Long Scare away Poems
Long Scare away Poems. Below are the most popular long Scare away by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scare away poems by poem length and keyword.
Come with me to the mountains let me show you something. Come with me to the mountains let me show you where I have been. I have walked the corridors of time searching for what is mine; I have lost myself in the woods walking between the trees looking for a remedy that is suitable for thee.
I have spent my evenings by the streams meditating with the wild winds as I gazed upon the skies above me destiny confronts me. I see the ocean spread out in front of me and pregnant clouds rolling in the sky with vengeance in its eyes. The rain clouds bear its bosom in the sea searching for an answer that no one can answer but the fish know their doom so they swim in the early morning instead of noon.
Come with me to the mountains let me show you how the devil bargin. Come with me to the mountains let me show you the fountain of sin. You see that landscape over there; they have a lot of things to share. They have stood the tests of time battling with the rain and the wind, sheltering the land from the heat and the cold and at night when it gets dark it becomes a covering for the old lark.
Come with me to the mountains let me show you something. You see the land beyond the horizon, right in-between that patch? A set of people once live there and they have lost all that they have got. They used to roam the woods at night, cutting down trees, slaughtering the animals and throwing them along the path to scare away human predators.
Such vicious actions upset the sky Gods and on the fifth of July, 1927 a ferocious wind swept through the woods and burn the entire village to the ground no one escaped the terrible heat and one was left to tell the tales.
Sit with me on the hill, and let's go over the drill. Their army is three million strong and they have boots that can cover the entire land.
They have been training for more than three decades to take back the universe for a price that cannot be bought. Look at the land around you and the vastness of the sea beneath you, time will have its share before the end of the year, a missile goes up and rockets explode on the ground. But nothing can destroy you.
The earth is beyond you and the heavens glorify you. I would like to hear your story of how the mountains save you.
I am just a scarecrow
but my life is now quite dire,
they have decided this year
to put me on a fire.
Who is this chap named Guy Faulkes
I do not want to be him
I love to stand in my field
and scare upon a whim.
I'm very good at my job
I scare away the crows
and I didn't mind the robin
who nested in my nose,
and then there's Jenny wren
who's snuggled in my pocket
and now they want to set me alight
like they do the rockets.
Why cant they make this new guy
and leave me well alone
he wont mind being set alight
for he has got no home
they made me years and years ago
I;m really wearing well
I've a feather in my hat
and a chiming bell.
I'm feeling rather sad today
as you can understand,
I've a belly full of straw
and gloves for my hands
what will the farmer do
to scare the birds away
if i'm not here to shoo
them from his crops each day.
Do you know what I wish
that it should rain all day
On the date November
then they'll stay away
but if it should not rain
I'll hide in the barn
for I cant stand the pain
of leaving this old farm.
If only they could spruce me up
I can get the kiddies on my side
new neckerchief around my neck
in my field i'd take some pride.
When farmer Jones, he made me
he thought me rather good
so why has he forsaken me
to burn me up like wood,
I stood about on this field
forty year or more
I know which birds to scare
I really know the score
oh' farmer Jones.dont do this
your trust i;m sure I'll earn
I've been out in this field so long
i;m sure to green to burn.
The little children love me
especially my friend Nell
for if they came for me today
she'd hide me down the well.
The day is here, the time has come
the party spirits high
hot dogs, toffee apples and fireworks
waiting to light the sky
But wait the children saved me
with a bundle of old clothes
some welly boots, a turnip head
and a carrot for his nose
they stood about in a circle
and heres the reason why
when nobody was looking
they made a chap called guy,
so..my life's been saved today
I can live without fear
well that is of course
till Nov 5th next year.
Dragon has left the winter behind; but’s still wound up & flighty as a bat.
He’s in competition with a friend, to be more creative than Dear old Jack.
He wants to make Dragon concrete art, for with Jack Ellison, to compete!
If Jack can do 1700 poems, he won’t rest until 1700 statues, are complete.
He already sells concrete Dragon footprints, popular wherever he goes.
We use them as stepping-stones on our land, everywhere, you know!
First he wants a leaning tower of Dragon, to help scare away our moles.
Then a Dragon Colosseum, within which to practice... our Ninja Trolls.
