Long Wife Poems
Long Wife Poems. Below are the most popular long Wife by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wife poems by poem length and keyword.
Hungry vultures; there were ten, just sitting in a tree
One fell out and bit the dust while my wife made my tea
Hungry vultures; there were nine, among the leaves so green
One chewed dirt as my wife scrubbed the tractor’s tyres clean
Hungry vultures; there were eight, just sat there on a branch
One dropped off, devoid of breath, while my wife cleaned the ranch
Hungry vultures; there were seven, in that tree so high
One fell, due to sudden death, while my wife baked a pie
Hungry vultures; there were six, all hid behind a twig
One fell down while my wife caught and barbecued a pig
Hungry vultures; there were five, sat in that sycamore
One crashed down, with quite a splat, while my wife swept the floor
Hungry vultures; there were four, sat on the highest bough
One smashed into bloodied ground as my wife milked the cow
Hungry vultures; there were three, sat high above the trunk
One dropped off while my wife cleared the beer cans I had drunk
Hungry vultures; there were two, just sitting in a nest
One dropped dead while I sat in a chair and had a rest
Hungry vulture; just the one, watched my wife make a trifle
He’s dead because she’s angry, and a crack shot with a rifle
Hungry vultures; there are none, now sitting in the tree
My wife is cooking vultures, but her rifle’s trained on me
Oscar and I
Today, I drove to Faro, In the Algarve
I wanted to eat a tunny steak at a café
I used to go fifteen years ago
The place had gone upmarket, as had
prices
The server remembered me, but not
my wife and took an instant dislike to
the man said he was effeminate
Oscar Wilde entered, or someone who
looked like him
He was of the expansive sort, told jokes
and recited poems, the other guests
and my wife liked him
I decided to become gay for the day
and after a few glasses of wine, stood
up to read my poems
she tugged at my sleeve and told me to
shut up.
Oscar Wilde looked at me with deep
sympathy in his intelligent eyes
I had my moment to gain, if putative
fame, she had to spoil it all
My chance had gone
Deep in the heart of West Sussex
The Downs stretch out for miles
Complete with wide open spaces
Meadows and county styles
There resides three staunch compatriots
A Horse a Donkey and an old Dog called Chat
They live in an Old Racing Stables complex
With Farmer Ted Wilson, his wife Betty and Daughter Pat
Each morning about six thirty
They are all taken out for a long walk
By Farmer Wilson with his walking stick to aid him
Down past the old quarry where they used to dig up Chalk
The horse’s name was Mumbo Jumbo
Use to running at Ascot Racecourse and the like
Somehow he managed to win ten races
So he looked forward to his early morning hike
The Donkey was called Rambo
He was as tough as an old welly Boot
He had a very nasty temperament at times
It seems life to him was just a hoot
But Chat was an old Iris Red Setter
Just as red as red could be
His coat shone ever so brightly in the Sunlight
To him life was just a good game don’t you see
They used to walk for about four miles at a time
Then head back home in time for their early morning feed
And Farmer Wilson could put his feet up
And give the morning Newspaper a jolly good read
Daughter Pat was especially fond of Mumbo
She took him out for a canter each day
With Chat running along beside them
They would go on their merry way
But old Rambo preferred a more peaceful existence
But would Hop, Skip and jump when the mood took him
Or just lays somewhere quiet and nod off into dreamland
And wake up find some puddle, lay in it and pretend to swim
Life on the Farm was a joy to behold
Everyone was as happy as happy could be
Even on days that were wet and cold
Farmer Wilson and Betty had been married for fifty long years
Together they worked hard all day long
And built up the Farm though a lot of blood Sweat and tears
Daughter Pat does her best to lend a helping hand
Between them they make it work well
So for a few more years good health permitting
Their lives will prosper but you never can tell.
She welcomes us into her husband's home,
Serves us with best dishes,
And refers to us as her beloved children
When daddy wants to get us new clothes,
He asks her to escort him to the great shopping center,
He says she makes better choices than our mother.
She takes us in,to sleep in her home
Whenever our father has gone on a journey,
And treats us just like one of our aunts.
When our father wants to make a decision,
He tells her the whole plan,
So that she can make the best decision.
Our sperm contributor compares her to our mummy
Saying she cooks more delicious food,
Than his wife's dirty and unsweet food.
When her children are sent home for school fees,
Daddy gives it to them,and they return to school.
While we stay at home, counting a week's stay.
He buys ice cream for her children,
And says they speak better English than us
And dance modernly unlike local us.
And when he wrote the will,
All daddy's property belonged to her.
The car,land ,cattle, business and children.
She wants us to love her like our own,
But to our faces,she's only a begging stranger-
Who wants to rob our mother of her family.
She wishes we could hug her with affection,
But our spirits are conservative,
Looking with disgust at her arrival.
She would like to have us for her children
But we belong to another woman.
She's only our father's wife!
Ampurire Anitah
Oh, Magic Rocks, please sweep me back in time-
back then, some fifty-four years in the past;
when Mom was young, and meant to stay with me
to tell me things she wanted me to know.
Yes, Mother dear, I miss your gentle love-
the time we shared in what we liked to do.
But there were many things I hoped to learn
about the youth you did not get to share.
I never heard about your childhood dreams
or how you spent those crazy teenage years.
I know so little of your life before
you met my loving Dad, who's with you now.
Back then, as a young wife and mother too,
I did not dwell on thinking of your past.
