Long Somewhat Poems
Long Somewhat Poems. Below are the most popular long Somewhat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Somewhat poems by poem length and keyword.
L, you were right
hope you're doing well
i need to speak in bear talk
because they censor
those black bears down river
that tore me apart in the past
for voicing a clarification
a rhyme and reason i never got...to this day
so you see
i hope you do
i saw your comment
i knew before reading your comment
regarding a C
that the top 3
blue ribbons
writes had nothing to do with topic
i knew it
so i would think a lot others did too
i think its an insult to ones intelligence
to read rules
and see the boundaries having ambiguity
when it shouldn't
i know the purpose of c
is to have fun
but being robbed, insulted, isn't the definition of fun
i also know that there is a lot of subjectivity, perception
in what people see as being the best ... that i don't contend
somewhat
but i think rules of c should be straight forward
otherwise whats the purpose of having rules
one would think the spirit of competition
is to follow the guidelines
not veer off ..one would think
i ve given up c too
for the very reasons i mentioned
for now i shadow contest, so in that aspect im having fun
i do wish you the best, L
i can feel your pain
and empathize thereof
connie pachecho
1/15/17
Squeaky and his buddies resided somewhere deep within the church's organ.
That elusive rodent was the bane of the pastor, The Reverend Doctor Morgan!
The reverend almost lost his religion a time or two dealing with sneaky Squeaky,
Since he and his troublesome pals at inopportune times could be rather cheeky!
The doughty Ladies Aid Committee "religiously" prepared the communion bread.
There were 500 saints at The First Baptist Church whose souls must be fed.
For Communion Sunday, each Saturday they stored the bread on kitchen shelves.
'Twas an invitation for Squeaky and his squad to "commune" and gorge themselves!
The formidable Miss Freda Wringerhands had been the organist for forty years.
Hitting a wrong note on the old pump organ was one of her greatest fears!
She was puzzled by a strange "mousy" squeak that was occasionally heard.
The reverend doctor gave her a very reproving glare whenever that occurred!
Just as the reverend doctor finished his prayer and prepared to preach,
A screech awoke Mr. Clyde Backslider who shouted, "son uvva beech!"
His wife Grace fled down the aisle screaming, "Lord, have mercy on me!"
Squeaky had abruptly scaled her panty hose and was playing about her knee!
The Reverend Doctor Morgan did all he could to bring about Squeaky's demise,
But his kith and kin multiplied and produced generations of impish mice!
With the antics of Squeaky the tolerant congregation was somewhat bemused,
But the long-suffering Reverend Doctor Morgan was not at all amused!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
WRITIN' POETRY
Someone asked me if I could write a poem
For that type of task I'm somewhat known
I had a great uncle that was a published poet
It may be in my genes but I don't even know it
But don't bet no money on it, do not wager
I definitely ain't no English major
Sometimes a subject comes to me
And sometimes it don't
No matter how I try to put it together
Sometimes dang... it just won't
But don't bet no money on it, do not wager
I definitely ain't no English major
Writin' poetry is kind of a crap shoot
It's really quite unfair
You don't know where you're going
Till you hopefully get there
But don't bet no money on it, do not wager
I definitely ain't no English major
My friend of the exuberant
Far ranging converse gone,
The over the front hedge
Meaningful long chats gone,
The stop and talk when we met
So very cruelly suddenly gone.
I feel so very deeply for
His beloved family and wife
And for the great big hole
He’s left in my own life.
No more anecdotes to be shared
No more speaking face to face
My world now somewhat shrunken
A much less satisfying place.
Stood by the hedge to remember
With closed eyes to easily recall
Those pleasant easy hours
When we never quite said it all.
I’ll remember with joy
Those memories I have
Of every single chat, regret
All those we’d yet to have.
Never quite changing the world
But not for want of trying
Yes, we never changed the world
But it was not for want of trying.
Some may think they’re an aficionado
but do they hold a poetry degree
They sit on their high horse with bravado
it’s from there that they cast judgement on me
I have seen some dish out trophy places
which unsurprisingly go to their friends
Such blatant favoritism disgraces
and deters others picking up their pens
Not all of the sponsors are impartial
sadly some can’t write the forms that they set
They judge poems and not a court martial
so will I enter their contests – you bet!
I consider John’s a discerning judge …
Will I get first place if he’s bribed with fudge?
A somewhat tongue in cheek poem for
JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
05/04/21
BLACK: A TRIUMPH WITHOUT FEAR
Black is beautiful but being black: somewhat painful...
Teased and excluded by a state of mind from some fools
Tattered roads are the ways our forefathers trod
as before, skin color other than white isn't cool.
Black for some is a sewn gown that women adore
yet years ago black is the hue, some people deplore
for being black is a ladder near to slavery claws
though hearts- wells of white, still some abhors.
Cotton fields and tobacco leaves these where the work
though toiling good and crops aplenty, still no spark
instead, weeps and wails, the constant gleaming prize.
Black history is a staggering race to hit a mark.
