Long Wed Poems
Long Wed Poems. Below are the most popular long Wed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wed poems by poem length and keyword.
Panting, running, paying, fuming,
Bumping, swearing, hurrying, driving,
All because today is the thirty first
Of the month, why are we all nigh to burst!
Got to buy groceries, go the butcher
The dry cleaners, the florist, the baker,
Did i turn on the slow cooker?
Have guests coming at 8.00p.m still
On the road, home in 15 minutes – phone Will,
Darling, Did you collect the birthday cake,
There is a big accident, traffic hectic won’t make
It to pick it up – Yes sweetheart I have
Drive carefully the roads are crazy,
Looks like a storm brewing, weather drizzly and hazy.
As I arrive in our driveway it pours with rain,
And I drop a packet, which had the red wine, I stain
My clothes and the car seat, go have your shower,
Hubby says, relax, everything is under control,
Turned shower taps to their full strength and power
Exhausted, let the water run over my naked body
Till I feel refreshed, get dressed in my
Sexy black number,
And come downstairs, hubby gives me a wolf whistle,
Just wait till the guests leave he says, look at him
From under my lashes!
The aroma wafting from the stove is
Provocatively divine!
And next to the sofa is a glass of room
Temperature red wine.
Table is set, arrange flowers I brought in a vase,
Immediately, the bell goes ding dong,
It’s Cherry and Tim,
She couldn’t wait to show me her engagement ring,
Hot on their heels are Susan and Barry,
He has just asked Susan to him marry,
And last of all my twin sister Rina, arrives she’s wise,
With her new boyfriend in tow she bellows, Hi guys!
Fun was had and wine was drunk
Laughter abounded in the lounge and dining room,
We all forgot how tired we were and
It was end of the month, and all the media forecasted,
Was doom and gloom!
It was my birthday, turning forty, no turning back now,
Don’t regret a day of my life, bless the day I took my vow,
Happy birthday dear Mary, happy Birthday to you,
I felt blest had my hubby and sister present and select
Friends but few,
Mellow and happy and with certainly no one drunk,
Just four happy couples full of zest and funk!
Our guests began departing, in twos they left,
I slipped of my shoes and gave a big yawn,
Will picked me up, and must have undressed
Me – for all I remember is waking up to a peck
On my cheek,
And a scrumptious breakfast in bed,
I always knew I had picked the right guy to wed!
VIVA LA ELVIS
In Tupelo Mississippi, twin baby boys were born,
To Gladys and Vernon Presley, but sadly one passed on.
They named him Jesse Garon, their hearts so full of pain,
And then came Elvis Aaron, a breath of sweet refrain.
One heart beating for the two, their spirits intertwined;
To restore faith and hope and joy to dear ones left behind.
Elvis grew from babe to boy his heart set on a goal,
From boy to man to legend; The King of Rock n’ Roll.
He lived in humble dwellings, his Pa his Ma and he;
Playing his guitar, singing songs, pure golden melodies.
Country, Gospel, Blues and Jazz the rhythms of the soul,
And Rock n’ Roll, the very core of hearts both young and old.
While rising up to stardom, his pelvis did he swing;
Some church folk banged the gavel to crucify ‘The King’.
Their efforts came to nothing, as fans from near and far,
Surged on with huge momentum, to win that holy war.
So once again he stood there, gyrating at his will,
Until the day he heard a call that made those hips stand still.
Called to serve his country, the nation’s rising star,
And while along that journey, he sadly lost his Ma.
On the first of May, a bride’s bouquet, a blush of summer wine,
Elvis wed Priscilla; his beautiful fraulein.
Soaring in her lover’s arms on the wings of destiny,
Nine months later they were blessed with gorgeous Lisa Marie.
The happiness they shared together wrapped in melody;
Like a poet’s dream, a symphony, a lover’s rhapsody.
Then fate stepped in and dealt a blow that tore the dream apart,
And in its wake it left a trail of tears and broken hearts.
‘The King’, on stage and silver screen, he took the world by storm,
A real hunk of burning love in a GI uniform.
He rocked the house to loud applause, he played the matador,
And danced with pretty Hula girls in the Hawaiian sunset glow.
August 16, ’77 was the day ‘The King’ had died,
But forever lives the Legend, born on 8/1/35.
His mamma smiled and gently beckoned to her second born,
While holding close the one she’d lost that fateful winter’s morn.
