Long Nick Poems
Long Nick Poems. Below are the most popular long Nick by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nick poems by poem length and keyword.
I MISS
I miss the hurly burly of the business world
All that backstabbing and the political tricks
And all the ignorance that always surprised
As blustering and hesitation, often disguised
They were easy ways to wriggle out of a fix
As all around them, incompetence swirled
A capacity to listen, one might have thought
Being so pointless going through the motions
Regret for all those disregarded opportunities
Chinese walls between the social communities
Not just rivulets of division, more like oceans
Blind to innovation, just sticking to the report
There were probably just a few days of bliss
The moments when I got the world to rhyme
All around me was a curtain of mere timidity
After years of trying to change such stupidity
Retirement finally arrived in the nick of time
Sorry, I lied, as there is nothing that I’ll miss
Get ready for a challenge. Why?
'cause poetry and dares make me high!
So—you think you’re the best?
I bet you think “I’m a poet and didn’t know it”
will pass my acid test.
I gotta pause right here and yell—
in your face—“L O L”!
Gimme your best sonnet.
I may slap a D-minus on it.
Wait’ll you see mine.
They’re smooth and oh-so-fine.
Toss me a triolet.
Think I’m gonna be wowed with your wit?
I’ll go on and betcha
mine’s gonna be bettah.
Gimme your most rousing rondeau.
I may be your worst foe,
'cause I already know
yours won’t come close
to mine. Think I’m verbose,
don’tcha? Well, I gotta admit
as in my rocker I sit
writin’ this invite to a poetry duel,
never thought I’d have the fuel
to be so crass and cruel
as to dis any fellow poet.
Still, I CHALLENGE YOU. Don’t blow it!
May 16, 2018, entered in Nick Trim's 8 Mile Style Rap Contest
Placed 8th (of 10)
April 8, 2019, entered in Anthony Slausin's Your Amphetamine Contest
Bad revelations reveal colours of truth
you stole this poem from me now didn't you,
I found you yesterday
and what can I say?
Take down my poem,
you stole it without me knowing.
Always remember who took something away,
In your memory I will be your enemy,
I don't know you at all
but it's clear you're a fool,
pretending you wrote this,
superficial and false,
you've a fake personality
in your unreal reality,
hoping your theft will make you a salary.
In this moment please heed,
you can get done legally,
if you would like to be freed
delete my poem immediately.
Cus you're lit up by light,
you stole this alright,
and those who are sighted
tell those unsighted of your write,
the karma came back around,
and your ass it did bite.
It will be a blessing for you,
if my poem is removed,
because if it is not,
your ass will meet my shoe,
and remember you're nothing,
but a petty criminal.
To INNOCENT Komakech,
By Nick Trim
Wearing the silver and blue
Lone stars with loyal honesty that is true
Inviting those dressed in burgundy and yellow
With the mission ‘keep the politicians mellow’
For a Thanksgiving meal
Where the division standings are the big deal
Due to a tie
Eagles at day's end will say goodbye
To first place
Until Monday when brotherly love builds its case
Against the hawks
Underdogs right now by those who use chalk
But after the holiday dinner
Who will be watching this match for a winner?
Just a close game
With the feds having no name
But there is another reason
Why this gridiron duel is pleasing
A nice electric shot
Of the cover model advertising spot
Famed crowd friendly supportive group
Cheering in an attractive uniform suit
Having a certain look
Luring using their physical image like a fishing hook
Guys no longer asking, ‘can she cook?’
These stimulating flashing lights
From the squad protecting their knights
May stop festive fights
Or wake up someone who momentary may not be all right
Since the beast who is calm
After diffusing his egotistical bomb
Still has a mind
And the time
To be thankful and kind
All due to the high kicking line
Or numerous glasses of wine
Win or lose
It is hard to refuse
A football team playing the boys
While helping kids write to the North Pole for new toys
I have in my possession an object I really prize.
It belonged to two guys whom I really idolize.
'Twas a necessary device when straight razors were the fad.
'Tis the leather razor strop used by my Grandpa and Dad.
Its precise genesis is really difficult to gauge,
But it's certainly well over a century old in age.
It shows the scars as they went to all the trouble,
To hone their razors to rid their mugs of stubble!
I can picture them as young swains shaving before the mirror,
With a steady hand trying not to nick an ear.
With a brush and soap to apply lather to their face,
Later to meet their sweeties decked out in ribbons and lace!
Now I never thought of a razor strop in relation to education,
But Mom found a novel use for it much to my mortification.
When I became rowdy and tended not to mind,
That cold, hard strop was generously applied to my behind!
I will pass the old strop along to a subsequent generation,
With vivid tales of Mom's expertise in its application!
This only to add to family knowledge and lore,
But to use on tender behinds never, never more!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
(For people of my generation, especially among the country folk,
dating was not in vogue. When a girl reaches the marriable age, proposals would come and after one or two formal meetings, if the boy and girl like each other, the marriage would be fixed. So, it was more like gambling)
As all teenagers, in my seventeen,
I was lost in reverie of my life with my man,
In my mind's canvas, I drew the image of a gallant,
Who would one day come to wed and own me his.
In the nick of time, he solemnly came,
To hold my hand and tie the knot.
With a pounding heart and quivering breath,
I found him differing from the man I dreamt.
The fabulous fabric in my loom,
Looked at variance from the one unfurled,
Transfixed between fact and fallacy,
I struggled to hide a falling tear.
