Long Sitting pretty Poems
Long Sitting pretty Poems. Below are the most popular long Sitting pretty by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sitting pretty poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm sitting pretty biding my time
Staying real quiet towing the line,
For President Biden, that lovely old man
Playing the game as only I can.
Why make loud waves, somehow act up,
When everything soon will fall in my lap,
Quiet will do it, with a giggle or two,
Hold my cards close and see this thing through.
Joe barely knows and doesn’t much care
When all he can muster is the 50 yard stare,
Once a great man now just a shell
Hell of a shame he can't hear the bell.
Time is my friend for as every week passes,
The closer I get to those fawning masses,
Cheering me on as I take our great oath
Sealing my path, cementing my growth.
Joe's a mere tool I’ll use till I'm ready,
But it needs to be soon as he's ever less steady,
Have him beat Trump, that foul mouthed buffoon,
Then on to dear Joe who shan't be immune.
The Media will gush, but just for a bit,
While I contentedly wait and quietly sit,
One gaffe way too many, they'll call for his head,
And here am I ready to jump in instead.
Madam President, sure has a ring,
A fine tune Beyonce will conjure and sing,
As to the fact I wasn't elected,
Who cares if it's me that must be selected.
For those that once doubted my
inscrutable skills,
It gives me the goosebumps and even the chills,
I socked it to Hillary and Trumped the great chump,
So call me Kamala, the Queen and a Champ.
our junior high dance
middle class white kids rock out
to Born to be Wild
girls sitting pretty
standing and doing nothing . . .
the wall flower guys
the music softens
I only Have Eyes for You
enhances my angst
the boy I adore
rooted with the wall flowers
has started to move
crossing the gym floor
the boy I like is asking
the new girl to dance
she looks like a snob
I hate this beautiful girl
immediately
somehow I end up
walking home with this new girl
serendipity
laughing and chatting
we have so much in common
fast friends we become
(A true story told with 5/7/5 line verses)
Syria, my lovely
Asma al-Assad, the wife of the president in Syria
her crime is to be married to Bashir al- Assad.
Since the president of Syria is sitting pretty, they had to find a softer target hence his wife.
Hadn´t she defended the Syrian army, said they were brave
they must be after ten years of war?
Remove her British citizenship, and we shiver by the thought.
There was an insurrection, and it was crushed.
It could have stopped there if the west had not meddled and
American bombs terrorized the civilian population.
This endless war many Syrians fled, who can blame them?
NATO, too, got involved, this dangerous beast full of generals looking for a fight.
any action, as long it has a pre-fix, “democracy.”
Assad´s chemical attack on the civilian population, surely a war crime.
A Canadian reporter said it didn´t happen, it staged by the white helmets, and no one was reported dead.
The lady reporter had upset the narrative, was sent home in disgrace and now covers handball matches in Seven Rivers.
I Denmark they are sending the Syrians back they say it is safe, they will be safe if the west will stop interfering
The Gentle Ride
A light breeze brushed and passed me by
As I rode along the timeless scene,
I marvelled at the pellucid sky,
A light breeze brushed and passed me by.
And overhead I saw a swallow fly,
Effortless, supreme; so very serene.
A light breeze brushed and passed me by,
As I rode along the timeless scene.
On Your Bike
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest,
Passing by Mrs Fay Randonee
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee.
Peloton 'sham-Wahs sitting pretty,
Waiting for the ultimate test.
Shifting the steed, hammering the knee
Rainbow warrior leading the quest.
Two Wheels Gone.
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
Mrs Penny Farthing, her derrier aflush
Her bone shaker making her all ablush.
Some say she's as daft as a brush,
Many would say she oft dillydallied
On the velocipede with various speed
Sat a dandy horse astride in tweed.
So much to wish for and so little time.
I really must get my life back in line.
So much I had hoped for that did no0t come about;
But I can't fix a thing if I sit down and pout.
There's still time to do it, don't sit here and mope.
Just get busy and plan where there's still life there's hope.
The fact that I'm old doesn't mean that I'm dead.
I've still lots of ideas going 'round in my head.
Some people will say that my life is over.
Much past fifty and you;re pushing up clover;
But I'm just getting started, must be a late bloomer,
'Cause I don't feel old and my vision is truer.
I'm wiser, more steady and I know what I want.
In youth you're still searching, you don't know what's what.
To raise up a family I gave up a lot.
I cleaned, cooked and sewed and my dreams I forgot.
The kids were my life and I gave all I had.
I never looked back or felt angry or sad.
Now my babies are grown, they have kids of their own.
Sometimes they will visit or call on the phone.
Now it's my turn and I plan to have fun.