You would have told me later, had you stayed-
no thoughts that future years would never be.
Not knowing that her time so soon would end,
Dear Magic Rocks, now sweep me back in time
so I can ask these questions haunting me!
Oh, Magic Rocks, please journey me back home.
And now, I treasure every day,
as though it were the last.
There aren't any Magic Rocks
to take us to the past.
Do you have the courage to give up your life for someone?
Do you have the willingness to die for a stranger?
Must it be someone you know or can it be anyone?
Even for someone close, would you put your life in danger?
Is the instinct for your own survival just too much?
What would it take for you to lay down your life?
Is it the fear of losing out on that human touch
Or the guilt for leaving your children, husband, or wife?
These are some of the questions that you must ask yourself
Before you enlist in the U.S. military.
It’s not easy, but your heart can’t be put on a shelf.
In battle, your mind isn’t the only thing you should carry.
Imagine what people do every single day in war.
They give their lives for people they don’t even know.
Even if you’re not sure what they are fighting for,
Remember that they had the courage to stand up and go.
One day I'll drive there.
On the way
I'll tell my wife about the Modoc woman,
who lived outside the city,
above a sea lion rookery.
She taught me a Klamath-Modoc prayer:
“I want you animals to know, open your eyes,
a hungry man has killed one of you.
One day we will find out
what happened to its spirit
then we will go meet with it,
for it was my brother.”
She rowed a boat on the spume
of the wild cove waves.
I knew her, she had the way of truth in her.
When I get to the Redwoods,
I'll visit her clapboard home.
Look for her twelve year old Ford truck,
her briny patch of hand-reared garden,
her small surf-riding boat.
The sheriff reported her, `missing in transit.'
Maybe she went off
with that son-of-a- jailbird
who had twice tried to kill her.
I'll take the back roads, getting lost
until we reach the ocean.
When we get to Crescent City,
we'll sit by the harbor and watch the sea lions
savoring their deep throated funk.
I'll tell my wife I love her,
and she will taste the salt of my words.
She speaks with her nose opened wide
Like that of Queen Elizabeth the none
From the fringe of the nose
She speaks very fluently
Chewing Queen’s language
With her head high up
She must have been an “Americana”
No! Briton, I mean
Chorused the mouth of many.
Yet she was not only born of here
She leaves all her life within
In the dusks . . . thick
Of a town called “Ibara”.
Indeed the other face of “Ibara”
We thought she was of the
Known family in “Ibara”
“Ibara” of the biggest shots
We were hoodwinked again
Its “Ibara” other side
With people of no side or size.
I became popeyed of it the news
That her Father a local referee
I wore it a gown of surprise
Of her fluency even in
Pidgin and Yoruba dictions.
Needing twenty two lies
To support one big heady fabrication.
Does she defeacate or fart ?
Too clean of a skin and look
Selling dubiously nothing but her casing
As many Adams pay for her pretence
Others swayed by her glibness
Skinned naked by her smile . . . comportment
Donate generously to her carcass
Of an empty moving coffin.
Too hollow to be real.
She can’t sleep in darkness
She can’t wash her clothes
Yet she is full of pretence
Too pompous to be genuine.
Enter the knockings of that day
That she will be strip naked
Of her white flying lies
All at the open market square.
Alayande Stephen. T
30th,July, 2006
12.25am
Ola’s very comical story of his
Female friend called Wunmi.
I may be shy but my pen isnt
And this poem is borne out of pure instinct.
I think I may have met you in the life before,
Maybe we used to play together when I was four;
I may be wrong but considering this emotional semantics,
You should be the reason I hate mathematics.
All I care to calculate is how to love you better,
Olo mi abeg settle down well to digest this letter;
The warmth in my heart is like the Jamaican afternoon
And cant wait to set my eyes on you pretty soon.
We may be thousand miles away,
But believe me when I say you're the reason I pray;
I reckon I'd seen you in dreams before we met,
Kissing sometimes upon the horizon of golden sunset.
And oftimes I wouldnt want to wake from my sleep,
Because I wanted the dreams to keep;
We may have met before in a former life,
And thats why only you deserve to be my wife.
We decided to take a swimming pool exercise class for seniors…
we thought it would be sweet…
A way to get some exercise and beat the Florida heat.
Two realizations hit me as I waded in: One, the water was a little cool,
and Two, as I looked around it seemed to me…I was the oldest man in the pool.
My mind drifted back to my swimming lessons…my parents thought it’d be cool
to take me when I was just a baby…the youngest in the pool.
My birthday is on New Year’s Eve…six days after the Yule…
My parents sent me to 1st grade early so I was the youngest in my class at school.
At 21 I became a teacher…for the most part still a fool….
but here I was in Kent, Ohio…the youngest teacher in my school.
And I wondered where the time has gone…while exercising in the water…nice and cool
How have I gone from the youngest…to the oldest in the pool?
Then I found myself smiling at my good fortune…time has not been cruel…
for there beside me was my wife, Deborah, exercising in the pool.
We have a wonderful family…friends…we’ve had pets both dogs and cats….
We’ve been lucky to grow old together…and there’s nothing wrong with that!
As we finished our exercise class a baby was taking lessons…learning how to swim…
I stopped on my way out of the pool to wave and smile at him…
Secretly I hoped his life…like mine…will be a jewel….
A parting wish from the oldest man…to the youngest in the pool.