Long Ville Poems
Long Ville Poems. Below are the most popular long Ville by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ville poems by poem length and keyword.
We were playin’ shows in mid-Tennessee (dodgin’)
Biblical storms like we were sailors at sea
Found a great place to eat in the town called Ville-de-Nash
Where they serve great coffee, fried pickles, and hash
Drinkin’ strong southern coffee to pass the time (I’m)
Swappin’ stories with some friends of mine (when)
I looked up to a big smile talkin’ down to me
“How y’all doin? The refills are free”
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
I was king of my world but in one big haze (now)
I want your sweet smile in every one of my days
Café girl, you really changed my ways
The band went onto Memphis, last show on the road
I stayed in Music City thinkin’ all systems go (but)
After drinkin’ enough coffee to sink a ship
I just couldn't help it and out it slipped
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
“I’m your Rhett dear Scarlett”, she laughed in my face
Wasn't the reaction I’d imagined for days
Café girl, you really changed my ways
After a pause she saw the hurt in my eyes (and)
Said “ok Rhett” to my great surprise (but)
Told me I’d have to work harder than that (sayin)
“Do I look like I need kissin’ badly and that?”
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Who knew she was in a band in past days
Singin’ the lead till partin’ ways
Café girl, you really changed my ways
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Let’s hit the road and see how it plays
Café girl, you really set things ablaze
Let’s hit the road and see how it plays
Was it the Longfellow Bridge? Massachusetts?
One night we crossed a bridge on foot,
Dominique, my travel friend this summer 1989,
And seated we contemplated Boston at night,
Summer was hot, the city friendly and joyful,
We talked two hours about this new country,
The lights of Boston were full of Promises,
There was something soothing about America.
Était-ce le pont de Longfellow ? Massachussetts ?
Une nuit nous avons franchi un pont à pied,
Dominique, mon amie de voyage cet été 1989,
Et assis nous avons contemplé Boston la nuit,
L’été était chaud, la ville amicale et joyeuse,
Nous avons parlé deux heures de ce nouveau pays,
Les lumières de Boston étaient pleines de Promesses,
Il y avait quelque chose d’apaisant en Amérique.
PS, un souvenir qui est resté dans mon coeur,
bisous
though avast percentage
of Stone Temple Pilots, she push peep pulls
viz vernacular speaking population
to most pious take as gospel
every word in religious tomes
their collective soul asylum polestar,
and doth decree important doctrines
with especial accord
equal insignificance applied toward
Judeo-Christian holidays across the board
thus easter tis no exception to the golden rule,
where santa claus reached an a chord
follow auspicious signs alit in the night sky
shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
upon hamlets strewn
across scantily populated Earth
asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing plentiful Horn
(and Hard art learned lesson)
to stave off barren ness, ignored
going forward seeding nascent
March Madness with help from Lord
and Tailor as midwife hoot
tended Ville Nova moored
by Wildcat fanatics, who unbelievably
espied heavens cleft asunder
and golden rays poured
while collective spectators loudly screamed
akin to the soundgarden
of ferocious cats roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
with Excalibur sword
thence entire team handed
Taj Mahal shaped award
which aforementioned ass hide lacks, cuz zit
happens tubby April Fool's joke
thus above iterated verses somehow
needs just a little bit of relevance to yoke
thine admitted ambivalent reaction to sports,
yea aye pay figurative toke
hen to Rabbinic, generic fanatic primal
tribal village people clan destine woke
and swinging focus of this poem
back toward Religious perp ported berth
when (sans antiquity) trumpet signaled
thus, any superstitions blew away dearth
when distant shofar heard
in every home and hearth
anticipating arrival of the Easter Bunny,
who brings mirth
and hop poly distributes sweet treats,
which children as grown adults,
no matter necessity for teeth to be removed
the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association chastises candy
manufacturers bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched, and decadent, trait
then adultery verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged reprobate.
I asked the owl:
“What is love?”
She said to me:
"Ask God."
I asked God:
“What is love?”
He said:
“Ask your wife.”
I asked my wife:
“What is love?”
She replied with a smile:
«Ask the owl»
I smoked a cigarette and left the city behind.
J’ai demandé à la chouette :
« Qu’est-ce que l’amour ? »
Elle m’a dit :
« Demande à Dieu. »
J’ai demandé à Dieu :
« Qu’est-ce que l’amour ? »
Il m’a répondu :
« Demande à ta femme. »
J’ai demandé à ma femme :
« Qu’est-ce que l’amour ? »
Elle m’a répondu en souriant :
« Demande à la chouette »
J’ai fumé une cigarette et ai laissé la ville derrière moi.
“ Dare you get the spoon between me fingers,”
“I’m not opening for I hate the taste that lingers.”
“Custer oil”
“The last time you gave it to me I’d thought I’d die but my pants were soiled.”
“I’m the laughing stock at school,”
“It ran down my leg and left a smell pool.”
“Kids call me wheenie the runny pooh.”
“How could you mum?”
“Give me something that make me loose control of my bum.”
“You said what doesn’t kill will only make you fat for goodness sake!”
“At this rate I’ll be as skinny as a rake.”
“Not this time, it will leave a mental scar,”
“”UHHHH!!! MMMMM!!! Yuck!!! Ahhhh”
“That’s not fare!!!”
