Long Olde Poems
Long Olde Poems. Below are the most popular long Olde by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Olde poems by poem length and keyword.
Mary Fletcher was prime minister in olde England, like fondest memory,
Of days when the twilight stood still, with silver moon, floating on sea.
Mary Fletcher was capable and caring, to the country's great benefit;
Like spring rains of green benevolence, trailing the fragrant evidence.
Andrew was Mary's loving husband. Their lives were so happy together!
Like allurng, violet future, that recalls moments in lush, green heather.
Scarlet summer was all in a fever, as faceted friends called, flustered;
Passing fields of fabled enchantment, where silky, lilac wind muttered.
Faces of family came in dreams, and in person, on the Fridays of fairs;
Full of food, games and fun activities, like colored, hopscotch squares.
Mary lived in the house of butterflies, forever peeking at the windows;
Offering the frequent flashes of color, like every shade of the primrose.
Saturdays wore its smiles, on Mary's street of pretty robins screeching;
Where blue dragonflies were dancing, and chirpy crickets had meetings.
Owls stared wide-eyed fascination, as neighbors came, one with night;
In the company of nostalgic, new moon, like velvet under the spotlight.
'Mangave mission to Mars' lifted off, when the 'corpse flowers' lay dying;
And 'grow anywhere' trees sprang hither and yon, without halfway trying.
During storms of 'dahlias electric flash,' or dark nights of 'showy lanterns,'
'Rose feather' blooms took the spotlight, while secrets hid in blue caverns.
As Andrew was crossing a bridge one sunny day, a large chunk of it fell,
Breaking the car's blue windshield! How he escaped harm, none can tell.
Andrew sent Mary an emergency message, apprising her of grave danger;
And she notified the right departments, within moments. Anxiety changer!
The bridge was capably repaired, due to the action of Andrew's first lady;
Like midnight of mimosa fragrance, giving raptures to areas grown shady!
'London Bridge is falling down,
Falling down, falling down,
London Bridge is falling down,
My fair lady.
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
Bricks So Sure,
Bricks So Sure,
Build It Up With Bricks of Shaw,
My Fair Lady.
It Will Stand For Ever More,
Ever More,
Ever More,
It Will Stand For Ever More,
My Fair Lady.'
Paternal grandmother's headstone - Beth David, Elmont, Long Island
Shaindel (Sadie), variant of Shana Harris
died May 13th, 1959 exquisitely chiseled
alphanumeric characters legibly engraved
sepulchral casket entombing lovely bones
deoxyribonucleic acid repurposed into me
Matthew Scott Harris patronymic protector,
when I die taking family surname to netherland
who unwittingly named his youngest daughter
after his recently deceased father's mother.
Mortality encompasses subsequent cremation
never mind death of yours truly unbeknownst
mine soul will migrate towards deceased kith
kindred folks only known courtesy genealogy
descendents called Eastern Europe homeland
upon landing at Ellis Island émigrés hugged
immigration officials and illegibly scribbled
unpronounceable/ unreadable birth names
subsequently adopting common shorthand.
Chromosomes reconstituted genetic material
gifted from forebears ecstatic immigrants apt
to be regaled by relatives hustling newcomers
into fast paced frenzy, the latter gesticulating
at cityscape marveling over hubbub jabbering
babble synchronized in tandem with hawkers
and vendors selling, peddling comestibles,
gewgaws, papers, et cetera predating buyer
beware analogous to innocents abroad say
by George an American in Paris humming
Rhapsody in Blue.
Agog regarding novel sights never seen within
father/mother land, viz supposed New World
blitzkrieg eventually quieted, relegated, shelved...
analogous by Dickens perusing tchotchkes
commonly found within olde curiosity shop,
yet no matter acclimatization arose espying
eye opening merchandise, the dirt poor status
regarding bloodlines a couple generations ago
immediate deterrent experienced by Aaron
Harris (papa's father) as a boy, who provided
for his family, their hardscrabble existence
only somewhat alleviated thru hook and crook.
