Long Pete Poems
Long Pete Poems. Below are the most popular long Pete by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pete poems by poem length and keyword.
Ben and Cora Green had seven children, like calendar pages turning;
Each one born on a different weekday, like mango sun, forever burning.
Zoe was pretty, with big eyes and dimples, while Leah loved dancing,
Yet, Bill was sort of a pessimist; like when mystic trouble is glancing.
Edward had a zeal for jogging, while Ruth ran many errands for free.
James always had a part time job. Pete was all sunshine, very happy.
Fun barbecues attracted friends, to lawns of families and red flowers;
When fluff, sleepy clouds wandered, during deep green, golden hours.
Hues of fall leaves were fawning, when flying on crisp air, like family;
Visiting the days of fuming flora, of cool chrysanthemums, so pretty!
The Greens lived in a house of calendars, as mystic prisms flash color;
The life sundered into separate hues, like in gardens of blissful wonder.
Saffron sun shone on their street, as they smiled at people they'd meet;
When silver willows whispered surrender, to warm breezes, of no retreat.
Neighbors were a part of noon memoirs. Shadows were national heroes,
In ruddy times of heat and desperation! In the heyday of burgundy rose.
'Lady Leigh' irises sizzled in red, with the fruity beauty of 'pineapple lily,'
While insects snacked on 'goldfish' plants, beneath pink clouds, so frilly!
'Starfish' flowers had big highs and lows, in strawberry days of summer;
While 'Peruvian apple' cacti bloomed, on a single, dark night of slumber.
The Green children conveyed nostalgia for joyful childhood, into old age;
As colorful fall remembers summer just left, so flower strewn and sage!
Zoe grew up to be a model, while Leah became a famous ballet dancer.
Bill became a happier TV weatherman, for after rain, sun is the answer!
Edward later ran in marathons, and Ruth founded a charity organization.
James worked hard for conservation, as Pete, a clown, toured the nation.
Like the smiles that charm each seven day week, as a teal world waltzes;
Or like satiny peace of pearl moon charm, when the purple world pauses!
'Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe, and good and gay.'
Saying stuff over and over makes you think a person didn't get it, but it's just that they didn't care to get it. You said all you could say, you wrote it in a letter, sent it in a text. You dial the number, they don't answer, you wait, still no answer. No call, no reply and yo dumb self sitting wondering why. Five minutes later, you call again. You are - Pete the Repeat.
Your mind starts to wonder, you don't know what to think, all you know is yo feelings are hurt. Now because you are not reassured, you become insecure. You finally communicate and immediately begin asking the same questions from before and saying the same thing in a different manner, and with no luck, you are left alone to figure it out.
You are - Pete the Repeat.
Six months later, you are still unsure, wondering and seeking to see something that is so clearly obvious to others, but blurry to you.
You are still asking the what, where, when and whys. What did I do? Where you been? When can I see you? Why you ain't call me back?
You are indeed - Pete the Repeat.
It's been five years, no solid relationships and none of your questions have been answered. You are still going through the same process with a different person, getting the same results. Aren't you tired of being - Pete the Repeat?
No matter what, all in all, you want this, you need this, you want to be loved. Yeah yall have great sex, but I am here to tell you, making love does not make one love. What you have is a ten percent love. And to you, that ten percent good outweighs the ninety percent bad. You deserve so much more. Why keep your standards so low? Why do you choose to settle especially when what you are settling for is not fulfilling? There is a hole, an emptiness, a void. You don't understand the process. You singing like a song bird repeating all the same words. Don't you know if you keep doing what you are doing, you'll keep getting what you are getting? You have a melt down, you shut down. The more you are thinking, you are deeply sinking. The whole situation of explaining becomes draining. But I am here to tell you, the answers you are looking for is not within someone else, it is within you.
It is time for change. You will need strength, patience, endurance and confidence. It will be hard and it will be different, but it will be worth it.
And the first change is to say good-bye to Pete.
