Long Nineteen Poems
Long Nineteen Poems. Below are the most popular long Nineteen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nineteen poems by poem length and keyword.
Shame on you, Jimmy Savile
The secrets you've kept all this while
How many woman and children have you abused
Covered by friends that you have used
The poor little girl in her hospital bed
The truths come out, now that you're dead
A girl with brain damage, what were you drinking
You filthy pedophile, what were you thinking
It's probably more but two hundred nineteen times
Incidents have formally been recorded as crimes
Your fame on the air, DJ and TV
Your celebrity status means nothing to me
Revoking your Knighthood to me is a must
It would be in the U.S., In god we do trust
So I ask you queen, to make a new trial
And remove the Knighthood of Jimmy Savile
Growing my hair down below my knees...
stimulated courtesy follicles,
where Coconut, Olive, Grapeseed,
Jojoba, Amla and Vitamin E oils
allowed, enabled,
and provided head start
germinating peach fuzz into brown strands
after Flaxseeds, Pumpkin seeds and Fenugreek
being sprinkled on my scalp
yielded a bumper crop of hirsute weeds
occasionally tripping me up
analogous to hallucinogen
causing a public health hazard
warranting, necessitating, and goading me
to give shout out for stylist
to tender mine lovely brunette locks,
which might be repurposed into a wig
for patients undergoing chemotherapy,
or afflicted with alopecia,
(the partial or complete absence
of hair from areas of the body
where it normally grows; baldness).
As a knobby kneed, puny,
scrawny, wimpy kid whose,
(back in the nineteen sixties),
his parents decreed their singular
(painfully shy dorky, geeky and nerdy)
old school boy who sported a buzz cut,
which found him reacting and responding
(in short order rebelling)
passive aggressively by
refusing to bathe
until mommy dearest demanded
(well nigh upon
the bewitching hour of midnight)
to witness her son soaked
and essentially marinated
(until my skin shriveled like a prune)
in the (clawfoot) tub
lest he stink to high heavens,
and given a serious dressing down
by the timely principal Mister Clock.
Far back as I can remember,
the significance of hair
assumed an outsize role,
whether enviously eying other lads
their thick straight hank,
or nowadays bristling
with self reproach
cursed with thinning
greasy limp strands
(interspersed with gray)
experiencing shame being seen in public,
a disgrace to our family name of Wagstaff
and an embarrassment
to the human race
ofttimes associating
myself with Samson,
whereat emotional, physical,
and spiritual strength
rooted (pun intended)
within each hair shaft
(the visible part of the hair
that sticks out of the skin),
and rooted in the skin and extends
down to the deeper layers of the skin
surrounded by the hair follicle
(a sheath of skin
and connective tissue),
which is also connected
to a sebaceous gland.
Imagine if you could travel back through time
Choosing any era to explore
What time in history would interest you?
Mine would be nineteen thirty-four
Why, you ask, would I choose that year
From all the great epochs in time
Just wondering how my parents survived
The crash of nineteen twenty-nine
Another era that's interesting to me
The late fifties when I was wed
I remember it was very scary back then
Nuclear war was hanging over our heads
But here we are in the twenty-first century
With all these amazing inventions
The world hasn't become any friendlier now
We still have the same old tensions
Perhaps if I live a hundred more years
Nations will have stopped waging war
I know, I know, you can call me a dreamer
We'll all just carry on as before
Do you know my answer to all of this
Keep on giggling the whole way through
Sing happy tunes and tell funny jokes
A little loving wouldn't hurt too!
© Jack Ellison 2014
THE LION IN THE WINTER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May, nineteen-forty~
France bleeds out,
a crimson tide.
jackboots goose-step across Europe,
a continent silenced
gagged by swastikas.
They thought him broken~
the old lion, his mane frosted,
a relic of an empire,
a voice too gravelly,
a toothless roar,
too old.
September bleeds
into a desperate autumn.
He sees the maps,
the relentless gray advance~
the English channel
a fragile moat against the tide
of Reitstiefel und Hakenkreuze.
He stands,
a lion in the winter,
and roars:
“We shall fight on the beaches,
we shall fight on the landing grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
we shall fight in the hills;
we shall never surrender.
His words, like granite,
hang in the air,
thick with battlefield smoke
and hope~
hurled against the storm,
a lifeline thrown to a teetering nation.
The island stands,
Churchill’s darkest hour,
forged into a beacon.
Reitstiefel und Hakenkreuze. (army boots and swastikas)
MY EXISTENCE (AMY)
I walk into the graveyard and see “Amy” on your stone,
And know from family hist’ry you’re not lying there alone.
She was not my mother but I can’t help but know
I owe my whole existence to the mother there below.
Amy was expecting, her first child on its way.
She took a spell as people said away back in that day.
The doctor came by buggy, few autos way back then.
No telephone to call him in the year nineteen and ten.
The doctor came into the room and in a solemn voice,
Said I cannot save them both, you have to make a choice.
“The mother by all means”, my future father said,
Then waited for the verdict, room filled with hope and dread.
But the doctor was unable to rescue either one.
He had no help to save them, surgeon far away in town.
