Long News to me Poems
Long News to me Poems. Below are the most popular long News to me by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long News to me poems by poem length and keyword.
He’s got plans to meet his friend,
And he’s putting things in his pockets, his wallet, his keys, a set of dice.
‘I can’t forget these dice’ he says to me.
‘I did not know you had a set of dice, that’s news to me.
But why on god’s green earth do you need that to go with you?’
‘Because, Mother, I am off to gamble with the homeless junkies in the wash.’
‘Ahhhh, what will you be gambling for?’
‘I have no idea, Mother, but they are definitely going to stab me to death for it.’
‘Well, be careful, honey, vaya con dios’ I say.
‘If I survive the night, it won’t be because I tried to.
Yes gambling is a very dangerous vice,’ he says as he walks out the door.
He’s back within the hour, they met for burgers and called it a night.
I wonder, how did my kid get so damn funny?
Kobey is a Diamond, who despite his verbal trials
Got taken to a courthouse, for he baulked at dingos wiles
He lost his rag, he'd grabbed his phone; he swore he'd
Had enough, he rolloked the state premier; said life was
Tough enough, he e-ffed at him and made a din, said
Lockdown was a joke, I think he wished 'old dingo' on
His mandates bill would choke?then he brought his mother
Into things which got the judge quite riled.. So he gave
Kobry a lecture; as one might with a child he'd have to
Write an apology.. Say sorry and other lies, I wouldn't
Worry Kobey, that's just typical courthouse style, dingo's
At it every day, He's just like a machine, much more
Than once in a in a while' till he got that quarrantine
He' d Hold on tight; treat em mean and keep em keen.'
Just like in bdsm, they wear a mask; you set the tasks
And if they're good? they can come up for air a'gin '
So looking on things Kobey, I don't rate you a threat.'
Yet I really the do take issue, with the way that you were treat
You fronted up that liar; you opened up the truth
You,'re found to be an asset, though they were so uncouth..
Another aspect to you, is your discerning streak
You know the score, and damage caused in only two short
Weeks.?? Then as far as freedom goes, I see you're a true lover!
Also it's great news to me; that 'old dingo even, has a mother.?
We embraced,
“I'll see you soon,” she said,
I watched the vehicle leave,
I felt hollow and empty,
It was my first time seeing her,
I have heard so much about her,
I had longed to see her since I was a child,
I didn’t know that was the last farewell,
She didn’t come back,
We didn’t see anymore,
She sailed away.
She was taken ill,
She had had the early signs,
I was told about it,
But didn’t notice it when we met,
She looked hale and sound,
We talked at length,
She went down memory lane.
The ailment had a deep inroad into her,
It stole her present,
It brought her past before her,
When we were happy she had turned the corner,
She breathed her last,
With a smile on her face, she gave up,
My auntie broke the news to me,
She was the last of her clan.
July 1, 2022.
How I used to be
Is now old news to me
If I said observation is the only way
Someone should ask did I observe the universe today
Or am I able to observe the observing of all things?
Particulars and universals will never exchange rings
If I said life is meaningless
Someone should ask does that statement have meaning?
If so I need to do some intellectual cleaning
I have toys in the attic
My thinking has become static
That is problematic
If I said there is no absolute truth
Someone should ask is that absolutely true?
I should become a sleuth
Or at least a tailor to mend something borrowed
with something blue,
and something old with something new
You can't put new wine in an old wine skin
You can't re-enter the womb to be born again
Pointing the way by Ithuriel's sword
Reanimating you by God's [S]Word
So truly the truth will set you free
If God will grant it to thee
While He is yet near.....seek
As the Holy Spirit does quietly speak
It’s news to me, that it’s news to you,
Accept my change, ‘for I bid it adieu;
Out of the void, and there’s no turning back,
I’m not insane, just good ol’ handsome jack.
