Long Senor Poems
Long Senor Poems. Below are the most popular long Senor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Senor poems by poem length and keyword.
Greek George Allen
1828-1913
Seegh no mee.
Ah, I see we have not been introduced.
Please, if you will, call me George, George Allen.
In life, I was a greek from Smyrna,
Hired by the United States Army,
Long ago when Buchanan was president,
Employed because of my tenacious skill,
Riding atop a grunting dromedary,
Riding and gliding over the great American landscape,
Bringing the supplies for the Butterfield Overland,
Riding day and night most of the time,
From St. Louis to my final home, Los Angeles;
The American Camel Corps we were!
The eight of us: Me, Mico, Long Tom, Short Tom,
And the others, all hard as quartz;
To the virgin western wilderness we went,
Never slowing down our momentous movements,
Or ever looking back in timid fear.
And so, with sweaty craft, and
A satchel full of lucky days,
We completed the route in a year!
And as for the notorious Senor Tiburcio, well,
Do not judge this old skeleton here!
I let him live out back in my stable house;
I minded my own business!
It was either that, or
A single gunshot to my head!
“Eese malaka!”
But I never saw any reward money, I swear,
When the relentless inexorable law
Finally captured and led him to the gallows;
“Pronto.”
This dirt here, senor, belongs to you!
Seegh no mee.
I must leave you now,
And find rest in this calming Mexican dirt,
Here in shady Mt. Olive Cemetery.
Longevity- a path we all long for,
and if life's great, we certainly want more.
If staying good means “healthy to the core,”
we pray we'll greet the fullest life in store.
Eat healthfully, and exercise galore-
and, just for fun, do workouts on the floor.
Never complain when backs and legs feel sore.
Skip elevators- climb those stairs, senor!
Longevity can be a costly chore
and seems perhaps a trade-off sort of war;
to do things right at times becomes a bore,
and makes us wonder if it's uncalled-for.
Perhaps, less time to gain more years that soar?
Instead, things we love best, need to explore?
Enjoy that ice cream, wine, or petit four.
Relax, sit down- tough exercise ignore!
For happy lives, sometimes we must implore
satisfaction, which rates a higher score!
Dr. Clement Moloch professes in torture.
He is always accompanied by Claire, his sister.
Moloch performs clandestine operations for governments.
He is responsible for the torture and death of insurgents.
Holland is journalist Jorge Hidalgo’s friend.
Holland learned Jorge’s life came to an end.
The doctor killed Jorge with high voltage electricity.
Senor Hidalgo was another victim of the doctor’s killing spree.
Hector Lomelin informs Holland of the predicament.
Lomelin attempts to talk Holland out of retirement.
Holland refuses, but later changes his mind.
Dr. Moloch is someone assassin Holland must find.
Holland learns Moloch and his sister are in Central America.
Moloch has been hired by the government of Guatemala.
There are several bodyguards protecting the doctor.
Moloch even has the aid of the American ambassador.
Holland takes out his targets one by one.
He is very adept with both the knife and the gun.
If you are wondering how this escapade will end,
all I have to say is, “See the movie, friend”.
Based on the 1984 film “The Evil That Men Do”.
This time of the year again
She has gone shopping for gifts to give the young
she would not take me along, knows I would be grumpy
and sarcastic and impatient.
I sat on the plaza with a glass of Chianti, not because I like this wine but because it is the only Italian name I could think of,
A mist of people around me, a crescendo of voices
talking about about a topic they agreed upon, Noel
I unfold the paper “Stalemate in Gaza.”
It does not ring a bell for the consumers, in the thrall of the glittering street decoration, fake snow, and humbug
We have been invited to a restaurant so grand waiters
dress like diplomats, call out your name when entering
Our esteemed Senor Hansen from Sweden at table number 12. What! I am not Swedish but never mind
I will get revenge when asking for Alentejo Red Wine
When we come back to the Algarve, it can be cold
in January, a man will come from the upland with a truck
of firewood, ready cut and dry.
The only sound we will hear during the festivities are
are the bleating of the lamb
Maria Flores
1878-1923
Si, he was muy macho!
I was the last to see him.
Before Senor White sealed his body for eternity,
Inside the cheapest casket I had ever seen!
And I was working there, for White-Emerson,
From the time I was 16,
Combing the dead’s hair, and mixing make-up.
Señora White, she put the make-up on their faces,
And I stood back by the door and watched.
At first, it was two or three bodies a week,
Mostly white folk, stiff and cold as ice;
They were Whittier people I did not know;
Older folk with life’s road behind them,
And young childer, brought in by wailing parents,
Dead from sickness and accident.
I prayed for these poor people because they were sad.
Later, the visits of the ever-marching dead,
Became a more common event,
Every day he, Señor White, brought the dead in,
Every day I combed their hair.
This I did until I myself died in 1923,
Giving birth to my still-born son.
Then it was my turn for Señora White,
To apply my face with fake life;
Her creams, rinses and perfumes, magically,
Made me appear as alive as I was.
But oh, I wish now to trick fake death,
And live again,
Be there again,
Down in the dark embalming room,
There at White Emerson, with him.
Si, he was muy macho!
And yes, I was the girl to love Roscoe last!
Me, a nobody Mexican with little money.
Shh, let us whisper now.
Let us be quiet and honest;
I was the last one to coddle him there,
The last to stroke his lifeless bill,
My eagle of a man!
There in the still darkness,
He, the most handsome boy,
My eyes had ever seen!
Dead and lifeless there,
In my secret embrace!
Dead in my controlling grasp!
I combed his locks for two hours,
And prayed, yes, I prayed,
For his departed soul, and body too,
For, let it be known to all,
For it no longer matters at all,
I was the last girl to have him.
