Long Welcome Poems

Long Welcome Poems. Below are the most popular long Welcome by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Welcome poems by poem length and keyword.


Ms. Jealous Girl 3-1-06

Ms. Jealous girl thinks she's better than me
Why should you be mad at me for the things I can do?
I live my own life and do my own things
Why are you so jealous of my life and such?
Ms. Jealous girl wanted to where I go and who I chat to
It is none of your besswax what I do and don't bother to ask.
I am sick and tired of you telling others that you're jealous of me
And sick of you telling my man things that you made up about me.
Ms. Jealous girl stop asking the girls at work if I'm there or not
Because I had it with you and ever since you left, I don't want you coming around 
starting trouble with me.
I don't want to speak to you or see you at all and leave me al alone.
Ms. Jealous girl, you're not welcome at my home and see my friends there
Because we all don't want to be your friend.
Lies and Lies and I was sick of it, really from you.
You got mad when I went out drinking with friends from work
You got mad at me when my man and I went out or away for a while
You got mad at me when I wasn't scheduled for work and yelled at me
You got at me for things I can do, even cleaning around the house is one thing 
that you never ever did in your carppy life.
Ms Jealous girl, stop calling here at the house, cuz your ex Kevin doesn't want 
you back and not allow to step foot in the house
You call crazy hours of the night just to get a hold of him but he also has a life 
and you get jealuos at him going bar hopping with his buddies and you got mad 
when he goes out with my man.
Ms Jealous girl, if you come to see me at work and start things with me, 
All I can say to you is this,
"You have been totally JEALOUS of me for the things I can do and where I go and 
leave me alone. No one at the house want to hang with you." 
Ms Jealoud girl, you have your own things to do and don't worry what Iam doing 
next week, next month, or next year. I have better things to do.
Ms Jealous Girl, let my pals and I do our own things and don't call my place when 
I go out.
Ms Jealous Girl, everyone is sick of your lies and you gotta stop that or everyone 
around you won't want to be with you.Ms Jealous girl, want to know her name? 
Her name is Tiffany and she is known as the 
Ms.Jealous girl cuz she is STILL JEALOUS OF ME FOR DUMB REASONS AND 
SHE NEEDS TO STOP BEING LIKE THIS TO ME.
Ms Jealous Girl, I have a life and better things to do and screw you!
Form:


Welcome To the World of This Certain King

"Bring Me Wine,Myrrh and My Sweetheart Daughter Anabella,
My Little Anabella Loves To Listen To The Voice Of Salome,Her Lyre and Her 
Happy Serenade..
Tell My Scribes To Be Fast About Compiling The Exploits Of Their King In His 
Last Battle Campaign..What Is a King Without An Updated Chronicle..
Send In My Little Prince For His Voice As He Reads Through His Texts Of 
Poetry..Lures The King His Father To a Closer Salient Walk With The gods..
Tell The War Generals To Give Me A detailed Brief of Our Next Campaign.."

At Morn..
"Send In The Finest Of Thy Young Warriors..So I can Test My Stealth In The Very 
Face Of Battle and Danger...
What Have Young Men Turned Themselves into..So Lazy,Wanton and Unmanly..
Off My Sight Before I Seek Thy Skulls This Very Instant..
(In Privacy With The Head Warrior)..Oh! Sarskaas Your Young Boys Are one of the 
Best in The Region My Training Sessions Are Truelly Refreshing..Tell this not to 
them Lest you build the Fruits of Pride and Treachery in their Young Minds..
Do Usher in My Seductive Belles to Show Off Their Waists in Acts of 
Poetry,Dance and Linguistic Body Embellishments..."

At Noon..
"You The Dreaded Most Notorious KING Of the Valley..A Demi god,Invincible and 
Indestructible..As I Speak Kiss The Sole Of My Feet and eat this dish of Camel 
Dung mixed with fine desert sand..
Ax-Man when he finishes his dessert Bring me his Head on My 'Royal Golden 
Skull-Dish'..
Usher in the Wise Men of the South..For I want to converse with them in this 
same spirit of Saliency..
Stuff the roast Calf portions with a lot of herbs and Spices..You well know its the 
Obsession of the Men from The south.."

