Long Nina Poems
Long Nina Poems. Below are the most popular long Nina by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nina poems by poem length and keyword.
Living with mom
Feeling loved and protected
Nurtured in every kind of way
He is predictably helpless
Never washed a dish
Or loaded a dishwasher
Never held a job
Or paid a bill
Never dated
No secret why
Mother dies unexpectedly
World falls apart
He is helpless
Has never written a check
Or dealt with insurance agencies
Or bought groceries
Or cleaned anything
We predicted this might happen.
But he did not notify us.
As we also predicted.
He starves to death
In front of a pantry full of food
Forty-two-years old, a grown-up baby,
Who does not know how to use a can opener.
Written 12-06-2019
Contest: Predictable
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
They had no way to know, lest she put on a show.
Used an assumed name to check in, a seedy motel, run by my cousin, Big Finn.
He barely looked up but saw the tired, and the shaking of her hands.
Glanced again and recognized she was the wild drummer of his favorite cover band.
He kept her stay quiet for three weeks and a day.
She obviously needed a safe place to stay.
She kept on her glasses, and he never let on. Letting her think she had fooled him too.
The stage manager Les, had his suspicions, but he learned to trust Finn McGoo.
Finn kept this quiet for almost two years, he would have kept it quiet for twenty more,
But the band came to his town, and they checked in again.
When he got to the venue, with tickets, Les ran him to the head of the line.
She is waiting for you, he told him. We all think you are much more than fine.
He had earned their confidence, respect, and their trust.
He had backseat tickets, and she ran to him, and just
Gave him a gentle pat, on his arm, to thank him.
At breakfast the next day, she took off her glasses,
And gave him some beautiful backstage passes.
She said, Finn, you we trust, up and down. You may bring anyone from this charming town.
I hate to brag, but I have to say,
They always stop at Finn’s, to this very day.
Written 10-14-2018
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter Contest: Trying Something New
A calendar girl I certainly am not
my assets aren’t what they once were ...
pert boobies have drooped, they’ve sure gone to pot
I think other ladies can concur.
I’m realistic about the aging process
As my body is droopy and sags
And it causes me constant distress
when my bra catches on pesky skin tags
My hair colour comes from a bottle
I must use dye to cover the grey
So I apply it all at full throttle ...
Hairdresser’s bills I don’t want to pay!
My double chin it has expanded,
you should see the size of my jowls
and I expect that I’ll be reprimanded
If I dare mention my runny bowels!
I just suddenly dash to the loo
as my bladder it feels fit to burst
Drat, the ladies has such a long queue -
when I use public toilets, I’m cursed!
Sheer relief when I squat on the toilet
(I must not let my tush touch the seat)
Because sadly other women can ‘mark it’
their wee dribbles I don’t want to meet!
I hate to admit that I’m aging
and no longer am I a young lass
But my husband is still so engaging
and he can’t resist patting my a s s!
MAINLY A FICTION POEM - SPONSOR TOLD US TO HAVE FUN!
A Rattling Rhyme Contest
Sponsored by Nina Parmenter
7/30/18
The Sonnet is my favored form;
with meter, rhyme, and feet, I do conform.
But what if I diverted, mixed
two meters with a couplet rhyme, affixed
with syllables of eight and ten
and feet of four and five, and then again,
repeat throughout the fourteen lines...
play silly mischief with old form's confines?
It seems to me this form is neat;
I like the freedom using mixed-up feet
and syllables that make lines long
or short to break up patterns of singsong.
This newest form, I now proclaim,
that 'Mixed-Feet-Couplet Sonnet' be its name!
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: A Form Of Mischief
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Judged: 10/04/2018
Rules: Creatively modify a standard poetry form
New Sonnet:
Couplet Rhymes
Seven 8-syllable lines of four feet (Tetrameter)
Seven 10-syllable lines of five feet (Pentameter)
November 17, 2019
Disarray Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nina Permanter
Disarray (Happy Disarray)
It happened one evening
The fourth of July
My lover went looking
For sparks in the sky.
He hadn’t been gone
For a minute or more
When someone came knocking
Loud on my front door.
I thought it was he,
He had found some bright flash
But instead, it was no one,
Maybe ding dong and dash.
I closed up my door
Knowing it was some quack,
When all of a sudden
My lover came back.
He had him a bottle
Of booze and some cheese
He sat on the step
Then got down on his knees.
He said he had something
He wanted to say
But his mumbling was nothing
But loud disarray.
I tried to stay calm
Tried hard not to laugh
But the look on his face
It cut me in half.
He had this strange look
With a glint in his eye
It turns out he was there
To tell me it was goodbye.
I couldn’t stand there
With him all drunk and dumb
So I went to the curb
And I put out my thumb.
A car came by quick
And I jumped in the back
I didn’t see him nor
His disgusting ass crack.
I was happy to go
And so happy to leave
That the rest of the night
I wore my heart on my sleeve.
The new year has begun... another one to follow suit,
to all, both young or old,
the same it will unfold.
A time to celebrate...goodbye old year, and welcome new...
with wishes for a start
to pleasure every heart.
And always it's divided in the way which we expect...
four seasons every year;
same order to appear.
First quarter brings us winter...colder weather, ice, and snow;
although there's still bright sun,
most want our winter done.
Yet, landscapes are most beautiful, a winter wonderland
with lovely pristine snow...
when there's no place to go.
Next quarter brings us Spring..rebirthing of new, tender grass
surrounding buttercups
and daffodil lineups...
While trees fill out with velvet leaves that flutter in the breeze;
providing shade for all,
and bird nests, large and small.
