Long Phil Poems

Long Phil Poems. Below are the most popular long Phil by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Phil poems by poem length and keyword.


July 25th, 1996 Tied the Gordian Knot

July 25th, 1996 tied the Gordian knot,...
(I spent noose cents)
begot deux daughters, the major events
both since flew cuckoo's nest,
the eldest angry at papa for offense

sieve behavior fatherly bond
forever sundered permanent rents
unforgiving progeny vents
bile, explosive vitriol whence...

Aye yen for bachelorhood every
now and again doth mildly abate
after saying "I do...,"
when axed by justice of peace

nearly two dozen years wedded
bull hissing, rest assured
I will abbreviate
encapsulate, fulminate, narrate...

and forthrightly admit,
yours truly oft times
yearned to abdicate
spousal unbridled warfare and injustice

reason enough to abnegate
null and void husbandry role
ex post facto finding thyself
questioning pledging troth even

Frosty the snowman would abominate
to say "screw this -
marriage nut for me"
bolt in a huff boot (dang)

ne'er did absquatulate
altercations that adhere
to rule of physics
and tended to accelerate

as muzzled, neigh saying saddled
former groom did
lament and accentuate
his physical needs,

she did not accommodate,
cuz this solitary soul
(with good n plenti horse sense),
never did fully acculturate

with female species,
one whose blunt cold front
seemed to accumulate growing
gripe list bestowed courtesy this mate

tit for tat wrathful pitiless,
(not so cherry) feedback unmatched
within annotated coupled courtship of fools,
this scrivener with steely

iron maiden breastplate,
nonetheless did rack up and accumulate
battle scars hitting bullseye,
since donned with

corrective vision spectacles
hen pecking, needling termagant
untameable shrew did acerate
(worse fate than death -

validated by grim reaper)
avowed covenant thru torturous years
exponentially punishing innocent soul
(slightly biased) did acervate

popping one after
another over the counter acetylsalicylate,
no ampule adequate
to relieve permanent suffering,
thus lifetime electric shock treatment,

nsync quaffing prescription
kool aid battery acidulate
ineffective to activate
palliative, and restore

liberty (yeah) sense and sensibility
subsequently providing freedom
against further wifely scourges
whereby Doctor Phil Ander

refused to adjudicate,
perhaps understandable why I advocate
selfless mercy killing (euthanasia)
for this urbane country bumpkin.


The Bugle Boy

I said, "Son, you look too young
To wear that uniform.
You ought to be home with your ma,
There, by the fireside warm.
                                      
"That bugle hanging 'round your neck,
You sure can blow it fine,
But you'd be home, singing in the choir
Were you a boy of mine."
                                       
The bugle boy's blue eyes flashed fire;
His freckled face blushed red.
He slowly shuffled his booted feet
And cleared his throat, and said,        
                                      
"I guess I'm older than I look.
I'm kind o' thin and lean,
But I'm not "son" by a damn long site!
I'm goin' on fifteen.
                                       
"My ma, she died when I was born;
The Rebs, they killed my pa,
On a battle field called Prairie Grove,
Out west, in Arkansas.
                                       
"One brother died at Chancellorsville.
He got in a cannon's way.
Another was lost at Gettysburg,
In Pickett's Charge, they say.
                                      
"Well, that leaves only two of us--
Just me and brother Phil.
He's with the troops on the forward line,
In the woods, just down the hill.
    
"They don't let me tote a rifle;
Guess I don't shoot so well.
But I can sound a bugle call
That'd send a charge through hell."

The bugler's story ended there.
No time for more to tell,
For, the midday quiet was shattered
By that awful rebel yell.
                                      
The cold air rang with musket fire
And cannon, from both sides.
Soon the sparkling snow was crimson stained
Where the fallen bled and died.
                                      
The blue line held; the Rebel thrust 
Was slowly turned away.
Now the boy was told to sound the charge
In the fading light of day.
                                      
The blackness of the winter night
Brought fighting to an end.
The moaning of departing souls
Mounted up the wailing wind.  
                                      
The bury detail found the boy,
On their grim, morning beat,
The bugle grasped in his frozen hand,
He had never blown retreat.
                                      
"Why, sonny, you look peaceful there
In that blue uniform.
I guess you're home, now, with your ma,
There, by the fireside warm."
Form:

Phil the Tech Enthusiast

There once was a tech enthusiast,  
Name of Phil, and in him an obsession did persist.  
It was with his laptop that he couldn't part  
And so he took it, truly, everywhere he'd start.  