At Sundown..
"Usher in the different contingents of Musicians to Entertain my Salient Guests...
Wrap My 'Lotus Fumes' Quickly so I can Smoke this Life's Troubles Aways..And 
See Through the One Eye of the gods in Solemnity and Blissful Thinkings,
Head Eunuch Do Send A Servant to The Harem..He Should Tell My Queens to 
get A-Ready For Their Lord is in Good Shape for Royal Rumbles and More..
Oh! My Faithful Knights your War plans were excellent..Go Now Enjoy and Excite 
your souls as much..Retain your honour and have the War at the Back Of your 
Minds..
Depart In Peace..Many A-Waists in The Harem are Restless.. 
I go in to Satisfy My Very Own.."
Welcome Again To The World Of That Certain King..
Form: Ballad

Home

Please do not define me by the house I’m living in.
You don’t know where I’m going; you don’t know where I’ve been.
Just because my house is not a mansion or chalet,
Doesn’t mean I can’t be just as happy where I stay.
 
The circumstances of our lives can change from time to time.
It seems to me that this time, a change will soon be mine.
I’m not sure I am ready to face this task again.
I’m longing for the days of youth and happy times back then.
 
No matter where I hang my hat, my heart is still the same.
Four walls alone won’t make a home when filled with doubt or shame.
A house is made of bricks or wood, but this I must confide…
A house is not a home unless true love resides inside.
 
A home should be a place that reaches out its arms to you,
Some rocking chairs on your front porch, where you enjoy the view.
As soon as you set foot inside the door you know you’re home,
Where Home Sweet Home is always best, no matter where you roam.
 
The welcome mat, it does just that…it makes you feel secure.
It doesn’t matter where you’re at, or if you’re rich or poor.
I think a home can know if you are feeling sad or blue,
And in its way, will do its best to take good care of you.
 
To me, there's nothing sadder than a house no one lives in.
No family to call its own, and empty rooms within.
Its windows are the eyes that blankly stare, as if to say,
“Won’t you come inside and take my loneliness away?”

The houses where I’ve lived before were happy ones, you see.
I loved each one in different ways and I know they loved me.
I left my mark on each of them in one way or another,
Especially the one I shared with Daddy and my Mother.

This home won’t be as nice as some I’ve lived in, in the past.
Financial strain can dwindle down a bank account so fast.
I have to do what’s right for me, and not for any other.
If you don’t like the place I live, I can’t go buy another.
 
I hope I won’t be judged by where I live, because you see
Your circumstances, too could change; you may live next to me.
Tornado Magnet, Trailer Trash…call me what you will.
The only thing that matters is the sweet relief I’ll feel.
 
Although it’s sad to leave this home, I never understood,
The heavy burden of my debt would soon be gone for good.
So if you want to tease me now, I’m sure you will agree,
This “almost” Trailer Trash is very soon to be debt-free!
Form: Rhyme

Wagontire Oregon For Poem a Thon

April 6 Wagontire, Oregon 
1973

In 1973, I went on a road trip 
With my father

We left Berkeley to go to Yakima
Where my father had a summer cabin

He was a college professor
And had July and August off 

And we spent the summers
Every summer from 1968 to 1978 

Our whole dysfunctional family
Our annual road trip to hell and back 
As we did not get along at all 

We decided to drive through Eastern Oregon
Just my father and me
Just for the hell of it

The rest of the family was already there 

My father and I shared a travel lust
One of the few things we shared 

This was one of our best trips
We got along 
Which was unusual 

Normally our relationship
Was fraught 
As we were so different 

We left Klamath Falls 
A real nothing burg in those days

And headed east along highway 395
As we entered the desert of eastern Oregon
We entered a different world

