Long Yodeling Poems
Long Yodeling Poems. Below are the most popular long Yodeling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yodeling poems by poem length and keyword.
Welcome! everybody now
Europeans, Italians and otherwise
Wild birds all set to crow
Intent on pretzels and gnocchi
Liters of beer and wine prevail
Local foods will make you drool
Party-goers in the groove gear up
Arriving with cheers - Huzza!
Returning guests and those on tour
Teetotalers too we will admit
You are welcome; come and stay
Lederhosen and dirndls, dress apparel
Initial parade complete with confetti
Kicks off the breweries' lark
Every first Sunday, a costume parade
Trendy tents offer entertainment
Historic foods, mostly deutsch
Even children enjoy rides and flume
Reservations you will prefer
Early evening tents may close
Should safety cause concerns
No first-timer can turn down
Ox on a spit and all things potato
Thrills last for more than a fortnight
Oompah music always crescendo
Munich Madness - groups perform
Oktoberfest yodeling, give it a go
Regulation insures your beer -
Real German malt lager
Official toast, “O'zapft is!” - Cheerio!
We will party like there’s no tomorrow
written as a double acrostic on November 7, 2016
I am drunk, stoned, woozy and tipsy
Drinking beer, brandy and whiskey,
Swinging with abandon like a gipsy.
Kinda crazy, sozzled but hella merry…
Ha, Mary, kiss me! And Yo Sherry,
Your luscious lips, red as a ripe cherry…
Yoo-hoo, life could be a ding-a-derry.
The unsavory past is but long forgotten
Life’s more fun now and not at all rotten
The hurt is bearable and the pain lessen
Since flirting with this devious devil often
Brings me bliss and heartaches soften.
Like little children laugh, dance and sing
All summer, winter, autumn and spring,
With a passionate heart I bid you to bring
lots of hugs, kisses and joyful yodeling.
~A Brian Strand contest.
Contest: Addiction
Sponsor: Rob Levasseur
Here's the Good News, our world is awash,
in wonders and beauty life cannot quash;
Like laughter and love, kind words, Turtle Doves,
Bar Mitzvahs and birthdays, baptisms and first dates,
Promotions, Grand Openings, healings and yodeling!
Still more Good News...
Our world is awash, in kisses and hands held,
Tests passed, graduations, and money found;
Quiet moments of solitude, with friends in coffee shops,
Good moods rise above, and a dog’s unconditional love!
And still more...
A cat’s warm fur, trips to masseuse or masseur;
Reports of remission, Broadway shows and magicians,
Art galleries, symphonies, faith and homeless ministries;
Be ye conscious of good news, often awash,
Overwhelmed by negative, it simply gets lost.
Just a heads up--Good News Sells too!
March 22, 2020
nor any greed
from one suppurating marriage
this guy wants to be freed
with no malice this cheap tricking
super tramping wordsmith
of inxs ac of dc charged cheap tricks
sans done dirty deed.
This impersonator qua sometime bard of yore
admits to his apology
if ye get taken totally abominable
like bar rammy aback
to proposition ye with carnal desires in store
and ideally match deeds ease with these words
towards such strong desire to adore
forsooth that naked realm
to allow the noggin to bore
together in close syncopation like couplet core
and would now gently encourage
his newfound muse
to let me dip me quill in
iambic pentameter du jour
a wordsmith who shies away
drinking pot or smoking booze.
Now with a zing
i step into the digital xing
via summit da fall low wing
written jest to byte tongue in cheek
yet unsure if zee phone here will ring
or an unexpected gold plated invitation
after the yodeling ding
in an effort to hear that pleasant
yet discordant musical ka -- ching
for cherished pennies,
nickels, dimes, nickle back
et cetera from heaven to bring.