Next a splash pool you can walk thru, with Dragons to touch and to hold.
He’ll build the Great Wall of Dragon, complete with a kiddy slide, I’m told!
Another idea is a Statue of Liberty Dragon with music coming from inside.
All of it patriotic, as sung by our illustrious and greatly talented Troll choir.
Then Dragon street lamps, to light up & make life safer, throughout the lands!
The Mayor said he could make all this into a new tourist ‘Dragon Land’.
Disney World ‘Eat your heart out!’ We truly DO know, where IT is truly at!
But Dragon balked at being made a comic strip character at first, how sad!
But we told him Super Heroes are in comic books, throughout ALL the land.
Now he will become, ‘Dragon with a D’, of course, with lots of adoring fans.
If you want to be in his comics, Holler ‘HELP’! I’ll write you in, like a pro!
Between exploring his new escapades, he’ll be making his own statues, so...
Yea! He’s doing untold number of poses, to be put in…The City Park!
This should make the Sheriff of Crazyland, simply… Happy as a Lark!
We’ll start with a Dragon Festival there, with Dragon dances everywhere.
Firemen Welcome as Parade floats of Paper Dragons, dance as they sail by!
Dragon sees himself as a Super-dillious-ish Hero, as his stories spin each day!
But Dragon as a comic book figure? Naw! He can’t picture it… No Way!
So we’ll just have to keep that part to ourselves, as sparks fall on his parade.
For you simply have to remember that... REALITY is NOT his thing!
Written 5-21-2015
look at the girl drowning herself with the vodka and booze
like the city winter on the methane gas
and most of the guys would pass
its the the color in your eyes
they scare away the other guys
with the i dont care stare
with your twisted and matted hair
heavy on the blush and heavier on the flair
seeing no way through
her life was broken and screwed
if it wasnt for the vodka and booze
she would see the what and the who
but it wasnt the booze
and it wasnt the coke
it wasnt the pressure that made her smoke
i can see it in her eyes
just behind the clouded jade
the sad story between a father and daughter
he loved her but she did not
and her ignorance made him so hot
a sinful lust which he could not bear to stop
he snuck up the stairs like the bad cop
he heard her cry but in her sleep she cry
he grabbed her and whispered in her ear "kiss your virginity goodbye"
but then she butted his head
then she kicked and wailed him right off the bed
you coulda sworn she was black
then she heard it (crack!)
the body fell right to the floor
and the police standing at the door
she cried he would not stop!
hugging his body paying no attention to the cop
he loved me forever
and under her breath with the quivering lip
but i killed him and won't forget him ever...
so here is the bich
drinking pitch after pitch
not giving one care or the other
only having one after the other
do you still care to judge her
did you ever ask why it was
every time you got near she would cuse!
so the question is who's the bigger bich?
the girl who got screwed over because life is unfair!
or you who judges with no care your jacket and strait hair!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
don't judge even if the treatment is unfair you don't know what they have gone through
there is no good in judging somebody and things never seem to get better.
Form:
Try mumbo jumbo chicken gumbo soup saith dumbo
Yours truly an unfortunate hostage
within *****sapien zoo
presenting poetic hodge podge
and mish mash to you
looking for unwitting subject(s) to woo,
and albeit impossible mission) to free me,
where within human bondage I stew
more specifically mine personally
custom designed invisible
prison self made,
thus wishing to don persona
of such an éminence grise
as Jawaharlal Nehru,
and trumpet courteous helloo
before bidding kith and kin
and fellow humans permanent adieu.
When free and clear out of the blue
methinks I hear a voice
calling me matt chew
which intones do
please try a healthy dose - Mister Fitzhugh,
a Louisiana creole speciality touted
as psychological cureall within Hangzhou
capital of Zhejiang
sheng (province), China
where amidst bustling
businesses as usual
happens to live animated cartoon
caricature, whose modesty peddling
holistic and homeopathic
(interestingly enough) Asian Jew,
who many neighboring residents
thought semitic rapscallion
long in the tooth occupant loo
duck criss cause he exhibited inhibition,
essentially said reprobate a coward,
who didst udder moo
if you dear reader can bull leave,
hence nonestablishmentarian fella
in their (others) netview
hashtagged snake oil salesman
buzzfeeding gullible poo
courtesy legendary secret formula
comprising his mumbo jumbo
chicken gumbo soup,
our mutual friend Dumbo
doth heartily broker
entrancing kickstaring rendezvous
panacea as genuinely true
but aforenamed solitary wordsmith
also incorporates voodoo
to scare away mailer daemons
all the way to Xanadu
located (courtesy Google)
in the modern-day Zhenglan Banner
in inner Mongolia on southeastern edge
of the Mongolian plateau
The city founded as first capital
of Kublai Khan, the leader
of Mongol Borjigin clan
who founded Yuan dynasty that ruled
most of modern-day China,
Korea, and its surrounding areas.