I could go on, but it’s starting to drag,
I feel brand new, and I don’t mean to brag,
but…
If you can’t see, that you’re all to blame,
Look in the mirror, then you can take aim,
It can’t be me, for I am brand new,
So once again, let me bid you adieu,
I do not want, the life that I once had,
Please don’t protest princess, you’ll just get sad,
My divinity is past infinity,
Can’t reclaim my virginity,
Am I—
getting through to you?
A flock of large birds
or a fleet of small small planes
is speeding towards me.
NO! It's worse--mosquitoes!
I failed to use repellent!
I grab my swatter.
They slap it away, laughing--
my baseball bat too.
I’ll need a tub of itch cream,
maybe a transfusion.
The females descend
to feast on me; the males watch,*
rendering support
with cheering and clapping.
Next time I’ll use spray with DEET.
*Male mosquitoes do not bite living things; they can only consume sugary
fluids and thus do not bite or suck the blood of humans or animals. This was news to me!
August 21, 2021
entered in the Buggy Tanka Contest
Sponsor: M.L. Kiser
When you’re here I am oblivious to the cold, I feel warm.
When you are around, I am oblivious to the raging storm.
It just makes a nice ambiance for us to snuggle you see.
It doesn’t matter if you burn the toast, it tastes good to me.
Some overnight visitors have tactfully told me you snore.
This is news to me, my darling I am oblivious once more.
When you fail to offer help when I am quite snowed under,
I never seem to mind, don’t care, I keep my thoughts asunder.
Grass so long, as one walks through it, may be afraid of snakes.
But I am oblivious to the little amount of effort mowing takes.
Also oblivious to the state of our car when I take it for a drive.
I pick up the food and shoo out the flies, the ones that are alive.
I am so glad for the word oblivious, and it’s Constance I must thank.
I may not have thought of this word if I hadn’t opened my think tank.
Imagine if Oblivious became I BLAME YOU, what would I have thought?
It might get so serious. Our next destination would be a divorce court.
Oh, Medieval Studies hit me hard!
I'd had to give myself a dressing-down,
A telling-off: "You want that cap and gown?
Then get your ass to lectures!" Bowland Yard
was frosty, unforgiving on my feet
that Monday morning. Seven forty-five?
I'm all alone? Is anyone alive?
I took the lecture theatre's highest seat,
(that is, remotest from the podium).
What sap gives lectures at this time of day?
"The Role of Guildsmen in the Passion Play" -
small wonder I was held in odium
by my professors. I'd been bent on passion,
and far too keen on play, to have a clue
what any of this meant, but now I knew
I had to sharpen up ... well, after a fashion.
That early stuff took place was news to me,
the party-loving fresher. One more yawn
resounded in the chilly air. Forlorn,
my scruffy pad took doodles, listlessly.
A door lisped open. In swayed Cheryl Ladd -
no, Rita Coolidge - Buffy St. Marie.
Some little trinkets tinkled gracefully
as Buffy slid beside me. I hid my pad
with one swift forearm. "Is it taken?" She
bestowed on me a smile so sweetly knowing,
I didn't know if I was coming or going.
"This seat," she said. I stuttered, "No, it's free."
The lecture, when it happened, was a killer,
but I was insulated from all pain.
I even thought I might show up again,
with Miss World wafting something like vanilla.
I crossed the Yard with no thought but my bed,
but someone tugged my sleeve. That fragrance! Her!
"I'm Helen." My whole campus was a blur.
"I wonder ... could you help me, please?" she said.
The next part can be skipped, or summarised.
She wanted me to teach her Skelton, Chaucer -
well, anything. Even Hengist and Horsa!
Three lesson-dates went by. I hadn't wised
up yet. Tonight, she didn't seem that fussed
with Grendel's mother's vile propensity
for harm. She looked with strange intensity
full in my eyes. "You catching that last bus?"
The air seemed cooler as I left her flat.
No hug tonight. No pasta to take home.
Her hair stayed stolid, captured by her comb.
Somehow, our lessons died off after that.
Long decades drain away, we don't know how.
A moral to this tragic history?
All I can think is, what I'd give to be
nineteen again - and know what I know now!