The joy he brings to us down here can never be replaced,
Though many keep on trying in vain to fill the empty space.
His spirit fills all Graceland, to watch o’er kith and kin,
In the Heavenly sounds of Dixieland … I hear God joining in.
Elaine Randolph
Copyright ©2009 Elaine Randolph
I let your eyes to visualise a garden on a loom;
Bluebells and marigolds in sway and lavender in bloom;
And there to play in a luscious green two kittens wrestling;
Up high in chirping swallow's play are feathered friends a-singing.
A figure of a handsome man is settled on a chair;
And by his side a beauty pure strokes lovingly his hair;
The Witch, or so the story plays, is set to work a-stitching;
For everyday she works to lay the groundwork for her witching.
The "Loom of Dunkele" is dark and glistens as if new;
That which it forges is by spelling set to render true;
This vessel handed down through time where Witches are sure wed;
Commutes it powers to the offsprings through that marriage bed.
At 35 she must be bride and to a handsome beau;
For Dunkele demands that beauty seeps through row to row;
The Witch beholden to this pact must honour this or else;
The Dunkele will take her beauty for its very self.
Dunkele demands a beauty in it's natural mould;
The Witch must weave the magic seams without her vêtements;
As pure as a newborn should she display her nakedness;
For Dunkele gave a perfect body not to be redressed:
No blemish, painting, marking, piercing for her skin to bear;
No jewellery should adorn her parts no braids within her hair;
Should she ignore these rulings and would set about to loom;
The magic would reverse all workings never to resume.
Above the loom, portraits in rows, of Witches one and all;
Each face a picture of a beauty unimaginable;
Throughout all time the loom has served and must forever more;
Or else a terrible curse be laid upon each maiden's door:
Indeed, to pander verily to a Dragon's carnal needs;
The Witch must feed on blood and guts and do as Dragon pleads;
Forever trapped in a darkened lair, no view of sun or sea;
The Witch would disappear from sight, no trace or history.
For 20 years this loom she spins as was the bargain made;
And in this time her beauty shone, success and wealth her aid;
Now in an hour the carpet loomed but for a patch to fill;
A slip of hair should she prepare to weave into the mill.
Then once complete the spell to speak releasing her shalom;
To lead her to that wondrous place where there awaits Handsome;
This rite of passage like forebears would guarantee the Witch;
Leaves on the blood line of her ilk a rich continuous stitch.
I.
When Sullivan ‘Reno’ Richards rode into
the small, northern Utah town of Stillman,
he’d been unemployed going on three months
since he’d left his job as a hired gunhand.
He’d turned in his badge to the agency
when his brother Samuel had been killed,
and after settling things with his family,
he’d rode off to put to work his skills.
Reno would see that real justice was done,
he’d find the bastards who had done the deed,
and though his family looked down on it,
Reno was good at making bad folks bleed.
His father had disowned him for this fact,
Samuel had been his favorite child,
the man had expanded dad’ baking empire
way out west in the great desert wilds.
Dad had no respect for a ‘mere gun-hand,’
and wouldn't speak to Reno to this day,
but Samuel had not shared these beliefs,
and nothing ill of his brother did-say.
For that understanding, Reno now rode,
to the only hotel in this small town,
he’d sworn to his family that he would
put poor Samuel’s killers in the ground.
When settled in he went down to the bar,
ordered whiskey and took the sounds in,
listening for gossip that could be a clue,
when a young stumpet walked right up to him.
She said,”Hello, my name is Meredith,
and I can tell from the look of your eyes
that you must be one of Samuel’s kin,
you should know I was to be his wife.”
Reno looked at this woman in great surprise,
he had not heard Samuel planned to wed,
so he said to her,”I am his brother,
I came as soon as I heard he was dead.
“I’m here to take care of his affairs,
though I fear it might take me a while,
I understand he held the mortgages
of half the ranches within fifty miles.”
She smiled,”I’m glad somebody came out
to take care of the things left behind.
If you would like, I can take you out to
the grave where my poor Samuel lies.”
He nodded solemnly, and they walked to
a plot laying behind the town’s small church,
the dirt was still fresh, the stone not yet done,
there’d been no time to finish the work.
Reno asked then,”How did it happen?”
Meredith frowned, and then told hit the truth:
“Bandits bushwhacked him, in the back-country,
They took everything, even his shoes.”