Please pardon poetic license usurped,
especially slight exaggeration of penury
promulgated concerning up by bootstraps
scenario evinced by paternal grandfather
after he attained and emerged out boyhood,
though destitution imprinted thru his infancy
until growing up hardened qua hard school
of knocks limiting him to eighth grade education.
lids black out and allow me to write
while eyes shut tight
bring back four legged friends sprite
and though many years passed quite
I can remember those precious creatures
who barked at night
howling at inaudible sound or invisible light
casting silhouettes that fight
punctured the air with verbal byte
and now I list long gone
smart pets in alphabetical order – alright?
Baron – substantially German Sheppard
met his demise chasing a car on level road
the advantage overtaken
per vehicle with greater lode
which accidental death
found him buried in an unmarked grave
i.e. underground abode.
Georgie – a combination Boxer and Dalmatian
(with his cropped tail to boot
grew up as my canine brother
an essentially gave up the ghost
from organ failure of one or another.
Lady – this fur certain white German Sheppard
uncertain how, when or what
led to her body to collapse
perhaps while listening to snoop doggy dog raps
found on base near first stair
when rigor mortis set deathly traps.
Ruff – he and his litter mate Teddy
(listed below), an alpha beast o man’s and
woman’s best friend with moments of rage
as applicable to a dog, and seemed
to evince an intelligence like a sage.
Schultz – he apparently vanished in thin air
without a trace, not e’en
a filament of fur like hair
hopefully taken in by another pet lover,
but who knows where.
Shadow – pride of eldest sister,
he succumbed after becoming thermally ill
though diminutive for a black lab,
his absence left a void quite large to fill.
Socrates - dealt with harsh mistreatment
and distemper than tossed out
like trash, mine to sisters,
who nursed him with tender loving care
from his faux paws to a keen snout
which maintained his longevity no doubt.
Teddy – another throw away pet
found at Jacobsburg –
near Easton, Pennsylvania.
one lame leg (damaged
during his puppy hood)
lived til olde age.
my younger sister ( Shari)
brought him and Ruff home,
where their entire life he did stay
inherently evincing intelligence
that happiness found that chance
provided a doting owner this way.
My footsteps echoed the echoes of Time
as through the streets of Salem I walked.
The hour was early and the city still asleep
with only a cat sitting quietly on a cold granite sill,
the sky slowly turning from night into dawn,
my mind still in twilight as my footsteps echoed on.
The Ropes Mansion looked proud
as I strolled Essex Street,
its pediments and roof balustrades all stately,
its fence posts freshly painted
and hydrangea all in bloom.
I faintly heard voices
of a long-ago family
gathered about the hearth
in its fine parlor room.
I passed the Athenaeum
and hailed this library noble, so renowned
its soaring columns and arched doorway
have welcomed countless seekers of knowledge
and those sharing the wisdom of learning
and the comfort of reading from volumes well-bound.
Ten generations of Pickerings
have lived in the 1660 house
situated on 18 Broad.
A descendant, Timothy Pickering
under George Washington had served
and witnessed the surrender of Cornwallis’ sword.
I admired the house’s gables, its unique fence and its posts
then journeyed along to find more of Olde Salem’s ghosts.
At the Broad Street Cemetery
just steps across the street
I tipped my hat to those
who once lived here
now in honest sleep
at the second oldest resting place
in Salem Town.
But I shook my head over the grave
of High Sheriff Corwin of the Witchcraft Trial
beneath his time-weathered obelisk
he must be tossing for all Eternity
in his dank unholy ground.
For the true ghosts of Olde Salem
haunt the air of Proctor’s Ledge
where 19 innocents all
swung in the 1692 breeze
and it was there at the edge
of this hillside they died
overlooking a town
where too many had been tried.
How real was their torture
how sad was their pain
and in their lonely silence
do they relive it all again?
And when it all was over,
all said and all done
Salem would feel cursed
for its unforgivable deeds
that could not be undone,
for as I walk the streets
of Olde Salem
in the still-early morn,
I see their spirits all around me
along these sidewalks old and worn.
