Long Shay Poems
Long Shay Poems. Below are the most popular long Shay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shay poems by poem length and keyword.
Clyde Pucelli was known as The Rembrandt of The Great Midwest!
He was an itinerant painter, esteemed as one of the best!
With his brushes and well-blended oils he'd render a masterpiece;
His fame spread since he specialized in hues of white and cerise.
He traveled in an old shay with his faithful horse Dan at the helm,
Brightening the households of Hoosier Land, Clyde's singular realm.
It took a couple of days to complete a painting then he'd move on,
Leaving folks to marvel at his handiwork long after he was gone!
You'd be surprised to learn he didn't do oils to display on a wall;
No, he painted ramshackle barns, outhouses and sheds, that's all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Prescribed blood tests
present no qualms,
unlikely nothing askew i.e.
ticking time bombs
nor prone to catastrophization,
albeit anticipatory anxiety
plus demeanor of poetically titled
medical practitioner allays, calms
alleviates agitation exhibited
by dad's and/or mom's
panic minimizes si? no sweaty palms,
nonetheless precautionary measure taken
thumbing apostle Matthew psalms
ayee feel grateful relatively
clean bill of health.
Nine thirty morning
appointment earlier today
September tenth two
thousand nineteen no way
found yours truly bright
tailed, and bush shay
eyed, cuz mine circadian rhythm
(reed sleepiness), I cannot betray,
yet medical plight concerning
bowel movement analogous to clay
stool pigeons ever ray
now and again plague me: hay
4 four at aye
oh elle dot com, alias math they
you scott harris happy as jay
bird for personable rapport
she, said practitioner did display
offering friendly feedback
proactive measures to avoid
finding mine psyche
analogously scrambled (think) souffle
even absent such agreeable
pharmacological medications keep at bay
panic stricken state
seeding additional gray
hairs (matter of fact
synthesized prescription -
pills selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors)
only necessitate small copay
Medicare bonafide dogsend
whereby nurse practitioner equal
however much she doth weigh,
in salt, though an oft worn cliché
feather in her cap coup d'état
personable, laudable, hospitable...
winning accolades regarding
humbleness and modest stay
expertise within her craft hoop fillet
staving off general mills concerns
reason I wrote rhyme, eh somewhat passé
even Mister Ed would neigh say
so with his horse sense to stirrup
unbridled jollity - me hoof finds rein
ching words cathartic je ne sais quois
experimenting with this, that,
or t'other typed out array,
perhaps hashtagged as tripe courtesy quay
zee poor ah shunned poet fray
ming tropes distinguished (ha)
even if garnering no pay
English language I play
juxtaposing incongruities
to tease out reactions probably lay
build rickety lettered edifices
manuscripts best sentenced to sauté
within steaming vat
fed as swill to petsmart hogs
grunting as they fertilize mulch greenway.
This morning a gust of wind snuck up behind me without making a sound…
nudged me a little forward and knocked my hat onto the ground.
It might have been my imagination but I think I heard the wind chuckle
just a little bit…
and as she knocked the hat from off my head I swear she said,“Tag! You’re it!”
I’m not one to shy away from a challenge
and even though a slow morning walk I prefer…
after I retrieved my hat and placed it back on my head…I went chasing after her.
Although she had a nice head start…this impish morning breeze
I spotted her up ahead…waving from the trees.
I lost her for a moment as those same trees I passed…
until I turned the corner and saw her running through the grass.
But the wind does not play fair…you might shay she’s a little sneak…
since she’s invisible we spent that game of tag also playing hide-and-seek.
I spotted her in the Spanish moss and as through a flower garden she plowed…
She thought I wouldn’t notice when she moved up to the clouds.
But I was undeterred…I was in a child-like groove
I kept my eye on that elusive wind and watched her every move.
And when she descended from the clouds…I felt a little proud…I must admit
as I put my hand upon her shoulder…smiled…and said, “Tag! You’re it!”
The wind, however, does not give up easily…once again…without making a sound
she snuck up behind, nudged me forward and knocked my hat onto the ground.
I spent the rest of that morning walk…at the beginning of my week…
playing with the wind…her version of tag and hide-and-seek.
But since my old legs were sore …from all that running…and physical abuse
tomorrow I’ll ask the wind to play something a little less strenuous…
perhaps Red Rover…Ring Toss…or Duck Duck Goose.
when into scaly claws, sans first
to sixth grade Precambrian relic
(Missus Batson, Missus Rittenhouse,
Missus Wells, Mister Stout, Missus Shaner,
or Miss Rinderle).