Reno just nodded, took down his broad hat,
said,”I hope that the sherriff is on it.
My brother and I sometimes disagreed,
but he did nothing deserving of this…”
Impossible mission, nonetheless
eschatological, diabolical, critical...
dire straits betokens armageddon.
Come Tuesday, November 3, 2020
mandatory voting obligation to oust
horrible malevolent commander in chief.
Spanish and English writing on border wall
bespeaks impending apocalyptic windfall
weapons of mass destruction concomitant ashfall
brinkmanship ticks doomsday clock, hence the call
muster civilians and military troops coup to marshall
tuckered bands overthrowing pathological
megalomaniac haint your
homegrown garden variety apprenticed screwball,
Née commandeer of human abuses free world oh God
this exclamation ejaculated yours truly house atheist
runs ruinously, reprehensibly, rampantly roughshod
scaring out bejesus within winkin blinkin and nod
land of powdermilk biscuits and raw bits promises
to become ground zero predicated boneheaded clod.
Atrocious, cantankerous, egregious,
grievous, ignominious... dispensing
most every venerated, ushered, touted,
sacred, revered, pronouncing
progressive amendments dead
on arrival blithely shredding to tatters
hard won reforms since Fred
Flintstone days of yore shelving
codied, ratified, sanctified... shed
jeweled important legislation,
plus Russian musk cows to wed
Putin on the ritz.
Blasphemous, cantankerous, deleterious...
execrable folly... doth seed
subsequently begetting and breed
anarchy, chaos, hell, plus helps
foment pernicious, ominous,
noxious, malodorous... misdeed
pitting one against another creed
internecine warfare, where liveried
troops don and trumpet
(auld) alternative energy
fighting gear powering, i.e. ac/dc freed
one or more dirty deed
done dirt cheap reducing at lightspeed,
the hard fought/won democratic
inalienable rights purportedly guaranteed
by United States constitution,
(though oft times bias, i.e. reed
anti semitism, charade, facade...) heed
trample equality, morality, universality...
making mockery (attested bleed
courtesy flagrant historical extant bigotry,
chicanery, depravity... greed).
Hence, I step off figurative soapbox
dodging any lobbed missiles or rocks
no surprise bullied by same jocks,
who tormented me during high school
probably tattooed, pierced, and bald of locks
unlike yours truly, he sports self
as aging pencil neck geek
wearing non matching shoes and socks.
Thru deliberate seductive
liaisons, ploys, and underhanded gambits,
I tendered illicit, explicit and complicit shenanigans
blatant actions to foment coital adulteration.
Ofttime these discrete liaisons found me removing
linkedin metallic keepsake symbolizing union.
Years elapsed since this spouse pledged his troth,
he sported husbandly marital vows courtesy
monogrammed nondescript ring.
Impossible mission prevails to locate complimentary
jeweled tokens bespeaking our joint monogamous fidelity.
Yours truly beset with genuine disheartened woe
no matter public affections, he never doth show
thee above stated guilty admission signifying
mine absent overtures
(indicating even marginal wedded bliss),
the missus posits as wanting from me,
a common garden variety generic Joe Schmoe.
Self awareness heightened
within mental cogs and wheels
as if of a sudden hindsight brought
into sharp focus think barely audible
high pitched squeals
nsync with and accompanied by newsreel
silently displaying story
(solely my viewing pleasure) of mein kampf
metaphorically yours truly blown to bits
while hoisting myself by own petard
vigorously spiriting and
pitching me head over heels.
Regale thee dear reader,
I strive with utmost zeal
plus cathartic to expunge, (albeit poetically)
my pathetic, quixotic,
and reasonable rhyming spiel
hoopfully mine lame literary endeavor
won't upset any spur of the moment meal
thus tis wise I beat a hasty retreat
before ye sic on me Achilles heel
versatile scouts i.e. English language
verb boss and noun sensical police,
yours truly here expert escape artist
dog gone hard to grab hold,
cuz I trumpet art of making the deal.
Proclaiming high fidelity to wife high wed
she already with child (our first)
into holy matrimony we did nervously tread
"quod erat demonstrandum"- Q.E.D.
"what was to be shown" courtesy yours truly
this once upon a time
(about two and a half dozen
Earth orbitz ago) time newlywed.