Two brothers salmon in the deep blue sea
Got the urge one day to seek some revelry.
So off they both went into the early dawn
With naught on their minds but to swim and spawn.
Up the big river with its mouth so wide,
It must be a mile from side to side.
For days and days those two fish swam
‘Til they ran smack-dab into a concrete dam!
Round and round that great grey wall
They swam, but found no help at all.
Relief came, not from heaven sent,
But sure enough from the government!
A big fish ladder with its lifts and falls
Helped those boys to skirt that wall
Into a lake with its shores so green
The two fish entered on another scene!
As if decreed by constabulary
The lake was fed by five tributaries!
“Which one to take?”, was their question then,
The answer came to the first brother Sven.
“I know where to go”, you could hear him say,
“I’ve been here before! I can find the way!”
So off Sven went, and his brother, Pete, too;
Guided by nothing but Deja Vu!
The stream they chose was swift and clean
But the rocks therein were hard and mean!
Bruised and battered Ol’ Pete said, “ENOUGH!”
“This swim-and-spawn life is just too rough!”
“Swimming all day against the stream?”
“This might be for you Sven, but it ain’t my dream!”
So he turned with the current and went with the flow,
Against his true nature, to the blue sea below.
He passed other salmon, in their eyes was a gleam,
All turning red as they struggled upstream.
Pete was red too from his tail to his face.
When he reached the blue sea, he seemed out of place.
The swimming was easy, with no current to fight,
But Pete couldn’t know of his fate nor his plight.
A flashy red Pete in the bright blue dawn
A sea lion spied him and SNAP! Pete was gone!
In the mean time, Sven kept on swimming for days;
His back out of water in the warm summer rays.
He made his way to a cool sandy brook
And spied a coy babe-fish with a cute little look.
And there on the edge of a loose gravel shoal,
They frolicked and played and fulfilled their role:
They had both done their best; standing out in a crowd.
Sven also died, but his maker is proud!
This tale has a moral, as all good tales do.
A metaphor of life, it is tried and true:
“Swimming through life is no simple feat,
Endure to the end, or end up like Pete!”
We crossed the streams where the fool's gold gleams as we joked and told our stories
And each man spoke of his love and home when work's all done this Fall
When the work's all done this Fall
We hadn’t made it halfway up with Bill still trailing badly
When Johnny said to Pete and Joe let’s stop here and eat dinner
We'd be home in time for supper
Slide Whistle Ike said a plan I like presents itself most handy
So I went back down to round up Bill my beans and biscuits waiting
My beans and biscuits waiting
I turned my mount back down the hill an eye peeled for Bill’s pony
When it caught my eye upslope in the bye near a shaking quakie standing
A shakey quakie standing
That’s where my knees like the trembling trees moved in the breeze a whisperin’
But it wasn’t the wind left the bone and skin above my boots a'shakin’
Surely, I was mistaken
Young Bill had tied his horse to a sapling down where the trail was bending
And climbed up high framed in the sky behind him dark as midnight
What happened to the daylight?
A ghastly glow surrounds him so like embers from the Devil’s campfire
His eyes and face had greatly aged and he smiled like the rage of the Talon River
The raging Talon River
For there stood Bill on that cursed hill his eyes ablaze like lightning
Astride a stream that'd turned to steam under where Mad Bill was standing
Right where that Bill was standing
It hissed and moaned and turned the stones I swear to molten metal
And swept more stones that broke like bones as they tumbled down the mountain
That wretched cursed mountain
He was on a ridge above the boys still laughin' with their dinner
They couldn't see for a line of trees hid their eyes from doom impending
All Hades was descending
I shouted up, "Joe grab the boys and ride to where I'm standing!"
But he couldn't hear me and my desperate plea was lost on that black mountain
That black and burning mountain
Then Ike first heard that sound not found this side of the river Styx
And he barely had time to shout the names of his saddle mates and home
"Home boys! Head for home!"
