Long Staff Poems
Long Staff Poems. Below are the most popular long Staff by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Staff poems by poem length and keyword.
The Curly haired royalty from Dry Wash Gulch
Went out to help the ladies-in-waiting mulch
They got in the way with their wild curly hair
Why don’t you all go stand way back there?
Next, they decided to help in the stable
Thought they would feed as they were able
It did not work out, their frizzy hair kicked up the straw
Why don’t you help the cook? Asked foreman Maw
Seeing them in the kitchen did not excite the cook.
The throne needs dusting, she suggested, go take a look
So, the Curly haired royalty ended up back in their own place
Thank you very kindly, the staff said to His Grace
She__wearing a shroud of depression
Left each visitor with gloomy feelings
Which they then carried away in succession
In all their life, never having such dealings
She was withdrawn, grim, and gloomy
Born with a melancholy personality
Then her mother died leaving her life roomy
For the pit of depression to swallow her in totality
Wistful thinking could not draw her into a good mood
Nor any action the staff had performed so far
Each word she said was totally rude
Then someone came up with the bazaar
A trip to the space station could do the trick
Out where her life would come into perspective
Where she could see earth and life click
Just what was needed to be a mood corrective
All in all I must say, life has trouble
If on earth you cannot win, space has a Hubbell
Just for fun/ silly/ nonsensical
Date written: 05/08/23
Contest: Eight Word Challenge
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Words used in order used: shroud, depression, gloomy, feelings, withdrawn, grim, gloomy, melancholy, depression,wistful
I wore an orange shirt yesterday, September 30th
it’s a shirt I wanted everyone to see…
even though the color orange doesn’t look that good on me.
The reason has to do with a gruesome chapter in North America’s history:
Phyllis Webstad was a six year old young Native Nations girl back on 1973.
She was sent to a church-run school in Canada.
She was wearing an orange shirt her very first day
when the staff at the school decided…to take her orange shirt away.
From her experience in that school…that orange shirt came to be
a symbol of how those schools tried to strip native nation children
of their culture, their pride and their dignity.
They wanted every trace of who they were…by any means to expel…
It is the same behavior that went on in our country as well.
The Every Child Matters slogan on my shirt
is a reminder of how Canada and the US broke all of humanity’s rules…
and recognizes the pain, trauma and suffering
indigenous children experienced in those mandatory residential schools.
Wearing the orange shirt is one small but effective way
to bring awareness to the way indigenous children were treated
in Canada and the USA.
It’s one way…of reminding those who want to erase this horrible time in our history
that you might succeed in taking it out of our books…but it remains in our memory.
As a country we should use the shame we feel to lead us to the goal
of improving future behavior…thus enriching our country’s soul.
If wearing an orange shirt helps shed a light on this horrible time
in Canada’s and our country’s history too
then every September 30th
that is exactly what I’ll do…
She is Ms. Mozart but not a musician,
Her smile is my cure like a great physician.
Her voice is my sound like notes in a staff,
She sings so chaotic and everyone just laugh.
She is easy to get along with, that’s so true!
She speaks so well though she’s bit of brute.
When she talks, everyone stares her weirdly,
Hard voice from nowhere isn’t that funny?
She smiles each day like everything is endless,
She is incredibly happy though she’s mistakably loveless,
Ms. Mozart laughs every time she makes mistakes,
She talks about it even the rest of us are all in stakes.
She is our music that gives us life,
Without her, our white bored has no even life.
We like her because she’s making us crazy,
No dull moments of her and things can’t be so dizzy.
The heavens opened wide that night,
Thunder pounded the skies with might,
Lightening, God’s pyrotechnics were in play,
A great delight for the fox to have his way.
Power knocked out, no doubt this was a dread,
The local rag’s first page warned of the fox.
Three villagers last night found dead ,
A young couple mutilated along with well
Liked grocery owner, Mr. Brown.
All doors bolted, and shutters tied down.
The wily Fox lived in a nearby forest, said
To have been seen, a demon said old Fred,
Half fox half man, a fearful sight,
An ugly filthy creature, a murderer outright.
The men of the village planned to meet,
This demon who was full of hate,
Was surely soon to meet his fate.
This danger stranger, was a game changer,
In their village oh so small,
This meant he should be eliminated
Once and for all.
And thus a plan was formed, but another
Frenzied storm flew by,
With hail stones, golf ball size,
Which rained down from darkened skies.
The Fox-Man visited poor old Fred’s house,
His target was Fred's daughter.
Another Family died that night their children
Seven and five, surely went to heaven,
The fox, once again took advantage
Of the storm, and left his hole,
Four further human hearts he stole.
Snares were promptly set up around the
Village, this time the fox man, would not
Escape, was snared in broad daylight,
This brazen devil hearted man
Was taken to the local zoo.
He snarled, he snapped, he bit two
Staff members, he looked so evil.
Could he flee on a night,
That thunder pounded the sky with might,
A frightful dread still within the people’s sight.
A mourning villager, who had lost his daughter,
One night, when the heavens opened wide
Climbed over the zoo wall,
He decided it was his call,
Found and shot the demonic half man half fox.