I'll pamper myself, take my place in the sun.
A house in the country away from the city.
I'll garden, raise chickens, I'll be sitting pretty.
I'll breathe the fresh air scented with flowers,
And mark time by the days, not by minutes and hours.
I am not the only one,
Which gives me comfort,
And I am so glad I have a purpose in life,
And then more I give to that purpose,
The more sure I am it is so.
I find more people with the same purpose
Every day,
Off course we seldom have time to stop for a cup of tea,
As carrying out our designated purpose in life,
Comes with risk,
If we slow down,
And end up with a backlog of other peoples work,
Or if the cat is let out of the bag,
About our seemingly sole purpose in life.
Probably our own fault for not hiding our talent,
For being conned into doing other peoples work,
And being born with good eyesight,
Plenty of foresight,
And the need to show off our abilities ,
Instead of hiding them under a bush,
When the majority are getting paid for sitting pretty,
Using their talents to give us a purpose in life.
I just wish those in charge of our taxes,
Had more oversight on who wins the lolly scramble,
As a dollar for every hour spent doing other peoples
jobs for them would be appreciated.
But of course they too are staying true to their purpose in life.
It is so nice to have a purpose in life,
I cant recommend it enough,
If you have keen sense of irony,
As doing others work for them,
Increases life expectancy by decades,
So nice to have found my purpose in life.
Grandpa and his sister, Aunt Jay,
born on the same day —
not twins, yet
they departed the earth’s way
within days
of each other.
Today is Grandpa’s birthday —
how many years I don’t know.
He left his body in his seventies
and it’s been so and so
many years ago.
Aunt Jay, I remember her farm,
her kids I knew later in their lives —
the stories they would give,
precious about my mom and her twin,
sitting pretty, as a play they would spin.
Mom tells me today, on a call,
“It’s my daddy’s birthday,” and all.
The years melt away trespasses and tears,
kin imperfect, but loved above all.
I remember Aunt Jay, in passing,
but Grandpa is Grandpa — mine.
He loved my daughter when she was nine.
One time she sat upon his lap, his heart
melted, mine too — a sign
also of his love for me.
Grandpa carried tobacco in his cheeks,
helped in chores for the people on his street.
I’d see him once, twice a year —
memories are dear.
He’d be up on a ladder painting his house,
on the porch chatting it up with mama’s spouse
or watching a small t.v. and handing us kids
a silver dollar — no one was watching,
as if he was Santa. Well...he acted the part.
5/8/2020
I don't know about the rest of the world,
But New Zealand will be sitting pretty this Christmas.
Santa may have trouble delivering the presents for the children,
We are not out of the woods with Covid, but fingers crossed.
Some family members will be stuck overseas,
And the number of homeless is on the rise.
But with enough Mangoes and Bananas for all,
We will be sitting pretty this Christmas.
We are so glad the government got their priorities right,
And let Mangoes and Banana's through without going into isolation.
We hope the rest of the world takes note,
so, everyone no matter where they live can have Mangoes and Banana's
too, this Christmas.
For Breakfast Christmas morning we will be serving banana pancakes,
With blueberries and strawberries etc.
Christmas dinner will be followed by Mango ice cream and bananas with
chocolate sauce.
And maybe a Mango Drink with or without Alcohol.
Of course, if we get tired of Mangoes and Bananas,
We are never short of Kiwi fruit or cream and chocolate.
Bigotry flows through their veins
Sharing happiness at other peoples pain.
Sitting pretty in their privilege they never earned.
Their comfort built on the backs of Black people burned.
No color is a color of evil.
No giving a damn if it's not your own people.
Hate for others hiding behind pale skin.
At least we weren't the ones destroying our kin.
Evolution has not gone very far.
Their design is a design built to leave scars.
They are your coworkers, your friends, your doctors
Quietly holding all that hate stands for.
Wake up and start caring about the world.
They are revealing themselves with more than just words.
They only care about themselves.
Discernment is a gift you should give yourself.
Confusing walk
It was the longest street in the world shops on each side
selling salami and cheese depending on the shop, the same product
had a different name proclaiming to be the best.
Today the shops are empty, save for a few dogs, people are tired
of salami and cheese, you can’t fool them with a fancy name hinting
they are Italian made in Livorno; what a fraud!
In shops, there were cheese parties for mice sitting pretty nibbling
the stray dog and I were not invited; we kept on walking in the hope
of finding a butcher selling hamburger meat and dog bones.
Where the street ended in another country consisting of sheep
clog dancing shepherds, my sister had a hotel, I could get a room
In the basement, but preferred to board a clipper sailing to Japan.