Long Off base Poems
Long Off base Poems. Below are the most popular long Off base by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Off base poems by poem length and keyword.
The rumbling of thunder
From some bowlers in the sky
Makes me shudder, gape and wonder
Why we tell our kids that lie.
Does it reassure them, thinking
All that noise is just a game?
Or are they aware we’re winking,
Making such a silly claim?
As a child I did envision
Rip Van Winkle getting strikes;
And I pictured the collision –
Pins and ball – each bowler likes.
But I knew that my perception
Didn’t make a lot of sense
And that grown-ups used deception
At their little ones’ expense.
Still, perhaps their best intention
Isn’t really so off-base
If it soothes some apprehension
And puts giggles in its place.
So when thunder starts resounding
I will think just like a tyke
And find comfort that the pounding
Is another bowler’s strike!
She's my omego, yeah I'm talking about (Linda) p,d
Don't you know?, I always love reading your poetry
Ok we have never met and we just converse online
But when on the net, I get a glimpse of you in rhyhm
I love your every metaphor, you give good insight
You take me on a magical tore with your every write
You give a good introspection of the time and space
You have such a wide selection, I can't keep up pace
And I often wonder what it's like where you are, my omego?
I've always love'd the Spanish guitar, the sound of flamenco
I get this picture of a gorgeous dancer and there you are
What is it like in Texas?, I've heard of the k,k and I think utar
I bet I'm way off base but I was never that good at geography
Perhaps It's a different place?, I'm always thinking of a movie
Like that one with the actor Antonio bandaross, desperado
With that famous line, what is it they say?, odious omego
I've forgotten the desert and the beach, those beautiful sands
I'm sounding like a right flurt, but think your one who understands
l often think how you are, you never shut down, you just rebute
You keep going and, oh by the way I love your avatar, very cute
And what can I say I love your varied subject matter my friend
I think of you as one with true charater, who can comprehend
Reading your every poem lifts my spirits whenever I'm on a low
My face glowin, if it's only a few minites, I'm touched my omego!
Grarcess.........X
This poem inspierd by a lot of poets on the soup this one by linda
pd the destroyer ,THIS IS A TRIBUTE TO LINDA (PD) THANK YOU
xDavidScott And your metaphores inspierd me on my recent writes
Broken,thoughts and feelings, now and then, sights and sounds
endure, dasjavu, and of course rewrite love is rare
look forward to reding more
of your work X d,s
A toddler in a stroller passed
And, looking at her face,
It seemed to me that she was
Merely staring into space.
Which made me wonder – could it be
She’d nothing on her mind?
If not, and I could read her thoughts,
What musings would I find?
I wish I had a lollipop.
I need some better toys.
My pre-school class has way too many
Mean and nasty boys.
My lunch today was yucky.
Why does Mommy have to work?
And why did Daddy come home mad
And call his boss a jerk?
I know, I might be way off base.
Perhaps within that stare
Were thoughts of all the happy things
She couldn’t wait to share.
Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal
A product of the wild wild west
Living between Edmonton and Calgary
Imagine as a cowgirl she's dressed
Riding frisky stallions and lassooing steers
Roundup time on Circle M Ranch
With the majestic Rockies off in the distant
A loud Yippy-Ki-O she does chant
Now my friends, I could be totally off base
Eve may just be a simple city girl
Perhaps just a sweet down to earth real lady
Sending rancher's heads in a whirl
Well I'd like to think she's a sophisticated lady
With servants at her beck and call
Wearing a diamond studded evening gown
Dancing the night away at the ball
Eve T.M.M. is a sweet Canadian gal
A product of the wild wild west
© Jack Ellison 2015
Betcha can't guess what this is
Don't cheat and look down below
A unique and funky candy dish?
Or an ash tray, do you think you know?
Looks like a prize from a midway
Something to hang on your wall
A spittoon you find at a dentist's office
Or a kids game called “Toss The Ball”
Ha! You guys are ten miles off base
Won't believe what this thing is for
Used by both males and females
At times they line up by the score
Quite functional and a real necessity
Frequented at the pub or a game
Because of all the beer that's consumed
Okay scroll down to find out it's name...
(Scroll down)
So what did you say? Did you get it right?
Guessed “toilet bowl”?... you are correct!
You win a big bucket of horse manure
So what great prize did you expect?
© Jack Ellison 2013
A family of nine sisters, none named the way the names could have fit.
They started out with three flowers, and thought it wise to continue it.
Our last name so plain, Daddy argued. Daisy, Fern and Violet sounds smart.
Rose, Hazel, Jasmine, Poppy, Iris and Willow arrived nine months apart.
Let me guess, people would say, Willow is tall and lean and flexible, a sway.
Could not have been more wrong; she was as inflexible as the break of day.
Jasmine must be exotic, erotic, a delight to the eyes, delicate and sweet.
In reality she had ham hocks large enough she could cows and bulls defeat.
Violet is probably dainty, sweet, a nature lover, who loves the woods, right?
In truth she was an advocate for woman, tall and portly, screaming with might.
Fern is a lover of verdant grasses with her feet solid as the earth I am sure.
You would be totally off base, sir. She explodes with color, totally impure.
Please let me guess that Daisy is a delight, light and lithe, like a fairy true.
I hate to tell you, but she is dour, dank, damp and she would truly dislike you.
Let me guess then that Rose is not thorny in any kind of way, pure and sweet.
She is the only one who lives up to her name. She would prick you in defeat.