He was hailed a hero, was old Fred,
That he had shot the Fox-Man dead,
The local news wrote of Fox Man’s demise
A murderer who was so despised.
At last it has arrived,
let there be no doubt.
That everyone goes crazy
at the Christmas staff night out.
Now Santa took the sleigh.
He did not stop to think.
For that was very foolish
with all that food and drink!
Tooth fairy looked real nice
so did the pantomime dames,
but Grinch was asked to leave
for calling Santa names.
The leprechauns told anecdotes
in the spirit of Bob Hope.
The snowmen all got stoned
by passing round the dope.
Santa told rude jokes!
and some were even funny.
But everyone avoided
that randy Easter Bunny.
Jack Frost he was concerned,
told the Elves what he was thinking.
"That Santa"s getting drunk,
he is doing to much drinking."
When the meal was over,
the MC he did stand .
"Will you welcome live on stage,
The Boogie Man and his band."
The celebrations ended.
"Get on your merry way."
Santa staggered out
to try and find his sleigh.
The reindeer headed home
they knew the way to go.
They did not stop to think,
to take it kind of slow.
Santa started singing
a chorus of Wild Rover.
When flashing lights appeared
and he was soon pulled over.
"Lets see your drivers licence
and please put out that ***."
"Step out of the vehicle
and blow in to this bag."
Oh Santa was locked up.
You should have heard him wail.
"You have to let me out,
you have to give me bail."
His sentence will be soon
lets hope the courts a fan.
For what will happen next year?
If he gets a driving ban.!
Poor old Santa Clause
it is a sorry tale.
He got community service,
instead of going to jail!
By all means leave a carrot.
A glass of milk I think.
But don"t encourage Santa
by leaving out a DRINK!
© Ned Flanders
The Cute Old Couple In Their Booth
Like clockwork, every Sunday
They arrive at the doors
Of their favorite eatery,
As countless times before
The familiar waitress smiles,
Bids them in;
Their morning ritual about to begin.
No need for menus:
The order well known
Staff has set the places
A progresion set in stone
The world moves on in its way without
As they settle down within
Their booth, their morning ritual to begin.
They seem to study their cellphones,
Sharing news of the coming day
But beneath the simple exchange
A deeper one holds sway;
A converse of thought
Built upon feelings, year upon year
He remembers her songs,
She remembers his jokes
Painting their lives with sure, beautiful strokes
They remember the wrongs
As well as the rights
They shared upon thousands of thousands of nights
They shared with each other the subtle truths
Gained through the experience of misspent youth
Now turned to wisdom,
As they sit pensive in their booth.
All this in silence,
All unspoken truth,
As they simply chatter within their booth.
True to themselves, what else could matter?
As she is his woman,
As he is her man -
The fundamental tale, since the world began -
All things accepted, no sorrow nor ruth
They remain, as ever, the cute old couple in their booth.
Cowboys love it when,
There is no barbed wire in site,
And the local Sheriff,
Is conspicuous by his absence.
Cowboys Love it when,
There is a shortage of skilled,
Builders Plumbers and electricians.
Cowboys love it when,
They can mostly check their own work,
And council staff are increasingly too busy,
Or on the take.
Cowboys love it when,
Lawyers are too expensive, for the average citizen,
So most disputes go to small claims courts,
Where Lawyers are not allowed anyway,
At least in NZ
Either way the Cowboys seldom lose any sleep.
Cowboys love it when,
The odds of being held to account,
Are less than than those of winning Lotto,
And they are free to get blotto,
With money from jobs seldom finished.
To the staff of this soup of poetry:
Your mandatory categories are killing me.
I have a write on my PC that I wrote last week,
but I can't post it cause I don't know it's category.
If you could possibly create an "Other" category,
that would make life much more easier for me.
Is there at all any possibility
that one may one day write in their own category?
I don't know inspiration from introspection. I'm not too bright you see.
I've categorized this write as humor/funny
but it should have been categorized "Most seriously"
I'm always in a quandary
whenever I have to choose a category.
They shouldn’t need to make caskets only four feet long
Pediatricians shouldn’t have to specialize in oncology
Scarves shouldn’t be worn by ten year old girls
To protect their bald heads as caused by radiology
Little arms shouldn’t bare puncture marks from IV needles
Fifth grade homework shouldn’t be delivered to hospital beds
Last rites shouldn’t be given before her confirmation dress is worn
Parents shouldn’t be praying that they were the ones dying instead
She is too innocent to fear her impending death
She is too young to regret having never fallen in love
Watching your child suffer through this torment and pain
It is easy to lose faith in a merciful God up above
Get well cards shouldn’t have Hello Kitty on front
A last wish shouldn’t be for a Happy Meal
When they remove her lifeless body from this hospital room
They shouldn’t need to prepare it for another sick boy or girl
They shouldn’t need to make caskets only four feet long
Easily carried by just two men
Funeral parlors shouldn’t be crowded with the grade school staff
And a roomful of crying children
For the "One Silver Tear Free Poetry Contest". Written and posted on 7/23/2012.