Long Riche Poems
Long Riche Poems. Below are the most popular long Riche by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Riche poems by poem length and keyword.
Decades ago, we met one afternoon
the talk was of change that was coming soon.
Betty Jean's dad gave his insightful view
that the elite life may not continue -
in his gracious estate on Cheswold Lane
across from the Cricket Club's courts of fame.
Peering out of his big picture window
and wondering which way the winds would blow.
Trying to fit in, find ways to belong
breathing in deeply, singing life's sweet song.
Who were we? Who did we dare think we were?
Chasing into life in a blazing blur.
Part of the "in-crowd", on top of the heap,
privileges afforded, no fear to leap.
Cliques became a fated cloistered class
we never thought that this could come to pass.
Nothing could catch us, or so we all thought,
futures so firm, the best that could be bought.
Main Line culture fell into slow decline
in a way the blue bloods could not define.
Wealthy old families lost their tight hold
the nouveau riche then surged forward bold.
This happens looking through the picture glass
dependent on birthright coupled with class.
Who'd thought bucolic beauty so brittle?
Certainly not us, we knew so little.
Couplet 26 lines 196 words
Color Pencil illustration by G. Gaul
Reference to the area of Main Line Philadelphia's
Merion Cricket Club
What if I happened to win the lottery
What would I do with the money
Spend it on all kinds of frivolous things
Or a year long trip with my honey
Eat in restaurants three times a day
Choose the richest item on the menu
Act like a real old mucky muck
And obnoxious no matter the venue
They'd surely know I was 'nouveau riche'
By my big mouth flamboyant air
But I wouldn't care with a bulging wallet
Doing everything with panache and flair
What a pipe dream I'm currently having
As if this sweet old loveable jester
Could be anything but the belle of the ball
A vision of beauty in polyester
Odds are about fourteen million to one
So I won't be buying the beer
More chance of becoming a cultural icon
Like Cyrus or Perry or Spears
© Jack Ellison 2014
(a collaboration with Robert Liguori )
The rich lovers did everything together,
dressed in expensive matching clothes from
"Little Owl Boutique "
two nouveau riche of New York marrying each other
wearing an exquisite collection
of plumes, feathers and little flowered heathers
The guests sat in their velvet seats and watched
as Marie Claire and Jean D'Archaud read the words
typed on an old Corona typewriter designed for two:
For richer or for poorer I will marry you today
and love you forever for I am here to stay
"Imagine if we lost everything" she tentatively asked
"then we'd trade the lobster for mac and cheese" he said
"and if we went from riches to rags" would you love me then?
"We'd still be serene and in love forever, " he said with a smile
For richer or for poorer I will marry you today
and love you forever for I am here to stay
Thankyou Robert for joining me in this writing venture
Albeit cold shower with sudden zoo
ming onset of
brisk fallen temperatures
may not be amenable to you
dear reader, but after Matthew
sets to washing
creating substantial lather,
visited with healthy slew
of frothed shampooed hair do
(cuz - jest like
Spongebobsquarepants,
I like abundant suds),
which initial shock
of cold water jolts mine
body inducing "Whew"
to escape soaped over mouth
(here, lemme lean in
so yukon get a whiff)
this self proscribed
quasi (very diluted off the
Peco boo grid) deprivation
of hot H2O tolerance,
qua minimal self
elected survivalist
modus operandi value
bull electric kool aid acid test
undertaken in the
event devastating adversity
(mainly an electricity
power outage) doth render
livingsocial uncomfortably
cold to the bone and sinew,
where mind over matter decides
riches superfluous,
especially if parvenu,
when scads of back up
generators conk out
total unbelievable wreckage,
sans the overnight
natural germane Blitzkrieg
imposes savage apocalyptic
devastating hellacious milieu
(on account of a mega disaster
such as hurricane Michael), who
doth not indiscriminate
toward gentile or Jew
obliterating entire infra
structure super glue
equalizing economic disparity hew
wing fair playing field reducing
whether disposable wealth harkens
from "old" money, and/or nouveau
riche, this sudden
catastrophic event brew
till lee decrees indeterminate
penury, and trappings
of theoretical leisure class
bon voyage every stitch of cloth,
and other material goods
forcibly bade i.e. adieu.
By Mystic Rose and Robert James Liguori
The rich lovers did everything together,
dressed in expensive matching clothes from
"Little Owl Boutique";
two nouveau riche of New York marrying each other
wearing an exquisite collection
of plumes, feathers and little flowered heathers.
The guests sat in their velvet seats and watched
as Marie Claire and Jean D'Archaud read the words
typed on an old Corona typewriter designed for two:
For richer or for poorer I will marry you today,
and love you forever for I am here to stay.
"Imagine if we lost everything?", she tentatively asked.
"Then we'd trade the lobster for mac and cheese.", he said.
"And if we went from riches to rags, would you love me then?"
"We'd still be serene, ain't love forever?", he said with a smile.
For richer or for poorer I will marry you today,
and love you forever for I am here to stay!
