Long Small fry Poems
Long Small fry Poems. Below are the most popular long Small fry by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Small fry poems by poem length and keyword.
Messianic Zeal Of This Good Humored Punster...
Without making a
twit tarring buffoon, sans unshackle
irrepressible bone a fide
funny reaction, or appearing
the foolish spectacle
of myself, trying to tackle
a mal hip apropos
prism mirth wells up
inducing me to cackle,
neither explaining any rhyme,
nor giving reason, then busting
out in laughter obliquely
analogous to ramshackle
structure, resultant outcome
from some slapstick
Vaudevillian farcical debacle,
perhaps regarding the heady
beer burr of Seville scene thru
black and white daguerreotype mackle
more or less hazy, gauzy,
or fuzzy warm
feeling in actuality
thinly disguised as
dog gone hackle,
which vicious canine attacks ready
to tear limb bough to limb mitt,
thus luckily handily repair
with accessible spackle
ye kept on yar person, which caper
doth captcha an instantaneous titter
easily confused for
mating call of grackle
giving rise to a raft of songbirds
that incessantly crackle
snap, and pop with...witch sounds
indeed oven eerily
bloody suck'n vampire
bat out of hell cackle.
Other creatures in
the animal kingdom
cane be barley able
to communicate wheat seems
oat rage juice lee wry,
no matter how
much horse sense,
a smart species doth
porpoise lee try
though porcine not
remiss to wallow
in mud as seen high
atop a bridge
abutment over the River Kwai
ah look...a pig in a poke
unable to pry
loose caked mud blocking snout
prematurely ejaculating, an outcry
for help even fishing for small fry
doubling up as
potential best buds
with Englishman such as Dry
den, and/or dear reader
hood doth lamentably cry
claiming this badinage i.e. my
trademark gobbledygook didst render
momentary lapse of
reasonable judgement alibi.
The Pond was drained,
revealing umpteen minnows;
they wriggle in the residual water
turning in silvered arabesques
choregraphed by a water-rippling wind.
Large ocean-going gulls descend out of a troubled sky,
they walk among the writhing small fry
pluck out the little fish
employing just the tip of their great beaks
as if sensible of the delicacy of such morsels.
Dark clouds loom foretelling a storm,
strange but the gulls do not fly off
to feast on Lake Erie’s plentiful bounty,
the linger here on this little pond
like diners at a buffet
skewering only these unseasoned sprats,
while squalls ferment the Great Lakes
and bigger fish fly freely
through the cresting waves.
'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the sky,
Santa's reindeer sped bringing toys to the world's small fry.
"On Dasher! On Dancer and Prancer! On Cupid and Vixen!
Lead on Rudolph! Speed it up there Donner and Blitzen!"
Rudolph knew the routine since he had led Santa for years,
Cruising o'er Australia, Merry Olde England and sunny Algiers!
Suddenly, Santa saw strange sights he'd never encountered before!
Whizzing past him were dozens of satellites and space junk galore!
But faithful Rudolph was alert and said after another near miss,
"Never mind, boss! Trust me and hang on! I'll get you through this!"
Santa clutched his toy bag, hunkered down and closed his eyes,
Relying on the red-nosed one to guide him safely through the skies.
They made it alright and Santa visited every isle, city and nation,
Spreading cheer to all who awaited his visit with great anticipation!
Santa brought presents to all good little girls and boys worldwide,
Thanks to his magic sleigh and reindeer with Rudolph as his guide!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
I may be the smallest of small fry
yet I've got an idea that if we try
really try, give it all that we've got
out absolute 100% better-than-best shot
to develop leaders, true leaders, diamonds and jewels
in our churches, our youth groups, and schools
that the cream might rise to the top; O, that it would
and our country's leaders inspire us, as well they should
Americans want integrity and bold vision on Capitol Hill
not catcalls or petty quarrels from voices selfish and shrill
_________________________________________________
Note: The word 'churches' in line six above includes mosques,
temples, synagogues, and any other type of religious
or secular-humanist institution
I know a river where the fish fly in the sky.
Sheltered by boundless ember morning sky,
a lull stillness, it refuses to say goodbye;
I breathe deep in submission quiver and sigh.
Drifting upriver in my small fry fishing boat
wishing for a plate of fried fish, so, I wore my lucky coat.
It's out there waiting for a moving worm afloat.
A dragonfly hover by, big bass launch into the air.
Dangling my pole over the boat there, I stare.
Speckle trout; come with me, my cupboard is bare.
I spent all day as the fish just laughed,
bait writhe at the end of the hook as they passed.
Splash! A nibble, then a take. Holy Moly, largemouth bass.