In meetings, at school, and even in the loo  
The laptop never went off, no matter what he'd do.  
He called it his wife, with love and a smile  
Said it kept him going, every day a new mile.  

Late at night, you'd see Phil's face aglow  
As he worked on his laptop, with no desire to go  
To bed or to rest, for work was all he'd know  
As he typed away, letting his ideas flow.  

But it wasn't just work, it was about knowledge too  
He surfed the web, acquiring new skills in all he'd do  
From cooking to carpentry, he wanted to learn  
All while maintaining his core tech focus with every turn.  

People close to him, they knew him well  
And they knew, wherever he went, his laptop he'd sell  
His devoted companion, his trusty friend  
On whom he could always rely in the end.  

And yet, in his mind, it was more than mere attachment  
It was a tool, a means for his advancement  
In the world of tech, and in life as a whole  
He longed for success, to reach his aspirational goal.  

In one hand Phil held his laptop tight,  
In the other, a hot cup of coffee for the night.  
They were the perfect companions, through thick and thin  
Simply inseparable, like a twin.  

People often wondered, would he ever break away?  
From the glimmering screen, that kept the world at bay  
But Phil knew what he needed, and it wasn't far  
Reaching new heights, reaching for the star.  

Here's to the tech enthusiasts, out there in the world  
With their laptops by their sides, always unfurled  
For passion and drive are what make us who we are  
So let's keep typing away, reach for the next bar.

let's remember, as we type away each day,  
That our laptops are more than just screens in a way  
They're part of our journey, what makes us unique  
A reflection of our drive, our purpose, our mystique.

So let us salute Phil, for his drive and his heart  
To chase his dreams and let his obsession play a central part  
For in this digital age, and in all that we pursue  
Our laptops are not mere gadgets, but a part of our soul too.
Form: Rhyme

Green Chapter Seven

Whipping out his cellphone Malik dailed 
Mecca's number.  "Hello Mecca COME TO
MY APARTMENT RIGHT NOW! THERE'S NO
TIME FOR TALKING GET HERE NOW!"  ending 
his call and dailing another number.  "Hey 
Phil I NEED YOU MY APARTMENT RIGHT 
NOW! WE GOT US A WAR" ending his call 
Malik unlocked his apartment went inside
and got a blanket.  He laid it out on his 
floor at the entrance of his front door.  He 
dragged Violet onto the blanket wrapped 
her up and went back outside.  Taking his 
22 pistol out of his pocket Malik waited for 
Mecca and Phil.  Within 30 minutes the 
two men showed up.  Getting out of their 
cars gun in hand the three men went 
inside Malik's apartment.  "When I got 
home Violet was on my doorsteps dead.  
There was money stuffed in her mouth 
and a note inside her hand".  Malik handed 
the note to Phil.  "I know of the Green 
Nation" said Phil as he handed the note to 
Mecca.  "There's a guy by the name of 
Steve Young.  He work at the prison He's 
also a member of the Green Nation" said 
Phil informing Malik and Mecca.  "Lets 
take Violet to her house and lay her in her 
bed" said Mecca interrupting Phil.  The 
three men picked up Violet's lifeless body 
and put her in the trunk of Mecca's car.  
After they dropped off Violet Malik called a 
meeting with the Black Crime Syndicate.  
The meeting took place on the south side 
of Green Haven, in the park, on the 
basketball court.  "We got trouble, Violet 
has been murdered.  An organization by 
the name of the Green Nation is trying to 
step on our toes.  They murdered Violet 
and left a note".  "Malik why am I'm just 
now hearing about this?" interrupted 
Amber Forest the second in command of 
the Black Crime Syndicate.  "Amber I 
didn't want to involve you just yet.  I don't 
want anyone to know you're my second in 
command.  We have to keep your identity 
secret".  "Ok I'm cool with that Malik".  
"Amber we can't let these clowns stop us 
from making money".  "We will handle 
them in the right way Malik.  We will 
gather information on the Green Nation 
first and then we will handle them".  "Ok 
with that being said this meeting is 
adjourned".
Written by Keith Edward Baucum aka The 
Brown Philosopher aka The Green Poet

Listen to their voices Youth Day

Inspired by Youth Day, a drive through Soweto combined with Phil Collins music. 

