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.
So Often Ignored
Nannies know little of color
White holding favor by 5th Ave employers
Barons and Baronesses of means
Gazing from insulated windows on high
As infant guardian merges blanketed carriage and job
Into daily Central Park realities
Inquisitive bundled baby stares
Starched guardian
Folded like a napkin atop the park bench
Idles her time with smartphone pressed to ear
Caressing air-born voices
To soften dreams
Rigid as the armor-hardened uniform
She wears
Mittened hands strain with curiosity
As sweatered pit bull puppy
Strains at leash
Infant eyes tear of confinement
Duty and resolve tethers canine away
Both wondering in infantile language
Must naïve curiosity always remain separated
Why so much fearful exposure
Engendering further fear
Made to keep separate
Connections intended
From eight stories up on the avenue
Binoculared eyes and iphoned voice
Remind Nanny to place baby's reaching hands
Beneath angora blanket
Protect
Protect
The puppy sniffs another moment
Nannie pockets smart phone
Gathers responsibility
Wheels away doleful innocence
Master jerks leash
Ever mindful of misunderstanding
Suddenly...
The simple language
Pant
Lick
Smile
Giggle
Contact
Becomes one's early experience
Cautioning of query's risk
Onlookers duck heads
Perhaps conscious
Acknowledgment might create fatal pause
Thus
Retreating ignorance by observers
Becomes a "through a glass darkly" for innocents
Risking perhaps forever embedded distrust
As the child with smiles
A puppy with out-of-control-tail swag
Separate
Unrequited love
Becomes just another vanishing moment
For disquieted hearts
Simple lessons of oneness
So often ignored
Sunny yellow straw hats with ribbons and bows,
Butterflies that shine when the full moon glows,
Feather cushions scattered of bright pink and blue,
Buttercups and daises have such a magnificent hue,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Chocolates, candy and rainbow-colored gummies,
Fill us up and says no more for you to our tummies,
Kittens that meow and cuddly puppies that bark,
Make me want to take off and fly and sing as a lark,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Warm gloves, beanies and scarves knitted by granny,
Keep me warm in winter as I’m told by nanny,
The brilliant green lawn is such fun to roll on,
Maxine visited France brought me yummy bonbons.
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
If I’m ever really feeling lonely or sad,
I walk to the bottom of the garden,
Our password, I beg your pardon,
I visit Maxine, and I don’t feel so bad.
Jelly like silkworms spin golden threads,
I have a clown who is funny, we are good friends,
Wish I had a teddy bear sister, must be able to walk,
But God please give her a voice, so we can talk,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
I would really like to visit the moon or maybe mars,
And take a space ride in the galaxy among the stars,
Or dive deep down into the sea, shake all the eight,
Tentacles of an octopus and take a selfie on that date,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
Maxine, may we play magic, could you take me to your land,
Not for keeps, I think that would be so grand,
Maxine whispered your parents would ever so sad,
Give it some thought, just a tad, rather stay in your own pad,
The above are my dreams as I think of you.
If I’m ever feeling lonely or sad,
I walk to the bottom of the garden,
Our password, I beg your pardon,
I visit Maxine and don’t feel so bad.
Looking under a leaf
In search of a caterpillar thief
Pinched a tomatoes cheek
Oh what a creepy creep
He's a very deliberate critter
She cried that hairy worm bit her
Said,"He'd come back to get her
And scare her baby sitter."
Her nanny saw her cryin'
Knew she wasn't lyin'
Her story there was no denyin'
That worm bit her "cheek" like a lion
If you see that herbivorous fellow
That made that tomato turn yellow
He'll be under a leafy umbrella
And as fat as an armadillo
He's a real tomato masher
A suspected garden trasher
He's wanted and needs to be captured
And sentenced to life in a pasture
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner:)
I head an interesting thought
on the state of the world today,
about the wokeness, the PC,
and why we’re degrading this way,
That tied it to something that we
often celebrate quite a lot,
that would be maternal instinct,
the kind that most women have got,
that’s why we’re seeing such softness,
such growing degeneracy,
is that they’re placing this instinct
on the whole of society.
Now we all know that this instinct
has an important role to play,
who of us would still be alive
if women were not made this way?
Babies need lots of nurturing,
they always need to be kept safe,
and women with good instincts were
the ones who saw themselves replaced,
the ones whose descendants live on,
and would should be thankful for that,
so it seems strange, at first, to say
that such an instinct can be bad.
But then bring in feminism,
as we’re seen the last face decades,
telling women to go to work,
it’s more important to get paid.
And we’ve seen women do just that,
that is where the problem took off,
since women choosing to take jobs
doesn’t mean the instincts are lost.
You can’t ignore evolution,
and the nurture meant for a babe
gets displaced onto society,
we’ve seen this so much in our age.
Look at all of this woke nonsense,
blind cheerleading of ‘the oppressed.’
feminine instinct to protect
what they perceive as the smallest.
And if that virtue signaling
brings women a nice, moral buzz,
that’s like those ‘super-mother’ types,
who gain status from their ‘extra love.’
Look at the damn HR culture,
With its tone policing run rife,
like mothers lecturing young kids
not to say words that ‘aren’t nice.’
look at the cancel culture plague,
seems remarkably like grounding,
say something that mother won’t like,
you’re punished, they take all your things.
Look at the nonsense called ‘hate speech,’
the punishing of points-of-view…
the female urge to spare feelings,
and place emotion above truth.
