Long Shimmied Poems
Long Shimmied Poems. Below are the most popular long Shimmied by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shimmied poems by poem length and keyword.
One Brick At A Time
The boy shimmied like a determined squirrel
upward stretching reaching
for the ascending bricks of the chimney flue.
one brick at a time
one foot snugly ensconced
in its leveraged place
and then another toe-hold there
as he sat atop the roof
of the old rumpus room
out back amidst the ivy vines
and the palm frond towers
with a Tareyton Cigarette ad
affixed to the glass door
he saw his special friends again
gliding in the distant wind unseen
except by him, the boy who stood
watching the break-in up there
a square door the size of a house
opened masterfully and unbelievably
with fire and burgeoning smoke
and then it closed again
with a shifting cloud
concealing the In and Out Door
for all human souls ever created
from here to there, from now to then
they took him for a speck of human time
erasing his memory of all unknown encounters
until a later time
now
Twas the night
before Christmas when
I left the house For
some last minute
shopping I was
cutting it close So
off I went into the
cold night air In a
short while the mall
did appear
I saw kids playing on
their sleds When they
should have been
sleeping in their
beds The first store
I went to was the Gap
I made my purchase
and was off in a
flash On the drive
home I needed no map
Cause my garmin was
sitting on the dash
Then in the distance
I saw something glow
Flying through the
sky and over the snow
When it rounded the
corner and landed in
the clear I saw Mr.
Claus and all his
reindeer
Then upon the roof
St nicholas flew And
he shimmied down the
chimney in a minute
or two Then he put
the presents under
the tree And up
through the chimney
he went with glee
Upon the roof he
paused for awhile And
with a wink and a
smile He was off into
the night Bringing
joy to many that was
his delight
And then I heard him
say to the poets on
this site
Merry Christmas to
all , and to all a
good write!
A Halloween party on Zoom
Wouldn’t be too much fun, you’d assume
But you would be dead wrong
For I boogied along
With my daughter in our living room.
All the Zoomers wore costumes and danced
And the camera had each one enhanced
To fill up the whole screen
So each person was seen
As she shimmied; I watched it, entranced.
Every song had a danceable beat
Meant to get people up on their feet.
Some were Halloween themed
With the choices, it seemed,
Leaning less on the trick, more the treat.
Since participants can’t meet for real,
Zoom has obvious proxy appeal
And this special needs group
Got to boogie and whoop
With the joy every square did reveal.
I want to fall in love but not a chance.
Not even one handsome man who can dance
has shimmied his way across the dance floor.
Hands up...I give up...no romance no more.
I want to fall in love but not a hope.
Those dating websites are only a joke.
A decent man there I could never find.
Hands up..I give up now...so never mind.
I want to fall in love but fell behind.
I am older now and life is unkind.
Men take one look and then they run a mile.
If they only knew I could make them smile.
I want to fall in love and I still may.
If meant to be, than he is on his way.
32/11/2019
For Melani Udaeta's sonnet contest
I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE
The suburban pressure cooker expelled its multiethnic horde north. Laden with implements of leisure, bicycles, kayaks, canoes and camping gear; world weary travelers of urban and suburban bent surged north ever, north. Bucking, they wrenched in unison at road repairs, shunted into single lanes by flaming orange cones of warning like so many track horses at the gate. Tail bitten, truck locked windows up; the denizens drove forth cocooned in metal steeds seeking the clean air and open expanses, north.
Few, freer souls dare the unfiltered air of the artery, north on motorcycles or in convertibles, hoods down, or windows down, blaring an enlivening mantra of sixties rock as they shimmied forward in the in the endless conga line of commerce, past urban blight. The trip north became a Chaucerian Pilgrimage from Nutmeg State to the Green Mountain State of Vermont.
The border crossed, the sky opens wide-eyed, ridge rimmed dolphin gray clouds swim in a cerulean scene. Roadside picnic tables fill. Monarch butterflies flit in the breezes between majestic rows of pungent pines. The whoosh of traffic dulls and the robin’s call emerges over the roiling hills and gurgling brooks. Silence falls, complete; upon the entrance to the first gravel road. Heaven is immersed in the scent of fresh hay and sweet purple clover.
She slithered from the jungle in a Vera Wang sarong
Like some wicked juju temptress with no sense of right or wrong.
I remember how it thrilled me,
Oh yeah, when she shimmied in the buff;
And that first time she let loose, I thought I’d never get enough.
She hid a wealth of smuggled goods among her cargo.
I was cornered and defenseless; she was turning on the tease.
Then she wrapped her legs around me in an anaconda squeeze.
She had something sweet to teach me,
Oh yeah, more than modesty allowed.
So I poured a gin and tonic and I let myself get plowed.
She dealt in contraband delights with no embargo.
She was primitive and deadly. I was curious and young,
Groping hesitant, yet eager, heart to heart and tongue to tongue.