Twiddling me fir and twenty black bird
shaped like a green thumb
as me schmart simian Semitic ****
gets comfortably numb
after quaffing
humongous amount of rum
while downing oral rob hurts
sesame street pudding
made of pureed plum
unlike jack in the corner
my luck mooch oh more glum
and despite facial stubble here
and there a stale crumb
this har dabbler in words haint no bum
only a hard knock er skool alum.
from thee one and only almighty
alfred e. neuman king crusty crab crumb son Rodg
er alias scott matthews - whose words
intended as playful persiflage
if curious to learn more about me
emanating from cranial lodge
unless no auto mat tick interest arises -
whence this reply u can dodge.
Written: December 07, 2023
______________________________________
An art display with free and delightful assets,
Blemishes and brightness of nature are blatant
Confusingly gorgeous and full of magic and wonder
Digging deep down the dictum draws a drain.
Earth apex joins the sky peak to heal man's soul
Fathom thrills in its primal vogue as chaos
Gorgeous greenery coiled in your rippling blade
Hobble with a brisk ember for fall indulgence
It seems that nature is the most visually enticing.
Jewel blooms in a savored indigo whisk breeze
Kissing spite swirled, swaying spritz and sunlight
Levitate into the hills tidings; peace will reach you,
Mercurial avian melodies mingled in a zephyr swell.
Numb tears as marigolds sprout in the dawning sun
Observe nature in a gladsome way and appreciate it
Parasol arose in the blissful glory of glorious wile
Quintessence infuses both lost and found creations.
Remember, when the seasons alter and rain falls,
Sunshine and steel drum bands hug periwinkle sky.
Tender, rich maple-scented trees swirl with the wind
Uncork while chirping with birds to relieve stress
Vegetal forms decay, die, or are rudimentary.
Wail with a willow whisper whisked wind wilting
Xenoliths lack implies peridotite-eclogite connect
Yodeling, bird song disguise, and stage presence
Zenith inhales, exhales, fresh air renews your spirit.
My left sock filed taxes on a Tuesday frog,
while a cabbage sang opera to a confused log.
The moon ate a stapler with mustard delight,
then borrowed a canoe from the darkness of light.
I purchased a banana for seventeen clouds,
but the receipt was allergic to yodeling crowds.
A rhinoceros teacup performed ballet cheese,
and a watermelon sneezed in seven languages.
My toaster proposed to a decorative brick,
their wedding was speedy, suspiciously quick.
The minister hamster wore cinnamon pants,
while unicycling ferrets performed tribal dances.
At midnight a turnip became Vice President,
its policies largely were soup-oriented.
It promised free waffles for every raccoon,
and declared every Thursday a ceremonial spoon.
The end is approaching, or maybe a chair.
A penguin just shampooed the national air.
I leave you this wisdom, profound as a sock:
If potatoes can whisper,
then gravy can rock.
Fin.
Or asparagus.
April's roses scent inebriates every sense
below the Gothic cathedral
cardinals doze
draping their wings over
evergreen plants
foreshadowing a cool sunset
griffins guard the bell-tower
hampering the intruders
inflicting fear on the jackals
jaundiced they hide into a jalopy
kapok is soft as cotton
ladybugs allow no sleep
manifesting vulgar wit
nibbling on naugat
oblitaring any sweetness
prie-dieu is her comfort
quickning my understanding
ravishing the merry opus
shedding light on her faith
tending toward forgiveness
unquestionable in its promise
verboten to dishonor it
wimple as sworn devotion
xenophobe not permitted
yodeling is immense praise
zither plays a Gregorian chant
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
I was in a bar in Texas,
in the eastern back-country,
with three beers already inside
and another draining quickly.
It was a perfect redneck bar,
the kind of place I love,
with sawdust on the floors below
and taxidermy up above.
A man drank in a corner,
wearing a battered hat.
he said nothing to no one,
and I was thankful for that.
For in the center of the bar,
a loudmouth proudly raged,
boasting of his magnificence,
impervious to pain.
He mocked folks obnoxiously,
as drunks are wont to do.
His three friends only laughed,
three sheets to the wind too.
The braggart faced the corner,
said,”Hey, it’s the yodeler guy!
I saw him last Oktoberfest,
his voice is womanly high!