But there was no time to clear their mind and comprehend what's coming
For who could know what terrible blow upon them was descending
All Hades was descending
________________________________________
I remember it well, and it's such a joy to tell of the fun
we had playing with toy cars and trucks in the sand box.
It was both thrilling and challenging as I played my roles
in the school's stage plays. Each day after lunch, we were
treated with overwhelming play times during school recesses.
The most dreadful sound was that of the bell calling us back to classes,
and during those cold winters, the pot-belly heaters always kept us warm.
We took for granted the security of knowing that we were loved and protected.
Poindexter, Gaston, White, Sexton, were early child-hood teachers
that taught me the three R's, good manners, and even how to sew.
We made great use of the few toys our parents could afford and wasted
no times feeling sorry for ourselves. We played driving tractors and cars
with worn out rubber tires, and when our cap pistols were worn out, we
simply used sticks. When our BB guns wore out, we made our own sling
shots and bow and arrows. We had no swimming pools, private or public,
but we jumped into the nearest creek never mindful of mud or pollution.
No real play grounds with merry-go-rounds, sliding boards, and swing sets.
We played ball next to railroad tracks as well in cow pastures and never
missed touching every base in spite of the many cow pies.
Not to be forgotten are some of the men in my little farming community who were friends of my father. Mon, Tanny, Sam, Jeff, Pete, Dude, Bains, and so many more who helped in the formation of my character. All their names began with 'Mr.'
1128 2018PoSoupContest, My Youth, Craig Cornish
There’s a party tonight so I bouffe up my hair
Pamper and powder my sweet derrière,
Arrive at the door, all done up to impress.....
Oh man, I forgot! Invite said “fancy dress”!
Pete and Sue are here, seems their theme’s ‘Tarts and Vicars’,
Sue’s skirt’s microscopic! Look at her tiny knickers!
Pete’s in a nun’s habit; the image is scary,
I’ve not seen a nun with a chin that’s THAT hairy!
And there’s Spider-Man! (although I’m perfectly certain,
His cape is made out of his living room curtain),
His curve-hugging costume’s quite “cosy” in size,
I think our friend Spidey gobbled too many flies!
In the corner, a lady has come as Snow White,
Gee, her bosoms are out there, her corset’s so tight,
They look like two bald heads squeezed into a sack,
Glad my hubby’s not here - he’d have a heart attack!
In the hallway, a robot is looking well-oiled -
Her costume’s made out of three rolls of tin foil,
She looks more like a turkey at Christmas, so later,
I really hope no one is tempted to baste her!
By the buffet, Fred Flintstone is looking contrite,
I think he and Wilma are having a fight,
Behaving all “caveman” has got Fred in trouble -
He showed his big man-club to poor Betty Rubble!
There’s a massive man-baby dressed just in a nappy,
The “milk” in his bottle has made him quite happy,
He’s shaking his tooshie and sucking his dummy,
And asking a lady, “can I call you Mummy?”
On the sofa is Princess Fiona from Shrek,
Blimey, Count Dracula’s nibbling her neck,
I avert my eyes to avoid his rising passion,
In walks his wife, and his face turns quite ashen.
His irate wife’s dressed up as pop singer Cher,
In her see through outfit she looks almost bare,
Then she lays into Drac just like Rocky Balboa -
She’s drunk as I skunk, I’m relieved I don’t know her!
Suddenly, Batman bursts through the door,
In his skintight costume - my jaw hits the floor!
He’s so muscular - bulges in all the right places,
If I play my cards right, could be me he embraces!
Well sadly I haven’t a costume of course,
Til I spot a young chappie dressed up as a horse,
I leap on his back - I’m a great improviser -
Strip off and shout “Hey I’m Lady Godiva!”
Collaboration between Jan Allison and the amazing Nina Parmenter
3/17/18
...A flush of green-yellow liquid poured out
and disappeared into a large floor drain,
a fetal figure was slumped in the chamber,
and to Tom he couldn’t seem much more plain,
a human being like him, just the same…
He thought he had done it, but had no such luck,
because then, to his horror, the man stood up!