Now he frets and experiences woebegone
as testimony scratching out
yet another one of his plaintive,
quirky, somber, ridiculously shown,
herewith I attempted to communicate none
previous endeavor ever considered exemplary
yet I diligently, honorably,
and literally try to hone
elusive talent hours daily
hermetically sealed, and sequestered alone.
The word sombrero in Spanish was made
from Late Latin origin, meaning shade.
Predating Mexican type of headwear
that’s commonly presupposed, instead they’re
more generally hats designed with brim.
Therefore the galaxy’s wide-ranging rim,
through pareidolia’s visual drift
causing our human perception to shift,
gave it to stargazers sombrero guise
as seen in Virgo’s sidereal skies.
Hence nickname ‘Sombrero’ has taken hold
with globular clustered stars in its fold
which swarm quite abundantly ‘round the core.
Its technical tag is M One O Four
From Earth we perceive it almost edge-on,
a factor inducing some to hedge on
whether the galaxy, like Milky Way,
is spiral or has an elliptic splay
or might be a hybrid blending the two,
a question left hanging from earthly view.
It’s said to be fifty thousand light-years
across, roughly thirty million from spheres
where we dwell, with ten times as many groups
of star clusters globular as the troops
in Milky Way’s multitudinous realms—
such grandeur galactic indeed o’erwhelms—
which orbit in circular halo’s verge.
Aye myriad worlds for life to emerge!
Dust lanes birthing stars about it are wed,
ringed paths poetic for dreamers to tread.
A white dwarf companion perhaps may be
midst all the clusters of huge stellar spree.
If wonders abound in this ‘hat’ on high,
how many more lie beyond earthly eye?
While one must not lose sight of doings here,
someday human antics will disappear.
When miseries render our stance downcast
why not gaze above at the cosmos vast
whose infinite fathomlessness steadfast
shall troublesome worries ever outlast?
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * *
Image and info ~ Hubble mosaic of the majestic Sombrero Galaxy…
Image explanation ~ NASA/ESA Hubble Space Telescope has its eye on the Sombrero galaxy, Messier 104 (M104), which has a white, bulbous core encircled by the thick dust lanes comprising the spiral structure of the galaxy. As seen from Earth, the galaxy is tilted nearly edge-on. This galaxy was named the Sombrero because of its resemblance to the Mexican hat. It lies at the southern edge of the rich Virgo cluster of galaxies and is one of the most massive objects in that group, equivalent to 800 billion suns. The galaxy is 50,000 light-years across and is located 30 million light-years from Earth.
when another (anointed as lady lucky)
resident renter bequeathed her bed
prior to that good samaritan deed thyself and spouse
slept on the floor like dogs dead
tired from another day acclimatizing ourselves,
especially when tummies got well fed
and grudging adjustment per lying supine upon the carpet
did upon arising found aches and pains from head
to toes, yet financial shortcomings disallowed this Jed
eye wannabe to defer attending domestic chores,
cuz ma whole body felt like a Led
Zeppelin, and matter of fact oft times,
thy body electric,
though lacked no evidence of disease NED
for short, I near felt a need to relearn basic motor skills,
gingerly, and eagerly reached for
performance enhancing drug i.e. PED
which coded identification
exemplified the a rich color of red
this (and other) prescription medication
(about a half dozen total found me to sleep akin to a Ted
dee bear, many instances of snoring
thine wife claimed emanated –
probably no more than when we wed
if memory serves me correctly
twenty plus years a husband aye attest
and find peace of body, mind and spirit
most exuberant and best
cherished, when hen pecking wife (yup, this husband
got pecking, pock, puck size marks
to vouchsafe his sworn statement)
some visible on my slightly flabby and hairless chest
and if traced with a ball point pen,
the shape loosely resembles mount Everest
with evidence of what appears to be erosion,
but actually evidence of wifely cannibalism –
viz zit on par as with an unwanted guest
which at first found this pop (sic) hull
averse to share the same firm mattress lest
she arise like a flesh eating zombie
during the wee hours of the morning and taking nest
ling to another level, whereby teeth
and scratch marks sure testament asper a pest
stiff ferrous mate, this husband would sooner bid adieu,
letting fate guide terrestrial quest
that might incorporate undergoing
the electric kool aid acid test
perhaps buffeting this corporeal essence north west
or maybe the unforeseen sojourn
would spirit thyself to a distant alien nation
one where each day of soundness of mental, physical
and spiritual growth will be reason enough
to celebrate with élan and zest.