Time marched on in silent haste,
And I learned to outgrow my childish whims.
Sagacity dawned with passing age,
Making me discern the real from the sham.
It made me admire his sanguine self.
On fathomed deep beyond external mien,
I saw him unveiled in taintless worth,
That made my heart ever pine in love.
Piecing together our halved selves,
With the glue of love, our identities merged.
Now he is with me in my blues,
Consoling me with his balmy touch.
He is with me in my joy,
Making it resonant with a hearty laugh.
He is there when storms rage,
Whispering in my ear, not to fear.
He taught me how to savor life,
To meet the slings with radiant cheer.
Now the image is etched deep,
Never to erase, nor to revise!
And the old portrait locked within,
Grew so musty, bereft of use.
In its place, I keep within,
His solid figure in indelible print.
Jan.22. 2023
~ PLACED FIRST~
How Do You Feel Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Mystic Rose Rose
From politics to humanities tricks,
out cries continues to pour in
on a candles wick.
bringing upcoming havoc
to the new generation
known as Rick,
Connie, Nick, patrick and Vick.
too young to understand
that devastation and complication
is on the rise
in the masterminds mind.
Always seeking with not a care
to whom one can compromise.
leading the weak to the blind.
Leaving valuable measurements behind.
no matter what the weight,
form, length nor size.
for green is the color
of americans hopes and dreams.
causing treachery and deceit
which runs into the river of greed.
leaving visuals of beauty alone
for it is never what it seems.
Circling around a lighted torch
sets ablaze of driveby's
being witnessed by figures
standing amazed and afraid
on their porch.
Clearless rings falls from the cheeks of the skies.
in remembrance of hearing
abondoned babies cries.
Knowing the facts of the crackheads
lows and highs.
One comes to the reality
that the sirens of death never dies.
Making timelines cross
in the midst of history.
seeing the fame of change is no mystery
sitting aside doing nothing
is our greatest misery.
staring in the eyes
seeing the
Cries of Liberty.
bringing upcoming havoc
to the new generation
known as Rick,
Connie, Nick, patrick and Vick.
too young to understand
that devastation and complication
is on the rise
in the masterminds mind.
Always seeking with not a care
to whom one can compromise.
leading the weak to the blind.
Leaving valuable measurements behind.
no matter what the weight,
form, length nor size.
for green is the color
of americans hopes and dreams.
causing treachery and deceit
which runs into the river of greed.
leaving visuals of beauty alone
for it is never what it seems.
Circling around a lighted torch
sets ablaze of driveby's
being witnessed by figures
standing amazed and afraid
on their porch.
Clearless rings falls from the cheeks of the skies.
in remembrance of hearing
abondoned babies cries.
Knowing the facts of the crackheads
lows and highs.
One comes to the reality
that the sirens of death never dies.
Making timelines cross
in the midst of history.
seeing the fame of change is no mystery
sitting aside doing nothing
is our greatest misery.
staring in the eyes
seeing the
Cries of Liberty
People leave like seasons change
Followed by grief and sadness
Tears flow, a chaotic scene
Reminding myself of the madness
Wrenched away in the nick of time
Loving this hard and this much
Is reserved for the one, with care in their heart
For all of me and such
October 19, 2021
~ Ms. Affection
Contest: Something Old – Something New
Sponsor: John Lawless
Original:
The Tsunami of Loss
I lose people, and amid the tsunamis
of grief and sadness that follow,
I remind myself, when finally chaos tears dissolve
and the aftermath of thoughts is allowed:
“Silly child, you should know better
than to love anyone this much by now,
every time you have loved this hard and this much,
you know it will be wrench away from you somehow
Nikita Gill
Jill and Lucille are two very hungry slugs
They often dine out at their local garden food hubs.
Lettuce, flowers, fruits, sunflowers and beans
These are a few choices from these veggie canteens.
Some clues are noticed from a gardeners view
Slugs are not clever, they often leave one big clue.
Slime trails are generally very clear to see
When they travel for food that they eat greedily.
Flowers without heads and partially eaten veg
It all looks a mess when a gardeners work has been wrecked.
But hedgehogs love slugs that are plump and juicy
That's when Jill lost her friend, who's nick name was Lucy.
Jill left the garden when her best friend became their snack
Near to a hill, is where she met her new friend Jack.
But as with all stories, they change over time
Snails morphed into humans and birthed the Jack and Jill rhyme.
But that is not the first or last of the Jill and Lucille tales
Many more will be published about their life in the Dales.
These girls will be as famous with modern songs for the young
Feminine nursery rhyme rights will never be outdone.
Simon used to take part in motocross,
Before his bike stalled once mid-air,
When he was training on his farm land,
Which left him paralysed waist down.
He was born in 1982 on the 7th June,
And having fought back from that day,
In 2001 when he did dance with death,
He now races the Marathon T52/53/54.
He most often competes alongside Weir,
But worries about safety combinations,
Because safety issues can concern him,
And the Zika virus was a scare, quite big.
He lives in Maryport but trains in Carlisle,
At the Sheepmount Stadium to neatly chat,
With olympians Tom Farrell and Nick Miller,
Who he knows to be top athletes, class.
Dr Ian Thompson, Tanni Grey’s hubby,
Who trained this fantastic legendary idol,
Also trains Simon by propelling, pushing,
Him to muscle on further and further.
In 2015 he did brave to firmly complete,
The Great North Run, the half marathon,
When he won the silver in the T53 class,
And he works as a car mechanic by day.