Working Mothers | By: Maeve Simons | | Category: Poem - Children Bookmark and Share
Working Mothers
Working mothers are in a class of their own.
Maintaining a house and paying off a loan.
Schedules to follow, deadlines to be met.
Doing it all to keep out of debt.
Children and bosses all demanding your time.
Type this ASAP! Please just one more nursery rhyme?
Driving to the sitter, practice and school.
Your new black suit is covered in drool.
Diapers to change, clothes to mend,
buttons to sew, meetings to attend.
Doctors, dentist, teacher visits galore,
ballet lessons, soccer games and you work until four!
Your desk is cluttered with pictures of the kids.
At home your cabinets are filled with sippy cup lids.
Scratches, bruises, cuts to heal,
lately mom’s cooking is a Happy Meal ®.
Boos-boos to kiss, big hugs goodnight,
to scare away monsters, we’ll leave on the light.
There are dishes to be washed, laundry to be done,
put them aside and have some fun.
When Friday comes and your work week ends,
visit grandparents, neighbors and friends.
Go to the library, park or zoo,
you will surely meet other moms just like you.
Read to your children, teach them right from wrong,
play with them, dance with them, sing their favorite song.
Children need love, discipline and praise.
(The boss needs to be reminded of that well-deserved raise.)
Enjoy your children now for jobs come and go.
One day they’re babies and the next you’ll know.
They’re off on their own thinking fondly of the past,
trying to make all their memories last.
The rewards are grand and it is so much fun
to see your son hit his first home run,
Seeing your daughter in a pink tu-tu,
hearing those words "I love you."
When is your job done? - Never they say,
Thank goodness! This working mom would dread that day!
Click Here for more stories by Maeve Simons
Comments
Sitting on the front porch watching the clouds roll by
Sat a little beautiful girl that she seemed a little shy
She didn’t talk to strangers from what she’d been taught in school
She did her very best to follow the golden rule
She always sat there quietly as if not to scare away
The pictures in the clouds that floated by her everyday
It was as if she was dreaming of things still yet to come
Of what her future held and woman she was to become
I never noticed her move she just stared up in the sky
Even when I waved on the days that I’d drive by
She sat alone in silence letting the wind blow cross her face
The beautiful little girl whose dress was made of lace
One day I saw her mom on the driveway at the road
I noticed a sign in the yard and on that sign said sold
I stopped just to say I’d miss the little girl
That I saw sitting on the porch the one with all the curls
The mother started weeping as the tears rolled out her eyes
Was it something I said? I was sorry I made you cry
She said her little girl has been dead now for many years
As her lip began to quiver when she tried to hold back the tears
She said she was sitting on the porch when a car lost all control
It crashed into the porch now in my hearts a great big hole
She loved to watch the clouds slowly drift cross the sky
She was taken way too soon by a drunk driver passing by
I stood there in amazement not knowing what to say
The little girl on the porch I saw her plain as day
I drove off down the road and it really made me think
What makes people want to drive after having something to drink
You never know whose life you affect when you get behind the wheel
It may be an innocent little drink but a life you may just steal
Next time when you drink think of the little girl
With the dress made out of lace and the head with many curls
Huddled among massive rocks,
at the bottom of a barren cliff,
breathing in the strongest aroma of jasmines,
watching hordes of seagulls hover over an abandoned ship;
pensively and attentively spending peaceful times by calm river,
geese see me and slowly approach me to share some of this enthralling wander!