“MUM now I have to take a change of underwear
*The Road to Well Ville Contest*
brush in hand, he breathes life to paper ...
columns ... bejeweled and sparkling
like blades of shimmering grass
piercing the night as star-flecked stalagmites
fingers of phosphorescent proficiency
flickering with the finest of human accomplishment
and twirling through the ether like fairies
darting and dancing to the throb of frantic grids below
glowing girders and gangling spires, agleam
trembling with the concerns of life
and dressed in the temperate weight of wonder
a thousand stories born each elegant instant
countless dramas and conundrums
spinning to their inexorable ends
numberless breaths gasped and giggled
heart-upon-heart pumping ire and exasperation
thrumming with passions, proved and pondered
or the typic pulse of the prosaic
a glistening garden of "la condition humaine"
a beast born of concrete and light ...
its urbane and provocative heart, beating ...
the canvas has come ... to LIFE!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Something Bigger Than Myself" Poetry Contest,
Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
N/A'd in the "Cityscape" Poetry Contest.
On the offshore of Atlantic ocean, - On the offshore of Atlantic ocean,
Walking on the bridge of hurricane,Intensifying force of wind hit my soul.
Empty streets with no one around,Paving away the roads of silly love.
Turning skies into grey,
We both freaking near the bay,
Freezing rain drizzled away,
Snow rain sizzled with a hope of ray!
Ohhhh my god,It's damn awesome!
Abundance of Lush green meadows was the season's feather.
Into the red,yellow,purple,brown,The transition of leaves,Echoed the sense of melancholic reflection.
Showering and Turning my dark days into bright, Its time to bloom with an early sunrise.
Bizarre cloud,dusty storm,
Love spouted between the two egoed rabbits.
Bursting the introvert feelings,cherishing the moments together at the street's of luxe ville.
Left an Autumn of love in our heart!
Light sun curvature reflecting against my eyes,
Awned wheatgrass,cold wind wrapping us,moving into the world of fantasy.
Beating down, The rhythm and blues, shaking the jazz with a sip of jigger!
Mild night temperature with deep brown coffee,
Amorously advancing towards romance,
Nature taking the baby steps,dissolving in the essence of season,Gladly applauding Your arrival ,warmly welcoming an Autumn!
Comme a écrit un grand philosophe,
Il y a deux tragédies dans la vie.
L´une c’est de réaliser ses rêves
Et l´autre c’est de ne pas les réaliser.
Ah! Comme le temps passe vite,
Une année s’est écoulée et je ne peux dire
Si j’ai réaliser mes rêves ou pas.
J´avais envie de m´évader de cette maison,
De ce quartier, de cette ville, de ce pays ;
De créer un monde différent de celui dans le quel je vivais.
Mais je ne suis allé nulle part
Et j’ai rencontre des gens formidables qui comptent pour moi aujourd’hui
Et depuis, le quartier dans lequel je vis s’est métamorphosé.
Par ailleurs j’ai eu des angoisses, des remords
Et des espoirs envolés.
Hélas, c’est une nouvelle année qui va commencer
Et je me sens comme perdu au milieu de ce monde.
Form:
(a 7/5 Trochee)
Once upon a time, I got
Right inside my ear
An infection that was bad;
I could barely hear.
It was like those times you fly
In a plane so high
And your ears start popping,
But not up high was I!
I was told to see the doc,
But that costs so much
I just googled for myself
Homemade cures and such.
Hydrogen peroxide was
One I thought to try:
Soak a cotton ball with it;
To your ear apply. . .
So I’d tilt my head, press that
Cotton on my ear,
Gingerly at first, for I
Felt a little fear.
But a fizzling then began
Just like Google said -
(kind of cool). I kept putting
It inside my head!
Once you’ve got it all cleared up,
Bubbles should abate.
So in increments of time,
I would stop and wait. . .
When I thought that fizzling part
Couldn’t stay for long,
I would try that “cure” again.
Bubbles came on strong!
So I gave up in disgust,
Worried now that I’d
Put into my ear too much
Of that peroxide.
To the doctor I would go
With my $hundred plus+.
Doctor looked into my ear;
Saw a lot of pus.
He allayed my fears about
My home remedy,
Saying it could do no worse
Than just annoy me.
Doctor's cure was not to be
what I would suppose.
I should have to put, instead,
something up my nose!
Sometimes eating apples won’t
Keep that doc away.
Ultimately. . . to get well,
Be prepared to pay!!!
For Deborah Guzzi's "The Road to Well Ville"
(alternately titled: excuse me while aye...
touch the sky, hen derrick lee
and pull lightly gag.)
September third tooth house sand
and eighteen didst find me
to awaken with a start
during the wee
(Willy Paine Weber) re
duck tee yo absurdum painful hour
of predawn this morning
with an experience
nada so grew vee -
feeling (the unstoppable) tree
men diss urge (lance
sing arm) strong
sensation to regurgitate,
which tum me,
(and ma tummy)
prima facie (pre
mud Donna Brownian
bow will Movement)
processing) ranks as
the moost unpleasant –
basic bodily condition,
(hence disqualifying this former
anorexic tib bee ya
bulimic), which nauseous repulsion
to stomach tomb muss elf
(yea - pertaining to
yours truly: Ma
Thee You Scott) a tinny
brass, heartless, and
dis straw hit cow
word lee lion
dew wing ever re:
thing in my "FAKE" NON GMO
gluten, lactose (i.e.
dairy substitute), and
monosodiumglutimate free,
wand door full
wizard ding once fore mid
able superman, (and now fee
bull powerless reign jars
ipso fact-so) dee
did immediately whee
kin n ding excess see
ville lee more, dee
pull lore rib hill
den das bloviation
spattering, Obi
Wan Kenobi, Casanova,
(Don Quixote) key
ping figurative lid, prithee
a boot mine gag reflex
within very limited nee
zero printed edition on reek
quest not to
publish very disagree
hubble reader's un
digest tib bill
(authored by this atheistic
secular humanist gib
brush gabbling, (sans
reincarnated doubting Thomas pre
lapse Aryan) Unitarian scree
ming cowabunga herbivorous
droning baby bee
nix nox zippity doo dada
lix lox nicks nox hip pea.