He conveyed the dreadful news, his lack of skill confessed.
Said that he was sorry, he had done his very best.
They laid Amy in her grave for her eternal rest,
Her stillborn child still with her, placed upon her breast.
I can’t imagine father’s pain as they were lowered down,
His wife and child and future disappearing underground.
I’m so sorry for you Amy, you deserved a better fate.
Your whole life lay before you, so many paths to take.
A half built house reminder, still left for him to see.
I’m sorry that you had to die so that there could be me.
All the chapters in my life would not have taken place.
All the people that I knew, others in their space.
A trillion interactions, all the things I’ve done.
The sum of my existence, the sum could have been none.
I walk out of the graveyard, still more for me to give.
Humbled by my fortune in ever having lived.
One sad event occurring, so many years gone by.
The hand of fate deciding who would live and who would die.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2025.
Let love become viral these days,
Allowing it to quickly spread;
Let it infect every human,
To turn blue and gray into red.
This kind of virus is better
Than the cold-blooded corona;
The heartless, cruel covid-nineteen
Brings blackness to every area.
Let the divine disease transfer
From heart to heart of the people;
No need for physical distance,
No need to use the alcohol.
It's because everyone is clean,
Having sacred soul and pure heart;
The holiness has washed away
The dirt and grime that fall apart.
Don't place yourself in quarantine,
Augment the amorous moral;
Don't let your ruth go on lockdown,
Always let love become viral.
A Monday morning, nineteen ninety-one
sat at my desk within I.T support
the first working minute had not yet gone
the phone rang- 'normal day' or so I thought.
The call was from a damsel in distress
her voice was unfamiliar to me
I grabbed my tools and set off nonetheless
in ignorance of how things hence would be.
A fresh faced blonde rose from her desk and smiled
her voice danced like the daisies in the breeze
one gentle laugh and I was left beguiled
and though we became friends, no chance I seized.
Do I regret the choices I have made?
Oh precious memory, why must you fade?
For contest 'Limerence', sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
The Great Lakes Engineering Works built a new boat
S. S. Edmund Fitzgerald, t'would soon be afloat
The people that owned her needed a name
President of the company was given that fame.
One of the largest boats to sail on the Great Lakes
Was a solidly built boat and had what it takes
September twenty fourth nineteen fifty and eight
Was her maiden voyage, laden with freight.
The 'Mighty Fitz' was the nickname they gave her
'Titanic Of The Lakes', sadly that would come later
For years she shipped freight from town to town
Crossing the Great Lakes, left, right, up and down.
The lakes weather worsened in the month of November
Ferocious storm's that would pull ships asunder
That fateful day 'The Fitz' took a route
Sailing to Detroit from a port near Duluth.
A hurricane force storm was heading their way
Other ships took refuge in Whitefish bay
Captain McSorleys last message, " We're holding our own"
What happened thereafter isn't quite known.
The storm battered the boat with thirty foot waves
And sent all her crew to their watery graves
November the tenth, nineteen seventy five
The 'Mighty Fitz' sank, no one did survive.
Lake Superior was where the tragedy occurred
When the news got out, church bells could be heard
The Reverend Ingalls twenty nine times he did toll
For the crew of 'The Mighty Fitz' every lost soul.
A memorial service is held once a year
The bells are tolled, they pray, shed a tear
Stories have been written, and a ballad too
Dedicated to the men of 'The Mighty Fitz' crew.
A Noteworthy Ship Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Ligouri
Written 18.12. 2017
Jack was always a happy soul,
Just a shop boy with a sweetheart.
When the war called men and boy
Their lives were torn apart.
He wrote letters to his sweetheart
Saying we'll be married someday.
he wrote letters to his mother
And Inquired about her day
he would write to his little brother
telling of the horrors that he saw.
And of how the bloody fighting wasn’t
the only killer in that war.
Taking boys as young as fourteen,
hunger and disease had played a part.
While loved ones filled with sorrow,
Had died with a broken heart.
Then came the fateful day
his loved ones had lived to dread.
All of the letters they had sent,
come back unopened and unread.
MIA
they wrote his heartbroken family
their kin was lost to war.
They never found his body,
Coming home, he never saw.
A young man of just nineteen,
They had named him jack.
They lent him to the army,
And never got him back!
I consummated my love to you
Married in the eyes of God
Legally, morally true
Married in the eyes of God
Legally means by this state of this union
Really means by god's grace we've proven
On the wedding of O one-twenty one nineteen seventy six
And the verdict
Yes, the blessing is
God has granted this
Oh! what a glorious
This wedding of O one-twenty one nineteen seventy six
I know in my heart God's granted this
What God has joined together, let's let no other put asunder
When this union sticks to it
The world now finds it quite odd
That we serve a God
With a public demonstration of a couple's commitment to all
That these we two are now forever as one
let no one put them asunder you also my wonder
Married in the eyes of God
Legally and morally true
Legally means binding by God's holy rules
What God had join together let's let not other human put us asunder
The wedding of O one-twenty one nineteen seventy six
from anthology "The Wedding 012176"
01/15/15
written by James Edward Lee Sr.