Long Pre teen Poems
Long Pre teen Poems. Below are the most popular long Pre teen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pre teen poems by poem length and keyword.
The year was ‘72; Morrison had died,
yet I felt little sorrow, for when he was in his prime,
I was a pre-teen junkie for bubble-gum rock
like the songs of Herman and his Hermits, Grass Roots, Bread
and whatever else became hot tunes on the radio.
Knowing little about Jim Morrison, I was aware of his name,
however, and was a fan of three famous songs:
“Light My Fire,” “Hello I Love You,” and “People are Strange.”
Stopping by Woolworth’s later on in ‘72,
I came upon a compilation album of the Doors
named Weird Scenes Inside the Gold Mine.
I had been collecting albums but never one of the Doors.
The album was a very good price, so I nabbed it!
At night I lay in bed listening to the album’s tunes,
some of which were, as the album’s name implied, indeed weird.
However, I enjoyed lifting the needle of my record player
again and again to spin on the turntable
two of my favorite songs from that album:
“Don’t You Love Her Madly” and “Riders on the Storm.”
Listening again after all these years
and knowing now what I know of Jim Morrison and his demise,
I sense the irony as I listen to the last lines
of “Riders on the Storm” -
“Girl you gotta love your man. . .”
up to this incongruous lyric: “Our Life will never end.”
May 13, 2019 for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "Writers on the Storm" Contest
Face framed ornate, or curl corner blu tacked up
Childhood fanciful daring must softly be contained
Dispicable hovers inside cherub cheeked adorable
Challenge for enamoured to create correct shape
Administer discipline with compassion entangled
Potential beckons infant innately curious
Toddler discovery meshed with messiness
Woven with wonderment routine can't limit
Succumbed mother disowns justifiable furious
Besotted witness, sure estate for mischief
Nudging daughters towards beings approved
Beyond old rigidity, modern option multiples
Youth spoken forums we're foreigners to
Images of genuine and fake indiscernible
Listened to lunacy delivers messages askew
Duty to daughters reflect our similarity
Penciled declarations stuck to fridge
Devotedness focussed on child precious
Inflated effort, parents' universal currency
Whether meagre expenditure, or excess
Snippets of your prosper are written in me
Lawyer loads clothes into washing machine
Submerged both classes in a world severe
Puppets of striving in fast passed society
Consumer boom boldly commandeered
Disparity reveals parental symmetry amazing
Faithfully accommodating girls' shifting needs
Working mothers, each of us 'unaccompanied'
Various sized resources serve child raising
Sacrifice made by dedicated souls equally
Providing guidance, friendship gripes quieten
Line of latitude curved by desire to control
Old school wisdom bolsters brains susceptible
Dramatised screen infused new century children
Content quickly spirals into unacceptable
Desperately hoping, we Mother soldiers
Shield children from future provocation
Hold fort, nest feathered dedication
Thrusted comfort, reluctant scolders
Admist mixed rails, reliable station
Within swayed pre teen trajectory
Sturdy parenting depots journey
Home stands firm from outside duress
Finances overshadowed by reliability
Partnered peers approve sole success
17th July 2020
G goblins, ghouls and ghosts
H haunted houses, blood running cold with fright
O ornery children threatened by them
S so they will submit to harried parents
T truthfully I do not like the connotation of the word ghost
H haunting is fascinating to eleven and thirteen-year-olds
U under guise of slumber parties now called sleepovers
N nervous giggling, as they get out the Ouija board
T tittering, in an uncomfortable pre-teen way
E each pushing it toward certain letters
R reacting in horror at what they spell
S sleeping fitfully not in their own beds, imagining the worst.
A am I confused these are lumped together? Yes.
N Not able to understand how they are the same
D daring to enlighten an open-minded reader
S spiritualists follow their heart
P paranormal things happen to them
I intuition shows them a new way of thinking
R reality of theirs must be perceived or understood
I it cannot be explained, it must be felt and lived.
T true to themselves, they know without knowing how they know
U under fire sometimes for beliefs thrust upon them by unseen forces
A angelic messengers seek them out because they receive messages
L long-time persecuted for living with God’s gift of psychic perception
I it has to be experienced, for it cannot be imagined in its fullness.