I plunged headlong with abandon,
Oh yeah, off those reckless, dizzy heights,
Spinning through a swirl of colors, shooting toward a burst of lights.
I came down withered, drained, and blank like no tomorrow.
You can run a little faster, beat the bullet from the gun.
You can run a little farther, almost halfway to the sun.
But when you run from Tondelayo,
Oh yeah, Christ, her cargo weighs a ton.
Ahab needed shore leave,
And obsessed so on his dream,
Harpooning some sweet harlot
Had become his major theme.
He was just a novice mariner,
His first time far from home.
He’d made his maiden voyage
With his wild oats yet unsown.
Jezebel liked scrimshaw,
Always wore it like a queen.
She loved to dress in style
And had a taste for French cuisine.
She was just another working girl,
Young sailors were her game.
She didn’t dig Jehovah,
But she’d do Him just the same.
Ahab went on liberty
With fifty bucks in cash.
He laid down ten on his first tattoo
And a shot of sour mash.
Jezi smiled coquettishly,
Cooed, Hey there, cherry boy,
For forty shekels I’ll show you the ropes.
I shag like the real McCoy.
Jezebel naughtily lowered her veil
And shimmied her best Bette Davis.
Ahab said, "Baby, lead me astray
Where Elijah’s conceit can’t betray us."
Ahab followed Jezi
To her boudoir’s upper floor,
Singing gayly of Nantucket
Like some salty troubadour.
Ahab put his hand inside
Her open cookie jar.
The moment seemed electric,
Like Saint Elmo lit his spar.
Just then the temple cops burst in
And ruined his crescendo.
Ahab ran; they clipped his leg.
Jezebel jumped out the window.
This story and its moral
Speak of tragic dialogues:
Ahab deflowered a virgin prosthesis,
And Jezebel went to the dogs.
“Okay so you see?
You-you see this on the left,
This pocket watch,
The face, it tells more-.
Eh? No, no. Fine, I guess.
Or what about this plate?
Hand painted chi-
… No, just one, not four.
Right, look, please,
I've only this left -
A jar of dirt, I know -
But it's about the lore.”
All who look, never see.
They scoff at these kept memories.
The watch? A token.
A bond with my mother,
Forever unbroken.
She passed,
Many years ago now.
And her face is getting
Harder.
But the face of the watch,
The face.
I can hear the tick,
And remember.
Remember her rituals around the holidays
This was the last thing she gave me
Before she was gone.
But that last year -
“He's been! He's been!”
At 5am
That memory is warm
The plate is part of a whole.
See this wonderful woman,
This strange, amazing ball of light
... Loved chickens.
We sat, I remember
Wading through nostalgia.
I swung my legs off my chair,
While she hummed out the window.
It dawned on us then,
Just how crazy this
Clustered chicken collection
Had grown.
I remember 250,
I remember your face.
You laughed until you cried,
With gusto, and haste.
The dirt is last,
But the tightest I hold.
See you always wanted
To give me a world
Filled with magic
And hope.
You found a site,
“Historical Pirate Port”
Closed off
and condemned.
You shimmied under chicken wire
Put dirt in a jar
So I could hold some magic
For when you were afar.
Quirks,
Rituals,
Memories and more
You are what
Traditions are for.
With wild exuberance the new boy
Danced his way across the gym floor.
It was the seventh grade dance; no other guys were moving.
They were mostly staring at the pretty girls who were dancing.
He dipped and swayed. Some of the girls turned and clapped.
His essence paraded in tune with the music.
The non-dancers stared at his wild city boy dancing ways.
His confidence outclassed them.
Some were afraid. Most just made fun.
Not understanding the essence of his confidence
He shimmied around them, not seeing them at all.
The girls were impressed. The boys were stunned.
Recognizing talent and confidence when they saw it.
This magical fairy who paints my dreams
Has blushed my fantasy in subtle hints
That kissed dreamy night on the thrills of fall--
An amber delight on the hills hued brown
I have known her long since blossoms of spring
When grass was green in the lilting prairies
And scent of my garden perfumed soft winds
While butterflies roamed in search of honey
Upon summer's zeal she shimmied with breeze
And teased my musings in rustles of trees
As echoes of love waltzed on humid air
And sailed with me on tides of blue ocean
I see her charm now as leaves turn crimson
When desires of passions our moods invoke
And moon’s shadows on rushing water float
In waves of romance where blue river flows
She waits for me beneath twinkles of stars
Where scarlet vistas blaze autumn’s canvas
And holds me closely in rhythms of her heart
As pulses soon dance to nightingale’s song
But, just when it's time to satiate dreams
Alas! she leaves spanning mystical wings
Though this quest chased passions illusory
Cherish I'll, always, daydreams she lent me
April 8, 2021
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Placed 1st: This or that, vol. 1 poetry contest
Title chosen: Chimera
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh