Long Pat Poems
Long Pat Poems. Below are the most popular long Pat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pat poems by poem length and keyword.
Beach Music, Pat Conroy’s voice in flavors
Of raspberry ice and chocolate paradise
Mists blowing across the waters, soundless
Yet aching so that every heart felt blessed
By his melancholic treasure, the history of a sea
Who restored peace and awakened the night
Blowing winds who waved to the shores
Silencing the darkness and flooding the heart
With a flowing light, a flutter of grace, healing
Hesitant as the passions, poured from pages
Written on the beach…
Where light remembers, a happy
That cannot be spoken, never broken
Glowing on the edges of summer
And revealing to the heart
What it is to love with a love beyond reason
Love that is the reason – the way
Forever and a day…
Beach Music replayed on the silent edges
Of waters who I’ve waded in,
Wading through tears, fears – so many years
Necessity caressing the heart of a memory
Words echoing through a soul who is gentle
And knows the love that is more than sentimental
It is God’s voice, touching on the senses
God’s love… erasing all the fearful, replacing
It with contentment, love that is so intimate
Love that can’t be written...
Echoes on the silent shore of contentment
Another hallowed arrow from his quivers
One of cricket’s greatest shiver givers
Coursing down your spine like rivers
Fine line..never dithers as slivers
Of adversaries hopes on the ropes..withers
Tipples tickle our livers
The latest tropes of how
Somehow…anyhow won’t kowtow
Postman Pat delivers
Matinee idol looks tease
Record books hooks please
Finds batters crannies &
Nooks with such ease
Impeccable length…metronomic
Chin music chagrin
Such strength..astronomic
Gift of getting the ball to lift
Chronic bounce…hedonic
With his swag bag of quicks tricks
Name on the adored hall of fame
Lords boards with six..another Cummins elite fix
Beat Bob Willis’s record tome of the best
Test figures for a captain at cricket’s home..
Yep..yet another done like a kipper
By this chipper ripper skipper
Who’s not found wanting
His chiselled jaw..up there for sure
With the mean hardcore
Ponting or Waugh
As the best Test baggie green
Top draw Captain (not woke...just a better bloke) seen on screen
Or that’s maybe ever been
Sending you get well wishes your way
To help you get through each trying day
Relax, time and rest will heal your pain
And the sun will shine for you again.
Stay positive, strong and have no fear
Better days are sure to soon be here
A teddy bear in claret and blue
Is sat at home, just waiting for you.
You are truly missed, know that is true
It's just not the same here without you
If I possessed a magical wand
You would be right back where you belong.
I know that you are in kind, safe hands
And the caring is superbly grand
So rest and your health and strength regain
Till you are back here with us again.
* * *
Pat the potato just sat in the ground
Wondering if he would ever be found
He couldn’t see anything there in the earth
So spent his days praying for all he was worth
Then the ground heaved as a metal spade dug
And Pat knew that soon he’d be snug as a bug
A new human home is what life is about
Potatoes must love it… They never come out
And when Pat was taken he couldn’t pretend
to be sad now that life in wet mud reached an end
His friends, left behind, heard the man shut his door
They knew Pat would be safe and sound evermore
Bertie the beanstalk was overly zealous
(although some potatoes thought he was just jealous)
He climbed to the window to take a quick look…
“I cannot see Pat, but they’ve taught him to cook.”
Potato Pete called out, “So, how do you know?”
Bertie called back, “Our friend Pat’s a no-show,
I can’t hear a thing but I read the man’s lips…
He said that potato made really nice chips.”
The Luck of the Irish never fails,
Whether Belfast or the Dublin scene.
Their tried and true spirit prevails,
Dressed to the nines in emerald green.
Though past history seems so unfair,
When cursed by unforgiving rule.
Land and people fraught with despair,
And burdened by laws ever cruel.
Too many years they suffered the plight,
Till the day they severed the ties.