Listen to their voices 
(Youth Day)
By Michelle Morris 
17/06/2024

Driving through Soweto
Seeing the makeshift stalls
People hustling to survive 
Part of their daily grind 

Phil Collins on the radio
Drums beating like Africa 
Heartbeats and heartbreak 
Today is Youth Day; Youth Day

So many roads and paths
So many people and choices 
Whether South Africa or England 
People want money and happiness 

Listen to their voices
The youth want freedom 
They want a good future 
They want their blessings 

Listen to their voices 
The youth want meaning 
They want to connect 
They want good feelings 

Yes, they want their freedom 
When will their time come?
All the old men in politics 
Taking the power away from them 

Yes, they want good feelings 
Yes, they want their blessings 
When will they feel the vibes?
When will their blessings arrive?

Too many people and voices 
Too many roads and paths 
We each have a way to go
To make our dreams come alive 

Listen to their voices
The youth want freedom 
They want a good future 
They want their blessings 

Listen to their voices 
The youth want meaning 
They want to connect 
They want good feelings 

How do we navigate the truth?
How do we do good for all?
Someone always seems to lose
The youth need their voices heard 

Time flies for everyone 
Time does not promise justice 
Time isn't fair in war and love
The youth learn lessons the hard way 

Drive through Soweto 
Ask them what they want 
Drumroll for Africa's youth
It's their time to shine 

Listen to their voices
The youth want freedom 
They want a good future 
They want their blessings 

Listen to their voices 
The youth want meaning 
They want to connect 
They want good feelings 

Listen to their voices
The youth want freedom 
They want a good future 
They want their blessings 

Listen to their voices 
The youth want meaning 
They want to connect 
They want good feelings 

It's your time to shine 
Youth of Africa rise
It's your time to thrive 
Youth of Africa rise 

Youth of Africa rise 
Youth Day vibes 
Youth of Africa rise 
Youth Day vibes 

© Michelle Morris, 2024
Form: Lyric


Premium Member In Memory of My Memory

Friends used to say like an elephant I never forget
these days I have the memory of a goldish or amoeba
often find myself staring blanking into the fridge
wondering what I am doing there, what I’m looking for

The building that once housed each of my living moment
Sometimes like a faulty computer recycles information
  It is there, somewhere, just takes longer to be accessed
Like my missing utensils, its all stored in some kind of bin

It’s that thing, you know that thing, that thingamajig
then I discover what it is called, oh it one of them 
well, who uses a tea strainer anyway these days
Or people’s name who I know well
‘Oh there’s you know who, what’s her name again
If I’m lucky something about her will bring it back

That actor, the one being interviewed on Lorraine
Who is he again? come on Jude, you know who he is 
after a few minutes of intense brain activity, it hurts
right in the centre of my forehead
Oh yes that’s Phil Mitchell, him off Eastenders
married to Sharon, has a son called Ben

In conversation a random word erupts without a thought
bearing no vague relation to what I have been talking about
metaphors and other over used sayings come out all mixed up 
the early bird gathers no moss, why cry over spilt milk
you can save it for a rainy day, get what I’m trying to say?

Walking round the shop hoping for a visual clue on the shelves
there is one thing I know I desperately need but what can it be
as always I have forgotten the darned shopping list at home
then as I open the door on my return, it comes rushing back
loo rolls that’s what it was, kitchen towel will have to do
………….. if I need the loo

 History is very often reconstructed when I retell it
Churchill met his Waterlo
Thanks to Google, I can search for useful facts and information

Talking of technology, as an aide memoire Alexa is great
When I ask her what the weather is like today, she’ll say
The Prime Minister is Theresa May, I’m none the wiser
in fact more confused, back in the day I’d just pop outside 

The alarm I set on the to remind of some important event
thinking the mobile phone yes that will not let me down
next thing I know the alarms just gone off, its two days late!
Yep, I had set the wrong time and date!

