Long Topsy Poems
Long Topsy Poems. Below are the most popular long Topsy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Topsy poems by poem length and keyword.
I am wretched, I am divine.
Dance the line that connects the two.
To know myself is to know you too.
Do the work then reflect it in actions
then sit in peace and dissect the fractions
to make them whole.
Pole to pole.
Make a gift of the love you stole
and give you more.
It wont be like before.
I have found a new direction,
a light inside to offer protection.
Self reflection, good thought and deed
to gently gather all that I need
and with practise and time,
strengthen this power line
to my infinite nature,
the great adventure, the love,
the still between the push and shove,
a righteous lightness of kindness and flow.
Free to go below
and not get caught in the undertow.
Not get bought or sold or trapped in glue,
down there where the light struggles to get through.
I'll hold a space for you.
We can share it.
My love for you makes it easy to bare it
and when sadness lingers and I cant see the sun
I'll put fingers on fingers and thumb to thumb
cultivate love for those who hate,
who steal the food from off my plate
that I might replace the food that they ate
and we will eat
until we are no longer
topsy turvy and driven by hunger,
hidden in anger not living in wonder.
Let this be that which sets me free for the giving
so that I can go on living this way,
giving it away
without the losing.
My cherished tomcat went missing
I sat at home in floods of tears
He’d been my devoted companion
I’d had him for so many long years
So I put up some missing cat posters
Around the village and in the papers
Has anyone seen my lost pussy…
I was shocked to learn of his capers!
My tomcat was known to be randy
Some weeks he would not return
He was seen with that queen named Sandy
Her advances my Tom would not spurn
I got phone calls from various places
To say Tom had been living with them
He had his paws firmly under the table
Grr he’s like so many unfaithful men
My Tom had a string of cat lovers
Or are they merely a lover of cats
Cos he loves to have his tummy tickled
He had boltholes in houses and flats
I discovered that he was a father
Many kittens had my pussy sired
with Topsy and Fluffy and Tiddles
Oh my pussy these kitties desired
I’ve given up hope of my Tom returning
and I’ve got rid of his blue feeding dish
He’s unfaithful and he no longer loves me
but you’re welcome to feed him some fish
If by chance my Tom deems to pay me a visit
By scouring high fences and walls
He’s off to the vet’s in a cat carrier case
Cos he’s going to be losing his balls!
Inspired by the title of the ‘Missing Tom’ Blog by Becca Teagan
07-25-17
I think we are all drummers –
of course, drum musicians know
that drumming is not just pounding
on the skins (well, vinyl these days) –
there is also, soulful brushwork, and
finessing of symbols...not everyone a crash;
drums breathe -- all parts -- from outer
shells to inner resonance; influenced
also by surface temperature, humidity
of the room, and the echos of their
wall enclosure or freedom – not so
different from the maker: our hearts
are echo-chambers...especially our
minds, the garbage in the garbage out –
we echo love or the discourse of the
environment – we are beat spirited
rhythms, shuffles and stomps of feet –
tasteful entrees and all that a desire
can eat – seeming devils at times,
that only our surrender to God can
defeat – Yes! God is a drummer: no
moving instrument of being without
its core sound – a universe of timpani,
some quite square, but really, all is
round – the universe a lively Topsy,
a swing and a shout – we leap and
twirl in time – knowing time, not
gravity, keeps us down, shuts us
in, or keep us up and highly
out. Even at my age, more apt
to honestly, sweat-fully gig, than play
under any, pretentious, perfumed
wig.
CONTRI and DISTRI
Someone somewhere decided English
needed to be changed.
As usual with our copy-cat world, so dire
an unthinking band wagon has spread as
a forest fire.
An academic,typically verbose, wrote
'why use one when two' could sound
more up-to-date and new!
Thus the 'double prefix' was conceived
and sadly like a Topsy grew.
Contri and Distri have wrongly become
the norm and vernacular pronunciation
overcoming like a desert storm.
English does indeed each day live
and breathe ... BUT..
one thought with you I leave..
a double pre-fix cannot be ..
ignorance is not bliss..you see?
NOTE CON & DIS are prefixes to, for example English words like TRIBUTE.'Contri and Distri' are not prefixes to any known English word, they are 'madhatter syllabic nonsense' straight our of Alice in Wonderland.
You may hear me recite most of my PS poetry on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
Wakey, wakey, shakey, shakey, earth is quakey, quicky, quicky, git up head down feet up turn round, then do the hokey pokey and you turn yourself around, then turn your inside out -- Far Out!
Shakey, shakey, wakey, wakey, bakey, bakey, shake and bakey. Lakey lady lava cover, spilling over pithy pity.
Lady lava Lava Lady is Liquid Dating, with backyard barbeques getting her dance card filled up down at the Jam Bury your town hold down slow glow from no-town favorites, Let Us Nights end in pits, singing "On and On." See her glowing revues.
Come 'on 'ear duh noize, gurlz rock' 'em boize, make sure you use the real McCoys, oh, whoa, yeah, yeah--NOIZE!
You know they come in threes, you can feel it in the breeze, you see coconut fall off the trees, oh, whoa, yeah, yeah.