Invariably the majority
of elementary grades didst accord
accredited ancient authenticated creatures bored
(with exception of sixth)
freely exercised diabolical chord
churlish beastial animalistic
zealous yakking, wickedly,
aye (a basket case) deplored
unprintable (epithets) this then
(unprincipled urchin) puny pupil felt lord
did over whacked, sans receiving end,
viz fiendishly gruesome
hellish instructions mean teacher scored.
Assignments buttressed with ultimatums
harkening back to Jurassic period earlier
in the dawning primate consciousness.
Lesson material kindled justifiable license
in league garnered insignia heft brought pupils
to heal predicated, via warpped weft woven
wonderfully wrought writs welcomed whips
with warranty whenever recalcitrant ruffian
refused respecting reptilian rubric representative
saber rattling, where...
(The Idler Wheel Is Wiser Than the Driver
of the Screw and Whipping Cords Will
Serve You More Than Ropes Will Ever Do),
which loosely rendered regularly warbled
wishy washy verse curmudgeons freedom
granted to interpret as one decrepit, hawkish
insignia certified one beaming Eve and/or
stud deed brute soffit.
Education often relied on the weekly reader,
and letters to or from Aunt Emma to this Jack,
oh napeswho never wrote back
sheesh, alas and alack.
Nefarious mean linkedin kickstarter jawboning
torturous treatment tolerated, asper imps
of pervert, mutant Ninja Turtles duty bound
antsy youthful yokel yodelers weathering ululating
sing-song quintessential precepts.
adieu:
math a hew
scott harris a gentile Jew
all ways felt like new
kid on the block isolated
in his hermetically sealed queue
pay perm ash shay watched per view
whew
at last in conk clew shun to you
from one primate within the human zoo.
She is a wonderful baker…with magical baking skills she is endowed…
being able to make the perfect cookie has always made her proud.
If you ask her friends and family…as a baker they’d shay she’s a 10…
but even a perfect baker has an off day now and then.
She was making snow globe cookies for her church to be served on Christmas night…
but when it came to the last cookie…she couldn’t get the decorations right.
“His hat is wrong.” She lamented. “His eyes are too big and his nose has gone south…
His body isn’t smooth enough…and don’t get me started on his mouth.”
“Is that a scarf or a lobster claw? His arms are much too small…
This cookie,” she said dejectedly, “cannot be served at all.”
But she promised the church two dozen cookies and even thought it was not her best…
she didn’t have time to bake another…so she hid it under the rest.
She watched as children ate her cookies but as was to be her fate…
her ugly snow globe cookie was the last one on the plate.
As a mother handed this cookie to her daughter…the cookie she had botched…
the baker turned away…she was too embarrassed to watch.
“Thank you for the perfect cookie.” The mother told the baker…
The baker smiled thinking she was being kind…
until she saw the little girl with a crumb-filled smile sanding in front of her…
and realized…she was blind.
“Your cookie was delicious.” The young girl said as against her mother’s leg she leaned.
“It was the most beautiful cookie my hands have ever seen.
“His hat, his eyes…his nose…his scarf…his mouth…I could feel them all…
I love how you kept his body rough…did you mean to make his arms so small?”
I’m not sure how or why, you did it….the girl said enthusiastically
but it was as if that perfect cookie…you created just for me…
Now the baker always brings two batches of perfect cookies with her
and everyone understands
one half are for those who see them with their eyes…
The other half…for those who see them with their hands.
Little jellyfish was jealous of the fish and the coral
Especially the sea horse ridden by mermaid Laurel
She was by far the prettiest siren in the blue sea
He dared not touch her, but he loved her truly.
His mama berated him in an ocean whirl.
So he turned his mind to her sister, the lovely siren Pearl.
Pearl loved starfish but starfish was grumpy and old.
Jellyfish might ask her out, this mermaid, hair of gold.
Snail friend stopped him, pointing out loud and sharp.
Beautiful music Mermaid Shay played on her pretty harp.
Shay is the one to date, and she is close at hand.
We can use her talents in our ocean friendly band!
None ended up with the mermaids that fateful cool day.
For the sirens moved on that night to a place far far away.
Jellyfish pouted the rest of his sea worthy salty life.
He never married or played again, and took no one for wife.