S Sensing, smelling, occasionally seeing wisps of
T tantalising flecks of something
S Spirit, showing herself, in safety of a believer
9-19-2018 Ghost Hunters and Spiritualists Contests
Sponsor: Kevin Shaw
Age is over rated
I went from cute and cuddly
To terribly two
In the flip of a calendar
From being inquisitive
To being nosey
From pre-teen
To A TEENAGER
Meandered
Through the military
Into construction
And against the Vegas spread
Married
And became a father
AGE
That sly bastard
Has made me
A grandfather
And a great grandfather
I have taught them all
To spit, to curse,
To love
Even the seemingly
Un-lovable
Age has slowed me down
Stolen my fastball
It has not been able
To wither my wit
Stifle my laughter
Or contain my enthusiasm
I still laugh
Too loud and too often
Too frequently at the “wrong” things
The children and grandchildren
Share their “Papa stories”
Most include mud puddles
A few scars from the jungle bars
H U G E….ice cream sundaes
Getting hit by a baseball
He threw to show you
It wouldn’t hurt that much
To get hit by the pitch
I may be getting “old”
But age had better be ready
When I round third
Headed for home
He’d better be holding the ball
With both hands
Cuz there will be
A collision
Before I’m
Called… “OUT”
Cruise ships appear over the horizon
As white
As the crest of tidal waves
Surging to harbor
No I said
To hell with cruise ships
To ride inside a machine
My wife and I
Prefer
To sit beside
The purr of ocean with opened books
Sun on our shoulders all day
A mom in a string bikini
Wrestling her morning pre-teen by his neck
With applied sunscreen
At low tide
I walk half a mile out to sea
On my knees
My wife watches me
A Royal Tern with a black tuft atop his head
Pesters a female until she is exhausted
Or that annoyed
She looks him in the eye
Then lifts her legs
And flies
As fast as her wings will carry her
Straight out to sea
And as far as I can see
She never turns around or looks back
But he pursues
Blind to her wake
He will follow
Over metal ships and the flesh of the horizon
Over the humpbacks of the spouting waves
He will follow her to where the sun and moon
Are born each day
He will follow
To that round shore of the tired spent and nests
Until she rests
And turns to him
Come my love come with me
Let us be one with the sea.
ST. PAUL’S CATHEDRAL AND THE TRAMP
Thousands, perhaps millions of wily, desperate tramps have always been,
But this one far away across the seas was an unusual scene,
Lying on a slab of stone,
He had no existing home,
Thin, dirty and hungry, present in a place so pristine!
There are so many around and everywhere about,
But this tramp, above all others, no doubt stood out,
We saw him on holiday,
Whist on a trip to the UK,
T’was a man, couldn't’ tell alive or dead, but stout!
Where did we see this aging, neglected human being
At St. Paul’s Cathedral, in the foyer as you walk in,
Could see that he meant no harm
For inquisitive tourists, worked like a charm,
I felt awed by the spiritual presence of God, ever seeing.
Sunday, had gone to early mass, chilly put on our shawls
Humbled with its historic architecture and solid walls,
Princess Dianne married Prince Charles here,
She had no clue her funeral was near,
Forgetting everything, took part in mass in total enthral!
Heard angelic unbroken voices of pre-teen boys choir
Our family was spiritually enveloped, never been here prior,
We took our seats, no other noise,
Service ended with hymns from the boys
All dressed in rich red robes and outfits, ecclesiastical attire!
People permitted to walk around the cathedral, we saw tombs,
Royalty buried in this remarkable place, perhaps died with gloom,
History took place inside St. Paul's,
With its secret passages and halls,
And many controversial theological disputes solved in back rooms!
Remembered the tramp, was he OK, was he breathing,
Someone nudged him he didn’t move, another started her healing,
Were concerned, thought it should be reported,
He was dirty as soot, his hair knotted,
The tramp, nonchalantly sat up, stretched and disappeared, hymns singing!
Packets of food and milk were tucked in a corner,
And two blankets and a duvet, and an old pullover,
People from around and all the priests,
Saw he had essentials, no whisky treats,
The tramp was happy in his sanctuary like little Jack Horner.
I will dread October's spell
It only comes but once a year
I, my friends, have tales to tell
Thus, my family, makes me fear!!
Pumpkins, lanterns, cornstalk vases
Grace our porch with happy faces,
Some so creepy, they leave traces
of the gruesome, and the gore!
