Long Passé Poems
Long Passé Poems. Below are the most popular long Passé by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Passé poems by poem length and keyword.
I can’t go where you go,
cause you’re so damn nouveau,
you keep looking for the next wave
while I stand on the shore and watch ‘em break.
You won’t hear what I say,
think I’m so damned passé,
keep believing your cutting edge
cause every day you wake up in a new bed.
Time keeps on flying by,
lines form around your eyes,
all the 'new rules' you know so well
keep you forever riding that carousel.
The day comes you’re not so hot,
they cast you aside to rot,
old bio clock’s almost out of ticks
and they don’t want 'girls' at thirty-six.
You show up at my door,
thinking I can give you more,
answered by a boy with my face
did you really think that I would sit and wait?
No.
The plumber is fixing a leak;
The pipe’s needing more than a tweak.
So for things to improve
He will have to remove
Some wood panels - I’m starting to freak.
Our house, built in ‘80, is old
And it’s paneled, which is, truth be told,
Now considered passé
But was cool in its day,
Though with changing it, I’ve not been sold.
So I’m listening from the next room
As he hammers and drills; I presume
That he knows what to do
For we haven’t a clue
If more leaks, in the future, will loom.
But voila! He just finished and yes,
I’m relieved of a lot of my stress,
For he came well-equipped
To replace what had dripped
And he didn’t leave much of a mess.
On the wall, all the panels survived
And the handyman, once he’s arrived,
Will nail down what is loose
And, as you can deduce,
Of my kitchen, I won’t be deprived.
When desert heat has burned my feet, I’ll reach you on my knees
And if it would impress you I’d swing naked through the trees
I’d paint myself with honey and I’d swim a sea of bees
I’d do these things and more because it’s you I aim to please
Should the space between us be a thousand miles of ice
I’d cross that wasteland even if my sled was pulled by mice
And if a polar bear was there then I would stand and fight
For you are my fair maiden and I am your fearless knight
If I could I’d drag a trampoline up to the moon
I’d bounce high in the lunar sky if it would make you swoon
I’d reach up and I’d grab the sun and make for you a ring
And if you should accept it then my heart a song would sing
My journey back to earth would be by heart shaped parachute
I know it’s slightly passé but it’s also kinda cute
I would sprinkle sparkles from the pouch fixed to my belt
And in the sky they’d spell out why I felt the way I felt
For you’re my life, my heartbeat, my true purpose and my being
And every star however far and all the stars I’m seeing
I would gather every one that I could ever carry
And I’d go back to gather more if you said we could marry
But just one tiny thing I ask; a marriage contract rider
If ever there should be one, would you save me from a spider
Were I to count the stars above, how pointless that would be
For if you deal with spiders, you’re the only star for me.
3 November 2022
Contest: The Only Star For Me
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
The island of Gili Meno
is a best-kept secret, they say.
Where all the fashionistas go;
until it becomes a tad passé.
I read it in a glossy mag
while waiting for my root canal;
with where to go to see a stag;
the secret life of Marc Chagall.
Some other best-kept secrets were;
where you can buy THAT wedding dress,
or should you tip your dad’s chauffeur?
And are there monsters in Loch Ness?
I found an ‘unknown Cotswold pub’
the secret to a perfect pie’
a secret door to a nightclub’
and that it’s cool to grow bonsai.
That Lady X once dated HIM;
that he collects his navel fluff;
quite why that singer’s rather slim
(and she was photo’d in the buff!)
A best-kept-secret hideaway,
the booking details right below.
Where is the best all-day buffet,
in France they call their water eau.
Best-kept secrets are all around.
Shush, don’t let everybody know
exactly where it was you found
how to book that French chateau.
Among the virtues, one stands tall,
God exalts it above them all.
Those who profess to walk with God,
But lacks this trait, He deems a fraud.
When Christ upon a cross was hung,
heaven’s love song to man was sung.
God shared His heart; He made it bare,
revealed to us how much He cares.
Patience, perseverance, and hope,
when facing stress they help us cope.
Wisdom, fortitude, and courage
are valued traits in every age.
Humility, prudence, and faith
are traits that made the sages great.
Generosity and kindness
are traits of those who have God’s mind.
Compassion, respect, and justice
are worthy traits that foster trust.
Both temperance and self-control
are worthwhile traits to set as goals.
Assertiveness and diligence
are traits of those who high-posts fill.
Forgiveness is a trait of those
who truly God's forgiveness knows.
Both modesty and chastity
are traits that today seem passé,
yet, none among the noble traits,
the passage of time will outdate.
“God is love”, the Bible says,
and those who love, God homage pays.
So, Paul was right when he did state,
of the traits, “love is the greatest”
In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.
In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound for Boulder.
"Mariah," the bus played as they rolled along,
He remembered Mount Moriah and mistook it in the song.
He told us the U.S. had been great, yet he was sad,
Perhaps because we didn't know what we once had.
He worked his way through the U of C,
Studying the holistic subject of geography.
Dad became a professor; I watched the applause,
At conferences, everyone knew who he was.
A geographer who explored every field,
Endless books in his study, a vast horizon revealed.
Our summers in New England and the West,
The mile-square farm on Black Hill Road was the best.
