Long Toots Poems
Long Toots Poems. Below are the most popular long Toots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Toots poems by poem length and keyword.
I saw you standing by tree holding on to the leaves and folding your hands as the untold mystery with bare back and rocks walk through the wood looking for the man.
I stand aloof in the dark waiting for you to cross as the elephant cut through the tree leveling thick woods across the river, braking branches sweeping over dry grass while the minstrel with its fiery steps march towards the wood, beating drums and ringing bell to appease the devil in hell.
The clouds suddenly open wide spewing warm water from its side, filling up ditches and alley, back street and Corner Street and bursting up the leeves, such is the job of nature; you can walk with or embrace it.
I long for the day to come when I am no longer on the run. I will breathe fresh air and frolics on wet sand and ride the big waves on a sun drenched island. And early in the morning I will have continental breakfast on the balcony with my mysterious family. I will and screw the daylight out of the fool as it gathers the tools and raise you to another level of consciousness.
The wind is blowing lightly through the fields and I can feel your heart catering to my needs, reality is just seeping in and the lights are growing dim. At noon the sun raises its voice in the sweltering heat sending rockets through the sky and landing on thin air. I can see you over the horizons briefing strong men and women of velour with daisy and buttercup and forget me not and the lotus staring at the age old cactus.
Good deeds cannot be forgotten and some stories cannot be told the sweltering heat is rising from the east and the passage is opening into the deep. The mud is gathering in the trench and lions are thrown out of the den, their Jaws and teeth are broken and their hands and feet are severed. They cannot harm you again and they can never disturb your family or your friends. The water is receding and secret is revealing, I will see you next evening.
When you come to the door walk slowly beneath the wind and listen carefully to the bangs, the rustles, the hoots and the toots and take off your shoes, choose your words carefully balance your mind and you will find the harmony in you.
Jampa further than Paris
green enters the houses
Otherwise Miami needs
Jampa needs not say
love me, mi ami
PS Miami is similar to me ame , mi ami (love me) in portuguese,
it has the same sound... Paris is known as green city, Jampa
is further than green,,, JAMPA is the lovely name od JOÂO PESSOA
capital of the state of Paraiba Brasil.
https://youtu.be/Ra8IbQ7-vcc
Sivuca album, dead music maker born on the state pf Paraiba
in a towm called Itabaiana close to my town João Pessoa...
he lived in the USA played with Toots Tilerman, Paul Simon and so on...
Gere a complete album with his songs in portuguese.
Students Shaky Sing-A-Long
***A bolted school bus amidst bobbing heads rolls downhill...
Fictitious dank bathroom basin bailing;
a mother's kiss and general list spelled.
That rickety school bus horn toots, trailing;
wide-eyed, groomed hair, texts deftly being held.
Screeched wheels, a slid-back hatch exposed wider;
scrambled soles win middle-bus-seating.
Too raw being back-of-the-bus rider;
skilled to be by kids up front eating.
The why's of school bus seatbeltless renown,
At curves, we skim, hands intently about;
all bumps we drift upwards plus swiftly down--
and stops, reeling forwards midst racked arms out.
Youth strums some ukelele from the back.
High schoolers commenced a sung melody,
immature head's turn, to a lull they lack;
savoring quite calm, grown in harmony.
We have reached midst raised spirits set to spark,
as choruses end, volumes collected;
concurring lives equipped to disembark,
ere consigned bell chimes--such is--expected.
A conducive school day has now begun...
while active minds, smartly stretched that wellspring.
School's demanding bus, stops, scored some rerun;
slid-door, as swimming brain cell's minds to sing.
~~ a ukelele freed from its case prepares to board...
2020 June 29
*1st Place*
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(2) any theme any form
~~Brian Strand
I Am: Hello guys it’s an honor, fellows
Moe: HELLO!
Larry: HELLO!
Curly: HELLO!
The Three Stooges: HELLOS!
I Am: You’re known as half-wits, birdbrains, knuckleheads,
Curly, you’re known as Porky pine, right?
As a little girl I never appreciated rough-housing humor.