11/4/2021
Example for Contest
When Grandpa died and his clock still ticked,
he fell from a ladder by a tree -
nor could that clock on the wall predict
when I died at age twenty-three.
A traveling artist, who, out of luck,
implored gramps (...how'd he know his name?)
My grandpa was kind. A deal was struck.
Soon his picture was in a frame.
The parlor portrait's eyes would follow
me, conveying every feeling.
Kindness and cheer, I could swallow,
but remonstration sent me reeling.
A frisbee stuck in a tree, so high,
Grandpa said he'd retrieve it for me.
Just hold the ladder, please, small fry?
and that's all that he asked of me.
Nobody knows that story but me.
I sway gently as the wind does blow,
from a branch on that sycamore tree,
but the eyes on the portrait know.
ON NOVEMBER
Smoggy foggy November Sky:
Starry fairy ready to fly
to Earth on visit as artist,
fluttered downy wings to resist
the intermittent wintry breeze,
floating, gliding, swooping at ease.
Reached Earth at dawn: Met butterfly.
Glistened dewdrops tending to dry.
To sip honey, blooms to insist.
Fairy took sip, bees to assist.
Fairy danced on furrows with crease
of feral field amidst tall trees.
She stood on strand, stream flowing by.
On rippling waves peeped a small fry.
She watched creepers on curly twist
and took tendril to tie on wrist.
Chilled November wind not to cease.
Plants sighed for dry leaves to release.
‘Sweetness of fruits to multiply,
Scent of rose to intensify’-
November always optimist.
Fairy smelt rose as a florist.
Charm on Earthly tour to increase.
Glad to see pair of golden geese.
Periwinkles twinkled: Looked shy!
Starry fairy smiled to say ’Hi!’.
Shimmering Sun sent rays from East.
clearing vision through hazy mist.
Trip over: To leave Earth's premise
Fairy flew with some cranberries.
10/31/20
Second Place
Checked syllables on Divide into syllables Syllable counter dictionary.
'Lay November' Contest by William Kekaula
The town pond was drained,
revealing minnows
wriggling in the residual water
they milled and turned
in silvered arabesques
choregraphed by a rippling wind.
Large ocean-going gulls
descended out of a troubled sky,
they walked among the writhing small fry
plucked out the little fish
employing just the tip of their great beaks
as if sensible of the delicacy of such morsels.
Dark clouds foretold a storm,
strange but the gulls did not fly off
to feast on Lake Erie’s plentiful bounty,
they lingered here on this little pond
like diners at a buffet
skewering only these bitsy sprats,
while squalls fermented the Great Lakes
and much bigger fish flew unmolested
through those high cresting waves.
Little ponds it seems,
do not at all mirror
the courage of the free.
She says her love language is food well now you're talking baby
We can go anywhere what shall it be
Texas, Mexico, France, Italy, China, Germany, or maybe some old-fashioned southern hospitality
I know your mind has a hard time deciding, so take your time
What should we eat is a question that should be treated as a delicacy
Our taste buds deserve a vacation because your stomach has a vacancy
The way the hunger is talking to me in Spanish
Slow down so I can understand
I know the frustration is mounting
She says ok I think I've narrowed it down to three
A burger, tacos, or maybe some sushi please
I respond: Mooyahs, Velvet, Tortilleria, or Mr. Chopsticks
I know her usual at each, as well as the second and third options if one is unavailable
I'm still emotionally available for you, right now that looks like food
She responds I want something quick and easy
Mooyahs it is
There's something so inviting about a good burger that makes you do a happy dance while you're sitting still
Medium Rare with everything except onions for her, I like mine all the way dressed
She will get a small fry and then steal some from my large after I told her she should get a medium
It’s ok because what’s yours is mine, and mines is yours
The face you make when you’re hangry I adore
But nothing means more than being full of our love
Soul food tastes like an r & b song, but today it tastes like this burger
p.s. I love our last-minute emergency food dates…
When you died
I did not cry
Not a single tear
Fell from my eye
I ask myself every day
I ask him why?
I miss you
And I'm not going to lie
I hope you're in heaven
I hope that you can fly
I didn't say goodbye
I don't think it happened
I will always deny
I hope you get your favorites
I hope you get pie
I hope you're in the sky
I hope you get your retry
Whatever it takes
You'll overcome and defy
All those who made you shy
All those who caused you to sigh
All those who made you a small fry
They're below you while you are up high
Whatever you do, don't comply
Don't try to satisfy
Don't try to gratify
Don't try to simplify
Be yourself
Someone will help you untie
All that has made you feel wry
Well, that's all I got
I'll visit when the snow melts in July