King Henry VIII and His Wives
By Elton Camp
When Henry’s brother was too young to care
He was made to wed a princess from over there
But you must do just what we say little fella,
Catherine's the child of Ferdinand and Isabella
Catherine had not been Queen for very long
When things with her mate went badly wrong
Medicine was weak. To save him, doctors tried
But despite all they did her young prince died
With Spain, England had a pact
The agreement must stay intact
Henry was then a child of eleven
Hardly a betrothal made in heaven
Henry married at age eighteen
And Catherine became his queen.
Though it is quite sad to have to tell
The queen’s babies didn’t fare well
To bring her husband true joy
She must give birth to a boy
She bore him just a single son
Who died before a year had run
Though married for twenty-four years,
Henry gave voice to his greatest fears
“I have married the wife of my brother
When I should have waited for another.”
But he said this with a sly grin
While he kissed Anne Boyeln
She refused to go to his bed
Until the two were set to wed
Anne produced a baby right away
But ‘twas a girl to Henry’s dismay.
He thought she had done a crime
When both babies died next time
“I’ve been down this road before.
It’s clear you are just a whore.”
No more shall you see my bed.
Rather, you will lose your head.
Jane Seymour was next on the list
So that Anne was scarcely missed
From Jane, virtuous and fair,
There came at last a male heir
Infection was the reason why
The queen proceeded to die
Henry at her death was distraught
But the new child filled his thought
Anne of Cleves was next to arrive
Had a problem, managed to survive.
Henry found he didn’t like her well
“This German woman is ugly as hell.”
The next queen to unfurl
Was just a teenage girl
Catherine Howard was her name
But she was not free from blame
Culpepper was her boyfriend
She had confessed at the end
And unlike the wives before
This one truly was a whore
Catherine Parr became wife six
She did not try to use any tricks
To her, duty came above
Even the man she did love
Of this bad background cannot be any doubt
It is how the Church of England came about.
Who of the people could expect to be a winner
By adhering to a religion formed by a sinner?
Monah Kaur and Robert Kumar fled from London, came to ‘Hindustan’; tied the knot
The 'Singhs' stopped their songs and 'Kumars at no. 42' burnt their studio; this rebellion; they will forget not
A petite piece of land was gifted by Uncle Prem to mark their freedom
With much thought the newly wed called it Garden of Eden
They cleared the plot from crawling matters and built a woody farm house
Within a year, Monah gave birth to twins; Lisa died; Minnie who survived became quiet as a mouse
The air around still polluted in invasion and many cuffed in iron
The sun and moon fairer than in London but nothing seemed fine
The couple laboured and fostered peaches for Mr. Big Ben; returned home clad in blisters
Minnie cried; and cried; her parents had no time and she desired a couple of sisters
In financial distress the duo approached the heroic Farmer Bachan to assist his flock
Pleased with their dedication he gifted them a Peacock.
Minnie cried louder now, seeing this English present; she wasn’t a fan
Bachan who was fond of the child, sent her way, a young Indian Peahen
Minnie’s tears lost its way in the Ganges as the new birds found their click
Around Christmas added to the family was a cute hybrid Pea-chick
What adorable ‘chana’ like eyes had she!
Without delay, Minnie named her Chick pea
Eden now a 'Rangoli'; 'Ranisas' and 'Nawabs' soothed in ‘Masala’ tea
All engrossed in the lights and sweetness of Diwali; no attention paid to the growth of The Serpent on that Apple tree.
Those daffodils patented to Wordsworth, danced in the air
In its abode, the serpent watched Eden, what a scare!
One morning, Minnie fetched a Brown ladder to reach the tree which dazzled with rounds of juicy red
The ladder attacked and killed; the child returned home badly bitten, almost to eternal slumber she bled
Bachan’s sheep strayed to the road that was not to be taken, decreased from many to few
Eden cried for The Good Shepard; The Foreign Raj ruthlessly bottled native stew
Prayers were answered and on a Tiger came a Flying sheriff called ‘Shroff’
Bedecked in turfy ‘ceps’ and ‘pecs’; this essence fought in ‘huff & puoff’
Over time; in years almost equal to Tendulkar's century; the Serpent grew wicked miles
The gladiator fought till his last breath, excreting the treacherous reptile back to the British Isles