Long Privet Poems

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


First Flight

First Flight

Cedarwood frame and canvas kite,
Made at home with purpose flight.
Blustery day on pastured ground,
Early reluctance now skyward bound.

The tug is strong and pulling hand,
Resilient aircraft takes command.
My feet have risen from their base,
Clasping tight, wind in my face.

Physics dictate this cannot be,
Two metres off the ground maybe three.
Release the strings ‘fore it’s too late,
Holding on might seal my fate.

I should have bailed at first chance,
Rising 100 feet in an ariel dance.
Drop into the reservoir down below,
But cannot swim so that’s a no.

Southwest zephyr increasing pace,
Could I disappear to outer space.
Green fields and river fleeting by,
Farmyard cattle greeting hi.

Sailing onwards summer breeze,
Over houses and oakwood trees.
Relaxed and tranquil is my mind,
Meandering lanes of privet lined.

Outcry voices “come down you fool”
Hullabaloo aside St Joseph school.
No strategy placed how I might land,
Safety first I hadn’t planned.

Crashed near summit Pendle Hill,
Slightly bruised but breathing still.
Box kite broken beyond repair,
Its final flight ends in despair.

On reflection perhaps a dream
A cry for help or inward scream
A lot depends how you perceive.
Personally, this experience I believe.
© Kevin Shaw  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Greetings

To all of my friends on Poetry Soup,
you really are a dynamic poet troupe.
Though I’m not here every single day,
rest assured I’ll not stay away.

You’ve made me laugh and sometimes cry,
when your engaging works I do espy.
I sit here now with tea in cup,
occasionally I’ll take a sup.

Prodigious poems that I have faved,
command the entire center stage.
I revisit them whenever I’m down,
for them everyone deserves gold crowns.

Within this crisis there’s time to reflect
and take opportunity to reconnect.
So Guten Tag, Ola, Konnichiwa Shikamoo, 
G’day, Namaste, Shalom, Asalaam, to you.

Ciao, Yassas, Bonjour, Hola, Goddag,
Nin hao, Ahlan,  Privet, Goedendag,
Witaj, Halo, Helo, Selam, Hei, too;
stay well, I do appreciate you.
Form: Rhyme

Okay What Fiend Stole Thy Body Electric

Thine distorted reflection rippled 
within rain maker's pool 
   upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata 
   flooded shallow abyss, 
cleaved fractal structures of silence 
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand 
whipped out from 
   whereabouts unknown 

wove disenchanting spell 
   atop me shaded noggin more'n 
   fifty ruffle lake  suns
   Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened 
   from drunken stupor, 
whence sober self 

saw repulsive trouper 
   fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned, 
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, 
   mutilated spindled 
various horrid aspects of 
   myself nine inch 
   rusty nails impaired 

which, aghast at such 
   creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, 
   limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
   lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire

or Zulu-land, this 
   soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly 
sagging overly engorged breasts 
plus right and left elephant sized ear 
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME, 

yet upon performing 
   self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued, 
cuz thy once 
   bronzed handsome physique 
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made 
   for television series created, 
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be 
   temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night, 
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked, 
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared 

to accept, roistering, rollicking, 
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able, 
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness, 
gruesome homeliness, instance 

when no objection would arise 
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly, 
gummy self activated door 

leading to privet hedge row trimmed 
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin, 
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth 
   with **** face on that card!

The Cupboard Under the Stairs

If the cupboard under the stairs could talk
I wonder what it would say
Would it tell me of those who hid in it
When there was rent to pay

What about the poor frightened child
Back in nineteen forty 
Locked inside it for hours at a time
Just for being naughty

It could tell of the granda who sheltered inside
When bombs landed on Spion Kop
Crouched inside, hands over his ears
So that he couldn’t hear the bombs drop

Does the cupboard remember the numerous times
When gran hid boxes of chocolates in there
She would go in and eat them on the sly
Because she was too greedy to share

We used to have a gas man
I think his name was Peter
He came about four times a year
To read our old gas meter

He’d open up the cupboard door
And illuminate the meter with his torch
He laughed when we told him that Grandma
Used a match to light a bulb in the porch

I remember when I was five
Playing hide and seek in the house
I was quietly sat in the cupboard
And came face to face with a mouse

He left a long trail of foil
He'd had Grandma’s chocolate for a meal
I got the blame and not the mouse
Imagine how that made me feel

During the war, it was sometimes the fashion
To use the cupboard under the stairs
For food that was on ration
People appreciated what was theirs

It was used as a pantry for Bacon,
Butter, sugar and powdered egg
Some people had extra coupons
While others had to beg

In nineteen ninety seven,
As I’m sure you are aware
Harry Potter, young wizard, at four Privet Drive
Lived in a cupboard under the stairs

Our cupboard is no longer there
And neither is the house
My grandma has passed away
And the chocolate-loving mouse

If you still have a cupboard
And it’s underneath the stairs
Just sit down and think awhile
What could have happened in there
Form: Rhyme

Planet Earth and the Oozlum Bird

~~Planet Earth And The Oozlum Bird

There was a question I was asked - just the other day 
Is the earth flat? - Well what do you think I'd say?
I looked out of the window, and pondered on this thought
A flat earth not round... but I came up with nought.

