Long Scurvy Poems

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


Born To the Sea

Born to the sea


Mind of water, flowing thoughts;
The currents beneath your words could change us all.
River heart, born to the sea;
The solace we seek waves to you and to me.


Join me on this voyage, over water, to a new land.
All hands on deck chairs are temporarily in the sand.
Cast ashore to repair our vessel,
But soon we shall cruise again, so hoist that sail.


Raise it so high, that the crow's nest will not be our peak
And the land dwellers will be the last people that we would wish to meet.
My crew and I are setting off on an adventure;
A journey across the deep blue, to a land of mischief and wonder.


The undiscovered land, on the other side of a new life.
We be pirates, so we be; so raise that Jolly Roger flag upon high.
Let all who see our symbol know the story of our ship.
The unsinkable voyager; 
A blast from the past, blowing through the wind.


Raise the sails and let the wind take us in and move us on
And throughout the jagged edged cliffs and beyond!
And on past the mermaids that sit upon the rocks,
Singing such enchanting songs
And on past the things that they call ‘The Leviathan’.


Release the Kraken!  The foulest beast from the Gods up above
And we shall continue this trek into the darkest of the rum.
To the bottom of the barrel, right down to the Admirals eye.
Let the birds be our guide to our next paradise.


Land ahoy!  There be treasure there for sure;
So onward ya scurvy rats and be prepared to fight once more!
We are damned to forever sail, 
Since the life at sea swallowed our cursed souls;
Now we travel these high seas in search of more silver and gold.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
© Aa Harvey  Create an image from this poem.
Form:


Tidy

Located in the perfect place
       Filed in transparent drawer
       Unruly impediments erased
       Facets interact free of flaw


       Seamless system clockwork 
       Methods remain meticulous 
       Design drawn up by a doctor
       Considered,  inconspicuous 


       Routine guides a room's tidy
       Itemising verbatim shelves
       Briefcase organised abiding
       Data struck upon first delve


       Packed in precise patterns
       Utility is readily predicted
       Shipshape sailing on satin
       Scurvy sufferers evicted


        Fold exposes name brand
        Recognised categorically 
        Regular overhauls planned
        Excess viewed as slovenly 


        Upkeep travels compact
        In zipped compartments 
        Disarray tends to detract
        Regimented requirements 


        

       
             8th of **** April
Form: Rhyme

IN THE COURT OF CATS

"IN THE COURT OF CATS"
By Austin Fwasan Maseko 

In the grand court of cats, I stand accused
A lowly rat on trial, with justice confused
The judges' whiskers twitch, their ears perk high
As they scrutinize me, with a skeptical eye

The prosecutor purrs, with a sly little grin
"A menace to society, this rat within"
She lists my crimes, with a flick of her tail
Stealing crumbs and cheese, without fail

I tremble with fear, as the charges are read
Guilty by association, my fate's already sealed
The cat judges confer, their tails entwined
Their verdict is clear, their sentence defined

Banishment to the shadows, where I'll hide and creep
A life of scraps and fear, forever to keep
But I argue back, with a squeaky little voice
"Am I not a creature, with a right to rejoice?

I scurvy for food, like you hunt and play
Why is it wrong for me, to survive each day?
I clean up crumbs, and scraps that you leave
Keeping your home tidy, is that not a noble deed?"

The cat judges pause, their ears perked in surprise
A glimmer of doubt, in their feline eyes
They confer once more, their decision revised
A compromise reached, a new sentence devised

"Banishment is too harsh, for a humble rat like you"
They decree, with a nod, "you may scurvy through"
But stay out of our way, and keep your distance true
Or face the consequences, of our feline crew

I breathe a sigh of relief, as the verdict is read
A small victory, for a rat like me, indeed
I scurvy away, with a newfound sense of pride
For even a lowly rat, can make a dignified stride.

The cat judges rise, their robes flowing free
Their eyes gleam with wisdom, as they depart the tree
Their verdict may seem strange, to the feline crowd
But justice is served, in this curious, upside-down world we live in, proud.
Form: Rhyme

Does the Grade Cricketer need a Bard?


