Long Sweepstakes Poems
Long Sweepstakes Poems. Below are the most popular long Sweepstakes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sweepstakes poems by poem length and keyword.
Seashore Sweepstakes
northwest rocky beaches
waves disguise cache of prizes ~
jellyfish parade
Clams and Gooey Ducks
hide in sandy blanket homes ~
no taste for chowder
hold your breath then dive
Abalone glued on rocks ~
opal sheen of shells
clusters deep purple
swinging from rocks of fool’s gold ~
Muscles hold strong
always on the move
Hermit Crabs – house on their backs ~
looks for vacancies
Oysters together
bedded down with family ~
maybe hiding pearls
Limpets with strong foot
clings to rocks and to fingers ~
teal and turquoise hats
trophies from tide pools
lucky tickets under stones ~
beach shore lotteries
Nopalero = one who deals with/sells nopales [edible prickly pear cactus leafs/pads]
Aiiiii, Jimmy --
what shall we say, now that you've gone,
worst fear realized: your body discovered,
days later, in your filthy Mexican rooms,
amid the soiled paper littering the floors,
reeking of cat urine and layer upon layer
of dried and fresher feces. These feral cats
were your most faithful companions.
You thought yourself their benefactor and,
perhaps, their savior. We were told that,
after your demise, when the door opened,
all 21 fled, never to return.
You left us, unbathed, smelly, shunned,
just weeks before your birthday,
having almost (but not quite) suffered
through 80 years, the last 30 spent in
bordertown Mexico. You, daily, crossed
the bridge to claim your mail -- which (for a fee)
promised to guarantee you would be a winner
of lotteries, sweepstakes, miraculous windfalls.
You subsisted on senior coffees at McD's,
and your pitiful government assistance.
You blamed your life on abuse by brothers
(all dead long before you) and you could not
understand why richer acquaintances --
virtually everyone -- were unwilling
to share with you their bounty.
In the plazas, you were a familiar sight,
selling whatever you could: you were
"el viejo gringo," "el Jimmy," "el nopalero,"
and other less generous but, perhaps, appropriate
"apodos". You knew animals, had some expertise
with birds. Your chief preoccupation was
yourself, and your main complaint was
that you never got your just deserts.
No one deserves to end as you did -- unclaimed,
a foreign body, interred in Mexico
in an unmarked pauper's grave:
a "fosa comun." You only wanted to be loved.
RIP my friend; I did not mean to be unkind.
James Milford Pierson, 27 February 1934 - 2 February 2014.
Spring, Summer, and Autumn are Her rival,
but they all pale to Winter's arrival.
She is less subtle than the other three,
so shelter's a matter of survival.
Jack Frost is tethered to Her every whim
and She enjoys exclusive use of him.
She's fond of the art that He chisels on
windowpanes, though frost is but a prelim.
Winter's an artist; freezing flakes of snow,
She sculpts an iceberg archipelago.
She is a master of frozen beauty,
and a heartless generalissimo.
I saw a few tumbling snowflakes today,
harbingers of many more on their way.
For it's getting below freezing outside,
and the children have gone inside to play.
Suddenly, the sky is feathered with flakes
of confetti; Winter won the sweepstakes.
And when Her season becomes official,
She'll rule over all lands, rivers, and lakes.
(Rubaiyat)
Nov. 16, 2018
If I were a fly on the wall at a DNA office,
I’d see one mama budgeting child support for two maybes,
hoping the high-earner wins the paternity sweepstakes.
A grown man doing a victory dance he practiced in the car,
while another looks stunned like the swab repossessed his last hope.
A grandma wiping tears of joy because her real grandbaby finally found her.
A whole couple discovering they’re cousins and breaking up mid-hug.
Three siblings realizing the middle one belongs to nobody in the room.
Just a fly dodging swats while families get swabbed,
watching bloodlines flip faster than reality TV plot twists.
I look around at all the stuff
I’ve purchased or created
To fill my home; it’s quite enough
That I’ve accumulated.
My husband lets my choices rule,
Especially my quilt work,
For he would have to be a fool
To share if some critiques lurk.
I never used to think about
Where all of it will go when
I’m gone, because, without a doubt,
There’s no way I will know then.
My children will not give a hoot
About my works of stitching.
My efforts they will not dispute,
Though that won’t stop them ditching
The pillows, hangings, tchotchkes, art,
Plus photo books and keepsakes;
All these tucked inside my heart
Will win the dumpster sweepstakes.
Since I will not observe it, there
Will be no tears or clashes,
But in my mind, it isn’t fair
To turn my stuff to ashes.
I received a letter from Toronto,Canada...
stating that I had won the De-Lotto North
American Sweepstakes in the amount
of $ 150,000.00 US dollars! Oh, I went bananas!
So I called the office line with much surprise:
1-416-939-8265 and a gentlman,
with an accent, answered the phone;
I asked him if the winning was real,
and he replied," Of course it is! "
I thought to myself, " It sounds like a scam! '
This morning, my bank returned
the forfeit check to me,
with a return fee of ten dollars;
and I was furious and mad
to have fallen for that scam!
But the good news is:
they didn't get any of the money,
the tax amount of $2,850!
Cringe your teeth,
you miserable thieves:
you are being exposed
by someone who's fearless and outraged!