Quakey wakey mighty tidy, surf you jerks, the waves are crazy, topsy turvy--move away curvey. Itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny-bikini'--OOPS (pass your bedtime)
Sleepy slumber stumbles
Gloomy gazing grumble
Telling touchy tumble
Heaving heartbeat heavy
Trailing topsy-turvy
Limping lowly lousy
Dreamtime drowsy dancing
Inner impulse inching
Bedtime bounty breezing
Loiter little lazy
Bravely blooming bluntly
Corner coming crazy
Somnolence signs siesta
Appealing agenda
Floating funny fiesta
Slipping sliding sleepy
Eyeballs easing easy
Diving distance dreamy
Fleeting floating feeling
Lost last light lingering
Seeking sound slumbering
Snoozing snoring slumber
Siesta swiftly stammers
Blurry bearing bumper
Leon Enriquez
14 December 2014
Singapore
Imagine a topsy turvy upset
Where humans were pets
President Jack Russell in talks
With terriers from york
Debating about pest control
Keeping humans in control
Women kept for breading and tame
Men kept for hunting and games
Imagine the chaos if dogs ruled
Who'd stop them being cruel
Locking humans in the garden
Barking and beating hard men
Would they prepare the food?
And clean up the poop?
Would dogs walk on two legs?
And humans use all four instead?
Defining humans into pedigrees
A caged human? Set it free
Lassie would be a heart throb
Wellards the highest payed dog
Workin for the BBC company
Barking beyond companionity
Bathrooms wouldn't be invented
Forests for public conveniences
Politics would still be as bad
Even Jack Russells barking mad
Arguing about the price of meat
From butcher dogs superleads
The largest franchise dog bone
Lots of treats to take home
Second place home barkings
Where they get pets bargains
German shepherds policing the street
As the other breeds are too weak
If the topsy turvy world was true
Not differ much from our rule
I think it would be less confusing
As the dogs life is more amusing
The howling winds of March
Furious gusts of air
mightily blow bestirring anchored poet
sitting comfortably numb
securely strapped in his hard to maneuver
easy bath chair
while all around him debris
strewn helter skelter everywhere
heavy objects unmoored
pirouetting topsy turvy
defying laws of physics
cue Adam Smith
courtesy his invisible hand
eulogizing, kickstarting, and regulating
unseen cogs and gear
in order to avoid being plucked up
analogous to whirling dervish
ye dear reader best don
top of the line name brand ironware
to fend off soundcloud
analogous to webbed
whirled wide rooky banshee
hounding kingly bishopric
inducing royal knightmare
whereat pawns called play
as damage control representatives
ultimately linkedin to medicare
for bodily harm suffered
and property destruction
doled out courtesy Nationwide Insurance,
nevertheless yours truly
experienced heightened anxiety
cuz I accidentally, casually, easily,
et cetera eavesdropped,
though a polite gentleman (boot no scholar)
loud talking policyholder
anyone could easily overhear
their strident vocalizations
and they owned chutzpah to *****
re: me for listening to conversation
threatening with abominable language to scare
living daylights, which nearly caused
writer of these words
to soil his underwear
such vociferous threats
wrought quick thinking defense posture,
whereby my ordinary shy demeanor
empowered after downing
powder milk biscuits
(cuz heaven's their tasty)
and declaring warfare
against being bullied
versus suffering as token scapegoat
most every year
from boyhood until emerging adulthood.
After crafting above lines
current generated via whoosh;
I sat mine hind quarters
(otherwise referred to the tush),
which signalled to Doctor Quackenbush,
(id est Groucho Marx)
not deficient with quick wit
whose hook, line and sinker
word of the day namaycush
helped one environmental seaman
high (fish) tail to Hindu Kush
where removal from madding crowd
spiritually inoculated one
with a profound hush.
Talented in closing every door
and drawer left open by my spouse.
Those beastly eyes from childhood;
doors and drawers under the bed, too.
Talented in tripping and spilling,
splashing and controlling (only
the remote control - what wife doesn’t
like to watch her favorite show?)
Talented at staying indoors with piles
of books on either side of this couch potato.
Nah…I’m not that bad; but I am that good ;)
I get outdoors when I know I should.
Talented at rolling eyes - well, that is a dated
talent, I’ve disguised as a wizened smile,
a wink, a walk-away, a sigh, a blink.
I don’t oft need eyes in the back of my head either,
as I’ve used up most of my early childhood skills.
Now I look to see if I’ve encouraged the talents
for the ongoing generations - let’s see:
Lecturing, check; swift kick in the butt, check.
Will I be talented in old age, like using a cane
to trip those whippersnappers or racing
a wheelchair in traffic. How about removing
my teeth when I put my foot in my mouth?
Talented, am I? Am I as talented as Jack?
He’ll be the judge of that. Support me Jack
from the onslaught of attacks, jumping jacks,
or other nonsensical topsy-turvy lumberjacks.
5/5/2023
The Alcoholic
Parley poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Dirty dufflecoat wino
Zigzag up the street
Wobble wobble..
Topsy-turvey on the one side
And half past puzzled
His body form
Is out of order
His odour sour
Orphaned at eight
He explained
Never had a chance
Of a lifetime
I am just the formation
Of Adam's forlorn spawn
I the opposite of pleasant
Eat my dinner
On the floor
Without gravy
No one ever
Belled out a
A good word to me
Not even at home
Mine hands were
Cooked on the stove
I was called
The Bastard in the house
And it was painfull
Sensitively he said.
What do you have?
I only have lonely
Never ever heard
I love you
What do you want?
Just cheer from a
Dumb bartender
What do you fear?
The confrontations in
My nightmares
Pardon me..
I am bitter.
Never had a chance
To be a revelant guest
Just a parched alcoholic
Dry in overtime captivity.
I tang of dispair.
I have tiny gravity
But heavy
To hoist..
And a will
Which is lost
This is my lot
He told with
Blue eyes beaming
I am member
Of the human race
And then he laid
Amazing Grace
On my ears.