Copyright 2020 Gregory Joseph Firlotte
Flying Saucers, Flake, Bar Six
Country Style, Gobstoppers, Twix
Arrow Bars and Sherbert Dabs
Sweet Tobacco, Lucky Bags
Toffee Crisp and Dairy Crunch
Grand Seville and Milky Lunch
Beta Bars, Loot, Candy Floss
The mysterious chewing gum flavour loss
Golden Crisp, Nut Crisp and Fuse
Extra, Bliss and Trebor Chews
Caramel and Raspberry Ruffles
Drifter and Milk Chocolate Truffles
‘99’ Flake ice cream cones
Zooms and Fabs and Toblerones
Coffee Break, Bitz, Victory Vs
Cadbury’s Special Recipes
Swisskit, Gold Mine, Apple Jack
Tiffin, Feast and Caramac
Welcome, Skippy and Sultana
Nutty, Banjo and Cabana
Chewing Nuts, Cough Candy Twist
Butterscotch and Butterkist
Crunchie, Topic, Fudge, Mintola
Super Mousse, Crazy Joe Cola
Golden Cup, Fruit Flavoured Rocks
(The secret of) The Black Magic Box
Floral Gums and Cherry Lips
Olde English Spangles, Walnut Whips
Kinder toys encased in plastic
Necklace sweets linked on elastic
Butter Mints, Fruit Polos, Yorkies
Sherbert Lemons, Sherbert Strawberries
Bazooka Joes and Liquorice pipes
Lollipops with swirly stripes
Texan Bars and Funny Faces
Mint Cracknel, Taxis, long red laces
Winter Mixture, Rainbow Drops
Jazzies, Kit Kat, Pips, Ice Pops
Toffee Bon Bons, Drumsticks, Rolos
Amazin’ Raisin, Aztec, Mojos
Barley Sugar, Chocolate Limes
Daims that changed their name from Dimes
Jelly Babies, Jelly Tots
Milk Gums, Munchies, Mars, Pear Drops
Coltsford Rock and Anglo Bubblies
Sugared Almonds, Frozen Jubliies
Peanut Brittle, Prize, Ice Breaker
Dolly Mixtures, Old Jamaica
Kop Kops, Wine Gums, Laughs and Treets
Jap Desserts and whistling sweets
Fishermen's Friends and Hacks and Zubes
Pineapple Chunks and Cola Cubes
Everton Mints and Pontefract Cakes
White chocolate mice and jelly snakes
Refreshers, Teacakes, Swizzles, Pacers
Toffee Logs, Fruit Gums and Waifers
Rumba, Dipped Flake, T Bar, Tunes
Fry's Five Centres, Macaroons
Bars and boxes of Milk Tray
Milky Bar and Milky Way
This ‘Pick and Mix’ is yours to share
With all sweet lovers
everywhere.
back a small number of years thee diva of this domicile
exhibited an aura, charisma, enigma…devoid of any guile
boot of late turned a cold shoulder to me and I’ll
avoid denigrating, haranguing, and lambasting said dell lisle
la, whose avoidance behavior toward me – who goes a mile
out of her way to ensure our paths do not cross – noah din nile
per the above – well, perhaps a slight bit of hyperbole
viz this, mine swift tailored, harried style
per potpourri of puzzling perturbation evinced
by said olde world germane German dame we lease this duplex
treating us, as if we committed some egregious crime
subsequently forced to stand trial
viz aversion toward this convivial, frivolous and introspective chap
methinks said realtor/renter joined a coven den
where doe eyed zen of thieves
occupy teaching rubric of mean-ness while
taking appropriate and selective pages from play book of sarah palin,
which tension unlikely to cease for the next nine months till the deed
doth expire, where by this witch a taw hook cans ass (ours) will be freed
of renting a long and fostered, roach and fox infested, century21
from once salient sympathetic ear this now manifested Scrooge like greed
reminding us (essentially via cessation of any interaction),
how she once did heed
to our various and sundry travails – though neither myself nor spouse,
the latter whose vociferousness regularly exudes loathsomeness
toward key per, once a vouch saving storied angel without fail and indeed
wife tis not shy to vent where a plethora of expletives lead
rant and rave toward an impending crisis that will me send out an SOS
ever felt compelled to join Hemlock society or drown sorrows in mead
yet disappointment arises, when formerly positive dynamic now im peed
did by reasons unbeknownst to me,
who feels grateful ye chanced to read
my babbling of poetically irrational from a regular Joe,
who doth not sport Harris Tweed
nor (despite any immediate intimations)
doth newt smoke booze nor drink week.