Tom stumbled back as the person stepped out,
and blathered, “But…n-no…how can this be?”
The man just chuckled when he heard Tom’s words,
said, “Yes, many people have asked that of me.”
Tom stammered, “How are you able to speak?
You should be like a child, brainless and lost.”
Said Pete, “Or maybe, your theories are off.”
But Tom still wasn’t willing to say this,
his programming still argued with his own eyes,
he said, “Who are you?” The man replied, “Jesus.
You used my blood, who did you think was inside?
I thank you for helping me to arrive.
You’re not the first Thomas was has had doubts,
I said I’d come back, but I never said how.”
Jesus then walked forwards, right to Thomas,
still as naked as the day he was cloned,
he put his hand on Tom’s shaking shoulders,
said, “Don’t’ be afraid, I’ve long called you my own,
You and your colleagues…no real faith have you known.
You think they’ll reject you, and yes, they will,
but don’t fear, I’ll show you something greater still…”
He squeezed his hand, showed the Truth to Thomas,
let him see beyond the bonds of mere time,
the past, the future, beyond reality…
the perfect gift for analytical minds,
Tom fell to his knees and whispered, “Sublime.”
Of course, Jesus helped Tom back to his feet,
then turned and smiled warmly towards Pete.
He said, “The wisest man amidst the egg-heads,
and it happens to be the janitor,
not only that, one who looks so much like
His much beloved ancient ancestor.
How could I return to Earth with no Peter?”
Said Pete, “I’ll follow, but don’t tell my dad,
he’s the kind who thinks all religion is bad.”
Jesus laughed, “Well, let’s hold out hope for him,”
then nodded towards Thomas where he stood,
“There’s plenty out there waiting for the Truth,
together we will accomplish much good.
Let us all go now, yes, we really should.
First we must seek out the others like you,
They’ve a part to play, and we’ve much work to do…”
(alternately titled: tongue in cheek humor
cuz the following hyperbole
from this pencil necked baby boomer
without intent to badmouth,
nor start unfounded rumor,
who chalks, i.e. attributes gobbledygook
to funny bone tumor).
Impossible mission maneuvering around
soiled clothes pile
floor to ceiling humongous mound
terse reply hopefully adequately sound
to convincingly doth explain
absent poet buried alive underground,
perhaps never heard and/or found
till 1-800 GOT JUNK uncovered
emaciated (lovely bones)
formerly Matthew Scott Harris
his remnants discovered
visa vis mastercard bloodhound.
No need to fret
(while guitar gently weeps),
just talk to who barkeeps
works long late hours, he oversleeps
thus best track him down,
without uttering peeps
please find out if he knows
anybody reliably housekeeps
maybe lady luck will
thru think magical realism
deliver sophisticated robot
harkening within outer limits
from twilight zone
hookin get the job done
in one fell swoop sweeps.
Meanwhile yours truly
tries to remain upbeat
despite being royally tricked
upon pledging his troth
haint cool wedded bliss
heavily perspiring courtesy ultraheat
smellbound by malodorous laundry
necessitating heavy amount
of clorox to pretreat
which I rather drink,
(and thank president Trump)
for sakes Pete!
Though the misses upholds
voluntarily cooking as wifely role indeed
worth commendable attention,
I do concede
and doth adequately buzzfeed
her hubby lest he
wither away to lovely bones
(well past due date
late to avoid
above mentioned outcome,
his (mine) corporeal
being well nigh freed,
thus complaint regarding
spindleshanks solved no knead
to strain skinny ankle muscles
and maintain self promise
holy matrimony, cuz
aye know weed
never remain married forever
as initially agreed.
Fickle finger of fate
hath spoken thru smelly
potential Superfund site
perhaps... not amazing how heaping pile
of unwashed laundry can create
ecological hazard, that warrants B44
one bedroom apartment condemned
management understandably irate
to withhold security deposit
nearly four years at Highland Manor
now ready for model
domestic counterpart to debate
with her better angels where to relocate.