Premium Member The Moby Dick Reunion

The Moby Dick Reunion 


One hundred fifty nine years have passed
Since Melville published his novel.
Seven hundred twenty pages in length
Some say it was much too nautical. 

All of the characters have gathered.
They’re going to have a reunion.
Rumor has it, they say, that Herman himself
Is making a huge revelation. 

Ishmael is the first to arrive,
And it’s he who was telling the story.
That’s only right, in the book he survived,
He deserves to get all the glory. 

Fedallah and Moby were next in line,
Just in from the Dr. Phil Show.
Their friendship had grown a lot lately.
The harpooner was psychic you know! 

When he and Phil studied the big fishes mind,
They found out his reason for anger.
The fact that he was albino
Had burned in his mind like a canker. 

Ahab, it seems, was equally mean,
And caused a lot of his stress.
He’d cornered the whale with harpoon boats, 
And offered no way for egress. 

Moby’s life has been changed forever.
He’s hitched to a really cute killer.
She’s working part time at Sea World,
Seems they needed a sub for their “killer”. 

The pub where they met was named Starbucks,
In honor of the owner.
The first mate was rich as a pirate.
He could even afford to buy toner. 
 
Then through the door entered Ahab,
With a prosthesis and brand new pipe.
He finally learned to be happy,
And enjoyed a simpler life. 

With him was Herman Melville,
A screenplay under his arm.
One thousand pages he’d written,
About whalers who lived on a farm? 

The crew didn’t give their attention.
By now, they were tanked up on rum.
He said he was going to Hollywood,
And if they were smart they would come. 

But Ahab and Moby were sobbing.
Tears falling into their mugs.
After all of their trials they found friendship
In the bottom of a jug. 

Herman begged them to go make the movie.
But, their lives were happier now.
They all had families to care for,
And no urge for taking a bow. 

It seems that while Melville was groveling,
Pip and Ishmael had stolen the play.
They put it in Queequey’s coffin,
And watched it float slowly away. 

That was the end of the reunion.
They all went home that night,
Happy with the realization,
That their lives were all just right!
Form: Verse

Are You At Your Wits End

they've been moments in life when you've felt that you were at your wits end
be it spiritually, financially or physically be it in a relationship with family or friends
tired of whenever you've been blessed the enemy attempts to knock you down
ready to throw in the towel and just fall to the ground
but if you're a disciple of Christ you will come to comprehend
that God will get you through anything from beginning to end
so before you turn to Oprah, Dr. Oz or even Dr. Phil
have a little talk with the Lord God and then just sit still
He might not get there when you want Him but God is always right on time
and He's aware of everything you're going through that's why He's called divine
omnipotent, omnipresent and all knowing with His infinite power
God knows what's happening at any given hour

so are you at your wits end? can you see no way out?
it's time to put your trust in God for in Him there's never any doubt
God knows more about us than we will ever know about ourselves
His knowledge is so infinite and full spiritual wealth
for it was He who created us and it was He who gave us the breath of life
He also gave us the gift that lifted us and freed us from sin with the blood sacrifice

so are you at your wits end? what thoughts are running through your mind?
do you realize that God knows what you're thinking at any given time?
He knows what you will say before the words fall from your lips
He knows what you will do before you do it as it was He who wrote the script
so there's no need to be at your wits end if you're a child of Christ
remember God is watching over you every minute of your life

I once had a plane reservation for 8 o'clock at night
but the lady behind the ticket counter decided to change my flight
I asked her why did she do this? and she said "Reverend you need to comprehend"
that 8pm flight had a 2 hour layover 
and the 9pm flight will serve you better in the end
not only did I arrive earlier but she had upgraded me to first class too
I have come to realize that God has a master plan that might better suit you
so no longer am I at my wits end as I've  place myself in God's hands
living to praise, living to rejoice by waiting and abiding by His plans
Form: Didactic

Farewell to 2024

An American perspective on domestic and world events, in no particular order

SCOTUS rules that Trump’s immune
China flies the spy balloon
Starship booster landing glee
J. Assange is walking free