Today, I have sent an e-mail
to the fakecheck.org in Albany,
telling them about the scam letter...
alerting the other would-be-victims anywhere,
so they don't go singing to their bank;
I hate to see them cheated out of their money!
These unscrupulous people, stealing your identity,
should be persecuted to the full exent of the Law,
and when they're caught, I like to be in the judy's row:
I'll stare at their deceitful faces and read the verdict loudly!
Mr. Greg Peters And Brian McDonald,
whether your names are real...
and wherever you are right now:
remember, you can defraud others...not me!
Style Blending By
Meatus and The Lady
Dizzy Giggy Gotta
Leading Lady
Wriiten by
Gents and His Lady
------------------------------
More than a dayplayer
you're something special
really someone special
you mean the world to me
my photodouble
you're there on the double
you mean the world
to me
remember our first kiss
the supporting actress
I go to you
each and every time
if you were the understudy
I say yeah but
she love's me
I'll help her with each and every line
the auditions
are a piece of cake
be there for
your sake
the director is
a friend of mine
aint no call back
you got it Baby
the leading lady
it's your turn to shine
gotcha on the walk away
lunch is on me
wear some thing fancy
I'll wear some thing
to show us together
we'll have breakfast in the morning
we'll arrive before the call time
The leading lady
My leading Lady
that aint so crazy
Be my Valentine
Sunday Feburay 14, 2044
Hollywood Cali.
On the set of the film
Big Brunches or
"19 years ago today"
a Gerne Won Production
available for purchase from various retailers
archived,directly from Movie Source LLC
production company
Writers and Publication Companies.
"Sweepstakes" the film production
is a chance venture promotion
with you in mind.
A promotional Activity where prizes are Awarded
to winners chosen by chance.
"Eligibility" performed by The Relevé Orchestra
Big Sounds LLC
Swang and Giggle Music Company
Gents and His Ladies used with permission by
Slurp and Sizzle-Song by Design
of Muss-be Music LLC.
Numba Won and Genre Won
of Passant Music Group
ofJive stone Album Company
Rolla Rocks Grooves and Uptempo
by Sooth Smooth Music INC>
I don’t think your happy
I don’t mind you so much
Do you lose your laughter often
And even my conscience softens
And I don’t need you so much
Days dreams across Okalahoma
Sweepstakes, hopes, to many wishes
Don’t you ever, mind your business
No Cinderella stories
Door to door and right before me
And this won’t last much longer
A west coast love, romances of a loner
And I don’t need you so much
I don’t think you’re happy
And I don’t mind you so much
Day dreams in Okalahoma
Tuesday lies
Wednesday, you never left me
A missing tide
The message your anger left me
And where were you
Reasons you left unto
No one ever leaves you darling
Someone left her nights in Harlem
And I can’t choose
Life or muse
Me or you
The things that I don’t do
"May, June, someday soon"
Bloody leftist a wrist tuck crat!
Fingers of left hand cried freedom,
detached themselves and declared
mutiny gesticulating thumb thing
awful, than furiously haughtily
prancing, skittering, zipping,...
as self important independent digits
indiscriminately deleting one after
another email, mine eyes gleaned
subject pertaining to boldface all
CAPITALIZED notification urging,
indicating, beckoning... immediate
reply regarding... yours truly... huh
me (Matthew Scott Harris) arbitrarily
designated lucky random winner of
... some large dollar figure sporting
countless zeros left of decimal point,
I wept inconsolably intuitively aware
foregone irretrievable message haint
spam, but authentic bonafide one in
bajillion monetary sweepstakes drawing
impossible mission to recall subliminal
communique, and resorted to hypnosis
to jog mine memory and access lost data
which hoop fully convincingly explains
temporary absence, yea... understandable
skepticism induces furrowed brow, but
honest to dog Ott's well known selling
exotic plants also provide Asian mystical,
herbal, and celestial therapy, yet if unable
to successfully tweezer out valuable key
information locked within subconscious,
courtesy specially trained experts tending
rooted prized nuggets likening jewel heist
forager determined to plunder loot, the
mind will feel comfortably numb, which
allows, enables, and provides cathartic,
holistic, opportunistic... modus operandi
to accept permanently zapped chance of
lifetime to experience wealth (poof! gone
within a flash) instant karma at the least
managed to evoke fickle, nimble, and
worthwhile poet to build splendiferous
castles in the air.
Actors All
by Odin Roark
To fool
Or be fooled
Innate competition for
Life’s continuance sweepstakes
Real life’s honesty
Knows survival of the fittest
Relies on impression’s armament
One’s tightly woven costume of persuasion
Ever ready to defend strategy’s patience
Curtains rise
Settings come alive
Footlights’ massage
Spotlights’ invite
As staging presents
Seduction’s heroes and heroines
Intermission
The persuaders
And persuaded
Take respite
As presentation’s set-up and conflict
Prepares regroupings
Making ready the resolve
Closing curtain
Applause fades
Marquee goes temporarily dark
But just as the next opening
Opts to repeat tried and proven choices
Whether performer
Or audience
The art of persuasion
Continues to evolve
Gradually
Acting’s duality of purpose
Will fade-out separation’s proscenium arch
Opting to invite spectators on stage
Where applause and bows will become one
Where separate identity will cross over
Forging audience and players as one
Making the we/them question moot
Yes
The Bard was right
Actors all