Long Wool Poems
Long Wool Poems. Below are the most popular long Wool by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wool poems by poem length and keyword.
You say you want lots of rum? Put it in a big fat drum.
Cooking oils put in drums too. Soy or canola will do.
Put your hands in a basin. Want a jar? How about a Mason?
In a jar, you can put jam, but probably not a ham.
Flour you can put into a bowl. Lay flat for biscuits. Roll and roll.
Sugar put into a bowl with flour. Add in things not sour!
Put your trash in a bin. In a glass pour your gin.
Soup or a drink put in a cup. All night in comfort you can sup.
In our sky God put stars. In cartons man put cigars.
In cartons too you can put milk. On your hair put a scarf of silk.
Put good fruit into a pail. In your mailbox stick your mail.
Many things you can put in a box. Things from Amazon, clocks and rocks.
Coins I might put in a pouch; cash in cushions of my couch.
In my bag I put such things as lipstick, cash, strings or rings.
In your lunchbox put a banana. Bikinis, though, put in a cabana!
Santa puts gifts in a sack. Shirts you put both front and back.
Folks put liquids in a jug. Liquids hot go in a mug.
A lot of fluid put in a vat. I don’t think most folks own that.
In a bathtub put your body, using bath salts – not too shoddy.
Put your wool things in a sink. But dry hot not, or it will shrink!
You can put upon a tray things not too big down to lay.
Last, should all a body burn, it’s good to hold it in an urn.
Jan. 24, 2023 for the Lipogram Poetry Contest of Emile Pinet
It was from the early 1800s
This phrase was first used
I'm sure it has other meanings
So please don't get confused
If your understanding of the term
Was just like mine
I thought "to pull the wool over someone's eyes"
Were the eyes of the woolly ovine
I thought this terminology
Was clever and quite cool
It seemed very logical
As the sheep supplies the wool
You have to pull the jumper on
(One you may despise)
And at some point of doing this
It will cover both your eyes
So it seems quite reasonable
Without investigating too deep
This explains the phrase
It started with a sheep
Some others beg to differ
And say it isn't so
They say it came from woollen wigs
Worn by judges years ago
It was from the early 16th century
Up to the present day
It seems like these ridiculous wigs
Are here to stay
Judges could not trust deceitful lawyers
Who often told them lies
Along with other unlawful people
Who tried to pull the wool
Over the judge's eyes
The judge's wig was made of wool
The wool comes from a sheep
The wig sometimes slipped
Over the judge's eyes
So he could only peep
He could not see things clearly
This was what the lawyers' hoped
It would cost the lawyers' dearly
Knowing they had stretched the truth
They should all have known better
Most judges are super sleuths
I don't know the answer
Or the reason why
These phrases come into being
So I close this with a sigh
Not one of resignation
Or even relief
A sigh of contentment
I'll keep to my belief
I'm a romantic
Who doesn't want to delve too deep
The phrase "To pull the wool over someone's eyes"
Will always be the sheep's
This atheistic, intelligent, liberal minded
nonestablishmentarian
christened Matthew
Scott Harris, haint gotta clue,
how bias, discrimination,
prejudice didst brew
within me noggin admitting to myself,
(that though tolerant
towards most other people)
amidst variegated hue
mankind cutting crew,
I can not wholeheartedly dislodge un argue
ably the stubborn presence
of disagreeably unwanted notions,
an effort quite few
till to expunge, though not clearly
delineated against gentile nor Jew
the latter encompassing
my genealogical lineage
(as ye probably knew)
though acute awareness exists
that objectionable thoughts
towards others coalesced and grew,
sans initial aural, sensational,
and visual perceptions did ensue
from nearly imperceptible
germinal, ephemeral, and casual
brief interactions, thy amygdala and,
posterior cingulate cortex
(PCC) instantaneously drew
nearly nsync with a single blink
of thine myopic left or right human eye
(which average duration 0.1 to 0.4 seconds,
or 100 to 400 milliseconds)
forged an unconscious initial mount'n view
clocked in at 100 milliseconds
or 328.0839895013123 feet per second
pointing asper an expert mason
hermetically sealing a psychic impression
ala mortise and tenon
amalgamated conglomerate
enterprise glommed zoo
wool logical imprimatur difficult,
but not impossible loo
sin and/or completely dislodge
neurological hullabaloo.
under my bed
under invasion!
invaded by piles
of migrating balls!
dust rolls around
gathered in piles
piles tied in bundles
some are like pillows
pillars of feathers
pillows that billow
billowing towers
blooming like flowers
flowers I've gotten
flowers of cotton
curled cotton swirls
cotton-tail squirrels
squirrels in soft slippers
squirrels having litters
quicker to litter
litters are wooly
wool climbs the stairs
wool everywhere
bagfuls inhabit
spinning more rabbits
maintaining their habits
crocheting more rabbits
angora type rabbits
contagious civilians
into the millions
villain dust devils
spinning more fellows
devils in herds
please spread the word
herds I can't stop
bunnies that hop
stop them producing
don't mind the cursing!
searching the room for my broom
cursing the doom of a lint baby boom
copulation
problem making
populating
propagating weed
weeds and seeds, please take your leave
squirrels and rabbits hop hop hop
it's in the halls, like lint from sheep
I'm steeped in lint and I can't keep things clean!