The next three months make quarter three, a favorite for sure;
relaxing in the pool,
and trying to keep cool.
Vacation time to take a break...with family, spend time;
and be it at the shore...
wherever...wish for more.
The final quarter is the last in which we share some fun
like viewing autumn leaves
redecorate the trees.
And, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and of course, our Christmastime;
bring holidays, for sure...
sweet bonding they ensure.
Then comes the last day of the year, another New Year's Eve.
Best wishes spread, and then...
it all will start again!
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: As Easy As A-B-B
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Judged: 01/07/2019
Dear uncle, what can I say at the twilight of my life
about the things you did to me
About a time of my youth when I could barely talk,
let alone write poetry
We were family so I was told
as they gave away my bedroom
and accommodated you and your entire family
Backbone and boundaries words yet to be tasted
on a little girls silent muted lips...
I slept on a broken cot in the living room
with my cousin Nina
while you got to sleep in my soft bed.
I was the offspring of your wife's brother,
did that not mean anything to you ?
You pressed your old lips on hers
told her she tasted good
you made her weep
and cry, run away
and hide
Silent secrets festered
between you and I
You, an immigrant pedophile
who knew not the meaning of family
nor decency ...
Dear uncle,
You pressed my young lips with your salty ones
taking my innocence while mom lay on a hospital bed
miles away from home.
My other body guard, father and hero
was busy in the cellar,
funneling sweet wine to serve your bitter belly.
I tried to tell mom ages later beneath outstretched stars
but she said God spared her the knowledge
for she couldn't have handled the knowing, back then
as if it was all about her and not me.
Too bad God didn't spare that little girl uncle,
was she not worth it ? heh
At twelve years of age I picked up a pen
and I wrote about what I couldn't speak of
yes, I became a poet thanks to you !
I turned to verse like a hungry beast
with her tongue cut out.
As you lie in your grave,
do you remember the child in me?
do you recall the warm baths
you were denied access to ?
Thank God mom came home
and you and your entire family moved out
Do you remember that stone face girl with
the sepulcher mouth that said
that spoke with her eyes only, " keep out "
Do you remember me, Uncle G ?
Walking on a cruise ship am I.
I’m walking when already there is motion.
But actually, I’m walking through my house.
(not my fortune to be cruising on the ocean).
Warm currents like a breeze move down my back.
Yet I’m inside. No fan’s on. This happens often.
Sometimes wiggling worms are the tingles down my back.
Perhaps at last they’ll all be gone once I’m in my coffin.
And eating! Oh, the pleasure it became.
Currents also mingled with my bites of food.
That strange sensation left me thankfully.
Then a new thing came along to make me brood.
The unnatural taste I had had – now it’s becoming not quite as bad.
My constantly having to swallow it down happens now less frequently.
But now I’ve no lips! (well of course, anybody can see them).
My condition evolved? Neuropathy’s moved in on me!
Oral phantoms are haunting me now.
I found this on Google by typing in “mouth that is weird.”
No doctors I’ve seen even know my condition.
No real treatments exist, which is just what I feared.
Like ears when they ring (called tinnitus)
“ringing mouths” have the term “oral phantoms.”
My ghosties are running amok all day long
always changing their ring tone! So random!
The inside of my mouth’s getting signals all wrong.
“Be lumpy;” “be smooth;” “be gigantic;” “be small.”
“Now be squishy” (that one I hate with a passion).
Wet or dry though inside, my lips on the outside I don’t feel at all.
By accident I have discovered
the mouthguard I use for teeth-grinding
could help me to deal with my phantoms,
but no great relief am I finding.
I thank God my tongue’s not affected
though eating is often as weird as hell.
Indescribable is each sensation.
Body’s strong; nervous system’s NOT well.
Different surges – I give names for them.
This past year, a new thing arose.
Nothing bothersome: like they are 1/3 asleep,
they’re the new thing I’ve named “squiggly toes.”
Dec. 11, 2020 for Nina Parmenter's 'It feels surreal' Poetry Contest
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
God you are
You are my darling love
God you are my, my darling, darling love
God your my darling love from the heavens above
And I am ever grateful and thankful
That you've chosen me and that I've chosen you
God you are
You are my darling love
God you are my, my darling, darling love
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepenzi upendo
Mungu wangu mepnzi upendo kuto ka mbinguni juu ya
I ni milele kubwa full na kushukuru
kwamba umefanya mlionichagua mimi
na kwamba nimepata nilikuchagua
Lord, Jesus you are my one and only
You are the one for me
and this I am gratified
you are my ever and always
Will worship you for days on days oh, oh
Your my darling love
you are my ever, forever my measure
And in you I'm satisfied
Bwana Yesu wewe ni mmoja yangu na tu
wewe ni mmoja kwa ajili yangu na tu
milele kipimo yangu
na katika wewe, mimi nina ameridhika
God my darling love oh, Lord God you are
you are my darling love
It was a story old and discrete, the screech worthy of repeat
disconnected from everyday communal speak.
It was always in the night children closed their doors in fright
fearing creatures might awake, and slip in their minds to take.
So one night, when the quiet of the day
easily had slipped away, and each child knelt to pray
the wind rose up with rain tapping loud against the window
and beneath pulled up covers, children tightened every sinew,
fearful of the sounds that spoke in claps of thunder
of the creatures fetching to steal away their plunder.
A sound, a step, a creak, a crack, flash of images in the lightning
and thereupon the bed jumped up, scary and most frightening
the cat with glowing eyes of gray and green
meowing loudly fishy breath between the children's screams.
for Goosebumps
Nina Parmenter 12/19/18