High mountain dessert
Almost no one on the road 

Then we saw the sign
Wagontire Oregon 
100 miles ahead

99 miles ahead
98 miles ahead

We counted down the signs 
Miles after miles
As we drove into the gathering dusk

We speculated that Wagontire
Must be a giant truck stop
In the middle of no where

We pulled into the town
Nothing there but a gas station
Motel and café

We decided to stop
Last gas for 100 miles 
According to the highway signs

In the morning
We chatted with the owner

He was the sheriff, the fire chief
The owner of the motel, gas station
The only business in town

And the only place open 
For one hundred miles

I noticed a highway sign outside
Welcome to Wagontire, Oregon
Population 2 ½ humans 10 dogs, 50.000 sheep

I asked the Sherriff
Say who is the ½ human?

My idiot son!

And we left.
200 miles later 
We finally left Eastern Oregon

2016

In 2016 my wife and I drove through Eastern Oregon
As part of our epic cross country trip
10,000 miles
31 states in three months

On the way from Medford to Yellowstone
We drove along highway 395 

The signs for Wagontire was gone
And we drove through the town

The motel was abandoned
Nothing there at all

And that sign was gone too 

I said I suppose the idiot son
Never took over the business

And we speculated about Wagontire
And all other nothing burgs 
We drove through that summer

Heart of Trump’s America 
True fly over country
© Jake Aller  Create an image from this poem.

China Clipper

Listen and you can hear the wind whisper 
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.

Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper 
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved  a real fear gripper.

Fast  Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a  thousand tons   
With errant compass windjammer now strayed

Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,                                         
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns

The current wants to go counter clockwise
 Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
 Sails unable to give pull to the right
 though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries

Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
                                                 
Exactly where was their lost location 
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots 
Get back on course or it’s their damnation

No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.

New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying  all things they refused to succumb.

Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea

Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape

West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.



Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
                                       
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles
Form: Rubaiyat


Bring On the Rejection Slips and Or Lost Wager

Bring on the rejection slips and/or lost wager

Though flush with good humor
pun one mock two yields negligible
true cash equivalent value won
dirt poor offspring privileged as prodigal son
pockets bursting with legal tender,
where just yesterday I had none.

All polite declinations
strung together would circle...
(fill in the blank)
matter of fact, I just got a slew of them
today June 9th, 2020, what a lucky man
me haint an idealist...,

but winning poetry (writing) contest
or purchasing lottery tickets...
yeah, nothing butta pipe dream
such improbable whimsical notion
linkedin and tantamount
with milkmaid and pail

Aesop pose fabulous incredulous solution
finally good riddance
hand to mouth existence
hello riches, perchance a dollop
and/or sizable windfall courtesy
drawn PowerBall and/or Mega Million ticket

whereby yours truly suddenly
cursed with chump change,
and/or abundant money
would experience "fifteen minutes of fame"
flush with friends and relatives
I (a misanthrope) never knew existed
(perhaps even marriage proposition,

no matter wedded bliss prevails)
interesting... how moderate
and/or substantial wealth
suddenly finds chock a block
acquisitions (regarding brand new automobile,
custom designed house,

travel opportunities galore
(maybe even vacation to Mars)
(despite coronavirus - COVID -19) prevalence,
nevertheless awareness viz immutability altering
pubescent stunted emotional, physical
and social development

profusely sweating hands, social anxiety
all the while knowing money
can't buy happiness,
yet once and for all at long last
free and clear of grinding poverty
cuz groveling along

the pockmarked highway
avails countless exit ramps
plethora of choices
how to be analogous to jolly Roger
piloting immense ship of state
(approximating size of Rhode Island)

equipped with the latest trappings
matter of fact replete
with every creature comfort
analogous to rich
self sufficient independent country
allowing, enabling, and providing
a warm welcome - think unfurled
Harris tweed Scottish welcome mat.

Meanwhile somewhere in Schwenksville, 
Pennsylvania resident 
(within apartment B44)... 
tenant fritters precious time wishfully thinking
(luxuriant life within theoretical leisure class)
finding this nameless scrivener
invariably hoisting himself by his own petard.