When sheep need sleep,
they creep back
under
my bed!
_____________________________________________________
(Lyrics written to the tune of: "That Old Black Magic" *NOTE: Maintain forward tune throughout all six stanzas; last three stanzas don't revert to original tune wherein, tempo change)
That old hat trick just didn't go so well,
That old hat trick had socked me to a bell,
Those icy fingers up and down my wool,
Came from that old schoolmarm
taught at their high school,
The sound of jingle that you hear in me,
It's the time that bell had just broken free,
Down and down deeply,
round and round in me,
They'll try to have it free,
and done quickly,
goes bye bye I, drops me
washing-meany ...
They would watch, with wild amusement,
as chubby little hands worked furiously, struggling with each button.
Tiny, unskilled fingers loosening, gnawing at them, until the last one was free.
She would wiggle out of her brand new, red velvet coat,
scrambling to play with building blocks and toys.
A capsule in time, that confirms something about her that cannot be tamed...
her pride, stubbornness, and a fierce desire to be
INDEPENDENT!
We are watching in mild discomfort,
as blue veined, arthritic hands work furiously, struggling with each button.
Swollen-knuckled fingers loosening, gnawing at them, until the last one is free.
Slowly, and methodically, she shrugs off the old familiar, wool-tweed coat,
while we patiently wait to enjoy our afternoon tea.
A capsule in time, that confirms something about her that cannot be named...
Is it pride, or fear, or a fierce desire to be
INDEPENDENT?
____________________________________________________________
For the contest sponsored by Black Eyed Susan: " Buttons "
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Written: September 22, 2023
____________________________________________________________
Shimmering shadow sinks sandy saffron shrouds
Beneath azure skies, wispy wise wool clouds.
Incalescences in a skid, distinct buds in the weld
Wobbly whirl seesaw weirds the whole head.
Viewing nature in the inner of a transient scoop.
Nature's many blooms, rich giving stake loop
She has an exquisite spirit and endless talent.
Stamp tenure, time of year, and seen patent
As the sun dips lower, the colors ignite,
A symphony of gold, a breathtaking sight.
Leaves dance in the breeze, a fiery ballet,
Autumn's magic casting its golden display.
Trees stand tall, adorned in vibrant attire,
Their branches reach higher and higher.
Each leaf a brushstroke of amber and red,
A masterpiece painted by nature's hand.
The air is crisp, with a hint of wood smoke,
The scent of harvest lingers, a comforting cloak.
Crisp apples and pumpkins, ripe for the taking
As Autumn's embrace leaves senses awaking.
The meadows and fields, a tapestry of gold,
A canvas of beauty, a sight to behold.
Wildlife frolics, amidst the golden sea,
Squirrels gather acorns, busy as can be.
The deer gracefully graze, their antlers held high,
A scene of tranquility beneath the autumn sky.
Birds migrate, their wings in utopian formation,
Nature's orchestra creates a symphony of elation.
The sunsets, casting a warm golden glow,
As Autumn's Symphony continues to grow.
The days grow shorter, the nights longer,
As nature prepares for winter somber.
But in this moment, this golden embrace,
Autumn's beauty leaves no trace.
So let us revel in Autumn's golden symphony,
As she paints the world in hues of ecstasy.
great green grizzly gorilla came by to sit on my knee.
I was horrified and yelped “why did he pick me?”
He’s cute, said my husband. Be still, or you’ll make him blue.
Okay, I agreed, but I am turning him over to you.
a lively, little lamb bounded in to sit on my lap.
gorilla and husband were laughing. One said you’re such a sap.
I was thinking lamb chops for supper as I stroked her soft wool.
She read my mind, and dashed away, meadow was her goal.
Next entered a fluffy bear with big black beautiful eyes.
That he fit through our teeny dog door was an enormous surprise.
The gorilla leaped off my husband and dove through that door.
Three fluffy potential pets, but only one to show you, Lenore.
Mary Had A Little Lamb
Mary had a little Lamborghini
Little Lamborghini
Little Lamborghini
His love she fleece from him
And everywhere that Mary drove
Mary drove
Mary drove
His love she showed off
Mary had a crush on him
Crush on him
Crush on him
His shines a quite contrary
Mary drove him fast
Drove him fast
Drove him fast
Their loving topped off
Mary heard wedding bells
Wedding bells
Wedding bells
Her loves full of wool
Mary lived in a mansion
In a mansion
In a mansion
Her shines a quite contrary, too
Mary felt her stomach kicking
Stomach kicking
Stomach kicking
Mary had a little lamb
... little lamb
His eyes a beaming
A beaming
A beaming
Lighting Mary's heart
connie pachecho
8/15/17
"I stood still and was a tree amid the wood,
Knowing the truth of things unseen before;"
. . .
"Nathless I have been a tree amid the wood
And many a new thing understood
That was rank folly to my head before."
--- from The Tree, by Ezra Pound
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Slender, singular, filamentous fir,
Yellowing larch -- these trees
Do not speak but seem to sleep,
Sheltering skinny sheep
Handily herded -- full-fleeced
In lanolin-laden wool.
Sheep do not sleep much.
They speak their protest --
(Such ineffective baas) --
To cloning and to closeness.
All, doubles of the ovine others,
Crowded among brothers,
Cowering under silent wood:
Dissimilar dark fir;
Lone, yellowing
Larch.