Long Sodas Poems
Long Sodas Poems. Below are the most popular long Sodas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sodas poems by poem length and keyword.
I'm not about to reveal to you anything about my age,
But I grew up when big band music was all the rage -
When romantic tunes were heard while dancing cheek to cheek.
The noise called "music" today sounds to me like so much Greek!
Ah, to be gliding to the melodic airs of Buddy Morrow,
Holding your sweetie close as if there was no tomorrow!
Or swinging and swaying to the music of Sammy Kay;
With that special girl you could dance the night away!
There'll never be another "wunerful" Lawrence Welk again,
Playing his sparkling renditions with the bubbly champagne!
The band with the distinctive sound that will live forever,
Is that of Glenn Miller, performing brilliantly with each endeavor!
The car radio on, a mellow moon, your honey by your side,
Listening to tunes by Harry James, a kiss could not be denied!
Or in the drug store sipping sodas, the jukebox near at hand,
Listening to Tommy Dorsey and his incomparable band!
The rap, hard rock and metal bands that today are all the rage,
Will be long forgotten as youths today reach a ripe old age!
But the music of the big band era will retain its fascination,
To be remembered and replayed by each ensuing generation!
Entry for Kristen Bruni's "Soul Tunes" Contest
Kicking stones is one way to pass time
Other times will be riding the bike
There are many ways that you can find
Take a walk through town and see the signs
Then going out on some friendly hike
Hanging with friends after the bell ring
Then playing some sports shortly after
And go to see the newest showing
Having sodas, popcorn, gum chewing
And just have fun, joking and laughter
Sometimes the circus follows the fun
kids go crazy, parents hysterics
it's a joyful time for everyone
reasons and purpose that they all come
laughter clowns caused ... just silly antics.
There's a park near town where fun is found
and a swimming pool for fools like us
a park, a pool, and a spacious ground
play soccer, football, or play around
a place of Arithmetic, A-Plus.
Hagerstown, Indiana
I strolled my hometown Main Street today (about a quarter mile).
Many happy memories flooded my soul, causing me to smile.
A friendly bench beckoned me and I sat awhile to ponder,
The past I left so long ago for vast horizons out yonder!
The building where Doc Mays' drug store was still stands,
Where my sweetie and I sipped sodas and held each other's hands.
The Cartmell Hardware Store sat catty-cornered across the street,
Catering a variety of gadgets to make our lives more complete!
Ah! The aromas emitted from Seeb's Bakery down the street!
Those savory pies, cookies and cakes - what a special treat!
I recall Harry the barber and his razzing as I sat in his chair.
I reeked of bay rum and the Vitalis that he slathered in my hair!
The bowling alley no longer exists - setting pins was my first job.
If the bowlers liked my work, a quarter tip to me they'd lob!
Gone is the L.B. Owens grocery store where as a lad I worked.
He was a demanding boss, admonishing me if my tasks I shirked!
I left my hometown when I was a young and unpretentious lad.
There were just too many distant vistas and adventures to be had.
But o'er the years I return there every chance that I can get.
I left many fond memories there that I just cannot forget!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Ethel Hurst
1889 – 1918
I saw the town rise up
Like a single blade of grass after a spring rain.
I played a multitude of hop-scotch games
With my best friend Hannah on Penn Street.
And sipped a hundred ice cream sodas in the Mercantile at sunset.
My mother took me to Jacob’s Grocery every Monday
And it was I who picked the plump oranges
From the big rickety crate.
On Saturdays we worked the fields at Strong’s Ranch,
Harvesting the pampas in the walnut fields.
And on Halloween I was the girl in the moon-face costume for five straight years.
When Christmas brought its luminous lights to the town,
Mother dressed me in red with a bell on my bonnet.
And father sang the carols with a guitar and a tambourine.
I graduated from the big high school in 1907
And in celebration,
Rode my bicycle to Bassett
Still in my starched graduation petticoats.
Jesse Forbes,
He being five years younger than I,
Was the love of my brief stay on this earth.
But when he ventured to steal a kiss that day in Black Canyon,
I used my calloused hand to convey my stern disagreement.
But what wild regrets I’ve entertained since Jesse drowned that day.
In the wild currents by Pio Pico’s crumbling Adobe,
His body bobbing like a sea bird
In the punishing plume of that old deep river.
Beyond the muddy banks and the wild flowers,
Jesse Forbes left this life with a surprised frozen grin.
Why Jesse? Why?
You never knew the truth, my love.
You never really understood what I meant
When I said nothing.
I said No to you when I said nothing that day in Black Canyon,
But I really meant Yes.
The influenza incinerated my heart and soul
With a 106 temperature in the winter of 1918.
Twenty nine years I dare say
Is nothing in terms of eternal life!
I had so much more to do!
I had so much more to dream about!
I walked and talked on the streets of my town,
And on the funeral-dark avenues of my innocent days.
And I planned and I schemed
And all for nothing!.
Indeed, I felt the pulse of fleeting time
And the never-ending,
Ever-turning circle of endless days.
But now I rest here in Clark Cemetery… a virgin corpse
Flirting shamelessly with the bow-tie worms,
Still wild with regrets.