"Mummy" shops for gum and sweets,
But mummy's cell phone gets a tweet
she gets unraveled in the sheets
and from the gauze that trips her feet!......
Ghouls in shadows want to play
With brother, wearing grim displays-
Does he stand a ghost of chance
To take her to the midnight dance?
Our cat has groomed her black coat sleek
then hops upon the fence to sneak
a peek into the living room
where Dad weaves magic like a goon!
Embarrassed is a family clan!
They toss his magic in the can
A wart-nosed witch gets on her broom
but pre-teen feet can't fly or zoom
until she cleans her messy room!
The bedroom's cleaned with spit and shine
While brother dares to take his time
He plans to fill his sister's bag
With tasty toads and wormy slime
I hide and dread the harvest moon
All Hollow's Eve is coming soon!
_________________________________________
For the Anapest Trimeter Contest Sponsored by Pendleton Arkwright
Going through some old things that just had to go,
I came upon something that nearly got tossed.
Memories came to me from long ago. . . .
I thrilled that my treasure was no longer lost.
Toys come and toys go. In the 60’s, one fad
was to own an odd doll not seen much today.
This doll had long hair and was scantily clad
but wasn’t a Barbie with which I would play!
Its body was squat and it had a pug nose.
I probably loved it because it looked droll.
Its hair could be orange, green, yellow or rose,
but if you don’t know yet, that doll was a troll!
How I wish I could dredge up some memory
to know what was happening inside my head
as a pre-teen with friends and what it might be
that we did with those dolls and what fun things we said!
The trolls that I owned must have been at least four -
both sexes so they'd make a small family -
their hair different hues, each a doll to adore.
But one day they no longer mattered to me. . .
I can’t say where all of my playthings got stashed.
When I left for college, they vanished from view.
But knowing my mom, they must have got trashed.
She doesn’t hang on much to things like I do.
Now four decades later, I looked at my prize,
bare naked and smudged but its hair still jet black.
It stared up at me with its cute amber eyes.
I couldn’t believe how I got that thing back!
It somehow had ended up in my new state.
Good luck for that troll, I throw few things away!
That doll would be learning soon of its new fate
and meet other troll dolls with whom it would stay.
Just like Peter Pan, I refuse to grow old,
and new trolls I’d bought with long bright spiky hair
when troll dolls again in the 90's were sold!
But I had to recall where I’d stored them….. oh, where??
(I found the dolls and added the old one to the new collection,
but my daughter's family moved in with me a few months ago.
My daughter is a clean freak like MY mom is (apparently it skips
a generation or something), and my daughter took my troll dolls
and put them out of sight somewhere so currently they are floating
around who knows where!
For Paula Swanson's "Yard Sale" Contest
Never Look On Trouble (Children's song)
(Music and lyrics by Joan Donnelly written 1982)
Verse 1:
If there's a song in your heart nothing can keep you apart
From love ,real love
If there's a tune in your ear, a lightness in your step- suddenly appears
Chorus:
Never look on trouble but always on the love that fills the air
It's everywhere, everywhere
Verse 2:
If you've a melody m all the world will see-you're wrapped in love, real love
If there's a rainbow in your eye, the clouds will -in confusion-roll on by
2nd Chorus:
Never look on trouble but catch a glimpse of love that fills the air
It's everywhere, everywhere.
Love is what's experienced when you sing a song
A song joyful and friendly,
Come on sing along
Never look on trouble but always on the love that fills the air
It's everywhere, It's everywhere, Everywhere.....(then whispered loudly) Love is everywhere!
I formed a pre-teen, all girl choir in the 80's. I called them Rainbow and they performed publically songs I'd composed. We had a lot of fun and I am still in touch with most of them
There aren’t too many jobs that kids can do
when they are in their pre-teen years, but we
knew of a place to work where berries grew.
To pick them was a job of misery.
In June, my siblings and I went each day;
into a field with hats and pails we’d go!
On hands and knees, through dirt we’d crawl our way
while picking berries up and down each row.
I still recall the rock ‘n roll we played -
our only pleasure as we all perspired
in Iowa’s damp heat, away from shade.
When we were through at last, we felt so tired.
No smaller pay have I since ever got.
But how I loved the treats that money bought!