Shay was her best friend whom she wanted to save
Because she saw a horrible purple bruise.
Felt there was something wrong since she married Dave.
Went to her friend’s family; thought it would be news.
They told her worse stories. Her friend had been beaten up.
Refused to press charges. Went back twice already.
What about the child? She asked. What about the pup?
Pup was long gone. Baby too young to beat -name of Freddy.
Dave moved her far far away and isolated her on a farm with cow.
She forbid them to speak of him and never brought the baby.
They tried to get her to listen to reason, but she was brain washed now.
When asked to bring the baby, she always looked down and said “maybe”.
Bruises became broken bones, then a hammer to her head.
He did not stop until she was now and forever after dead.
The family petitioned the courts to let them see her baby Freddy.
He was a little hellion; mean as hops, and fighting at the ready.
He never knew his wonderful mom, the one she was before.
He never realized she was against hating, killing and more.
Raised by her parents from age two to five then given back to his Dad.
Who got out of prison after three, that horrible control freak cad.
We knew him as a sweet, touching, darling boy who had his mother’s eyes.
In prison now, a psychopath, one who has murdered six women.
No surprise to the cops who listened until he confessed with deep cries.
He went to heaven yesterday, some hope he will be forgiven.
We were both called Shorty, me and this new cowpoke Shay.
He had a disappointed attitude that could be seen a mile away.
I did not like him instantly, he annoyed my organized mind.
He was not to my liking or taste, we were not two of a kind.
Shay was a loud mouth, thought his jokes were a hoot.
He was a weird co-worker, an ornery, persnickety coot.
I could not stand him until I got in trouble one day.
Who came to my aid? That ornery guy name of Shay.
We became friends after that; I taught him to shoot
He taught me to keep folding money in my right boot.
That Needham rifle was his, but he gave it to me.
When he was sick with the cancer in 1873.
February fourth nineteen ninety nine...
Signified birth of our second bundle of joy
whereby linkedin chromosomes betwixt
the missus and I intimately expressed ourselves
and me would alloy
courtesy meiosis the miracle
of human reproduction would deploy
distribution of genetic material.
Full term newborn occured
Suburban Mercy Hospital birthplace
(2701 Dekalb Pike, Norristown, PA 19401)
nine months after spermatozoon gave chase
to ovulating ova
(cue all around the mulberry bush...
pop goes the weasel),
the former latter did embrace,
where sonogram revealed inchoate face
courtesy yours truly burst into
singing amazing grace
adoring newborn exquisite
as finely wrought lace
a biological daughter frisson
snap, pop, and crackling within myspace
automatically, immediately, and ultimately
ingratiating special place
within mine heart of darkness.
No greater purposefulness
exists than to behold thee alive
bearing witness regarding thee
exiting thru birth canal ye did dip and dive.
Tethered to umbilical cord
analogous to astronaut
linkedin to mother ship
bobbing and weaving
once forced out the womb
thru metaphorical fjord
inconsolable offspring crying,
no matter papa implored
though nonreligious, nevertheless
ofttimes paradoxically invoking lord.
How quickly orbitz around the sun sped away
crawling and climbing in no time
atop highest ledge utmost goal without delay,
which might help explain
mine premature hairs of gray
and your dare devilish more frightening
than being hunted down courtesy janissary
(or so I imagine) above exaggeration, I may
beg poetic license and pray
ye anonymous reader enjoy
reading about our precocious Shay
(Hebrew for beautiful)
progeny, who though developmentally challenged
frequently ordinarily calm, cool and collected dada
uttering stronger epithet than oy vey.
Now, one score plus two years
astride planet earth ye attest
to mine wide eyed opened amazement
buzzfeeding, snapchatting and livingsocial
(shutterflying a pinteresting life)
more so than me at twenty two,
no matter I did detest
living under same roof as parents,
cuz yours truly felt like
most unwanted guest!
Shay wore her hat lop-sided, in a jaunty, chic way.
On her it looked adorable, made her look exotic!
On the rest of us it looked silly, ridiculous
And we could not keep it on our hair any way.
Shay was the first one to paint her nails orange.
We had never seen that before. Where did she get orange polish?
This was the sixties. No one had any idea where she got it.
When we finally found it and put it on we looked like Halloween rejects.
Shay was from a big city; we tried to do everything she did.
A couple of weeks or months later, when it was out of style
or maybe we were just not sophisticated and smooth as she was.
When she went back to Des Moines she took her snappiness with her.