Moe a mean man and you weren’t very bright
I did adore Curly with sisterly affection.
Curly: You ain’t half bad yourself toots! With my reclamation
Moe: Remind me to kill you later, hmm, maybe strangulation
Curly: OK, I’ll make a note of it! Can’t make me worry
Larry: Stick up for yourself Curly!
Moe: Yeah, what do you have to say?
Curly: Well, I oughta—tell ya another day
Moe: You oughta what? Have some finess
Curly: I oughta mind my own business
Moe: That’s better! Porky Pine
I Am: Moe, would you take another question of mine?
Moe: Yeah, make it snappy,
Larry: Moe’s always been too slap happy
I AM: Were you at one time called Ted Healy’s Racketeers?
Moe: The Southern Gent’s, knucklehead! Like the Three Musketeers
I Am: Your genres are farce, slapstick, musical comedy
Curly is the schlemiel—stupid, childish, and clumsy.
Larry is the schlimazel because he's not quite as stupid
but still ends up unlucky with cupid.
Moe, are you the aggressive and short-tempered leader of you three?
Curly: Why coitainly
Moe: The lady, you imbecile, is talking to me,
Curly: Hey, I resemble that remark!
Curly: Hey Moe, I can’t see! I can’t see!
Moe: Why’s that? Is it too dark?
Curly: ‘Cuz I have my eyes closed!
Moe: Wait’ll I punch you in the nose!
I Am: My best Three Stooges episodes were—Brideless Groom,
Disorder in the Court, Malice in the Palace, Sing a Song of Six Pants,
and Heavenly Daze
Larry: That’s five. Miss I Am are you in a haze?
Moe: Yeah Genius!
I Am: Thank you for your calculation, I quess
I Am: Do any one of you have a real job anywhere?
Curly: Why coitainly, I just got a job in a bakery
Moe: You never told me that numskull. What do you do there?
Curly: I’m a loafer!
Larry: That’s not surprising, and tell her you were a chauffer
I Am: Goodnight “Three Stooges” Love and Luck
Curly: Asta! NYUK! NYUK! NYUK!
The b ba baaa backbeat of backup beeps
and the engine rroarrrrs
join the whizz of rubber wheels
and the lingering laughter of lovers
at the intersection
The beep-beep tootelie-toots
of arriving transit buses
tickles the funny-bone of morning
waking somnambulant walkers
who dot the sidewalk below my perch,
even the slap of skate-boards
and the clinking tweeter od metal shopping carts
makes music…
Each raucous sound rattles
the single-paned windows of clap-board relics
pinging off plaster, vibrating through ancient oak floors
coming home to roost in the mingled fragrance
of brownies and mary jane.
(A throw-back piece, a breakup poem from high school)
What a lonely, peculiar, eccentric figure I must be. A girl, in a garden, crying at an iPad, in the dark.
Earlier, at school...
It was a clear spelling out, like steel cuts thru fruit.
As he spoke, he looked down and away, his gorgeous face blank and indifferent, as if I were wasting his time or he was talking to a child needing an obvious truth taught quickly.
When he finally looked back at me, I saw no pity in his impersonal, hazel eyes.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I needed time to contemplate the universe's new laws.
Can a girl just suddenly die of heartache?? because I was sure my heart had stopped, locked and frozen.
Finally, I gasped in this impossible new air—the force of it made me hold the cold-iron stair railing—the game is rough.
He's so—male—all chase and careless passion—intelligent teaser, a skilled steersman of excited climates... Oh, you simply have no idea.
And now he was, gone—still there physically—but gone to me—as if he'd transformed into a hologram or had begun to orbit some other sun, he just...
"You made me feel special." I said.
I had lost my balance on this faithless and unequal world, where heaven so cruelly punishes desires.
"You made me feel I mattered, such a favor." I said, absentmindedly, as I turned, and went back up the three steps into school.
I don't think I looked back at him as the door closed. After all, he wasn't there anymore.
I think he called my name, like a question...
.
.
