Long Tinny Poems
Long Tinny Poems. Below are the most popular long Tinny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tinny poems by poem length and keyword.
I reckon I've seen about everything in my nigh four-score years.
Obnoxious teens, obnoxious elders and unpleasant Wall-Mart cashiers,
And those baggy pants with the crotch nearly reaching to the knees,
But folks with a cell phone in their ear compare to none of these!
Some people sport spiked hair dyed orange, red or green.
Others with rings piercing their lips - a weird sight to be seen!
Gorgeous ladies flaunt tacky tattoos that seem mighty *****.
Plus all of that, they have a cell phone glued to the ear!
Vexatious ringtones on some cellular phones cause me to cringe,
'Specially if in a fine bistro or church my serenity they impinge!
The "William Tell Overture" in a concert is mighty fine to hear,
But please spare me that tinny tune from the cell phone in your ear!
Some use their cell phones while driving - to all others oblivious,
Never minding that such inattention could be very injurious!
Seems to me 'twould be tricky trying to concentrate and steer,
With that consarned cellular phone sticking in the ear!
Cell phones are an improvement in communications, I suppose,
With their music, cameras, computers and a dial that glows.
But, alas, for future generations I often wonder and fear:
Will babes be born with a cell phone protruding from the ear?
Entry for Simon Rogerson's "Let's Explore Digital Technology" Contest
(13 Feb 22)
#Im_being_led
Invisible chains on my body, shackling my abilities.They said "we are molding you, crafting you, to our own like".They "said I wasn't refined enough".
They straining and enforcsing their culture into my system, was them directing my paths, mind and physic. I'm led into the great unknown to me, blindfolded, fear crippling my fragility, ravished out of my comfort zone, being refined to enforce their ethics and noms, to salvage my life and those unknown to me.
This dark world of wickedness and evil, hissing my name, waiting in the pitch black darkness, busy loading and sharpening their sharp weapons.
My spirit uprightened, accompanied by spiritual warriors, pushing me upfront: "we are behind you", they said. Fear "nothing for we are fearless ourselves", dragging with weariness, my tinny body. Sensation of courage overwhelming my spirit, forth I pierce, through dark thick and thin,
I'm escorted, by those whose greatness surpasses space and time.
#Poetic_Ink
#One_on_one_with_my_father
Expectations and reactions fusses my here and now mental and emotional state, like two giants bloating my tinny inner self, the fighting is real, pity I was never taught how to react. I try to control myself, so to not display the anger and excitement concoction brewing inside me
But my eyes chose to leak, these are not tears but years of trapped reactions for a father figure and now my body catches tremors from inside and now all my body trembles. I don't know what to say and how, words too fears to part my mind, I try to hold back my tears. I hum the pain of years void and lacking
All that comes out is" I forgive you and grateful that God permitted this moment". Maybe I'm too weak for the man body, I carry but I think I'm too human than a man. In this moment I live, feeling numb part of heart coming to live, the void in my brain filled, I think I have met my remake, a chance to say Tate(what I call him) and be responded back, a chance to have this close range , even to shake hands , I'm now complete as son and man to this world,
A one on one with my father, one with reality, one with hope, one with oneness, at last like others I have finally met wholeness, a rarity in every black child's life, wonder if indeed wishes are granted when the creator permits. This is a one on one , my own, one on one with my father
#Poetic_Ink
Infused with newness, available script ushers me in
Eyes peeled with anticipation for next discoverings
Last easy bend of cane growing country road owns
Entry to rewound time, fibro cement rows of homes
Palm sprinkled, speed decelerates in sleepy streets
Alluring new place charisma, adventure incomplete
Faintly reminiscent of brisk Christmas road trip visit
First time river glimpse brings excitement exquisite
Quaint little town, family pub, caravan park opposite
Mere steps reveal mangrove muddy boat ramp slip
Tinny two horse standard, - biminis seen as high brow
Fishing rods' supple hope supports mates' bonding, tribal
Murk of shallows turn sparkle, close island destinations
Brown armed boaties lower crates to catch crustaceans
Wander past real estate branch (sole agent for miles)
Owner opens door, pulls me in, I admit I'm beguiled
Offers me a place to rent, sixteen steps away, got key
Forty minutes later, I'm signing papers, - it had to be!!
Two years in paradise passed, an idyllic place to dwell
Worked in the big smoke, drove home to Jacobs Well
15th August
' Sanctuary' Contest
Sponsor, Silent One
The bucket sits idle
catching the dripping of dreams
discoloring as they evaporate.
Their tenuous connection to time
now but an echo in the bucket.
The bucket has never held
any maudlin mystery
as age has just ticked me off.
I still use it to carry minnows
to the kayak and go fishing,
it also come in handy
when tossing rock salt
on an iced over driveway.
I sometimes sit - reminiscing
perusing the contents of my buckets
successes, failures, wins, losSes.
I dance with the memories
of my children's childhoods
lessons learned and now
visited on my grandchildren.
Lately, the bucket echoes
a tinny emptiness
as dreams succumb
to the sad reality
of unfulfilled buckets.