Swimming holes, blackberry bushes, mountain hikes,
Exploring dirt roads on three-speed bikes.
But time went by, good came, but so did pain
People seemed so plastic, no anchor kept them sane
The sixties began the process, self-image changed,
A once-great country now became deranged.
Geography was deemed passé, no longer in fashion,
Radical winds swept through college halls, a destructive passion.
A compass spinning wild, the intellectuals sinned,
He wondered if Mariah still named the wind.
In older lands one friend had fought Nazis and Communists too
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it was true.
Dad joined with him and others to stem an intolerant tide,
A battle of course doomed, but at least they tried.
While we're still standing here, memories endure,
A young man's arrival, his heart remaining pure.
He's gone now, but he didn't cave, he made his stand,
In the old and then in a new Promised Land.
Zionists have been hunted in High School halls,
Jews huddle in fright as mobs bang on the walls.
What would he have felt, to see democracy’s shame?
Though I know he lost I’m proud he ran the race all the same.
Clouds spiral down and curl around to touch me
—not those western drizzle shrouds
baring a soul of misery mizzle
...though I adore a good wallow in sorrow —no
these clouds come from yonder bluebird wilds
white cirrus wispy and whispery dance around me
I steal one to wear across my shoulders
like a platinum’s blonde’s faux stole
they come to me like papier-mâché angels —no no
that’s too cliché… and passé for I’m far beyond
the Godly touch of angels… hmm.. they come to me
like a lover —no too easy …like a heartbreak-er lover!
yah I’ll go with that and get a taboo tattoo of his name
anyway the clouds they find me where I stand
dissatisfied with being satisfied
the result of my cool cat face seduction
I wear a crimson bee balm boutonniere
display it on my plunging V lapel but
it attracts wasps instead of honey bees; I find
danger brings a secret pleasure to my displeasure
my leopard print pants (red sky colored)
stirs sir knight with his bridled gaze and walking stick
he watches my next move on the chessboard
tries to guess my breezy strategy
my hands behind my head legs crossed
maybe it’s a white crested ocean I'm floating on
—or wrestling with— either way
I’m here to play and paint a displeased scene
watercolors? they’re just transparent hues
applied to my white background
depending on the mood of my mood ring —but
when acrylics bleed it’s harder to see the scene
colors escape their space creating a slurry
of what is where where is when when is why
and why don’t know why ..what?! but I know how
blurry lines take on a life of their own
and shapes a new fate from ‘no gesso’ mistakes
I could switch my style to snarly tiger stripes today
and gladly take that horse-headed knight down
that wooden old guard has new orders
he’s suspicious of me scrutinizes me
but only half as much as I’m used to
his right hand on his monocle
—the other eye blind
just beyond the reach of his walking stick
I free my torso of its purple grapevine corset
uncinching my fake waisted form —I muse
if my time as a wastrel was wasted or invested
oh …the monocle is telescoping me again
I shimmy lose my butterfly wings
slap him as I flap them and fly away
it’s hard to know if I’m still beautiful
or if I’m just broken
—either way I embrace the rainy side of the rainbow
happily discontent
Quatre-vingts jours
On Duolingo and I’m still
in the present tense which
is fine as I still make mistakes
masculine et feminine are a bit
of a toss but I’m getting better
lesson by lesson and I have
cent et dix-huit crowns et
trois cent quarante-six lingos
whatever they are.
I’m best at translating français écrit
to written English and am getting
better at transcribing français parlé
but to be honest, I must admit that
mon français oralé is halting at
best and it’s not helped by the
covid-19 self-distancing/lockdown
as my Continuing Education course
FRENCH II is in limbo with every
thing else and we haven’t had a class
for weeks and when I look at the
class notes it seems we’re stuck
au milieu de passé impartait
et futur proche.
A fit is thrown at the mere suggestion that they have to memorize something.
Memorization is boring.
They refuse.
What is the point?
We have the Internet.
We have I-pads.
We have I-phones.
We do not have spelling lists any more.
Spelling tests are passé’. Too boring. Too much memorization.
What is the point?
Math facts? Why should we learn them? They are on the Internet, right?
Our standardized tests scores are in the toilet. Who cares? As long as we can play our nightly video games. We do not have to read for many of them.
Multiplication tables? Overdone.
Addition facts? Useless.
Dictionary? Fiction-ary.
Children of today will not be able to write a sentence or spell a word or check their paychecks
If technology goes down. We can say we are paying them $500 an hour, and pay them $3 an hour.
It is the way of the future, and is this not grand?
Fads come and fads go
Is this pronoun thing a ho ho ho?
I am sure for some it is important and real.
Others jump on, wanting more zip and zeal.
Tik Tok and U-tube, two of today’s norms
Taking new directions, creating new forms
Will they both be passé’ in the thirties?
Names going back to Homers and Gerties?
Database and web were unknown in the eighties.
Google was not a word known to us natives.
Word processors barely peeking out.
LOL and MMAT make me want to shout!
The first computers took an entire room.
No one fathomed owning one.
Now we all talk away on Zoom.
High tech craziness. Oh what fun!
Things are moving at mega-super-speed.
People like Putin filled with incredible greed.
Sex traffickers are real and true.
I liked the old ways. How about you?