ACE CANNONS' CANON
Through the morning, shimmering with colors that wavering, fade
from a desert where heat is a hue, and history's due
cactus and trees, knotted and sparse, a portrait some mad god must'f bade
into being, into the "Otherwise Sane"; set apart from the world, lived in by you
dust lays 'pon the ground, puffs upwards with resentful complaint
as my mount plods onwards towards some tumbled town
Town?
a few homes, in a land where grown men could grow faint
weary, thirsty, sweat-soaked; riding, walking, falling, down
down...
town
Ace Cannon's my name, should anyone ask
you may have heard, or you may not
at times that's quite a task
as i'm found wherever battles are fought
and those who stay behind
are often quite dead
they thought, or they didn't, or dint really mind
that those men who pushed, cursed, threatened with lead
disrespected ladies, dint tip their hat, just hawked and spat
raped, robbed or rustled, or horsethieved from towns
and thought to back down the good folks with that
more often than not, were buried with smiles,
'stead o' frowns
i'm a gunslinger, in the olde sense of the word
a hard man, a good man, a gunman, driftin' along
light as a feather, fast as a bird
i enjoy playing, Guns' melodious song
"abandon all hope,all ye who hear,
with nary a sound to accompany fear.
the blackbirds are singing, as i draw near;
the tumbleweeds roll, as leather i'll clear"
a few townsfolk stroll from home to store
a few, even this early, stagger from saloons to squint
as at last, i ride past houses, where happy people live poor
knowing each other, when last year they dint
a traveler, through beauty and badland
worthy of trust, friend of strangers in need
dangerous at times, yet loyal to brand
the code of the west, that noblest breed
a stranger, hatbrim pulled low, all dust and sweat
a horse noble as Knighthood, and muscled in trailwornest tan
this was "the West", that hadn't quite yet
met the Man
Ace Cannon
-esquire-
OLDE CHARLIE part two
A simple g’day and not much more,
A man of simple tastes and trends,
Mostly seen most days
Three days growth on chin,
Olde Charlie,
Came from the olde school,
Of the way he thought
And reacted to most things,
A man of the bush,
A man with a down to earth spirit,
Not caring much for town
A product of the bush,
A cockie from a bygone age
And from the land as fourth generation lived
On a piece of squatter dirt chosen,
‘neath the hills of blueish haze,
Old Charlie had seen
All manner of things,
From flooding of plains to the west,
Bushfires that came close near the bottom paddock fence,
Of dry days that gave way to cloudless blues
And not a skerrick dropped to fill troughs,
For his beloved Droughtmasters to taste.
Olde Charlie and best mate ‘Blue’
And at the crack of dawn this day
A brew and a bone began,
Then on the track that wound to back paddocks up top,
A mother and calf gone missing
Strayed from herd in paddock distance far from home,
Heard in distance dingo’s cry sent shudders,
For olde Charlie knew of their ways,
And in this time of parched earth being felt,
A tasty prey could be
Tucker for this native dog,
Who on instincts needs to survive hunger pangs,
And if Olde Charlie’s mother and calf succumbed
To be a dingo’s dietary supplement this day,
So be it,
But Olde Charlie he knew of better things,
And of a mother who’d protect her progeny most
When it came to the crunch,
And on a rise straight ahead Olde Charlie saw
Why Olde Blue had raced ahead,
A calf crying for mum,
As mother and indigenous dog had drawn together
And both now lay inert in dirt,
And in the ways of the bush wisdom
A bullet to each was suffice to the sacrifice of mum,
And with tenderness not usual of tough man of land,
A calf carried all the way
And back to the herd the future now saved.