Ex pat Pom loving aplomb & many a flickering F bomb of the OG.. GC at the G 

No spin larking bickering barking larrikins clearly hear the din of fans chagrin

The culprits the ex players pundits in their pampered and champered pulpits


I want baggie green spleen to be vent outside the oh so privileged pro tent

Your spectacular curvy vernacular is the quip fillip in times so topsy turvy 

Cricket’s pervy badgers nervy starved of nuanced narratives..like Test scurvy


The game increasingly nihilistic your ballistic bants & rants..holistic chants     

Sycophantic semantic antic relishing & cherishing your loquacity, audacity..

Bodacity & sagacity…got them by the gizzards with your verbal blizzards.. 

Rapacity of skits & gambits..tenacity of wits...our own proverbial Oz Wizards..


Coz boys your ploys are the everyman not fancy dan talisman of fan elan….

Joy envoys of odd bod sod the cricketing Gods run roughshod pod masterplan..

Your reffing gift wrapped in effing & jeffing.. a bucolic vitriolic frolic & tonic!


No fibs his nibs is loving the cut of your jibs….this old timer rhymer pondered 

Wondered does cricket's ultimate bastard..The GC.. like Lord Kitchener.. need me..

Saluting a highfalutin cultural calling card..  your own Bard as two become three?
Form: Rhyme

Anchors Aweigh

Anchors Aweigh...

destination unknown
for this Earthling
stardate: February 26th, 2022

At sea since time immemorial
I relish being alone
upon oceanic expanse
yours truly doth bemoan
me gal Sal (one among
numerous female confidantes),
no matter, she easily
mistaken as a crone
magical powers keep
her manning far aloft drone
as surveillance hovers above me
(to intercept encrypted

communication maintained
courtesy bluetooth earphone)
the two of us sol survivors
I feel like a foreigner since
global thermonuclear war
bombed webbed wide world
into pulverized power
vaguely similar landscape
to age of Fred Flintstone
and Barney Rubble
recurring memories redolent
of yesteryear, whereby I groan
though simple living

such as me and the missus
did Potschke coaxing homegrown
organic fruits and vegetables,
though, I attest we did
get violently angry with each other
and unwittingly cross interzone
where brickbats exchanged,
especially after she discovered
an illicit extramarital affair
between myself and Joan
since kindergarten her I known.

Weather beaten cap'n,
and watertight bewitched craft
time tested since maiden voyage
(circumnavigating the globe
back in the day of my youth),
I ranked tough as a pitbull,
when severely pitted
against raw elements
of swiftly tailored,
harried stylish nature
against leathery faced

reptilian skin, hard drinking
(actually as corked
poetic convenience - vermouth
arbitrary bottle of choice
if for no other reason,
than to rhyme
with the above line),
and tobacco spitting, while
colorfully swearing as an uncouth
Furies (of Agamemnon)
fighting (tooth

and nail) Pirate,
where rickets, scurvy,
and thrice unconscious,
currently ample proof
could not forsooth
bring me to Davy Jones's locker,
cuz I never wanna
get relegated to an underwater
whale schooled booth,
this raconteur can nonchalantly,
glibly, and blithely attest,

with braggadocio, despite
no warm welcome will
ever greet mine tinnitus
pained ears, I can plainly
imagine acrimonious retort
upon me behest
his far more'n lifetime
bobbing (like a sponge)
square pants float
buoyed atop crest longing e'en for
(carping, caviling, hen pecking,
or shrewish) wife.
Form: Rhyme


Lemmings Into Lemonade

Today on my way home i chose to
permeate my daily grind

By buying myself a chicken to cook
once i got home 

The reason being i am trying to be more positive

It can't rain all the time

As i wanted to break the wishbone
and wish for better thing's to come

Then instantly after dinner i went into my back garden 

And started picking lemmons from
my lemmon tree 

To make lemonade

Only to realize i didn't have any 
sugar in order to make it

Which in the end made the moment somewhat bitter sweet 

But hey to accentuate the positive

Lemmons we're supposed to be bitter
not sweet and full of sugar 

And not only is it full of flavour and
retained it's vitamin C content

But this stuff could be sold as a
diet tonic as it goes through you
like a dose of scurvy

Or to be left in your office or 
house fridge for those people
who take your stuff without asking

And best of all the 1st bottle is absolutely free

So when life gives you lemmons

Don't waste them 

Use them

What We Do

THE REVOLUTION IN ONLY 2 DIGITS

Home again.