A flat earth maybe, but we could fall off the edge
Or is it surrounded by a great big privet hedge.
How can we tell from our own window frame if the earth is a ball or flat - 
To work it out is my aim, and thats hard from where I'm sat.

The formulae for finding - the horizon of the land we can see
The assumption being it’s round - or spherical to you and me.
Firstly distance from the observers eyes to the horizon we must square,
This equals the square of the height of the observers’ eyes - I suppose that means the pair.
This must be added to two times the radius, multiply by the height of the observer.
Now I am getting a bit confused but I carry on with a fervour.

The assumption must be according to this equation
That the earth is a ball - so on this occasion...
I consider the planet a bit like - the legendary Oozlum Bird
If we go round in a straight line - now I know this is absurd
But as the bird ran round and round chasing its own tail
It disappeared up its own ass - have you heard that tale?

Round and round we go on this planet ball of ours
Chasing our tails sometimes - for hours and for hours
The planet is round and I think... not a flat earth
Or we would  never have the chance to return, and laugh with such mirth
As we see everyone chasing their own tails on their own ass
We know like the Oozlum Bird if we are not careful...what will come to pass.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Down Where

down where 
                 the privet blooms
                               birds sing
                                        love songs

whip-poor-wills
              let me know
                    dawn is near
                             no alarm clock needed

i lie in thoughtful awe
       of the glory Jesus made
                       for you and me 
                                to enjoy
i pray in repentance
          in thanksgiving
                and hope
                      that today i have strength

to do what needs to be done
               so, we can live
                      in peace and love
                                 just one more day
sin
Form: Other

Premium Member Our Privacy Hedge

Our Privacy Hedge
By Miracle Man
July 31, 2020

Years past due was our Privet Hedge’s trim,
once long ago this hedge always looked prim.
Severe pruning has made survival look slim,
But rain is bringing revival to each bare stem. 

This hedge grows at the back of our place,
when I decided to give this area a fresh face.
Something that might become a showcase,
now, perhaps with a fence, I’ll have to replace.

For years it had grown and was 12 foot high,
why it was neglected, I can’t remember why.
Because of my decision to cut back in July,
if this hedge should perish, I’ll be the bad guy.


While there may be less maintenance in a ceder fence,
Mocking Birds don’t build nests on cedar fences.
Tom
© Tom Wright  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Premium Member Felix Culpa

Some time ago, when we were free to do;
       ten I was, or twelve?
I walked along a misty lane to school
the etched patterns of ferns and trees
  on my window when I awoke
         now echoed in the frozen grass
                 and early ferns
             being gently crushed
       by each step I took.
The sun had begun its morning due
          to warm the earth,
and generate the day's miasma mist;
as did the breathing of the gathering crowd,
              which hung upon the hedge
          of privet, hawthorn, yew,
      to rest upon a thousand spider webs
               a myriad of droplets dew.
And there it was
        the spider
             fat and yellow;
                 waiting.
Not in the shadows, 
     as the others I had seen
             but, eight legs akimbo
in the centre of it's now opaque web
                taunting.
I had a cricket in a matchbox
            in my pocket
A prize from yesterday's 
 sweet forage.
   I placed the wriggling insect
upon the web and watched
               the attack
          the bite
   the wrap.
                And so I write

Premium Member Crazy Cat-Lady

In Little Whinging, Privet Drive,
around the bend at Number Four
is sighted, strikingly alive,
a tabby cat not seen before.

Her interests vary from her kind’s -
she does not mind the scuttling rat
Behind a battered bin she finds 
some shade. (They think she just gets fat).

But 

After dark a cat’s a tiger -
this one’s waiting for a boy 
not to pounce on - far from her 
intentions. This child gives her joy.

No one spots a vanished cat. -
from where her bracing figure lay
a lady rose in robe and hat,
looked up and gestured, walked away.

She swore to guard his life and name 
from all things dark and horrible 
This silent storm left as she came 
She went by name McGonagall.

--------------------------------------------------------

Tribute to Professor McGonagall of Hogwarts from Harry Potter. She was a cat Animagus - so literally a Cat Lady 
This is when she waits for Hagrid to bring infant Harry to his aunt's family home after the death of his parents, where he is ill-treated and will stay until 11.

THE TRANSFIGURATION: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oP3MKL5XBIY -The relevant part begins at 0:50
© Sneha Rv  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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