Long Twenty eight Poems
Long Twenty eight Poems. Below are the most popular long Twenty eight by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twenty eight poems by poem length and keyword.
One two three four
Skip through the door
Five six seven eight
Chin up keep that back straight
Nine ten eleven twelve
Go on you’ll feel good about yourself
Thirteen fourteen fifteen sixteen
Breathe in deeply pace your steps
Seventeen eighteen nineteen twenty
Brisk walk inhale deeply
Twenty-one twenty-two twenty-three twenty four
Straighten that back a little more
Twenty-five twenty-six twenty-seven twenty-eight
Come on hold that back up straight
Twenty-nine thirty thirty-one thirty-two
The legs are aching what to do
thirty- three thirty-four thirty-five thirty-six
now you feel a little stiff
thirty-seven thirty-eight thirty-nine forty
girl you sure look rather sporty
forty-one forty-two forty-three forty-four
think you can do a wee bit more
forty-five forty-six forty-seven forty-eight
boy you’re sure bent out of shape
forty-nine .fifty fifty-one fifty-two
Sorry folks... but that’s all I can do at sixty-two.
My cat is picky; my cat is persnickety.
My cat likes to play with mice; my cat's best friend is a snake.
My cat is aloof; my cat is stuck up.
My cat ignores me; my cat writes me hate notes.
My cat is snotty; my cat is snobbish.
My cat is my best friend; my cat is my only friend.
My cat has papers; my cat is a purebred.
My cat scares the neighbors, my cat scares me.
My cat is jealous; my cat is envious.
My cat watches TV; my cat critiques Michael Moore’s documentaries.
My cat is running for office; my cat is trumping him by a twenty-eight percent margin.
Why do kitty-mamas like to Cat-Up-Each-Other?
(Just between us, I would not want either of these cats).
I did not choose my current path
It chose me
I was volunteering twenty-eight hours a week
in a middle school, teaching children how to think.
A guidance counselor asked me to come into his office
He asked me what a guidance counselor does
I guessed “boring paperwork?”
He laughed.
And said, “We are supposed to do what you do,
but we don’t have the time.” You should be a guidance counselor.
I thought it was a stupid idea.
I was not going back to school ever again.
I had already been to eighteen colleges.
None of them had gotten me my dream job.
But then I did not get hired for my dream job
at this junior high, which was the job I was doing for free,
and I got angry and went back to school
to become a guidance counselor.
That was twenty-seven years ago.
This ended up being my dream job.
Her call was a great surprise today,
we lent new time to memories we own.
Our shared emotions were in full array
talking about times that saw them grown.
Turning back to chapters of together
took us to many innocent times of play.
Memories touched us soft as a feather
and we gladly let them float us away.
We had no clue where the dirt came from
but it was soft, piled sky high and inviting.
We risked spankings leaving our rears numb
because this kind of dirty was enticing.
That our mamas did not appreciate mud pies,
did not hinder fun in climbing dirt that high.
On that day, other days, later and before,
we soaped up each other's backs in the tub,
then finger wrote letters to guess and score.
Repeatedly, parents yelled, ‘don’t forget to scrub.’
Bathing together usually meant spending the night.
We did that whenever parents said it was all right.
Our imaginations went straight to fear
when we considered THE gloomy woods.
Edging our neighborhood, it called, ‘come here.’
One day we combined courage as best we could.
To our surprise, it was a playground paradise
where we were Indians, pioneers, even spies.
~ Cinderella kissed a fella, red rover, red rover,
Simon says, rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,
kicking rocks, searching out four leaf clovers ~~
We played all the games, formed child beliefs.
We both regret curiosity about dog food taste
but it is a true memory we cannot waste.
After second grade, both families moved away.
After two years of play, our goodbye was tough.
We had a week together at age sixteen,
then at twenty-two when, again, bye was rough.
At twenty-eight, I visited as she waited at an airport.
Both quite pregnant, we caught up in a food court.
We both gave birth to a boy in the month of May.
We shared pictures and baby joy through the mail.
Those baby boys are fully grown-up men today.
So glad she called, do not want silence to prevail.
After hanging up, I felt a piercing, sentimental hurt
thinking just yesterday we had fun climbing piled dirt.
AROUND THE WORLD IN ….
Phileas Fogg sought to amaze
And circle the world in eighty days
Long before the plane
One night, in an alcoholic state,
I bet I could do it in twenty-eight
Using boat and train
I didn’t give a lot of thought,
Just staggered to the nearest port
And sailed to Spain
When I recovered from the booze,
I found myself in Santa Cruz.
In future I’d abstain
I’d bitten more that I could chew.
If only I had Passepartout
To take the strain
Stone cold sober I was sure
I shouldn’t travel any more
My wager was insane
Who cared if people laughed at me?