11/23/2020
What Have You Kicked Off Your Bucket List - Poetry Contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke - sponsor
Dog Tags
By David J Walker
My Dog-tags remain
chained
Still hanging
On a hook inside my
Closet door
For years now
The same
Except for the occasions that
Remind me of why I
Wore them
And
Why I still keep them
With my
Last name first
First name last
Middle initial
Service number
Blood type
And religion
Everything one needs to
Know
To get me back home
The tinny tinkling
Sound
Of them around my
Neck
As I walk
The P-38 C-Rations
Can opener that every
Experienced soldier regarded as
Essential
Well
My Dog-tags were
Essential
For three years
And thereafter only on
Special occasions that I needed to
Feel them clanking between my
Shirt and skin
Before then
From my middle years
I could only
remember
And remember
And remember
For so many years
The memories
Would not stop
Would not fade
Would not go away
As each would invade
My every day
Every day
Every day
But the
Abacus
Keeps count
as the days turn into
Years
And
A metamorphosis occurs
Perspective
Has not made me necessarily
wise
Though perhaps
Gracious and
thoughtful
when I finally realize
the enemy wore
dog tags too
And now
As I am old
I can hold them
we can be friends
the kind that
after many years
finds reasons to
laugh again
so
It’s ok with me
If my Dog-tags rest
Upon my chest
and
They may be helpful to
Explain
Who I was
As I’m taken back home
Again
The only problem I find with you
as other people apart from not only
just me
Which has been brought up and mentioned
once or twice before
Is that you seldom seem to able to know
where to draw the line
Because you seem to do it for kick's and
revel in the thrill of it
And when you sense the taste of blood
You go in for the kill and tear your
prey apart into tinny fragment pieces
And it always culminates when you are done
with you licking your lips for fun and
garnering as much pleasure from the
final outcome as you can get
And you never seem to regret or wish to seek
forgiveness for however much harm or
damage you cause
And It simply doesn't bother you in the slightest
the fact that all they did was get in your
way or firing line when you were having a bad
or off days
And asking you stop take into account
or consider other people's feelings
Would be just like waving a red cloth in
front of a bill and not expecting subsequent
wrath to follow
When I was young and a child
growing up in Discovery , Florida
South Africa
1 of the few limited thing's we actually
had or could do was go the Drive-Inn
There was Veldskoen , Hilfox , 5-Star
and Top-Star
But that's besides the point it's the
memory of the experience that keeps
coming back to me
Of the magic on a summer's night from
start to finish how it was to go
Driving up in a car passing through the
entrance buying a ticket for whatever
2 movie's we're on show
Then driving in and finding and choosing
the best place to park up
Position the car open the window turn
the volume up and hang the speaker on it
Down the front there was a Kiosk where
you could buy snacks like popcorn hotdogs
burgers and sweet's
Then it was back to the car get as comfy
as possible and wait for the 1st movie
to begin
Not just the mere fact of watching a
movie but a total fantastical experience
Unfortunately now like so many other
thing's in life from when I was young
have gone
They only sadly exist as fading memories
inside my head
I can only tell you 1 thing boy it was great
and I could try to explain as best I could
But it would never come close to the
real thing actually being there and
experiencing it for yourself
Matter's not what the actual movie was
the tinny barely audible sound or visual
quality
Fades into total insignificance whilst
sat outside on a balmy summer night
Having the very best time of your life
at that very moment
You natively never thought could possibly
come to an end
But it did and is now a shopping mall where
the only thing that is left
Is the Drive-Inn Screen as a parting reminder
God Save the King! So echoed round
the village halls, the pubs, the streets
the day our Charlie Prince was crowned.
Homes decked with bunting, cake, and treats.
We celebrated with a rave,
or knees-up, as my grandma said;
with piped music via short-wave.
At two pm, it went ahead.
They closed the street the coppers did.
Then out came tables, plates, and chairs
lace runners, doilies, too, amid
assorted china tablewares.
The caravans and four-by-fours
were parked elsewhere to clear the way,
they even shut the local stores
and closed the schools, hip hip, hooray!
Outside of number seventeen,
twixt the sausage rolls and jelly,
rested a crocheted King and Queen
removed from atop the telly.
Not to be beat, at twenty-two,
they placed a lifesize photo out;
which overlooked the cheese fondue,
soused herrings, and some sauerkraut.
Betty and May sang old-time songs
atop a shaky stage, arrayed
with bunting; made from their spare thongs;
while Ruth, the ukelele, played.
The Aussies were there, well, on screen.
Bobby, Kenny, and Aunt Maud too
to toast the King and mourn the Queen
with tea (and a tinny or two!)
Simon and Peter went all out,
made a spread called L G B tea;
with brightly coloured cakes throughout.
Open to all, as it should be!
Douglas and Rex from forty-eight
sat with Lil as she won her prize;
for the most original plate,
coronation jerk shrimp surprise.
Prizes too for best-dressed table,
front door, and garden gate, won by
Teddy, Fred, and Aunty Mable;
all well-deserved, we can't deny.
Captain Brett (self -titled we think)
gave a roaring one-gun salute
sporting a coat of dazzling pink
over his Royal Navy suit.
Thalis, made by Shrimati Nath,
were such a delicious hit they
caused a queue up her garden path.
(They paired well with Andre's Cabernet.)
We kids, long past our sugar high,
so full of cake, shrimp, nans, and stuff,
were told to say a quick goodbye;
we'd been awake quite long enough.
As the sun set on our nation,
Old Fionn Byrne began to sing,
a joyful amalgamation;
Danny Boy and God Save the King!
ordinary average witch spells usually backfired on Winny Woo
She loaded her cauldron like other witches always do
But if anything can go wrong, it does for poor Winny
Then she’s out of ingredients, said her cousin Tinny
Tinny delights in Winny’s sorry escapades and mishaps
She is not a great relative, these mistakes she even graphs
The rest of the relatives love it when Winny messes up
gives them fodder to laugh about when they get together to sup
today Winny was trying to get a ghoul to come forth from her pot
Tinny will soon be delighted to tell us that a highland bull is what she got
Winny’s frustrations delight her mean cousin, Tinny, who is not so nice.
It gets better said Tinny; Winny got a highland bull twice!