Lost Forever

Ask the fingers holding
                                            an aloof pen.
                               Ask, where its passion has gone,
                                        ambition has fled.
                                     The fingers will be still.
                                               How...
                                    the empty eyes will look
                                        at the pale pages
                                 yoked with numbers in black...
                                               Then,
                                          just observe...
                              how a curve widens on the face
                             as they gaze out of the window...
                                     The far...the farthest!
                                         Fast, it dies out.
                      A swarm of feelings from the heart's cavern,
                                pick up their last daring flight,
                                           to die at last
                                             of thirst
                                             of love...
                               These eyes will never dream.
                               Words will never be welcome.
                           One day they will be dumb as stars,
                                       And grey as time.
                                   They'll give up the race,
                                      race to superiority.
                                    Cold the heart as ever,
                                  will sleep in a colder body.
                                 Frozen as dreams they were,
                                   will leave the turbid eyes.
                                           Will leave,
                                   for the worms to delight
                                 in a body so baked in plight!
                                           And Time?
                                    Will it mourn or joy?
                                    That it could not find
                             the fragrance of a budding mind
                                 before it too was damned.
                                          Lost forever
                                        in its quicksand...

Ventilation

This one is for you dad, I guess I had to write this poem, had to tell you how I feel because I've kept it in so long.
I love you, yes I do but this is what's been bothering me, never thought I could forgive you when you said that stuff to me.
You hurt me bad that day for real so it seems I can't forget, and every time I think about dad it really makes me sick.
Couldn't believe you put them before me, I was always there for you, and every time you needed something I was always coming through.
Snuck you food and snuck you sheets and although I'd get in trouble, it didn't mean a thing because no one would come above you.
When the family would talk about you I took your side without a doubt, I'm like " you only get one dad so y'all just better watch y'all mouth.
I would give you my last dollar without a care on how you'd use it, and when I told you that though dad you  had me really looking stupid.
You called me female dog you called me whore, and that mess killed me deep inside, you had me really snapping on you, I can't believe you made me cry.
I tried to hate you for it dad but my heart won't let that happen, instead of hating you I'm missing you and that just got me mad and...
I want you to tell me you love me, and that you won't do that mess again, because I really need to hear it, I think then I'll let you in.
Let you back into my heart because I swear the love was fading, didn't know how I should feel about you and that's just freaking crazy.
You were talking to me like I was a chick out in the streets, like you hated me or something, like we had some type of beef.
It's crazy that I miss you though I thought that wouldn't happen, I thought I could forget you but you would always keep me laughing.
With them crazy freaking dances and the crazy things you'd say.
I would tell them I didn't miss you but thought about you everyday.
But dad with all this being said I'm just trying to let you know, about the the way you made me feel and how it's hard to let it go.
I just want my old dad back the one who used to hug and kiss me, the one that always cared and showed he really loved me.
I said I want my old dad back, the one I'd sit and conversate with, the one who kept me going, the one I'd joke around and play with.
So here's this poem dad, hope you took heed I hope you listened.
Didn't wanna make you mad but welcome to my ventilation.

Christmas Landia

On the Twenty Fifth, December Night,
Black Skies Sparkle with  bright light!
Church Bells ring,Ding!Dong!Ding!
Chores of angels  ,start to sing!
Merry Christmas!Everyone!
Happy Birthday,Jesus Son.

We rejoice in prayer and joy,
as We thank this New Born Boy,
He is Born for You and Me,
from Our darkness ,sets us free.
Christmas time,a time for Friends,
Tender Hugs and shaking Hands.

Red Holllies in Window Sills,
Deers and sleighs,Over the Hills.
Cheery music in the streets,
Christmas time,a time for peace,
Neighbours sharing Merry greets,
robin's nest, safely in trees..

