Long Stan Poems
Long Stan Poems. Below are the most popular long Stan by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stan poems by poem length and keyword.
aging is a blessing,
of existent being...
where-in mind re-iterates,
repetitions that mark time...
as waves crashing,
upon some shore...
and seeing itself,
re-shaped by tides...
currents and weathers,
changing accordingly...
with respect constants,
that define the nature of time...
relatively speaking as a concept,
of ideas that illustrates reflections...
of the minds-concept itself,
as subject to it's own objectivity...
such that aging is growth,
of a 'sole' in a species...
of existent beings adapting,
according to defines of time...
constants that demand an order,
that is us perceiving ourselves perceiving...
accelerations relative a speed limit,
constant on the growth path...
of consciousness and belonging,
to a continuity that becomes clearer...
as the mind is subject to itself,
and not so much that outer world...
that is seemingly the change and cause,
where-as it is the mind that effects itself...
as being the very definition of relativity,
with respect the changes the eyes see...
stan sand
I’m a man I’m a man
I once was Jan but now I’m Stan*
I strut around posing and drink some beer
Use the gent’s toilets, now that sure feels *****
I must stand up now when I use the loo
‘Shake hands with shorty’ now that’s quite a coup
I don’t shave my legs, it’s now my chin
Got a beer gut now when once I was thin
When I go to work I wear a suit not a dress
Am not really bothered if my hair is a mess
Causal jeans show my ‘builders bum’
When I turn round you see my overhanging tum
I go out with my mates on a Friday night
Dance like a muppet – that’s quite a sight
Age old chat up lines – what a bore
Eye up the ladies oh I want to score
I truly can't envisage what its like to be male
I hope you enjoyed my tongue in cheek tale!
Jan Allison
5th May 2014
*reference to Stan comes from my poem written with Darren Watson called 'Our first meeting in the Isle of Man'
I saw Richard had placed 6th in the recent 'women only contest' so thought I would chance it too with this poem that was written for Gender Bender Contest sponsored by Richard Lamoureaux ~ Awarded 5th Place by Richard~ ~awarded 6th place by Kelly Deschler in the 'men only contest '... thank you for being a good sport Kelly!
Me – Irish catlick working class:
mantillas, martyrs, Maynooth, Mass.
You – a literal Lutheran lass,
all pretzels, prenups, Mama Cass.
It never could have ever worked:
those ambiguities that lurked
were knees that, one day, would have jerked,
and we’d have wound up Douglas Sirked.
Your Nancy Clutter beats my Holden
(less Marlon Brando, more Karl Malden).
The pond we’re on was never golden –
winter white-out wiped out Walden.
I would have wearied of your sermons,
short Sheridans and shallow Shermans,
your Sophie Tuckers, Ethel Mermans,
poe-faced Pennsylvania Germans.
Ignore the stranger on the shore,
by Stan and Stella set no store.
Don’t give a damn what Della wore,
or Mary Tyler any more.
For a month Laurie mulled and brooded,
even tried to think it wasn’t her fault,
if Stan had just told her the things he did
maybe she wouldn’t have left him at all,
but such thoughts were nothing but a stall.
The fault lay entirely on her end,
she’d failed to even try to comprehend.
But finally she summoned her courage
and went down to his small apartment,
she meant to explains the things she did,
but when he answered and she caught his scent
to his lips her own instantly went,
Stan was surprised, but her lust was strong,
so like most men, he just went along.
It wasn’t until after, lying in bed,
rhat the first tears came to her eyes,
He said nothing, just gently stroke her head,
didn’t have to ask what was on her mind,
After several long minutes she cried:
“I now understand why you were hurting,
But it’s too late, I screwed up everything.”
He tried to hug her close in his arms,
but she struggled, pulled herself away,
said,”I’ve tasted of other men’s charms,
and there is nothing that I can say,
what I’ve done deserves only your hate.
there’s no way to go back to what we were then,
for what I did, I can’t be forgiven.”
Stan struggled and said,”So tonight was just you
trying to give me a pleasant ‘so long?’
I don’t buy that, because if it were true,
you wouldn’t be feeling the pain this strong,
would not want forgiveness for your wrong.
You want to still love me, but don’t know how,
unsure if you’ll love the man I am now.”
The words struck her hard, and she stammered,
he just put a soft hand to her lips.
“There is no need to get so bothered,
I think that there’s a solution to this,
I have an idea and this is it:
If some love remains, come back tomorrow,
we’ll take this by the day, and see how it goes.”
Laurie didn’t think that this plan could work,
but she found herself each night coming back,
she didn’t know how he didn’t feel hurt
at the compassion she had lacked,
but every night they’d end up in the sack.
Before long she’d left her apartment,
in fact she never left Stan’s bed again.
Wasn’t long before they called the lawyers,
said they weren’t needed anymore,
Laurie looked back on what they were
and saw glimpses of what was in store,
taking on the demons they abhorred.
