Long Smith Poems
Long Smith Poems. Below are the most popular long Smith by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Smith poems by poem length and keyword.
NEVER ALONE
By Derrick Smith
Do not shed your tears for me
Because God has called me home
But keep in mind the memories
And the fact you’re not alone
Keep your tears for joyful things
The thought of all that we have done
And know that I no longer suffer
That I am with the one
The one who keeps you thru the day
And watches over you thru the night
The one who helped me make it through
And fought my biggest fight
My spirit lives within all of you
That God saw fit to call me home
I’ve done all that I could do
Know that although I am gone
But do not shed your tears for me
Because with God I am now home
But keep in mind all the memories
And you will never be alone.
I Am With God Now.
Form:
A man with a quiet demeanor
was cursed with a miniscule wiener.
He tried lotions and pills
But not one cured his ills.
Now he's a silent nail hole cleaner.
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
His todger though tiny still worked.
When he went for a wee it jerked.
He could still have full sex.
It was rather complex,
but when it was over he smirked.
BY JAN ALLISON
His wee-wee was indeed very wee
to the extent that no one could see.
When asked, “Are you a man?”
He replied, “Yes, I am.
You can follow up stream when I pee.”
BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Went out for a night with a hooker
Blonde but thick and no looker
When she saw his todger
Said my dog is bigger
You're taking me for a sucker
BY SEREN ROBERTS
A silent curse shrunk his wee to a teeny thing
I swear it is no bigger than a lil chicken wing
For sex a useless reject
Can't tell when its erect
We make jokes about his miniature ding a ling
BY MARTI
Wait a minute please, I won't tell a lie
isn't always small, it's big as apple pie
the winds were mighty chilly
affecting my poor old Willie
now you hurt my feelings, think I'm gonna cry
BY TIM SMITH
Big Bertha said, "It ain't the cubic inches
nope, the part for me what clinches
is strokes per minute
while they's in it
not a tool needs movin' with winches."
BY LIM'RICK FLATS
if you want join in the fun!
Dinner and dancing, perfect first date
Conversation flowing easily, it's going great
Breeze blowing her long auburn hair
Down towards the sea we disappear
Midnight stroll on the starlit beach
The perfect girl finally within reach
Moonlight illuminates her pretty face
Elegance, beauty, full of grace
Slowly, tenderly, our hands entwine
Hearts race she’s so divine
Can’t believe she is mine
My knees going weak
From her exotic mystique
My lips do shiver
A kiss she delivers
Hand in hand
Across the sand
Dreaming of wonderland
Two hearts
Love starts
Forever
10~19~14
Contest :I do not know Sponsor:- Andrea Dietrich
Collaboration Jan Allison & Tim Smith
~awarded 4th place~
Scene 1:
There once was a man
filled with joy
a wife, a home
and a cute infant boy
Everything was grand
with twins on the way.
A spontaneous dog
who liked to play.
One day in the spring
He'd receive a call.
It was about his family.
the phone would suddenly fall.
Scene 2:
The car came out of nowhere
smashing head on the passenger side
Killing the infant son immediately,
in the ambulance his wife would ride.
Para-medics rushed frantically
to relieve the blood draining from her head.
With the severity of the wounds
death was inevitable,
They said!!
At one thirty-four this spring afternoon,
Four citizens were pronounced dead.
Someones wife, someones children
That is what the obituary read.
Scene 3:
A month later in the basement
of his quaint little country home.
He sat for hours thinking.
Sulking,
alone.
The thoughts of re-uniting
with the family he once had.
Drunk now thinking suicide,
he knew it would be bad.
Palms sweaty, vision blurred.
Vexed, praying for what comes next.
Reaching for the instrument,
his mind perplexed.
Scene 4:
He lifts the Smith & Wesson revolver
from its resting place.
Thinking of nothing but his family
placing it in the middle of his face.
Pulls the trigger,
at that moment all went black!!
Scene 5:
He wakes up
SUDDENLY...
His puppy licking his eye.
He looks at his dog,
then begins to cry.
When pulling the trigger
of this canon of a gun.
Instead of death he passed out.
As for bullets, there were none..
Jared Pickett
10/17/09
Asavvy1
He’d been on the trail many a month,
When he reached the town of Gulrith,
A mining village high in the peaks,
His named was Wainwright Smith.
He searched the west, looking for
A sister by the name of Henrietta,
Who’d been taken by men in old New York,
The search, he would never let up.
The men had been seen, to some were known:
Thugs who traded in lost girls,
But Henrietta had not been truly lost,
In her father’s eyes she’d been a pearl.
The daughter of a banker, on hard times,
He had not the cash for a detective,
So Wain went to the cops and there learned
What we could about his objectives.
Hannibal Mays was the man he sought,
Wanted badly in six different states,
Wain moved west from town-to-town,
Fueled by both love and by hate.
In Gulrith he’d heard Mays had set up.
Going under the name of Guthrie,
After eight brutal months he was now close,
So he went to where men got lucky.
But the cathouse hadn’t seen hide nor hair,
Though a young girl told him for gold,
That ever so often Mays found one,
That he didn’t see fit to be sold.
The whore made him pay for every word,
And told him where to find Mays’s house.
He paced up at night, Winchester ready
To rid the world of this damn lout.