“Come on now yodeler,
show this bar what you’ve got.”
The yodeler said,”If you don’t mind,
right now I’d rather not.”
But the drunkard only fumed,
and slammed his hands on down
on the yodeler’s lonely table,
sending his beer to the ground.
Yodeler got up very slowly.
“That’s better now, my bro,”
said the drunk as he got up,
“Give the good people a show!”
Yodeler broke into a song,
bight and clear and full of grace,
then he shot a tree-trunk jab,
right into the drunkard’s face!
The drunkard fell, his friends charged,
Yodeler threw out his elbows,
knocked two down and the other
he grabbed by the throat.
Quick jabs rained upon the man,
until he could not see.
He fell to the ground hearing a
“Yodel-eh-hee-hee!”
Yodeler stomped one who rose,
and another then ran away,
But the drunk had come around,
and glowed red, flush with rage.
But Yodeler kept yodeling,
and waived the braggart in.
Braggart charged, Yodeler swung,
catching him on the chin.
Three men lay on the floor,
the yodeler stepped over them.
That night I learned never to cross
a true yodeling champion.
Not a lesson with much use,
that I readily will admit,
Much like the time I learned clog-dancers
don’t take kindly to bullspit…
Zany and free spirited, Mr. Bungo is a one man show
Yodeling any song you like, doing the "old soft shoe"
Xenial to one and all, he can always charm the crowd
Wild and crazy is he, in a world of his own fantasy
Verily, a man of many talents, with his skits and tricks
Under a bright red canopy, he performs amazing feats
Tickling our fancy with imaginative tales of wonder
Somersaulting through hoops, landing on heaps of feathers
Rides around the ring on a wild, high strung ostrich
Quickly, Mr. Bungo jumps up onto tall stilts and
Parades through the crowd, while playing a kazoo
Odd and quirky, his clothes are colorful, bright and loud
No telling what Mr. Bungo might say or do next, he can
Mimic voices, impersonating a host of sounds and noises
Laughing, he loves to hear the audience roar and cheer
Kind, he tries to hide it, but has a soft spot for little kids
Just watch his face beam as he gives them animal balloons
I can spot tears forming behind his sad, blue eyes
He has a soft heart, but doesn't want to show it, so he
Grabs his tall, silly hat, and springs back into action
Flinging himself into a rocket contraption, we watch
Eager to see what Mr. Bungo will do next, now sparks blast
Daring and brave, he rockets up into the air so high
Careful, Mr. Bungo, we don't want you to crash and die!
Barely, he escapes a tragic collision, he finally lands
And then Mr. Bungo bows, leaps up and does a hand stand.
Across the globe, music ascends—a universal zephyr,
Bridging cultures in harmonious yearning;
Chords converge from Andes to the Zangezur, xenharmonic,
Dulcet tones of a duduk—in the air, they whisper.
Every note—an echo of humanity's vibration,
From flamenco's fire to the finesse of a cello's undulation;
Gamelan's gongs—a gamut of sounds' timbre,
Harmonium's hum—hearts and spirits, it serenades.
In India where the sitar intricately resonates
Juxtaposed with jazz as New Orleans quavers;
Kora's strings kiss the breeze as Africa pulses.
Lyrics leap across lands—in mosaic form, it oscillates.
Marimba's mallets are on wooden keys lightly narrate
Ney's notes always navigate in a trance-like murmur;
Oud's ornate voice offers a limericking lyric
Perhaps to partake in profound kinetic kinesis.
Qanun quietly queries—a quivering jumping jubilation
Rhythms resonate—a restorative impressive intonation;
Samba's syncopation—a spirited harking harmony
Tabla's tempo—a testament of gripping grandiloquence.
Uilleann pipes uplift with urgent a fever for fervor
Violins voice the vibrancy of the endless echo;
Whistles and winds—the world's diverse diapason
Xylophone's xylography—a cross-cultural cadence.
Yodeling yonder in the Alps' billowing bellow
Zither's zephyrs—a zenith we accentuate and attune.