Long Sillier Poems
Long Sillier Poems. Below are the most popular long Sillier by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sillier poems by poem length and keyword.
We should have gone outside instead of watching one
of the sillier, senseless, meaningless movies it is possible
to rent or buy. Winter or not the fields and woods
are at least real, commensal and understandable if
you know the genus and species. Know the genome
and biome. Learn the physics and music.
But this much reality requires an escape, hence
bad movie. A bad book is better than a bad movie.
A good movie trumps a bad book, but a good book is best
and a great poem trumps all. Will my son Zach be one
who applies the scientific method? Can Aaron explain
God's intentions to the people? Their mother and I will wait.
*** Devoted - A Love’s Anatomy ***
(For Jim)
Let me lean into your eyes,
As they — in an instant of our meeting —
First embraced me, inviting, as warm
As your arms. I reach closer to hold
Your sight and its touch, which my wishing
would have last forever.
Let me dance in your story,
Choreographing my early years along by yours.
Let me help uncover your passions
From the layers of living —
The days’ traveling over you.
Let me sing into your meaning, sweetly,
To comfort your worries; and as I harmonize
With the whistling, passing streams of wind,
My sillier self sends smiles to your spirit
Along with blessing prayers to your soul.
Let me dream into your sleeping,
To send away disturbance and disquiet…Perhaps
To lend glimpses of God’s inspired landscapes
Or to see, as we stroll sub-conscious dimensions,
Vast cityscapes, with us pausing to enjoy a cafe.
Let me draw your presence: a portrait in
Contour lines, unwilling to be defined:
A mystery, all angles, all moods — painted
In all colors at last, in a picture’s telling
of many thousands of words.
Let me walk in your forever.
Let me walk along your yearning,
Sharing hope’s helium on a rise
Into your scan of each dusk’s sky ~
To show some claim on the leaving day
like the circling sparrows do..
—————————————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 11/29/2022
Thanks be to God
Anxious in Ancona (1)
His plan, as he’s boarding his baldachined barge
en route for the easterly sea,
(arthritis allowing) is giving it large,
but the pain is as bad as can be:
though Rome is his home, he must go and take charge:
Cortona is cortisone-free.
One thousand four hundred the Christian years
(and then we’ll add sixty-four more):
Pope Pius the Second, that subtlest of seers,
is bound for the Umbrian shore.
He’s even less warlike than Billie Joe Spears,
but wants to be wading through gore.
He’s running a fever, his legs have ballooned,
but he won’t be deflected or swayed.
He’ll not be impugned or dragooned or lampooned:
undampened his rodomontade:
the mention of mercy, mere salt in the wound –
hell-bent on a pious crusade.
The portents are palsied: a bargeman is drowned:
this project is just getting sillier.
“Venetians are keeping us hanging around:
we can hire troops for Tyre in Sicilia.”
The Middle East! Pius wants boots on the ground
(now why does that sound so familiar?)
The ominous omens are gathering thickly,
but no-one could call him a quitter.
He’s scrofulous, suffering, sallow and sickly,
but boyishly buoyant, not bitter.
They land him on sand on the strand of Otricoli,
and lift him aloft in a litter.
I'm usually known for my silly stuff
But once in a while I surprise
Drooling all over my keyboard and yours
With mushy stuff I fantasize
At times been known to wear different hats
Contrary to what you may think
Can be sillier than the silliest damn jester
Then switch as quick as a wink
Become all gushy and mushy and stuff
Talk of flowers and eternal love
Then sure as shootin' it's back to the sillies
Giving your giggler a tug
This back and forth stuff is really quite dizzying
Imagine if I wrote about dying
Some are obsessed with negative things
If I said that was me I'd be lying
It's not for me, that tear jerky stuff
Guess my life's been too bloody happy
Sure not complaining I'm a perky old geezer
Maybe a better word is slaphappy
I'm usually known for my silly stuff
But once in a while I surprise
Drooling all over my keyboard and yours
With mushy stuff I fantasize
It's true I sometimes wear more than one hat
Contrary to what you may think
Can be sillier than the silliest damn jester
Then switch as quick as a wink
Become all gushy and mushy and stuff
Talk of pretty flowers and love
Then sure as shootin' it's back to the sillies
Giving your giggler a shove
This back and forth stuff is really dizzying
Imagine if I wrote about dying
Some are obsessed with negative things
If I said that was me I'd be lying
It's not for me that tear jerky stuff
Guess my life's been too damn happy
Not complaining I'm a perky old geezer
Maybe a better word is slaphappy
© Jack Ellison 2012
All my life I've been a grown up
Missing out on being a happy pup
Responsibilities beyond my years
Tired from wiping away other's tears
So now I embrace my sillier side
With my inner child I choose to confide
I've found him to be the best part of me
With his big blue eyes I can clearly see
Now I search for happy in other's eyes
laughing adult children are truly wise
For in the end we have no one to blame
If we choose boring and a life that's tame
Choose serious or embrace inner child
Try being mixed up and just a bit wild
Don't let yourself take the magic away
Learn about yourself by learning to play!