Its a time we give Our best,
thinking more about the rest,
Christmas Cards,a Christmas Gift,
Its Our time,to give and give!!
Christmas Spirit,Home sweet Home,
A star twinkling ,on each Dome.

Lots of toys, For Homeless Kids,
Stories told and ancient myths.
Brindisi ! a toast! Saluting with a kiss,
Warm mulled wine,We never miss..
French Beres,Red coats to dress,
in their tails,Men, look their best.

Decorating Christmas trees,
altogether,Families!
Phone calls ,far across the miles,
Happy Cries and lovely smiles.
Stocking with little surprise,
Before New Dawn,wake and rise.

Five course lunch, For Everyone,
Turkey roasted,just well done.
Aunties,Cousins ,join together,
On this Christmas ,Winter Weather.
At four tea,a Christmas Bun!
Crowd in Chit Chat,having Fun.

Grandma ,bakes ,a Christmas Cake
Snowballs,Mince Pies and Fig Dates.
I prepare ten christmas logs,
Cherries,Nuts,Whisky and Chocs,
Yummie Candies,so delicious,
Forget all which is nutritiuos..

Little Crib in every House,
Grandpa dress as Santa Clause,
Presents,granting many wishes,
Christmas Day, so very precious.
Missletoe and Gleaming eyes,
Christmas Carols,Christma Rhymes.

Cosy Eve,Burning Flames of Fire place,
Spicy wood and Indoor games.
Long Processions in the Streets,
all the Door Knobs Hold Gold Wreaths.
Candle lights in Children's hands,
Miss Christmas and Snow men Dance!

All the Nations holding Hands,
War Is Over,Still a Chance!
Many Blessings On Our Lands,
Merry Christmas Super Friends..
Merry Christmas Everyone,
Welcome Home,Enjoy the Fun! :)

   (Inspired by Caroline Devonshire)


(Welcome in my picture of Christmas Landia)
                                                                                                    Charma
Form: Name

Special Interest

SPECIAL INTEREST 

With the thought processes of the masses overwhelmed 
By the heavy burden
Of no influence on policy  
And with little scope for advancement
Up the greasy pole 
Insurrection and rebellion abound
Catching the chattering classes off guard  

Traducing a broke government is the new game 
To incite discontent and to pander to 
Front page democracy the new weapon 
Of those whose frustrations
Know no bounds  

Unions and lobbyist throw their 
Handbags out their prams 
Yet they provide no new income streams
For a government on its knees

The pension pot is the new not to 
Be touched holy grail
Its reverence brings to the fore those 
Who wish every proceeding generation
To pay for today’s profligacy

Money comes money goes 
Often the government seems to have none
To spend it all on special interest 
Is a very selfish goal

This new era of austerity is but long overdue
A curb on the excesses that let the selfish
Do as they would please to do
With society’s blank cheques
A welcome break for the taxpayer 
The one who petulantly foots the bill

Those that want more may need to pay more 
A progressive system is not unwarranted 
Tax is but essential to fill the pot
Those that have but give not 
A blot on an otherwise decent lot

How selfishly all sides do behave 
They want but refuse to give 
To be the one who wins all 
Exceeds all other considerations
No compromise is considered best policy 

To lobby 
To influence 
To fool
These are the goals of the one sided 
Minstrels of the selfish school

Knocked from their little thrones they rise
They but skew interest towards their cause 
An unfair system 
Built like a house of cards
That flutters in the wind of change 

Selfishness is but a wanton Unhealthy game  
A grand state of decay is society  
Where wants and expectations
Outgun reality

A government unwilling to be brave 
Allows democracy to shiver and shake 
A useless waste of a vote 
A dismal disgrace 

Society is but made up of parts 
That only function if all contribute 
And everyone gains
Grappling hands should be slapped 
We must all enjoy what our hard work has begot  

A delicate balancing act is government policy
Frustratingly it seldom meets its aims
For the unintended consequences 
Forever drown the initial good 
Not everyone sadly wants policy to do some good

Seek out what’s best for you 
Always remembering it’s not 
All about you

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