Song for this:
Still Is Still Moving to Me (with Willie Nelson) by Toots & The Maytals
Helpless by The Cleaners From Venus
It seems that daddy loses ground
when that old Santa comes around
For with his smile and apple cheeks
caught by the glimpse of one who peeks
Excitement roars its fluffy head
as kiddies must lay down to bed
With thoughts of jolly beards and boots
a doll that cries, a’train that toots
For wondrous are the mysteries
awaiting ‘neath the Christmas trees
And how can daddy then compete
with ” Ho, Ho, Ho’s “.about to greet
A busy man must Santa be
a world of children he must see
Despite his reindeer flight so swift
much needed help is such a gift
At least until a certain age
when kiddies turn a certain page
On Christmas Eve they can’t connect
that daddy is the prime suspect!
Grandpa the Master Magician
Grandpa was old and creaked
like a well-worn floorboard
but he always carried a smile with him
which generally won the day or the situation.
He had just spent time with his two grandchildren
which had added fun to his morning’s recipe.
They saw Grandpa as this master magician
capable of producing an egg from either nostril
..…. boiled or not.
An eggcellent start to any day!!
Later, on an icicle of an afternoon
and confronted by a presumptuous wind
which blew him around street corners;
he found himself happily chasing his youth.
Newspaper and chocolate treat acquired
he set off for the finishing line of home.
He noted that the traffic lights were changing to red!
So, although not at the proper crossing, his GPS
i.e. Grandpa’s Priority Selector
was saying…GO! GO! GO!
However so was a fast-approaching Fiat 500!
Grandpa felt validated by time and experience so..
he sailed forth but time and his knees didn’t agree.
His legs instead of speeding up, started slowing down
which was the exact opposite of the flying Fiat,
driven ruthlessly by a manic-panicked driver
who exaggerated a swerve around Grandpa
with arms orchestrating her extremely annoyed thoughts.
Grandpa tottered on oblivious to the orchestrations.
He felt composed being lean, leathery and learned
as opposed to the driver’s ill-fed, ill-bred, ill-mannered approach.
However Grandpa, the master magician, wasn’t to be thwarted
so as his feet touched pavement, his hand touched cap,
then his winning smile and a flicked wave of politeness.
The driver just continued with her orchestration of
Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C Minor
while mouthing, “Is your brain on holiday!”
However life was to offer Granpa a final judgement
for as the traffic lights winked from red to green
our driver was still in a boil of botheration until…
a honk of reprimand from behind grabbed her attention.
Frustrated she tried to floor the accelerator pedal
but only succeeded in stalling the engine.
The horn hoots and toots began queuing up
until the Fiat 500 burnt rubber and swivel-hipped away.
Grandpa’s face showed not a flicker of amusement
but he allowed his bones to enjoy the moment -
particularly the funny one!
Then the wind giggled up, clapped him on the back
and then kindly blew him gently home!
I heard the echoes of each gassy squeak
Held my breath when I sniffed his stinky leak
He let out a few more
So I ran for the door
Before his toots made the entire room reek
Others came out, while pinching their noses
His flatulence poured out like fire hoses
Oh, what a horrid smell
Worse than rotten egg shell
And can't be cloaked by the scent of roses
Woe to the innocent who are around
When his odiferous vapors abound
Just get ready to run
When the son of a gun
Cuts one loose with a squeaky little sound
September 24, 2021
Fart-Tastic Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
******************
Ruffians badger and bother the rest of the world, without care.
I see them coming with their mean attitude and try not to stare.
I wonder who has hurt them so badly, that they want to hurt others.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
They don't always dress the part, sometimes they wear business suits.
Sit in their offices eating elaborately rich foods that causes their toots.
Pick on their employees and they are nasty as heck to their brothers.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
Ruffians bully themselves into the best seats on a bus and a plane.
They are braggadocio and boastful, and to others, a huge pain.
I would rather not sit anywhere near one, if I had my druthers.
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?
Ruffians wear suits that make them look like sweet little old ladies.
They sit in the subway car and they yell out to the Mrs. O’Gradies.
Are loud and obnoxious; Could they be fixed with a few smothers?
Did they have a horrible childhood?
Can we blame it all on their mothers?