rosie, STOPS to
unleash verses,with ’xcited Yiddish zeal !
……………………………………………………………. , ,
D Daisy Mae, and Lily Gay, bathe in refreshing rains ,,
A Anointed too, are tiny baby buds, with every little drop ,, ,,,
N Narcissus squeals with laughter, and sings a sweet refrain
C Crickets dance with plaid berets, and do a Celtic hop!
I In the mud we’ll find two pigs, they splash, but then rain STOPS!
N Nanny Goose, and Granny Goat, play banjos in the band
G Gardenias, stash away umbrellas, they scrub from end to end
R Rabbits hear the jubilee, and from a hole they pop
A A squirrel or two, comes down the tree, where all the fuss began
I In spite of fear, the little mouse, looks out to see what’s up
N Nearby, the cat, just waves his hat, allows the mice some fun!
N Dogs join in, STOP chasing cats, they splash, and play like kids
R Rainbows fill the evening sky, where now the sun peeks in
O Overhead, the colors smile, in greens, and blues and reds
P Pretty is the world tonight, refreshed, and clean, and good
S Softly STOPS the pitter-pat upon on the evening’s hood
…………………………………………………………………………
Thirsty trees, and tender tulip tongues, tasted today’s tantalizing tonic
Rain STOPS to retreat, to replenish, refresh, repair, and rest
Delighted dancers STOP, to discuss day’s divine delivery duties
Rainbows remind recovering revelers reasons to STOP and reflect, rejoice, recent rainy rewards
Slowly, in soft slippers, STOPping to shine, sun sets silently.
Satisfactorily satiated, the scenery seems serene, sparkling and sleepy…..
..............................................................................................................................
Inspired by Debbie's Contest "Aye, Aye, and a Mistress"
Blue Light Bulbs and a Bottle of Bleach and The Incandescent Must Win
(part 1)
By: J.R. Wren
A wilting flower and a blade of grass
No presumptions of the way things ought to be
Feeding plenty on light through a tinted glass
Patiently waiting and resting in what it means to be free
“Steal, Steal, Steal. Make it up and patch it.
Feel. Feel Feel. Facts don’t matter and from all myth gleans.
Reel. Reel. Reel. Fish it in and match it.
Lies from the lounge and drunken dither. -- Our ends will justify the means!”
Knowledge of privilege and equity to learn
Servers, red phones, and Benghazi aflame
Crossbones, Chicago, Philly and -- -- Her turn!
“She will win! She will win!” Crumpling papers did proclaim
Deep, deep, deep. In plain sight -- a hidden gate
“He doesn’t win. Right? -- -- Right? ---Isn’t that right?
Steep, steep. Drip from a leaking deep state
What's fusion? It's cash stowed in the store late into the night
A wilting flower and that blade of grass
May not have thoughts of what ought to be
But the Deep aim to crash through lids of glass
The steady, sure swap of twenty-one to rid of sovereign - ty
“Steal. Steal. Steal. Lick it up and stamp it.
Feel. Feel. Feel. Feed the Feds and nothing of the Deep careens
‘Real. Real. It’s real!’" TALL thinks FISA won’t catch it.
“Checked (not checked) but might be confirmed!” And the judges are part of the means
They say “check your privilege” and “equity’s sublime.”
But the phone kept ringing and a message was left
Equality and equity can’t be done at the same time
Not by the color of my skin, but a perfect dream left bereft
A blooming rose and a patch of grass
And a new child doesn’t carry what the elders see
Feeding plenty on light with no prejudice of gold or brass
Seeing no difference between daffodil or lily
Hare over turtle “and beware the snitching fox!"
“Feel, feel,feel for all our shadow’s past."
A broken doll in an empty box.
Lemon spiel and Meadow’s blast
An abrasive sponge and a bottle of bleach
Fluorescent morgue lighting - “ask for their consent!
The clinical culture is calculated for all and for each”
Ballots appear. Nanny will fear. “And soon we’ll get you out of that tent.”
“Deep, deep, deep. Listen and hear our faint gait.
Sanitation, fluorescent lights, and a PC pillow for smother.
Agree! Agree! Atone! Suck it in and suff-o-cate.
White-ness. Black. Ev’ry creed, faith, and color. Listen to Nanny State and call her your mother.”
A wilting flower and grass that’s mowed
Are ever learning why the wilt and why the harm
Innovation, creativity, and where Americana once flowed
Abandoned by the Deep as “fly over” and robbed and made empty the house and the farm
Nude, nude hush in the cellar and the hand can’t hold the gavel
“Trade with China, take arms to China. In Syria sustain the war.
Rude, rude, rude! Abuse of power and a ban on travel.”
Rightful tariffs to the farmers and the market still tends to soar
“Bully the one we call a bully or brute.
A triggered, flying milkshake will save a safe space.
‘You get out and make a crowd!’ You fight! You punch! -- You loot!
And if you see his son about, spit in his face and invade the place.”
Knowledge of good and evil, and the tree from which it sprang
Covet, covet, corrupt in Kiev; greed was found a-Bidden
An Arkansas mansion mem’ry and sight on the oval did haunt and did pang
An outsider, and drainage of septic forbidden
“The farmers don’t want handouts or charity.”
But past year’s labor sets this year’s price
And The Salt of the Earth today will have clarity
The cream off the barrel of tariffs is their due, and the tycoon’s not calling it “nice”
“I’ll still call you a hater. You deplorable vulture!
Because the map in November robbed us our due!”
It’s not 'the other' we hate; it’s your stainless-steal culture
You polled the what, -- (here a hint and a Midwestern clue)
you owned the what, but Deep, my dear, you forgot about us and left sour the Who.
Warm, warm, yellow warm incandescent nourishes
Blue, blue, sterile, starving, hopeless erie --essence
Nanny off the hitch and hands uncuffed --a dirt road gives and flourishes
With the death of equity and the light of equality. And the tapestry shall dawn irid--escence
The long bulb dies along the edges and fringes
Clinical, global culture to the bin
The gate has fallen off its rusted hinges
And the incandescent will win.