Ciro Gargano his Detroit hitman faked their deaths after attempting to impersonate my uncle bob satterfield long lost bastard sons identity my uncle bob satterfield didn't have a long list bastard son bob was born in 1923 my father was born in 1942 sadly Ciro Gargano Donald massimo pellegren hacked into my life obsessed with impersonating me killing me now they are both old men living in hiding needing medicine medical treatments for leukemia bone cancer neither men are able to receive treatments they already broke into my home searching for medications breaking into homes of seniors for medical treatment I pray Retep Gargano is us able to contact his loved ones to get the help he needs it is truly sad This obsessional diabolical hatred to my life resulted in thus madness after they used up all if my traumatic brain injury claim they needed more because I exposed the identity theft the data breaches in Tampa general hospital imposters impersonating me for Retep Gargano truly sad This man is now bed ridden after faking his death the insurance monies used up paying dealers killers he probably figured he'd be dead by now but God is keeping him alive in pure suffering hacking into Florida medicaid system tri care Peter Gargano has been surviving by fraud senior scams are serious stop victimization of disabled elderly persons Peter Gargano invested 47 thousand dollars from my traumatic brain injury claim annuity payments structured settlement into Myerlee Pharmaceutical fort myers this insurance fraud mail fraud wire fraud forced peter gargano into faking his death is now in hiding dying so is his brother ciro gargano and Donald Pellegren all in hiding from horrid crimes of murder mass murder how do wiseguys hitmen retire with no medical treatment after killing so many people never realized they would someday be old sick needing care the garment pension all gone used car lot all gone they attack the elderly mostly women veterans disabled persons home invasions for prescriptions medications selling to retired mobsters in threatening my life in Florida RX PETE MYERLEE INVESTMENT
Stop retired hitmen from exploiting
victimization of disabled elderly
seniors in Florida RX RETEP MYERLEE
Investments
God Bless The United States of America
We’d just buried poor old Peter and we’re back now at his wake,
and of course it’s sad to see him gone but it’s great we can partake,
in giving comfort to his widow now that the hardest part is done -
funerals are really small reunions - for kin and friends less one.
These are the times to catch up with the mates from long gone days,
and it must be nearly thirty years since Bert and I had chased the crays.
The mists of time have swallowed up Dick and my working situation,
but now the three of us are once again indulging in a conversation.
We laughed about the characters who once graced us on the clock,
and we brought up Union matters that gave the management a shock.
So with a few quite beers now in us we’re neglecting the deceased,
until we were joined by what I’d call the roving friendly Priest.
And tête-à-tête that we’d indulged moved back to poor old Pete,
with questions laced with afterlife when God turns up the heat,
especially after what we’d heard in eulogy that filled the kirk,
about the splendid life Pete lived before descending to the murk.
The Priest had listened quite intent, then with I s’pose a sombre tone,
he put a question to us three about, the day St. Peter’s on the phone,
“When you’re lying in your casket with family mourners gathered ‘round.
What would you like to hear them say before I place you underground?”
Dick rubbed his chin a mite, responding then with his desire,
“I would like to hear them say that, because I stoked the boilers fire,
the factory had the driest steam in any plant for miles about -
Yeah, I’d really like to hear them say, I’m the greatest boiler man no doubt”.
All ears then turned toward me, intent on hearing what I’ll say.
So I took my time to bumble over what I’ve done in me day …
“I would like to hear my family say Dad, it was as smooth as silk,
and we really miss your lunch box filled with that A-grade powdered milk!”
Albert laughed but looked embarrassed, thinking it’s a shot at him,
for every day his Gladstone bag was filled up to the brim,
but then he frowned and gave a nod and moved away from his disproving,
“I guess I’d like to hear them say - ‘Gee whiz!’ Albert’s flamin’ moving!”