A simple g’day and not much more,
A man of simple tastes and trends
Olde Charlie’s a true rough diamond of Oz.
Francis Cooper – Mac © 18 Jul. 20
In the Olden days when we wear grasses,
When we dance naked under the rain,
When we were cooking grasses as drug,
When we have no fear in us and fear never
Haunt us just like the way it does now.
We were fine and good to go in the world.
In the olde days when life was for the brave
You marry as many wives as you want
There was no trouble for our fathers but now
When a man marries one wife he can't cope with her.
We are lost and lost in the wood of life.
In the olden days when mothers were wives,
When girls were girls without dirty minds
When wives were wives that never nag,
I should've married then than now that we have
men as women beating their husband at home.
In the days of old, when motor was not invented,
We were fine with horses and camels that never
Had an accident like vehicles does now to us.
Those days when we have no radio and television,
The heads of our youths were at home to impact.
In the olden days when we knew nothing,
We were nothing and nothing knew us;
We were good with throwing of arrows
And killing animals for food but now,
We are killed by the so called canned food.
We played with girls without anything in mind,
The elders removed their wrapper in front of us,
We were never ashamed to walk in the street unclothed, yet we were fine and honest to nature.
Plane never existed to kill us like wandering fowls,
Technologies were not there to mare us to sin,
We were just fine and cool with ourselves but
Now, things have change and change to our own pain.
A pregnant woman was not envious of a nursing mother because she knew her own time shall come.
And a widower should not be jealous of married
Ones because he has the power to remarry any time.
We live like one family and we seek the faceof the gods, religion was never the problem but now it is.
We shall soon see where this new dawn is going to.
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
All Right Reserved 2016
Voice of vincent
Somewhat outstandingly
millennial absurdism
Is Seen’d slowly
Drownin’ towns;
& townes’ there’ness,
May’be
Forever’ly mere’d,
—-
hungry Frenetic wild dogs roam-
ING;
Thirst, unquenchable.
&
Thas’ workingly blue homosexual
Humanoid thingies’ living IN,
& Cherry blossoming IN,
kings X
(& already some of k’s\X rabble)
(So-so) townspeople
have despoiled)
FROM THEIR’
(childlike attributes,).
—-
Modern revolutionistik’ think’rs:
Black-skinned-bleached-white’.
White-skinned-blackened-mentality’.
—-
(Labours untouched’dd-ness &
Less talented’ly withe onward
Revolving sun’s,
Brittle’d fingertips
Neon-eye’d,
Multiple faced,
&
A billion tongues’
Withe reasons why.
“Blonde trumpet ringin’ thoudly;
Across EV!’erythin-G!!
A-rousing unflatter-y
Inst’
THE tribe of the bluest
-FAKE kind’d lips’.>
> Whost’ are the village of the green--purple half hair’d
Un-socked honey Dew, d liveateer’s.
&
(All are friendly amongst;
tillst’ A
Differential thought
is, a, borne.)
—-
Their sombre complexities befoul
Themst’ Olde’ tech-intolorable-temple’d N’ thy self’s
Of AN entwined concrete society
And it’s “Now” flaethering
correct-ism’s.
—-
Harshest-safety-ness
Needed the most now
More then ev’r
—-
(And then)
War will be us!~
Opened A’rms!-
& too!
Limbs shall fall’
What would’st be great decisions
for the different-colour’d-natives?
&
Wouldst thine
brothers of
OUR
enemies flesh cutoff bloodlines!?
TRAITOR’ing they’s own soil&sea
& mumma’s?
to drive a salty sword insto’ they’s
Own essence!!?
Would’st OUR free-worlds empire reign onst’ an eternal myre?
& WOULDST rationality (beautifully it is, so-so’)
Become re-equipped.’
Whenst’ our infinitely
Circling evolution’Y’s
Becometh thIs pointe
Again?
•Maybe NOt•