19-September-2021
What i love
further in this life,
It's woman...
woman of any
creed, race and color...:
female,
femme.
female...
long hair
firm ideas.
woman is formidable
pure mother,
sweet girl,
beast, feline that
attacks and defends,
as the panther in the vision
male...
Always present
always companion.
is occasionally fragile,
other times
she is adrenaline...
night female
fiesta girl... fatal
or simple
homemade...
Several types exist,
quiet homes,
bossy matrons,
family matriarchs,
mounted amazons
everything is wonderful...
other different types
are models that appear,
are pin up hanging,
women displayed...
Arrogant socialites,
dazzled
nouveau riche, and others
fighters...Joana Dàrc
of life...
the poor women,
the excluded poor,
no vote, no dowry
no right...
Awkwardly or not awkwardly
there is no other way...
want it or not
angry, not angry,
no dispute and no fight,
the woman is all nice
is the best in this life...!
Money and wealth
used to accompany class
Now more often than not,
it tends toward the crass
There used to be style
that went along with good luck
Now nouveau riche dogma
just passes the buck
The internet minions
and rappers galore
Litter our vision
as they buy out our stores
This newest gold standard
obsesses with bling
Their knowledge in tatters
they read not a thing
All intention is focused
on numbers that climb
Like lasers, they pierce
the mercurial dime
But time marches onward
for rich and for poor
Looking back, a past wasted
—ahead nothing more
(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2018)
She wore a tiffany hat with a bow and six big plumes of red and white,
it had an ultra wide asymmetrical brim that rolled up to one side.
When it came to dames like this I believe God ran out of humble stock !
She wore pompadour shoes, like she had nothing to lose
and rouge so red it made the cardinals have fainting spells !
Her hair was soaked in henna, elderberry & radish extract,
and I believe her dress was stitched in the boudoir of coco-channel!
She was a nouveau riche reveling in her new found fame
and everything in her life was right as rain until that fatal day,
when her hat expanded 10 x its size, growing past her shoulders
like a great big beast, of leavened yeast!
Her hat pins strained from the strain of those great big plumes,
moaning and groaning from her lithe walk and all that perfume !
Then First World War arrived and suddenly it was unpatriotic
to be concerned with one's appearance !
She was no Rockefeller and didn't own a rupee nor a heller,
so she became a steadfast loyal dame, like dear old Helen Keller .
What happened to that big old hat, with the plumes of red and white ?
She stewed it, brewed it, boiled it down then poured it in a flask,
and yes she drank it slowly,... just in case you thought to ask !
March 30/ 2025
Nothing means
anything any more
Empty language
swirls in the fetid air
“signifying nothing”.
Our hard-won Constitution
no longer promises.
History? What history?
Our White House,
the very symbol of democracy
with its famous rose garden,
tended with love by many
presidents’ wives,
destroyed, paved over
like any nondescript
hotel courtyard, sterile,
uninviting, lacking relevance.
East Wing façade only
to be removed (we were
lied to, as usual) as we saw
entire East Wing illegally
demolished, making way
for Trump’s monument to
himself, a tasteless nouveau-riche
ballroom, cheapened by
show-off gold and more gold!
History be damned.
Slavery, abuse of
native Americans
and their children?
Separation of children
and parents, no legal recourse,
never happened, we’re told.
Did we once have a
black president?
Portrait hidden in
an unused stairwell.
Only whites need apply.
“Word of Law” now
meaningless jargon,
Decrees and decisions
bought and paid for
by the highest bidders,
sycophants to the power
at the top, evil radiating in
every direction,
like rivers of sewage
from a burst pipe.
Hate contaminating
all facets of life.
Governmental goals only
power and vengeance.
Grifted cash by a felon,
Our elected representatives,
sworn to protect us and our
Constitution, instead relegate us
to the dustbins of yesteryear.
They all pranced through some broad-like avenue
and they've placed apart from each other's course
proved they stood full of airs and graces view
from cameras balanced by those they knew
endmost part of the resplendent concourse
Those cut-and-dried to flick those cameras
for the whole world's glimpse with covetous stares
furthered their verve-like, polyamorous
stayed flamboyance and maintained glamourous
those who've known, curved away their classic glares.
They've prolonged the night, they danced, fancy pants,
on stage, showboating like catamarans
him, up-market tux, her, something from France
news crews grew silent, now they had no chance
when finance asked, they became stammerers.
Gone Hollywood, have we, fashionable
they'd be high falutin' like Fig Newton
Nick Nack Paddy Whack give that dog a loan
his old man, "La-Di-Da", a rollin' Stone!
Man-o-man, how do you guys put it on?
Nouveau riche, --hardly, old money, --never
pretentious finance witnessed and confirmed
how can they survive, leave it to wander
or perhaps it could be dumped to wonder
still, they curved away, with chuckling affirmed.
Nonetheless, leave it to them, there's something
right or wrong, hear their song, da-da-da-DA!
Be this black-and-white world so defining
"Imagine all the people," imaging
the creme de la creme and the la-di-da.