Our forefathers one shout: "Let freedom ring"!
It is the longing ardor, we ever want to sing
Even if there are threats to push Black people down
still, we'll follow the fight of Martin Luther King
Black history is a legacy of winning without fear
a chronicle that ebb 'til today, it never disappears,
'cause racism a changeless present story of you and me,
all around the Earth, not dormant in the atmosphere
__________________________________________________________
Sponsor: Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name: Writings in a Black Perspective.
Placed 1st
© O. E. Guillermo
7:40 pm, March 16, 2015
I boarded flight 911 to Tripoli
Looking forward to some time in the sun
Beaches and babes and a whole lotta fun
Oh no, Oh no was supposed to be 811 to Italy
The fellow beside me looked somewhat hagged
His suicide vest was a wee bit ragged
I begged him please, to hold the cord
Can’t you wait for a flight when my wife’s aboard?
He was looking up towards the sky
I could see there was no humor in his eye
He called me names of this I am sure
Me I heard Infidel and western whore
I asked him if he knew the date or time?
In a week or so I said all will be fine
On July 4th you can have yourself an explosive crime
Fireworks galore and then off to Allah you will shine
Me I hope this flight will land
With Akmed holding his explosive band
Around his waste, it was diffused
Cause in my wisdom I got him boozed
Although I'm in my autumn years I still feel full of ginger.
But I'm slowin' down - my brittle bones so as not to injure!
Alas, I can't do everything that I once would choose.
It now takes a bit more effort to bend down and tie my shoes!
I can still manage to bend over and touch my toes,
And if need be could do a few pushups I suppose.
But I must take care not to strain my delicate back,
For fear I'll put the consarned thing out of whack!
I still religiously manicure my resplendent lawn,
But my zeal for keepin' it pristine is somewhat gone.
I may relinquish that onerous chore to the neighbor boy,
But those years of lovin' care I'd hate to see him destroy!
I used to carry the groceries but I seldom do that anymore
I enlist a strappin' lad to tote the bags from the grocery store.
I huff and puff climbin' stairs, so now I take the elevator,
Or if in the mall one is handy, I'll ride the escalator.
Lord, spare me the misery of livin' in a Sunshine Home, I pray!
I'll walk, I'll exercise, I'll do anything You say.
Even faithfully swallow every known vitamin from A to zinc,
Anything, dear Lord, anything to keep me in the pink!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I have always gotten lost easily. I recall
feeling frustrated and inept as a young driver.
Over the years, frustration morphed into heart-pounding,
fear that became like an insurmountable wall.
Directions provided by patient, well-meaning people
have often included "You CAN'T miss it." Oh, really?!
How many times have I driven in circles in a strange place
feeling scared, incompetent, and downright silly?
To make matters worse, I’ve always been surrounded
by people blessed with a reliable sense of direction.
They seldom get lost. When they do, they don’t panic.
They wonder why I do. They have no clue!
Now the GPS has ended all my anxiety. Right?
I now claim a somewhat less unfortunate plight;
I'm more confident than in pre-GPS days, BUT
I know devices, like people, are not infallible!
I recently learned that my fear of getting lost has a name,
MAZEPHOBIA!
October 13, 2021
Contest: Your Kryptonite Placed 9th
Sponsor: Anthony Biaanco
I’m feeling empty as hell,
Lost in my lonesome shell
I’m dealing with these demons...
I’m blinded by a thousand sins...
But, I’m sure
I will endure
I’m not over the feeling
The feeling of free-falling...
I’m slowly, but surely revealing
The reason behind my calling
My calling is far better
Than anything on Earth
My calling is to be a go-getter
With so much lovely mirth
And knowing my worth
I’m feeling somewhat whole...
Lost in the black hole...
I’m blinded by fame that sells
Fame that puts me under spells
I want to deal with these angels...
But, I’m sure
I will endure
I’m not over the feeling
The feeling of free-falling...
I’m slowly, but surely revealing
The reason behind my calling
My calling is far better
Than anything on Earth
My calling is to be a go-getter
With so much lovely mirth
And knowing my worth
I’m not over the feeling
The feeling of free-falling...
I’m slowly, but surely revealing
The reason behind my calling
Feeling too much under pressure
Not over my injury, I’m sure
Feeling numb inside my bones, so I call you on my cellphone
Just to hear your voice so pure
Not over the fact that I feel all alone, but I’m not on my own
Pretty sure I’ll find a vibrant cure
But, I’m sure
I will endure
I’m not over the feeling
The feeling of free-falling...
I’m slowly, but surely revealing
The reason behind my calling
My calling is far better
Than anything on Earth
My calling is to be a go-getter
With so much lovely mirth
And knowing my worth
I’m not over the feeling
The feeling of free-falling...
I’m slowly, but surely revealing
The reason behind my calling
But, I’m sure
I will endure
For, He’s the cure
I’m more than certain
As the seasons change and crops
Grow oh so tall
My calling tells me to endure
The rainstorm again
I’m falling like raindrops,
So catch me as I fall