Look at the cursed ‘nanny state,’
the safety obsession we see,
how much comes from the displaced urge
to protect a helpless baby?
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
SNOW IN SPRING
the cherry blossoms in preakness pink,
a swaff of butterflies,
gliding in otherworldly space,
fluttering like snow in Spring.
Cherry Lane in sonorous state,
an avalance of petals
in the streets -
shovelfuls of Japanese gold.
gilded in the hair of rich and poor,
who avoid each other's eyes
distracted by the blustery storm
kinder than the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank.
Poppins, breezes in and out of time,
a nanny with plenipotentiary showers
that leave the Banks rich and clean
and floating high as a kite, pretty as Spring.
5/29/2019
*References made to Disney's Mary Poppins
We are a family conisisting of six,Billy,Shirl,Karen,Lynne,Myself and Trace
i would say that Lynne stands out,so proud you have done well with
no hairs or grace,
your warm personality,kindness caring are just a few of your charms
you will go to any lengths to see see people come to no harm
Your advice is accurate and reassuringly strong
and if taken onboard you will see where is the wrong
i can see you are doting nanny of Erin and Owen
and the love u create can blatantly see it flowing
well my sis , i will wind down your little rhyme
although i know i could stretch it,for many a line
and keep words flying,like a turtle dove
so i will wrap this up for you and send it off with love
The Vatican hides many books, but some stories bleed through stone.
He was Pope Fourteen, God's chosen hand,
A shepherd cloaked in crimson and command.
But beneath the weight of holy crowns,
A man still burns when no one's around.
She was Anna, a Catholic nanny, pure and fair,
With ink-black eyes and Marian prayer.
She sang the hymns with sacred grace—
But bore a storm behind her face.
Each Sunday night, when Rome lay still,
They met below Saint Peter’s will.
A hidden tunnel, cold and deep,
Where secrets crawl and angels weep.
There, among scrolls and serpent dust,
They broke their vows in sacred lust.
He kissed her sins, she moaned his name—
No saint or sinner left the same.
He whispered, “Forgive me, Father, for I have burned,”
She answered, “Then burn again until we learn.”
But fate is cruel to secret flames—
The nanny’s belly grew with shame.
A holy child? A cursed seed?
The Curia watched, and so decreed.
They took the child in robes and rings,
And chanted old unspoken things.
The infant’s cry became the bell—
That tolls for those who sleep in Hell.
A dagger carved from Judas’ breath,
Was kissed and plunged to seal its death.
The Pope knelt down, too numb to scream,
And Anna vanished from the dream.
Now when the bells of midnight toll,
And incense haunts the dome’s black soul,
They say a cry can still be heard—
A baby’s wail. A broken word.
The Pope went blind in both his eyes,
But claimed he now could see the skies.
He walks alone, he speaks to ghosts—
And drinks to shadows more than hosts.
So if you wander Vatican's night,
Beware the door without a light.
Where love and death once made a vow—
And saints still tremble, even now.
This is the last poem on the history of Felicity, a person I know from correspondence with a friend abroad. No relation of mine.
In one year's time, I shall retire
What is there to look for?
Two of my daughters got married.
They live quite far from me.
Only Felicity remains, the middle one,
The one I loved most.
Mind you I paid for a grand wedding for both of them.
No favouritism would impede me from
Granting their wishes., but living far
I rarely see them especially as babies came
To brighten our humdrum life.
But where was Felicity? She spent so much time
At the hospital, except for our usual Sunday lunch.
Until one Sunday, a bomb blasted my brains.
Felicity had a fiancée, whom she invited
To our Sunday lunch. Was I angry? Confused?
He was a comely fellow, a brain surgeon to boot.
He promised to buy a house adjoining mine,
And a door would join both our houses.
Soon Felicity got married and what a wedding I paid.
They were the happiest couple on earth.
And soon she gave birth to a bundle of joy.
From that day on I did not act as a father
But a nanny for my lovely grandson.
~ It's a 'Gimmerick,' i.e., 'Limerick-Style' ~
Three suspects on the train
A nanny, a granny, and 'the butler'
The nanny's too young
The granny's too old
Someone whispered the name of 'the butler'
A trio of suspicious characters on the bus
A burglar, a gurgler, and 'the butler'
The burglar's too quiet
The gurgler's a riot
Someone whispered the name of 'the butler'
A triumvirate of VIP's on the plane
A President, a Prime Minister, and The Pope
The President's too cautious
The Prime Minister's nauseous
The Pope whispered the name of 'the butler'
The train and the bus pulled into the station
The plane landed nearby, a short ambulation
President's limo whisked him away
Prime Minister sneaked on the subway
The Pope? DOA, poor chap ~ Self-strangulation
She’s always very clean and neat
With chocolate, sweets and other treats
When mummy says no, nanny wins
Like when we want to do baking
Peek-a-boo to nursery rhymes
Mischief making, pull faces times
Lots of games and lots of laughter
Silly times like when nan’s dafter
At the park on swings and slides
When it rains build tents and hide
We like to colour and do dot-to-dots
Remember banging spoons on pots
Nan could really not be sweeter
Playing games she let me beat her
She’d pick me up and hold me high
And if I fell, she’d wipe my eye
Finger prints on walls and glass
She’d potty train, help wipe our * (bottom)
It’s did not matter, we’ve no doubt
Making memories it’s about