Long Wised Poems
Long Wised Poems. Below are the most popular long Wised by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wised poems by poem length and keyword.
The turkey's on
Old man Johnson's farm
All wised up this year
Logging on
To Amazon
About mid November
With Halloween out of the way
They were bound to save
On the items they would need
Which worked out great
Cause all they could afford to pay
Was in scratched up chicken feed
The pigs helped in
The ordering
As it's a well known fact
That being turkey's
They're always in a hurry
And ain't nobody got time for that
They saved up extra seed
For quick delivery
When you're on the cliffs edge dancing
Coming down to it
This being life or death
There's no need to take chances
In the nick of time
The package arrived
On the day before
The fateful day
Known to our hero's as shake and bake
November 24th
On that morning when
Old man Johnson then
With ax in hand stepped outside
Where he tried to think
Had he ever seen
So many cows in his life
In between the moo's
He heard a gobble or two
Which in itself is very strange
Plus the Amazon bill
For umpteenth costume cows
He just can't quite explain
The turkey's on
Old man Johnson's farm
All wised up this year
Logging on
To Amazon
About mid November
With Halloween out of the way
They were bound to save
On the items they would need
Which worked out great
Cause all they could afford to pay
Was in scratched up chicken feed
The pigs helped in
The ordering
As it's a well known fact
That being turkey's
They're always in a hurry
And ain't nobody got time for that
They saved up extra seed
For quick delivery
When you're on the cliffs edge dancing
Coming down to it
This being life or death
There's no need to take chances
In the nick of time
The package arrived
On the day required
The fateful day
Known to our hero's as shake and bake
November 23rd
On that morning when
Old man Johnson then
With ax in hand stepped outside
Where he tried to think
Had he ever seen
So many cows in his life
In between the moo's
He heard a gobble or two
Which in itself is very strange
Plus the Amazon bill
For umpteenth costume cows
He just can't quite explain
The turkey's on
Old man Johnson's farm
All wised up this year
Logging on
To Amazon
About mid November
With Halloween out of the way
They were bound to save
On the items they would need
Which worked out great
Cause all they could afford to pay
Was in scratched up chicken feed
The pigs helped in
The ordering
As it's a well known fact
That being turkey's
They're always in a hurry
And ain't nobody got time for that
They saved up extra seed
For quick delivery
When you're on the cliffs edge dancing
Coming down to it
This being life or death
There's no need to take chances
In the nick of time
The package arrived
On the day required
The fateful day
Known to our hero's as shake and bake
November 23rd
On that morning when
Old man Johnson then
With ax in hand stepped outside
Where he tried to think
Had he ever seen
So many cows in his life
In between the moo's
He heard a gobble or two
Which in itself is very strange
Plus the Amazon bill
For umpteenth costume cows
He just can't quite explain
toss anger, he said
into the bin of waste
waste not mankind’s love
with abuse and bite
the bullet skies
high the eagle flies
why not the steeple
less with feathers flocked
why not the pews on
threadbare knees
that knock and palms
close touch of closed
and ethereal eyes, in shock
of amazing blue, far above
the whizzing bell of shots
some fell, some rise
both have a knell and sigh
anger flung like monkey dung
lay upon the sheetrock roof
its lies are born and cradled
evil has a childhood, is able
to wean and crawl, to fall
toss anger, he spoke
to the deaf and blind
they never woke nor wised
up. six feet downer done
swept into the bin of waste
a godforsaken life
All men have born desires
garland of the prettiest arm.
Want to meet in the loveliest Place
Where no hurdle no harm.
She was waiting to Mr right
Spider webs to trap just right.
The sea of sand was all over
But emotions not mood to over.
Mirage born ownself in hot summer
Desert to quench herself
From the blood of the craziest
Creatures , mad behind the mates.
The thirsty traveller no mood
To give up so easily.
Move forward in the Thar desert
With wised steps gradually.
She was standing in isolated land
The desert at not present water tank.
To hug her crazy moth which
Will add a more number in her hunt.
Mirage produces in sunny noon
In sand to catch unknown fellow.
My friend was almost mad behind Angel
Don't recognise the upcoming fellow.
The body and the soul were thirsty
Very strong these were both.
No one ready to move back
So he travelled to quench both.
Now the real world and the real goal
Feet scored miles and miles to go.
Which goal post he wanted to goal
Still, didn't have a hole to goal.
His breath was leaving without any alarm
My feet were freezing without cold.
Dearest few steps your can make me alive
If you want to save ,without delay hold.
Come on, come on my kind princess
Come on my sweetheart
I have left the world far behind
Come on and hug me , if don't mind.
Break hurdle from surroundings
Break chains of illusion own self
Stretch hands to welcome me
Come out from the fairy tale thyself.
Don't become very shirty
I am not behaved as dirty
Please, quench body and soul's thirsts
No one can do this except you buddy.
I am dying without water
Millions yards I covered for you
Looks insufficient to meet you
But remaining must cover you.
But regret she was unmoved
And so friend was lying unmoved.
Oh, Medieval Studies hit me hard!
I'd had to give myself a dressing-down,
A telling-off: "You want that cap and gown?
Then get your ass to lectures!" Bowland Yard
was frosty, unforgiving on my feet
that Monday morning. Seven forty-five?
I'm all alone? Is anyone alive?
I took the lecture theatre's highest seat,
(that is, remotest from the podium).
What sap gives lectures at this time of day?
"The Role of Guildsmen in the Passion Play" -
small wonder I was held in odium
by my professors. I'd been bent on passion,
and far too keen on play, to have a clue
what any of this meant, but now I knew
I had to sharpen up ... well, after a fashion.
That early stuff took place was news to me,
the party-loving fresher. One more yawn
resounded in the chilly air. Forlorn,
my scruffy pad took doodles, listlessly.
A door lisped open. In swayed Cheryl Ladd -
no, Rita Coolidge - Buffy St. Marie.
Some little trinkets tinkled gracefully
as Buffy slid beside me. I hid my pad
with one swift forearm. "Is it taken?" She
bestowed on me a smile so sweetly knowing,
I didn't know if I was coming or going.
"This seat," she said. I stuttered, "No, it's free."
The lecture, when it happened, was a killer,
but I was insulated from all pain.
I even thought I might show up again,
with Miss World wafting something like vanilla.
I crossed the Yard with no thought but my bed,
but someone tugged my sleeve. That fragrance! Her!
"I'm Helen." My whole campus was a blur.
"I wonder ... could you help me, please?" she said.
The next part can be skipped, or summarised.
She wanted me to teach her Skelton, Chaucer -
well, anything. Even Hengist and Horsa!
Three lesson-dates went by. I hadn't wised
up yet. Tonight, she didn't seem that fussed
with Grendel's mother's vile propensity
for harm. She looked with strange intensity
full in my eyes. "You catching that last bus?"
The air seemed cooler as I left her flat.
No hug tonight. No pasta to take home.
Her hair stayed stolid, captured by her comb.
Somehow, our lessons died off after that.
Long decades drain away, we don't know how.
A moral to this tragic history?
All I can think is, what I'd give to be
nineteen again - and know what I know now!