The flow of the river is constantly intriguing,
sometimes slow, other times rushing in the manner of a surge,
making the passing barges resemble timber floating
to their unknown destination, unless the currents change
and they will be crashing on the sandy blanks to dry out and decay;
the same fate awaits the fowls when their bodies become old and die!
Rare beauty I ravishingly behold while my attention is not swayed,
the thickness of the trees won't let the eyes penetrate their wilderness beyond,
only the restless ravens know their habitat and venture themselves in those woods;
I am groped by their mystery, but I dare not enter into the untamed animal' world,
as the woodpeckers continue making their noises to scare away any possible predators...
while moans of creatures are heard: are they attacked by wild dogs, or ferocious wolves?
The glow of the descending sun diminishes and a chill pervades my body,
my Windbreaker is the perfect attire to wear, and not make me feel the breeze's coolness;
the darker colors appearing above give indication of the arrival of a spectacular sunset,
those hues change brightness, and somehow seem to vanish as clouds impose their treat...
a storm wind coming, or is nature imitating our human nature to take control of destiny,
to spoil my peaceful times by this calm river...shouldn't I be angered by their hostility?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
The veil between the worlds grows thin,
A night for magic, ancient and grim,
When spirits wander, shadows grow bold,
And whispers of stories, ages old,
Echo through the rustling leaves,
As the harvest moon softly weaves.
Once, when the world was young and wild,
People honored the harvest, mild,
And thanked the earth for bounty's grace,
With offerings placed in a sacred space,
For spirits of the earth, to appease,
And ensure a future full of ease.
They dressed in costumes, masks of fright,
To scare away the spirits of night,
And ward off any malevolent spell,
With bonfires blazing, stories they tell,
Of heroes and legends, whispered low,
In the chill of the night, where shadows grow.
With time, the customs changed and grew,
The ancient rituals, fading from view,
But still, the spirit of Halloween remains,
A night of wonder, joy, and pains,
Where children gather, dressed in glee,
And carve pumpkins, bright and free.
Now, the holiday takes on a new form,
A night for laughter, in a playful storm,
Of candy and costumes, and tricks and treats,
A celebration that every heart meets,
With the echoes of ancient rituals, untold,
In the dance of shadows, stories unfold.
But deep within the heart of the night,
Beneath the moon's ethereal light,
The whispers of the ancient past remain,
A reminder of the magic, a timeless refrain,
Of spirits, and harvests, and the earth's embrace,
On this night of shadows, in time and space.
So let the laughter fill the air,
Let the costumes be a joyful snare,
For Halloween is a night to be bold,
A night of stories, yet to be told,
Where the veil is thin, and shadows dance free,
A celebration of the spirit, wild and free.
Yours truly an unfortunate hostage
within *****sapien zoo
looking for unwitting subject(s) to woo,
and albeit impossible mission) to free me,
where within human bondage I stew
more specifically mine personally
custom designed invisible prison self made,
thus wishing to don persona
of such an éminence grise
as Jawaharlal Nehru,
and trumpet courteous helloo
before bidding kith and kin
and fellow humans permanent adieu.
When out of the blue
methinks I hear a voice which intones do
please try a healthy dose - Mister Fitzhugh,
a Louisiana creole speciality touted
as psychological cureall within Hangzhou
capital of Zhejiang sheng (province), China
where amidst bustling businesses as usual
happens to live animated cartoon
caricature, whose modesty peddling
holistic and homeopathic
(interestingly enough) Asian Jew,
who many neighboring residents
thought said long in the tooth occupant loo
duck criss cause he exhibited inhibition,
hence nonestablishmentarian fella
in their (others) netview
hashtagged snake oil salesman
buzzfeeding gullible poo
courtesy legendary secret formula
comprising his mumbo jumbo
chicken gumbo soup,
our mutual friend Dumbo
doth heartily broker
entrancing kickstaring rendezvous
panacea as genuinely true
but aforenamed solitary wordsmith
also incorporates voodoo
to scare away mailer daemons
all the way to Xanadu
located (courtesy Google)
in the modern-day Zhenglan Banner
in inner Mongolia on southeastern edge
of the Mongolian plateau
The city founded as first capital
of Kublai Khan, the leader
of Mongol Borjigin clan
who founded Yuan dynasty that ruled
most of modern-day China,
Korea, and its surrounding areas.