The bet was only 50P.
I sailed back home again
4th May 2022
Tall Tales 2 poetry contest
Sponsor - Jeff Kyser
The meanest female on Holiday Hill
Probably would be there, an old maid, still
Except for Dan, a randy, illustrious buck,
Who carried her off, to give her a tuck.
He was enthralled with her golden hair.
And opal blue eyes that gave him a stare.
She had the temper of a wounded gater,
Of course he learned this ten kids later.
What can I do? He asked his wise mother.
How do I know? Go ask your brother.
The brother was in a similar state.
Kids with his monster added to twenty-eight.
Mama said to her surviving son,
If you marry, please choose a nice one.
No prob, he said, as he fed his llama.
I’ll never get married, okay, Mama?
So the boy and his mother survived in the house
Spent Christmases hiding from brothers and spouse.
The llama ran off due to all of the cousins
And of course the third boy married and had kids in the dozens.
Twenty-eight years ago, I met a woman on the road
It was a cold winter night and she was laying all alone
I gave her my coat and held her blood-soaked hand
I never knew her name but I gave her all I had
I told her my name and that she was no longer alone
I promised that I would stay, until she decided to go home
It’s hard to find words for someone’s last moments of life
I knew she was somebody’s daughter or quite possibly someone’s wife
I’ve carried her with me, every day since that night
With my heart covered in blood, as I hold her hand tight
Somewhere in this world, her family still grieves
I wish I could tell them, in my heart she’ll never leave
If I was granted one wish, I’d share with them her last night
So they could see that a stranger, showed her love at that site
The twisted metal and blood would no longer be
If they could just use my eyes and see what I’ve seen
September 1, 2020
Jimmy was intent on beating his own record.
Forty-six hours of straight video game playing.
He heard some crashing outside.
Thought it was a garbage truck.
Never looked out. It would quit eventually.
The bashing and crashing sounded closer now.
More like Armageddon than a garbage truck.
Jimmy turned up the volume on his console.
Twenty-eight million and sixty-three his golden star said.
He was ahead of his own record by sixteen points!
The building began to jerk, as if a giant spaceship had lassoed it.
Jimmy ignored this the best he could, which was not easy.
Pop! The power went out. The apartment went solid black.
Darker than it had ever been; Jimmy felt exasperated.
Looked out the window as the building plummeted into a giant sinkhole.
Chelle knew she was too old to get married
or even meet a man now
She was living at home, working as a bookkeeper for her dad.
She would be doing this until she died, she imagined.
An old maid, she said. Who would have guessed it?
Chelle is twenty-seven years old, totally long in the tooth.
It is 1967; she lives in a small hick town in middle earth,
Bible belt, USA.
There are no unmarried boys now.
People stay married until they die.
Eighteen-year-olds who graduated two days ago are all getting married this weekend.
Chelle has resigned herself to the fact that it is just her,
Mom, Dad, and the Elvis, their dog.
Her path as a spinster is clear.
She will die reading a romance novel,
dreaming of what might have been and what never-will-be.
Her mother will have none of this feeling sorry for yourself nonsense; she thinks Chelle has a good life.
They love her don't they?
She drags a reluctant Chelle to the church parsonage
to help paint it. A new family is coming.
The family arrives early. Except it is not a family.
It is a young Reverend, fresh from divinity college.
He is twenty-eight, ready to settle down and preach from his heart. He notices Chelle right away.
She is standing on a ladder that starts to slip, and she has gorgeous legs. He races to help.
Steadies the ladder with a firm grip.
She turns to thank her mother. But it is not her mother.
His smile nearly makes her fall on her petootie.
It is someone new. Someone handsome and young.
A handsome man of twenty-eight -her new Reverend.
“My name is Reverend Jim,” he tells her.
She can barely speak, blushing. He has gorgeous brown eyes.
“I'm Chelle,” she says. “Thank you for saving me.”
That night she thanked God for being so good.
At last, instilling a little hope that there might be a chance
to not live the life of a spinster.
I am happy to report they saved each other.
Written 5-19-2019
Contest: The Smile at the Foot of the Ladder
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
I was ready to quit the counseling program
My first year had been horrible
I was the token oldie, and it had been a chore
I decide it was not worth the trouble
I dropped out, glad to do it.
Dr Jean Peterson called me on the phone.
She tried to talk me into staying.
I did not know her, I did not trust her.
I refused.
She wanted to take me to lunch.
I was an hour drive, she did not care.
She talked me into lunch.
I decided to try and dislike her.
We became best friends at that college.
I reenrolled into the counseling program.
I have been a counselor for twenty-eight years
It is the best career I have ever had.
I owe it all to Dr. Jean Peterson
A woman who would not take no for an answer
She was only at my college one meager year
It was enough, she was the mentor I needed
God sent her to me.