And forever haunted in reverse
By the same recurring memory
Of Jesse Forbes holding a rose.
Under the old oak tree in Black Canyon..
Well dang and gosh darn
She sure got some charm
This dream walking down the street
Into a pole, I smashed
My old bean got mashed
Sure hurts bad for the love of Pete
She helps me get up
I thrill to her touch
Suddenly my head no longer hurts
As I get to my feet
I'm given a big treat
Viewed her assets up under her skirt
Think I'll try that again
Gotta wait until when
A gorgeous young female approaches
Crash into a pole
This pretty young soul
Says, “Too many scotch and sodas?”
Well so much for that
Fell right into the trap
Those girlies are smart little cookies
Won't try that again
It's a dangerous game
Serves me right for checking out the goodies
I once thought I could never be like them,
the privileged and rich whose every whim
is catered to by underlings like me--
but then last year I won the lottery!
The family I’d worked for soon went broke.
I hired them to take care of me—no joke!
Now I relax while they do all the work.
Sometimes I can’t suppress a tiny smirk!
To summon them, I ring my golden bell.
Today I ordered, “Meet my needs pell-mell!
Bring snacks and sodas. Then massage my feet.
Fetch me two pillows, and turn down the heat.
Turn on the tv. Bring me the remote.”
They do for me whatever floats my boat!
My six-course meals, prepared as I require,
are brought to me whenever I desire.
My house was once a mess; now it’s so clean!
My flowers are the prettiest I’ve seen.
My yard’s magnificent. It brings me joy
to sit and watch these workers I employ.
Cockaigne, imaginary land of extreme luxury and ease where physical comforts and pleasures are always immediately at hand--and EVERY possible advantage of these pleasures is claimed
The Land of Cockaigne — a 1567 oil painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
(c. 1525–1569).
Also, a HIGHLY satirical poem theorized to have been written in the early
to mid-fourteenth century by a Franciscan friar
Date: November 14, 2020
entered in Edward Ibeh's poetry contest placed 3rd
Pick-a-Title, vol 25, Rhyme 2 --"In Land of Cockaigne"
I once decided to skip school. To escape the machine.
Talking two fools into going with me.
We pooled our lunch money.
Buying cherry sodas, Twinkies
,, and a pack of Newport cigarettes...
We voted to spend our freedom in a graveyard of regret.
We told ghost stories and read headstones.
Feeling so very lucky to be alive.
Chatting about death and our dream cheerleaders.
That would never meet our middle-class eyes.
We came upon a ditch at the end of the graveyard.
Where they tossed the old wreaths and flowers away,
They looked like tropical birds caught in a muddy whirlpool.
We tossed the last of the soda cans where the dead birds lay.
All of us yellowed and sick from too many cigarettes.
The bottoms of our blue jeans splashed with the day.
Leaving a million lichen-chewed stones behind us.
We headed for our homes-back into the land of chains...
Isn't this a sweet picture my friends
Sipping sodas after the hop
Much too young to remember this music
Doo-wop was Mom's and Pop's
Was just a wee tike in diapers then
Sucking on my thumb
Still was quite the ladies man though
Traveling around on my bum
Seem to be picking up negative vibes
About what I'm saying here
Have I ever lied to you people before
I'm not giving you the gears
Okay okay I've decided to come clean
Sipped sodas after the hop
That's where I met my first true love
First ever to say 'doo-wop'
So beat me up with a bunch of wet noodles
I've led you poor guys astray
My evil twin is now running the show
Lost control of what I say
© Jack Ellison 2013
I need the satisfaction of a cold carbonated cola
it smooths my stomach with a burp, love that soda
I drink diet caffeine free don't need empty calories
Like the Coca Cola gold and white label Pepsi
Try to get the Dr. Pepper one is an impossibility
Sometimes I just want the fun and flavor of a bubbly
those bubbles tickle your nose and make a happy tummy
Diet fruit flavors and the clear lemon limes
are almost all caffeine free for bubbly time
A doc told me that caffeine could trigger my gout
so now caffeine I can gladly live without
Sure I drink decaffeinated coffees and teas
And water is always a way to stay healthy
I need the happiness you get with an ice cold cola
so allow me my caffeine free diet sodas
The hens from our small, urban farm,
Had wild idea, caused great fright:
Escape their pen, come to no harm,
See a show, without a blight.
With feathers ruffling at benight,
They made plans and added some smarm,
Darkened room, their intended site,
The hens from our small, urban farm.
They marched single file full of charm,
Crazy chicks, on a daring plight,
Ignoring grumbles from their tharm,
Had wild idea, caused great fright.
Forged ahead and ready to fight,
Broke their fence in one clucking swarm,
Accomplished task, without desight:
Escape their pen, come to no harm.
Sodas in beaks, seated disarm,
Screen flashing, their eyes all alight,
Snacks in wings, no need for alarm,
See a show, without a blight.
A hot buttered popcorn, their right,
They'd wielded fowl mettle from dorm,
Hid their combs to avoid incite,
They also did get their wings warm,
Small, urban farm.
March 16, 2023
Double The Fun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May