He approached the house, and saw a light
Blazing away in a back room,
He approached slowly, readied his gun,
Kicked the door open with a boom...
CONCLUDED IN PART II.
I saw a man blathering on,
a professor with PhD,
who called himself ‘anti-racist,’
which seemed rather bizarre to me
since he kept saying that we must
see ourselves in culture at large,
singers, actors, must be the same race,
otherwise it would leave deep scars.
Needless to say I was alarmed,
for I had seen many a film
with Denzel Washington up front
ensuring that bad guys were killed.
Will Smith and Sidney Poitier,
Eddy Murphy, back in my youth,
I had been cheering for them all,
but this professor told me the truth,
that I cannot identify
with an actor who’s skin is dark,
since I myself lack such pigment,
I couldn’t see myself in their parts.
Now I know I can only feel
for people whose melanin lacks,
I mean when has a professor
ever been known to spew crap?
Worse still I liked Sammy Davis,
or liked him, I think I should stay,
since I can’t see myself in singers
whose looks go in a different way.
Even worse I saw a black teen
watching Sinatra on Youtube,
reacting with amazement at
the way the man carried a tune.
How internalized is the self-hate
in that unfortunate young man?
To identify with Sinatra…
he must be well and truly damned.
Since professors who look like him
have said it again and again,
our singers must reflect ourselves,
otherwise how can we like them?
I know I cannot help that kid,
but the one thing I did was this,
I went through all my MP3s,
deleted all non-pale artists.
How could I appreciate them?
Much better they all go to scrap,
academia can’t be wrong,
they wouldn’t just put out dumb crap...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
Ode to Jimmy Smith: Lord of the Hammond
Man, this cat be swingin' hard/
In a smoky room where midnight leans against the battered walls, a preacher’s fire, a river’s blues, a man called Jimmy calls/
His fingers flash like lightning’s tongue across the B-3’s face—from gospel pew to backroom jazz, He sanctifies the space/Bebop’s quicksilver dances here, bold horn lines now reborn, yet every note drips gospel truth, and blues for those forlorn.
The Sermon! —twenty minutes long, a prayer that shakes the floor, while Midnight Special hums and glows with secrets, warmth, and more/ At Chicken Shack, the groove is deep, each riff a soulful shout, and Organ Grinder Swing lays bare what Jimmy is about/
He took a humble organ’s voice, and taught it how to weep—howl joy, confess, and testify, and rock the bones beneath/
O Jimmy, lord of drawbar dreams, your legacy remains: A Hammond roaring through the night, still pulsing in our veins.
What I want is a love that is envied by others,
Best friends, partners, soul mates also were lovers
I want his heart and I'll keep it in my pocket,
He will have the keys to mine and won't forget to lock it,
He will always know just what to say,
And how to make me smile after I've had a bad day
Baby me when I'm not feeling well, and never complain,
Know exactly what to do when I'm acting insane
Tell me I'm right even when I'm wrong
Listen to me vent no matter how long,
He will always have my back with no questions asked
Know all of my secrets and everything in my past
My kids are gonna think that he is the best
This special love is magic its better then all the rest
We will be a team the two of us together,
Thru our trials and triumphs our love will never whether,
He will always speak to me gently and kind,
And will actually care about what's on my mind,
He holds me up and I hold him down
He is my king togeatger we share this crown
He tell me how im beautiful and calls me his dime
He treats me like his best friend and I treat him like mine
I know this all seems a little to perfect
I'm not gonna settle for less, I deserve it!
-Amber Smith
Have you ever heard tales of the weirdest things
Autumn leaves that fall in the midst of Spring
creepy two-headed toads
cats who sit on a commode
Devilish people pretending to have angel wings
Dogs that bark but sound more like mewing cats
In bright sunlight flying, a flock of Vampire bats
How many can you name
It's just a guessing game
Some things in life are so bizarre and that's that
written by Lin Lane
I wrote about saying goodbye
Some rejoiced, yet others did cry
It got poem of the day
Did it deserve it – no way!
I’ll be quiet when I say bye bye
written by Jan Allison
A rat getting burned for a slice of cheese
one legged dancer doing a striptease
the absurd, the aloof
snakes crawling on a roof
penthouse living with someone else's keys
written by Tim Smith
I'm not allowed to pet the cat
when I do he has a spat
leaving a mess
Without distress
He puts it all on the mat
written by Russell Sivey
What is a poem if not a song
Just add the melody
And sing along
What is a poem if not a dance
Gliding across the page
with moves to enchant
What is a poem if not a rose
as words bring it to bloom
in sweet repose
What is a poem if not a butterfly
fluttering of the page
and up to the sky!
Joseph May
What is a poem but a caring letter
Sending love and advice
To make you feel better
Judy Ball
What is a poem if not a flower
Beautiful blossoms
Climb cerebral bowers
Daniel Turner
What is a poem, if not life
So much emotion
To stamp out worldly strife
Harry Horsman
What is a poem if not a word
Within words, singing
images unheard
Darren White
What is a poem if not a rainbow
Adding many colors
That leaves a glow
Alexis Y.
What is a poem, if not a voice of expression
many thoughts expressed,
in so few lines
Jeremy Smith
*If you wish to add to this poem, I will add it with your name.
three lines, start with what is a poem.