Long Possibles Poems

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


Premium Member It's Raining, It's Pouring Man--REMAKE

"It’s Raining, It’s Pouring"
It’s raining, it’s pouring
The old man is snoring
He bumped his head
And went to bed
And didn’t get up till morning.

Shivers 'me Timbers
truth be told tune's like old
day had grew night he knew
possibles here unfolds.

I'm Popeye the sailor man
fought Brutus a former friend
was sent up the Big House
and fought with a Big Mouth
he ate all hamburgers then ran
I'm Popeye the sailor man
got lost in the jailhouse can
I flushed myself down
I'm the new man in town
I think I'm now in Japan
I'm Popeye the sailor man
lookin for food in this land
asked a theater house
they had a Bigger Mouth
Kabuk got spooked and he ran
I'm Popeye American
at food house saw Kabuk man
before I could get 'im
he ate all the saimin
and then he ran off to San Fran
I'm Popeye American
hungriest man in Japan
got a bowl of seafood
that stood and walked for good
still hungriest man in Japan
I'm Popeye kabuki man
I'm lean like a boogeyman
my muscles turned mussels
mid chopstick smiles--hustled
so quick boards I on sampan
I'm Popeye the kidnapped man
got Shanghai up to Thailand
there I met King Kong
who took me to Hong Kong
to ship's dock fast as I can 
we passed the Meridian
we dropped anchor in ocean
as history stood still
herstory went on till
mid BC & AD timespan
the ship I was travelin
I met this young Hawaiian
his grandpa's Maori
and grandma's Tahiti
he called me the comeback kid
home, my yard--friend waterin'
said he changed my Tax Map Key
helped him up he'd told me
he'll fix things be golden
then showed news I'm lost at sea
I'm Popeye invisible
I will change impossible 
and I'll be a name-changer
from Popeye the sailor
to Eyes-to-die-for the yachtsman.
Form: Lyric


Premium Member This Time Around: Glenn Hughes and Lordy

LEGEND: GH - Glenn Hughes          JL - Jon Lord/Lordy

GH: "Oh Lordy!"
JL: "Heil!"
GH: "How'd ya like puffin' that magic."
JL: "Bugs is outta the hat, man, -- so the trick is -- how you gonna git hoppity back in there? I'll git the keyboard ready and let's start puffin' man!"
GH: "Huffin' soloist?" 
JL: "You puffin' man?"
GL: "I thought Draggin's are heavy-footers?"
JL: "Scales are tamed on my Draggin; -- meet you out front, man."

My take on their version
          Their version

You and I see the maybes, the possibles,  ... and the crazies.          
          The world around us hangs in doubt
It's easy to get lost in all the turmoil when we're apart
          You face a crime that we'll hear about
The words out bring us closer, hears of my bleeding heart
          To pay the cost, would never be the same
That's the scene, we're the maker, dreams that last forever
          Eternal lovers, we're not to blame
We did create ... be our blood stain
          There's no mistake, there's no refrain
It's insane everything that we know and stood for is still all fine
          The same surroundings that stood
we're here again, look around and you're not found around this time
          Are here again - this time around
To lose you, I would choose, the timeless end, that space transcends ...
          As I look around you can't be found
          To lose you, I'd rather see the endless
But this time around ... our true nature be found.
          Time and space go passing by
          This time around
          This time around
          So look around, we all will be found
          In love
Form: Lyric

Veracious Rover

Hundred million K' away neighbour, Mars
     Hovers bolognese smeared brother, ice brick
     Fondness for possibles although bizarre
     Intoxicate screw loose hair brained psychic


     Frog skin glint silk soak, last page of atlas 
     Frigid rift in regolith terracotta
     Ancient alien sustaining chalice
     Embalms escargot creatures exotic  


     Savant submerged in claiming lake, limbs grey
     Gnawed on by hordes of sword fish ravenous
     Haunting waters, explorer credere 
     Stores files in his spongy tissue camera


     Angora cotton ball goats, horns antennas
     Munch dust, dull marbles watch earth untether




       
         Still the twentieth of October
            Extra terrestrial Thursday
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Debaucheries

Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.
Capitalism is the key to how our engine’s stoked.

The rich swap hats and argue that they know what’s best for folk
The corporations buy House and Senate, then they sit back and gloat.

Election laws guarantee the wealthy keep their poke,*
Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.

We have the vote, they say and so Democracy makes us free
But surely they’ve not bamboozled the likes of you and me.

We know to vote is useless since money’s the only key
Justice takes a back seat to political debaucheries.

Like we believe they're different what do they think we smoke?
Republicans and Democrats, democracy’s a joke.



* Poke - a pouch or bag used by a cowboy 
to carry his "possibles" (small personal items).
(Derived from the French word poche, meaning a pocket or bag.)
Also used as cowboy slang for sex.
Form: Couplet

A Cold Calling

The cold calls were upsetting at first,
after a while, I almost wished for the
heavy breathing silence.

It was satisfying to think of someone
on the other end sighing disgustedly
at my own mechanical voice message.

Later I imagine that person, working
a second or third job,
desperate and tired fingers thumbing  through
lists of possibles, only to come to rest on
my number, and my scorning disregard.

Of course it’s all probably computer generated
and automated. No actual humanity involved,
except for the scam artists. They have
definitely got the human touch.

Maybe I can get a tele-marketing job?
Most poets have the necessary skills to be
disruptive, intrusive, and convincing,

and I can always wave my conscience
goodbye as I hunt you all down.


Premium Member Beyond The Beyond


the lines of boundaries are set
etched in our minds to not forget
that what we see becomes best bet
that claims the truth as grounded-
yet may become confounded

we look at stars that gleam up high
entrapped by boundaries of sky
but in that darkness, we ask why
these sparkling gems are spinning-
for answers, we were clinging

these modern times have changed our view
of what we thought and what we knew
when science gifted its breakthrough-
space boundaries seem slacking-
our knowledge, now backtracking

with Hubble Telescope, we found
thousands of galaxies abound
we thought were only stars, newfound-
now boundaries, erasing
and endless space embracing.

each galaxy makes up the realm
of points of light that overwhelm
with telescopic eyes at helm
new possibles still brewing
while probables we're viewing-

beauty in this darkness shown-
perhaps we're not alone
Form: Rhyme

My Dream

My unseen dreamy feelings awakes my dream
                                 where all nourishing beauties hidden in it
                                     I rest for a while in that crystal world 
                                   I find what I do deserve the best for me 

                                   No disturbances are there no casualties 
                           all escalations are far away from that region I reign
                             I fly and fly to feel all the inner silent persuasions 
                             One by one I read possibilities and impossibilities

                                  I stare in to the depth of my dream world
                               I accept the possibles discarding all impossibles
                                 Day by day I wake up with nice inspirations
                                     To go ahead with my real life of reality
Form:

A Cold Calling

The cold calls were upsetting at first,
after a while, I almost wished for the 
heavy breathing silence.

It was satisfying to think of someone 
on the other end sighing disgustedly
at my own mechanical voice message.

Later I imagined that person, working 
a second or third job,
desperate and tired fingers thumbing through
lists of possibles, only to come to rest on 
my number, and my scorning disregard.

Of course it’s all probably computer generated 
and automated. No actual humanity involved,
except for the scam artists. They have
definitely got the human touch.

Maybe I can get a tele-marketing job? 
Most poets have the necessary skills to be
disruptive, intrusive, and convincing,

and I can always wave my conscience 
goodbye as I hunt you all down.

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