Muy Macho!
??v ?? ?? ?? ? I Love You.............!! ?? v ?? ?? ?? ?
•.?*... ...*?.• •*.
these myopic ocular orbs pine
for an attractive gal to be adored
far eye got the near rest insight
per a magic bullet if jew r bored
undue flattering praises
might induce her 2 c come floored
perhaps without any family, friends, relatives...
or if religious ye kin pray to da lord
unless ya r moored
den let dis senor you ken ease
(doll ling) any troubles
like egg nog gently poured
and unable to move,
or...mebbe trapped by
a white striped tiger who roared
cornered in a spit of jumbled
feeble woodland where
a retinue of wild animals stored
analogously tube he ying
closeted in a mental ward.
not that ye care one whit
boot ta many approximately
72.57 cheesy full moons ago
when me younger days alive
i lived at pennfield manor
where the stern rebuke from robin kratz
faulted disgusting messiness
and angered water bugs
who marched against getting evicted
(where spouse twas
one chaotic rabid follower of entropy
and adherent of utter disorderliness
if such band name of aforementioned
the audience would wave meat cleavers
and as tokens of appreciation,
While i peel the banana off the peel,
I see the world in motion,
In hastiness, in deceit,
In gaudiness, in retreat.
While i eat the apple seeds
I see you Senor,
Clasp an unknown woman's hand
While your wife waves, so grand
While i drink the colored stream
I see you old man,
Think you tarried too much so as
To be thrown out by your lads?
While i bay the insects' flight
I see you little one
Like cranberries so naive you bloom,
Anticipating world peace soon
While i wipe my face with dirt
I see you lovely lady,
You wait for your husband every night
And dream about your unsaid plight
While i count the stars at night
I see myself,
I cry, i weep, i laugh like mad,
No one sees me, lucky lad!
Being a senior citizen sure has it's ups and downs.
It seems I'm learning something new each time I turn around.
Things are different now for me than when I was young.
I'm older now and wiser too and life's a lot more fun.
I used to think when I got old the fun would be all over.
I'd sit and rock and dream about bygone days of clover;
Days of fun and frolic that were filled with love, adventure;
But it turns out that just ain't so in youth I was indentured;
Tied to duty and my job I worried 'bout my payments,
House and car and credit cards, each month was filled with statements.
Now I'm free to do my thing, slow down and smell the roses.
I've some wrinkles and gray hair but don't look down your noses,
At us old folks 'cause you think we're old and dumb, not with it.
'Cause we've been down that road before and you my friend can have it.
This senor thing has got it's edge and I've put in my bid,
To head the list, be number one as the world's oldest kid.
My name, it is Reginald,
and I’ve got a story to tell,
some folks, they will not like it,
they’ll cry out,”Go to hell!”
You see my wife beside me?
it wasn’t always this way,
’cause for the past ten years now,
I’ve been living an ex-gay.
If this makes no sense, relax,
some days it barely does to me,
all I can say is that it started
All the way back in puberty.
In the locker rooms in high school,
I gazed with hungry eyes,
never tried to deny it,
I was attracted to guys.
My first time was senor year,
with a friend-of-a-friend,
in the backseat of his car,
where we did not have to pretend.
And when I went off to college
it was just like a vast buffet,
with professors so accepting,
good lord, how did I play…
But later in my junior year
something strange happened to me,
I found myself staring hard
at a woman of great beauty.
She was a junior professor,
and oh, the shape she had…
but I shook it off as crazy,
maybe I’d taken something bad?
And although I brushed it off,
a week later in came again,
this time an Asian cheerleader
when over she did bend.
All senior years I’d catch myself
sneaking girls a lusty glance,
but I kept seeing the fellows,
convinced I was a gay man.
After college it grew slowly,
found myself going on the net
to admire the female form,
but I couldn’t admit it yet.
Predictably, my relationships
never traveled a sunny path,
and at twenty-six I met a man
but knew it would never last.
Three weeks in he was out of town,
I went down to a local club,
got real drunk, picked up a girl,
took her home and we made love.
And still I couldn’t say it,
I kept on putting up a front,
but when backs turned I went out
to get myself some…fun.
Finally that boyfriend left me,
and I spent the next two years
going to shrinks, talking to priests,
confused and full of fear.
It was only sitting in a park,
on a bright and crisp morn,
that I bumped into a woman
who’s eyes promised so much more.
At first I feared she’d run from me
if she heard the messy truth,
but then years later we stand here
still bound by a love true...
Oscar Levant, American Author, Comedian, Music Composer and more,
Was born in the early 20th Century and died in the 1970’s
Each decade, or era has their comedians – below is one of Mr Levant’s quotes,
TWO BY TWO EQUALS FOUR
A young couple Clorrita and Dwaine,
Decided to spend a holiday in Spain,
Both vegans, enjoyed a good radish,
But either neither nor, spoke Spanish.
They carried masks, heard of an Epidemic,
The Spanish Flu could become Pandemic,
They lived in Europe on inland terrain,
So decided they would travel by train.
They asked for a sleeper for four,
The ticket officer asked, “Why Senor”,
“Well, there is me and I, and she,
And my wife, so four we are you see”.
They had never thought or planned,
People could not understand,
When they went out to dine,
“A table for four please, will be fine”.
Eventually returned home, all so relieved,
Even Clorrita and Dwaine heaved,
A sigh, people don’t do simple maths anymore,
Schizophrenics are two by two equals four!
“ROSES ARE RED VIOLETS ARE BLUE, I’M SCHIZOPHRENIC AND SO AM I”
Fortunately, medicine has advanced incredibly since the 1970’s.