Thomas, you were wrong to doubt it: 
You Can Go Home Again and
Bask in the healing sun of Osiris

This isn’t home 
This is recovery.
From the fevered scurvy of my own forgetfulness.

I eat limes for breakfast, lunch and dinner now; 
My bowels move regularly now.
And I feel  just like Thomas Payne

His bursting desire to model the ideal citizen

Not our uniforms, but our blood, sinew and muscle. 
To present to the Crowning Glory and
To the Revolutionary Congress and

To the Revolutionary French Senate     
Thomas and his Pain made the American struggle a personal fight:
The universal pull of the upright ape on the chains holding him down.

Chains forged by the forgetful hairless ones.
The ones we will overcome.
But we are not revolutionaries! 

We are the Revolution.
We are what happens next.
The R/Evolution of our Selves:  the inner/outer seeing through Alice’s mirror

Into mindful awareness 
Into homage to our honored masters and their children: 
The ever loving human race.

We have already won the revolution. 
We have already won the revolution. 

2 Shots were fired from far, far ago: 
One from Lovelace’s boudoir,
Another from Giordano’s spinning wheels and the memory of his funeral pyre.
And from the bit of the apple Alan choked down, 

We have already won the revolution.

We just need to take charge.

We have already won the revolution.

In only 2 digits.

Premium Member Translation Time

If in a singles ad you spot
    a 'RUGged individualist'
  Don't be surprised if he
    lays carpet for 'Magikist' *  

  Perchance you'll get excited
    when you read that she is 'curvy'
  Hate to let you down, old stick
    but she just can't type ~ meant 'scurvy'

  When you eyeball 'slightly heavy'
    picture a spare tire in cargo pants 
  And if you ever read the dreaded phrase, 'well-rounded'
    If she's a poster girl for 'Obesity,' please don't be astounded



  _________________________________________________ 
  * 'Magikist was a leader in carpet installations and cleaning
     in the Chicago area back in the 1950's and '60's. It went
     out of business in 2001.
Form: Rhyme

Now and Then

Think what you might of had
You had scurvy, big toes the size of your defeat

Think what you might of had
Passing through a portal of cidal haunts
A car of my dreams all paid and cream

What we always had
Inkering heart to fight for fairness and freedoms art
When the Earth sighed and we all held our breathe
Opening air of nights burnt and sounds  Peoples boozed hope
Verifying fermented truth

Did it all float away
Or we just survive better in spheres of silence victories sung only by finches and sparrows
Back to the cave some have run
But more fight to keep each other in sight
No laws but one sight one breathe and a team
It's about winning through laurels and promise
What is news is slight of hand
A jester a pawn
The tired his song
The end should linger
In posed thought and absent trigger fingers
Which lie is closer
To follow what you believe
A life carved  hollow but contently rests upon the dusty shelf

Gather Around

Gather around an I'll tell ye a tale
Of infamous pirates who in their hey day
Lived in old Bull Bay.
These guys were scurvy naves, cut throats, liars,
Thieves, and believe it or not it all added up to 
Typical drunks who would sail
With the wind at their backs through any gale
To hide their treasures in the caves along the
Waterways.
Gather around an I'll tell ye a tale
Of men who marked their trail
So well that you'd only see them coming or going
To the cave passage ways.
These guys were scurvy naves, cut throats, liars,
Thieves, and believe it or not it all added up to
Typical drunks who would sail
In to towns where lawlessness
Would prevail
So they could slip away.
Gather around an I'll tell ye a tale
Of savage men who weren't frail
Who knew the water all the way to Bombay.
These guys were scurvy naves, cut throats, liars,
Thieves, and believe it or not it all added up to
Typical drunks who would sail
With whales
When underweigh.
Gather around an I'll tell ye a tale
Of guys who were scurvy naves, cut throats, liars,
Thieves, and believe it or not it all added up to
Typical drunks who would sail.

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