The assumer is askance now. He has only two guesses left in his drawer.
Hazel is shy and unassuming? Never cackles, non witchlike to the core?
Sorry, I assure him. You have guessed her wrong. Ready for Poppy now?
Poppy is dull, not vibrant in any kind of way, no redness to or fro?
She is actually orange and pink, fairy like, she dazzles like a rainbow.
You have one more chance, I tell the man who likes to label all.
What is her name? He asks, for he has lost track in his giant fall.
Iris is short, squat, nothing like her name? He guesses. Am I right?
I told him the truth and he disappeared, completely out of sight.
The last I saw him he was being chased around the garden phlox.
By a giant wolf, hyena, lion, bear and very hungry fox.
Moral of this story: You cannot judge people on their name
Or put them into a box, for no two Primroses are the same,
and you will be eaten by a fox.
Poeticism Way Off Base
I Wrote Below and may have been OVERLOOKED; BEARS READING AND UNDERSTANDING
The deletion of one's post will then have a direct impact on one's totality of posts being reduced by that action, in equal numbers,
where the relevancy will be the act of adding a post to one's totality of their posts being increased by that action, in equal number.
The consequences of those plus or minus acts should directly impact one's posts encountering a stipulation.
Albeit, the modus operandi forestalls, at which point the deletion of two posts almost immediate to each other, and in pursuit, similarly its totality reduced, with the recommended window for numbered of privileged posts--
--Should have ascertained relief of two deletions upon its immediacy, an act for an act, and be accorded the window of opportunity times two within the same time frame:
~~ Explanations needless warranty of a suspenseful guesstimate.
Copyright © Hilo Poet | Year Posted 2024
The deletion of one's post will then have a direct impact on one's totality of posts being reduced by that action, in equal numbers,
where the relevancy will be the act of adding a post to one's totality of their posts being increased by that action, in equal number.
The consequences of those plus or minus acts should directly impact one's posts encountering a stipulation.
Albeit, the modus operandi forestalls, at which point the deletion of two posts almost immediate to each other, and in pursuit, similarly its totality reduced, with the recommended window for numbered of privileged posts--
--Should have ascertained relief of two deletions upon its immediacy, an act for an act, and be accorded the window of opportunity times two within the same time frame:
~~ Explanations needless warranty of a suspenseful guesstimate.
Though the necks
sighting of Ichabod Crane
humungous horror
helplessly harassing,
hellish hyena howling,
hideously hounding,
headless Halloween
hair raising happening,
regarding haunting
horseman spectre,
not due to arrive
(in gremlin, golem, and
goblin crawling theaters
everywhere in outer limits
of twilight zone),
come October thirty first
two thousand, and nineteen
divination trap
pings can never
be implemented overly
soon - to satiate subhuman
scary sightings,
sans mine ineluctable
supernatural drive
biz ease, this (gopher broke,
phantasmagoric over seer
grown wunderkind,
passionately rousing spooks,
where this droning
necromancer named
Matthew Scott Harris),
asper undertaking
luckless ghostly endeavors
also oft times finds
meat hoo experiencing
aborted, cancelled and retried
aim mush carriage
(i.e. thwarted, ejected,
and clobbered miscarriage)
off base when out fielding
paranormal activities,
qua catcher catch can
pseudo boxing
exaggerated shadows
striking mine attenuated,
elongated, and invoked
Hades monstrous silhouettes,
viz jugular vein bleeding
(heart liberal)
burnt umber umbra
pitching one dimensional
brokered, bricked,
and bracketed
wall size grotesqueries
detailing bloodless battles
silently creaking within republic
of my imagination.
I know you say that there’s bodies
across the Russian land,
outside of abandoned work camps,
where countless souls were damned,
and yes, there’s twenty million gone
by those who claimed our name,
and radiation splashed about,
I know that seems insane,
but what you do not understand
is those guys screwed it up,
that Lenina and that Stalin guy,
they pushed too hard, too much.
Thought they could make socialism
with cruelty and might,
but we’re not like those tyrants, no,
this time we’ll do it right!
I know you saw that great famine
when China tried to leap,
and it’s hard not to be appalled,
when the price seems so steep,
and seeing government teach kids
to turn against their own…
yes, sixty million is a lot,
we’ve seen the stats, we know,
but that Mao guy was way off base,
strayed too far from the path,
I mean, that guy liked little girls,
you can’t trust men like that.
We want to build a better world,
not brutal appetites,
we’d never let in men like that,
this time we’ll do it right!
I know that those darn killing fields
can leave bad impressions,
that turning back to ‘Year Zero,’
seems a mad obsession,
that a third of Cambodians
going off to their death
is honestly the sort of thing
that makes you catch your breath.
But that Pol Pot was out-of-whack,
that’s not what we’re about,
to rebuild all society?
Who would dream of that now?
To think we’d have such arrogance
when bringing you to light,
we’d never kill those who stand out,
This time we’ll do it right!
Yes, Cuba and North Korea
are poor, broken, and lost,
and sure, their people, to get out
will open oceans cross.
We’re aware the Venezuela
collapsed in just ten years,
that they once had great oil wealth,
but now are drowned in tears.
You have to see, in all of this,
they don’t get Marx’s point,
and if they knew it like we do,
they’d not be out-of-joint.
When we’re in charge you’ll never see
the genocides or blight,
we’re gonna build a paradise,
this time we’ll do it right!
…Hey, why are they all pointing guns at me? Who let the
peasants have gu—