Bergdorf, Neiman join Saks
Our Secret Service sucks
Russia swaps her jailed spies
Alexei Navalny dies 

Mitch McConnell’s stepping down
“Boris” causes Europe drown
Biden cancels loan debt
Hunter’s pardoned by his dad

Hezbollah - beheaded snake
East Coast’s shaken by the quake
Eagle Pass – still open path
Gaza tastes Israeli wrath

North of 40 goes Dow Jones
Loses fight one Alex Jones
French Olympics is a dud
Milton, Helen’s awful flood

Bitcoin’s rising through the roof
“Donald Trump is bullet-proof”
MSNBC for sale
Diddy Combs in Brooklyn’s jail

Donald wins and Harris not
Brian T. assassins’ plot
Bankman-Fried, the largest fraud
“AI” reach is getting broad

Pavel Durov nabbed in France
But illegals push, advance
Mid-East war still rages on
“Year of Snake” is almost born

TikTok may not be around
Syria has fallen down
Anti-Semites flowing crud
Israel keeps oozing blood

Taylor Swift, the billionaire
Art, banana, millionaire
Gone Red Lobster, Tupperware
Weapons for Ukraine affair

Prada sews the spacewalk suit
DOJ quits Trump’s pursuit
Spirit Air takes nose dive
Elon Mask in overdrive

Iran rockets come like rain
Hostages remain in pain
No DC resolve, it’s air
Beirut pagers need repair

Russia crumbles from within
Lower price on gasoline
“Brat”, the word of current year
Now, to ones we once revere

Gone for good, but left imprint
Culture, sport, each own footprint
Lou Carnesecca, Dr. Ruth
Wheel of Fortune Chuck, sad truth

Quincy Jones – culture brass
James Jones - Darth Vader bass
Newhart Bob, satire most 
One Phil Donahue, the host

Famous Amos, Maggie Smith,
Richard Simmons, workout wiz
Global flier Dick Rutan
Gossett Lou, of actors’ clan

Matthew Perry, Terry Garr 
O.J. Simpson football star
Willie Mays of baseball fame
Y. Sinwar, mankind’s shame

Year’s drawing to a close
Parties, cheer and best clothes
Time for thought and time for fun
Merry Xmas, everyone!

December 15, 2024
© Ed Kay  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Diagnosis Sorcerer Phil-Ofa-Lies

Hearing God's voice doesn't make you crazy disobeying it does Lord they are throwing the 
baby out and drinking the bath water Commanded us to hearken to your voice it is written 
warning of false doctors or teachers thier doctrine sorceries that turn men from thee you 
said beware and now aware must warn others of false laree the diagnosis sorcery the cure in 
need of repentance God is not a schizophrenic nor does he forget who he is propaganda 
leads men's hearts astray like plop and fizz they made it an art taking something that works 
to decieve men again God's not schizophrenic but your doctors self diagnosis maybe 
Witchcraft has come along way from Egypt to jezebel spirits from sigmund freud's 
fraudulences Carl Jungs junk and Adler's idle tales unholy trinity No I will not sign my name 
fraud nor try to cause others pain applause sign applause To hearken unto God or men you 
decide for by their sorceries they lie they of the their father the Big lie and friends for drugs 
will only awaken a false god within for you see or if you yet will God is our creator not 
entheogen this is your brain on sorcery See Jesus the great Physician first about your 
doctors second opinion David L. Roshenhan's experiment proof something aloof recorded 
and admitted unless you admit your as crazy as they are you may stay committed taking 
their subcribes but before it was prescribed Get the hence in the name of Jesus Christ be ye 
healed in his name If not you my end up with what's up doc. Dr. LSD  turned off tuned out 
dropped somewhere Timothy Leary as you watch snake oil salesmen on TV the gaper 
dancer's with wafers tunes with Warning Labels side effects could kill you before you take a 
pill red or blue read the Good Book  Facts doctors kill more than guns and war check again 
or you may end up with one with out a degree like Aliester crowley for you see the right 
diagnosis from the Great Physician will save your life One wrong diagnosis from 100 doctors 
is still deadly or read On being sane in insane place please remember If you would only try 
to touch his hem So get a check-up from Jesus that will bind up the broken hearts and set 
you free
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Epic

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