Stan wasn’t the same, that much was true,
but no longer was she a cowardly youth…
some may remember the
long past remainders of old
early twentieth century years
wars and depressions wracked
cultures to the ground and people
shared with poor hungry strangers
most workers were of a manual education
with poor language and academic skills that
reflected a whole society stressed for decades
now times are different rules and regulations
to preserve profitable new consumer social norms
and also the illusion that the early days are over.....
well - stress is still with us - so
canada's one dollar coin -loon symbol- brands it as the 'loonie' andt
the two dollar coin has morphed its name to be the 'twoonie' thus
walking into a store or paying a bill can be seen a loonie toon-ed adventure
stan sand
yessir life
really is just
a waiting accident
simply appreciate that
with all the genetic variations
and times and places possible for your birth
you got this one here and now so sit and create a right write cross
the page but take care that it not look like scribble off some 'any-which-way...
...goes scrabble board or
...it's all for naught
...and...this is an
...irreducable fraction
...time to write up : )
stan sand
There was a very special date,
Back in 1922 on December 28.
Upon this date a hero of heroes was born,
Into a world already torn.
For you see, the boy that was heaved into this place,
Soon would be known for his artistic grace.
He grew into the man from which Heroes spawned,
Getting father and son to bond.
He taught so many children to be men,
And met adversity with a big grin.
He taught the world crime doesn't pay,
That being kind and protective towards others was the only way.
He taught us good doesn't always finish last,
And that everyone has a past.
He taught us that "normal " isn't all its cracked up to be,
Often the most beautiful souls are the ones in disguise, you see.
And it wasn't just men that learned from him,
No, to some of us girls he was a real gem.
He taught us we didn't have to settle for bad guys,
We will never change him, but we so often try.
He taught us family sticks together,
And that the fate of our world can change with the weight of a feather.
He taught a lot of us how to be geeks,
And as I remember him fondly, color rushes to my cheeks.
What am I doing, he wouldn't want us to be sad,
He wanted people to be happy and glad.
To our Hero of Geek, I say goodbye--
Time for this hero to fly!
For Stan Lee!
I have attempted to capture my favorite major league baseball players in this little shape poem of home plate. Included are (in no particular order):
Say Hey Willie Mays Walter Johnson (Big Train)
Randy Johnson (The Big Unit) Babe Ruth (The Sultan Of Swat)
Tony Gwynn Jimmie Foxx
Ted Williams Maury Wills
Stan “The Man” Musial Johnny Bench
Ken Griffey Jr Greg Maddox
Henry Aaron Lou Gehrig
Roberto Clemente Ty Cobb
Satchell Paige Ernie Banks
Rickey Henderson Carl Yastrzemski (Yaz)
Trevor Hoffman Albert Pujols
Gibson (Bob and Josh) Honus Wagner
Rogers Hornsby Cal Ripken
Robinson (Jackie, Frank and Brooks)
Some favorites I had to leave out…
Christy Mathewson Warren Spahn
Sandy Koufax Tom Seaver
Mickey Mantle Rod Carew
Joe Morgan Ozzie Smith
Mariano Rivera Miguel Cabrera
Pedro Martinez Ichiro Suzuki
David Ortiz Jose Altuve
I’d love to see your faves mentioned in the comments section!
written 24 Aug 2020
Watching & waiting while in hiding
and faking
Views for the taking but unaware
what is waiting
Freezing & shaking but is it fear or
its weather?
Snapshots for the taking posing for
them cuz it's clever
Good best & better to shy away
from the faking
Shade is made by the sun but it's
above what it's making
Shaking what has been rooted
leaving behind hollow winds
Seeds will grow from your efforts
toward the sky lose or win
Unoriginal in sin as we have seen
this before
Jumping the broom of timelines
looking for knobs on the door
Turning in bed with a snore as if
you've slept through the test
Sleepy & lost in a dream snoozing
on good better best
Picture a snap at its best frozen
in moments of time
Painting a picture in jest with a
stoic face like a mime
Mimicking raps like a mime with
painted face like a canvas
The dry humor so wet that only
fish understand it
Above thee underhanded so keep
the slightest of hand
Close to the vest like a secret
ducking birds on their Stan
Peacock with a colorful stance
with truth outshining the lies
Your essence shines like the sun
& this is what is despised
Stan's evening by the telly were not how they used to be,
for after 6p.m it became hell,
not only were the engines of the boy racers too loud
their cars had huge sound systems in as well.
The 'boom boom' as they all cruised by made him and his dog cringe
the music was like nothing he had heard,
on top of all the bass beats when he did hear someone sing
he didn't understand a flippin' word.
One day old Stan had had enough and spent the funds he'd got
on the best sound system, there was nothing finer,
and installed it with his new speakers, both were a thousand watts
in the boot and back seat of his Morris Minor.
He drove to town and parked among the lads outside the pub
(no squealing tyres, he never drove that fast)
then turned up both his speakers, drowning out 'House beat' and 'Dub'
with 'A walk in the Black Forest' by James Last.
Before he'd played his repertoire right through until the end
the lads had all decided they would go,
though one of them, unknown to all his mates now did intend
to buy that last Album by Matt Monro.