While rising tall for freedom's fight,
Cut their tormentors down to size.
Now one and all will surely agree,
Either standing or kneeling to pray.
Here's to an Ireland forever free,
So raise a glass on St. Patrick's Day.
Henry McCarty (1859 – 1881)
a.k.a, Kid Antrim – ca. 1876
a.k.a., William H. Bonney – ca. 1877
Of Irish ancestry
New York-born
orphaned at 15
from his family shorn
repeatedly asking '¿Quién es?'
around midnight 14th July 1881
entering Maxwell's bedroom
their mutual friend but Billy without a gun
in Fort Sumner where by Pat Garrett
(1850 - 1908)
take my word I kid you not
age 21 sadly Henry the outlaw
in the chest was badly shot
for reputedly killing nine men
but for the posted bounty of $500
it took the Sheriff 369 days to collect
the reward promised by Governor Wallace
(1827 – 1905)
Hell is for children was a brave song, introduced exactly right.
Pat Benatar wrote it and sang it, and gave it some might.
We tried to hide from it, to keep memories out of sight.
But we all know that children’s lives are often a blight.
Children are told to lie, not to tell grandma or teach.
They are bribed and blackmailed, along with some preach.
About how they will hurt the family, and it is all their fault.
We have to protect Mommy’s special friend, lecherous old Walt.
Hell is for children is being lived to this very day.
By innocent children who live next door, and far away.
They have bruises, welt marks and broken bones too.
I think Benatar did us a favor bringing this to light. Don’t you?
To me there is not justice in this world,
and no God awaiting us either.
So who, therefore, could freely harm an innocent soul,
and then each night sleep in peace for ever after?
For though many things that a man has done,
may well lie dormant through the passing years,
as if safe in a long-forgotten silence,
on some calm morning,
say in magic Spring,
with Nature beautiful and moving,
memories of scars on others that he made,
they will suddenly weep and break open,
sending shivers running down the spine
to haunt and torment with knowing.
And oh thus would that I,
from my cradle to my grave,
tried so not to have left on a person,
as in my goodbye to Pat,
the cuts of human pain,
and the hurt of my thoughtless actions,
when in truth I was crying out for the love she offered me,
even in the moment I last saw her.
Because your heart may never, ever, be given a chance again,
to express your regret to them and your deep sorrow.
no one can bake, cook, or grill like pierre panda, someone said.
his recipes are exquisitely tasty, all up in his head.
He learned it from his grandma Maria Marla Maghetti
You should taste his lasagna, French bread and spaghetti!
cooks cuisine like the French, his Italian background imperative.
Pierre’s recipe book is a full-blown in-mind keen narrative
he experiments with oregano, parmesan and cheeses of blue
his bakery is busy, full of tasty pizzas, featuring potato stew.
let’s go there and eat someone suggested to our family.
My father yelled out “how is it going, Pierre Pat P?”
Pierre gave a nod and threw a pepperoni pizza our way.
It was on the house, as he is marrying our auntie May.
On an isle of emerald where one can dream
A storm brewed acting like a fiend
Kicking out a rainbow and leprechaun holding four clovers made in green
“We are tired of these fakes who are as ugly as snakes,”
The villagers wanted the visitor to know
About dealing with their foe,
And this little fellow not having any connection to the fever of yellow
Listened to them about this plight and gave them some ammunition to fight.
“I do have a pot of money,
That can make you warm like a day that was sunny.
A temporary fix to the ugly snakes tricks,
You see it is not riches or miracle from God
That can handle this Saintly job,
Dealing with the truth peacefully without hitting the roof
Is the strategy
Honoring holier St. Paddy,
When you leave the pub
On this Saint Paddy’s day that was a dud.
It is the honesty that will stay
For the merriment that by strict definition has relations with the three lettered word ‘gay’
Tell the ugly snakes to find another place then build your case,
Doing what it takes using noble integrity to drive the deadly stakes.”