Thanks F.J. for causing me to contemplate!
"The True Meaning of Being an Adult"Contest.
Written April 25th 2015.
*For Tom Woody contest
Curiouser and curiouser thinks Alice.
Why must I always follow that rabbit?
Last time it didn’t work out well,
I must try to break the habit.
This time they’re on a spaceship
And she’s suddenly floating around.
Ever since they blasted off,
Her feet haven’t touched the ground.
But at least her height remains constant.
No more shrinking then growing.
But where Lewis Caroll is taking her,
There is no way of knowing.
The man in charge is Captain Kirk,
Who seems to be quite potty.
With a top hat with a label on
And a dog he refers to as ‘Scottie’.
They land on a distant planet,
You won’t have heard about,
Discovered by one Charles Dodgson,
With a silly name no doubt.
She steps out from the spaceship,
Wondering what she’ll find.
“That’s one small step for a girl,” she says,
“One giant leap for girlkind.”
She’s met by peculiar characters,
With even sillier names,
Who threaten to chop her head off,
If she doesn’t join in their games.
Then suddenly Alice wakes up.
It’s all been a dream if you please.
And she vows that tomorrow’s supper
Will not be bread and cheese.
I am a philosopher
Of great mental acumen
I like to blow my own trumpet
As nobody seems to mention
While enlightening people
Of all hues, I think not twice
Morning to noon and noon to night
I love when people seek advice
Questions myriad on one's
life, future, and future wife
If their foreseen future is bad
Will better halves manage their life
Questions keep getting sillier
Till they get nonsensical
My thoughts are philosophical
But my answers turn whimsical
I love work, people love me
Results don't count, it's a game
All goes well the credit is mine
Nothing goes well, they get the blame
It's late gotta close my shop
Need food and a good night's sleep
'Morrow will be a busy day
So expect not I will come cheap
Round 1
An effeminate young husband named Ben Dawes
Sought a sex change in spite of his in-laws.
He made the decision,
And got the incision,
And he now has a yang where his yin was.
Somewhat "butch" Betty Lou is his spouse.
Unlike her folks, she thinks Ben is no louse.
They'll stay married with pride,
With him as the bride,
And she'll be the man of the house.
Their life should be smooth now and supple,
But new wrinkles crop up midst the shuffle.
Their friends find it bemusing,
The switched roles are confusing,
Are they straight or a lesbian couple?
Round 2
To put an end to their friends' consternation,
Betty Lou had the sex operation.
Her breasts were so small, didn't touch them at all,
And the schlong they stitched on was quite nice.
But her doctors neglected to say the organ selected
Was Ben's old one, they'd kept it on ice.
When Ben saw it, he turned somewhat "vanillier",
And had thoughts that could not have been sillier.
But when Betty would ride him,
It felt like he was inside him,
And when he fondled and stroked it,
Or pinched it, or choked it,
He thought, "How odd,
This feels oddly familiar."
Coda
This is an age of sexual transitions,
And more and more people are defying traditions
Which may well cause some folks to be vexed by you.
But my advice to transgenders
Is don't surrender your "tenders"
Just to render your friends less perplexed by you.
I'm usually known for my silly stuff
But once in a while I surprise
Drooling all over my keyboard and yours
With mushy stuff I fantasize
It's true I sometimes wear more than one hat
Contrary to what you may think
Can be sillier than the silliest damn jester
Then switch as quick as a wink
Become all gushy and mushy and stuff
Talk of flowers and eternal love
Then sure as shootin' it's back to the sillies
Giving your giggler a shove
This back and forth stuff is really quite dizzying
Imagine if I wrote about dying
Some are obsessed with negative things
If I said that was me I'd be lying
It's not for me, that tear jerky stuff
Guess my life's been too bloody happy
Sure not complaining I'm a perky old geezer
Maybe a better word is slaphappy
© Jack Ellison 2015