Long Young lady Poems
Long Young lady Poems. Below are the most popular long Young lady by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Young lady poems by poem length and keyword.
Excuse me, and what's your name?
My name's Tyree
And what do you do, Tyree?
l own a vent'lator company
Hmm. l see...
And what's your name, young lady?
My name 's Des'ree
And what do you do, Des'ree?
Q.C.* for the hand-san't'zer 'ndustry
Golly gee! …
And what's your name old man?
My name's Herbert Hoover McCann
And what do you do, Mr. McCann?
l'm proud to be the Mayor of L'ttle Japan**
Mayor, l see you're hold'ng some plast'c
Yes, 't's for a cond't'on most drast'c
We cover your body from head to toe
When we dec'de 't's your t'me to go
But, Mr. McCann, 'sn't that patently 'llegal?
'Twas, 't'l we carted off the Amer'can Eagle!
____________________________________________________
* Q.C. = Qual'ty Control
** L'ttle Japan = f'ct't'ous Japanese-dense area of Amer'can c'ty
Do not be self-conscious or anything, but I have got my big ,rotatorof an eye on you.
I know your mama and yourdad, and I’m willing to let them know if you are not being true.
I cannot tell you that it is never odd or even, but I can tell you that it’s midway, and blue.
Eve, Bob, Otto and Anna are ready to jump right in that kayak and stack cats if they have to.
Don’t pop your eyes at me, young lady. I do not care if we are at the civic center; I feel free
To do whatever I have to, to keep Evil Olive in check, and you also, my little bumble bee.
Who is looking for a nut for a jar of tuna? There is no lemon, no melon, and it’s 9:03.
The radar gun is in the van with Hannah, anyway it was at noon, so I thought that it still might be.
Someone is outside the civic center is yelling, “No garden, one dragon!” What does that mean anyway?
I brought this 6th grade level field trip with me to have an interesting, fun-filled, learning challenged day.
I don’t need some nut-bucket ruining it for me, on every level, this is totally wrong, and I don’t play!
The mirror rimis brushing against the tailgate of the bus we brought, but that is for the driver to say.
Now where in the Sam hill crazy town, is that blue nylon solokayak that was attached to the top of our bus?
I thought we could have one blasted solo-inspired field trip to the civic center without a bunch of fuss.
I realize it is noon, and people are hungry and crabby, and the blue kayak is a big fat muss.
But you have to realize that Eve, Bob, Otto, and Anna were the ones assigned to straighten this big tuss.
I always get the blame when things go wrong, as everyone blames the poor old mama.
The dad is just as much to blame, but there he goes, taking off on a fat llama.
I’m ready to pop my cork, and pitch a fit that would shock the Dad, so much.
Aha! Here he is, back to chow down his fabulous, hand-stacked pepperoni lunch.
No matter communication
betwixt us askew,
spontaneity explains reason I dashed
off this poem for thee and thy beau
pattern ally conscious at obvious clue,
how overjoyed, (though a
self subdued exclude did dude) due
tuff fully feels beholden to
toil let past hateful indiscretions
jackknifing kindred luck,
and quite convenient
for me to eschew
avoidance behaviour (my specialty) etu
Brutus tangled with Popeye ignoring
sailor man turned beastie boy, no foo-
ling, sans spinach (spin age) of my boyhood
fighter, aye linkedin hearty genuine parental
affection culled forth
since your joyous birth,
ah how the years flew
and fierce determination grew
a strong vibrant young lady,
with BOTH brains and brawn, a hue
man... er woman, whose
heart could melt an igloo,
thus thy motive of this
very reformed gentile Jew
nary a whit of genealogy I learned,
hence this schlemiel lets
out eclectic Kathmandu
gestalt steeped, not the
least familiar about Semitic customs,
smidgen much less
than mine parents knew,
which deems yours truly cock eye loo
wee, perhaps this poem
not very a moo
zing to ye, yet
an extemporaneous whim
kindled this papa to write,
especially, when mother came home
exhausted, yet alight
with bubbling ebullience
at dazzling bright
unbridled vibrant warm
yawping zealous delight
displayed between thee,
our eldest daughter,
she (mother) burst with excite
ability, her frothing, gurgling,
and harboring flight
of fancy, thee, and respectable
gentleman from Puerto Rico
fit like a hand glove - and also
approximately the same height
no deterrent for me to gauge insight
and reckon both perfect
as day and knight!
I am the sunshine
I am the rain,
I am the pleasure
I am the pain!
Angry young man,
I am your last puff
of the day's first cigarette,
I am your first sip of life
from the golden peg!
Young lady,
I am your first kiss-
your ornamental love bites
which you touch,adore
and share with the mirror!
I am the teardrops
silently flowing down
the cheeks of a mother,
I am the emphatic joy
of a man,who has just
become a father!
I am the first gush of air
into the lungs of a newborn,
I am the last grasping breath
of a helpless,drowning man!
I am the dream,
that of a martyr
lost ,grounded and never to fly-
I am the National Flag
flying high in the blue sky!
I am all these,present everywhere
may be a little more or less,
I am even in all your hearts
search and you will get my trace!
© kash poet
==============000===============
In a bookshop I stood
Surching for a specific book
I stumbled over a pile of books
But once I got my balance back
I went to the counter to ask for an assistant
Upon the counter I saw a pile of old Braille books.
To my excitement I blew the dust off –
Suddenly a young man came out of the storage room;
“Excuse me ma’am, can I help you?”
His voice was so soft and soothing
“Yes please. I’m looking for a book called Love is blind
He just stood there staring at me and then he said;
“Indeed it is, love is blind.”
I stood there with a frown on my face not knowing what he meant
“Sir, what do you mean by saying love is blind?”
“Give me your hand.”
I gave the tall young man my hand
As he took my hand I saw a teardrop running down his face
“Young lady, you can séé why love isn’t blind for you,
but for me…I will always be blind to see love, but I’ll always feel it.”
I stood there with sadness in my heart
It was silent.
What could I say to him…
I came back the next day, but when I entered
I saw blood on the floor
And a note saying;
I could take no more.
I wanted to be loved.
I wanted to feel love,
But most importantly –
I wanted to séé love!
Silence filled the room
And I just stood there holding
The note saying to myself;
“If I could have shown him love,
Would he still be alive?”
Form:
She traced across the edges of her dreams
Singeled them out, one by one
Tasting memories like Godiva chocolates,
She mouths in silence
Words that conjured wishes into life,
In other times and other places
Back in the magic landscape of a woman's youth,
Where possibilities hang on winks and whims.
They rise up to meet her,
Called forth from the vaults unlocked by sleep.
Those souls she has traveled with have aged,
She, as they, has worn to a paper thinness
Burnt brown and frail at the edges,
So like the old photos of lovers now gone.
Some sank into the earth's cold heart,
Some turned to smoke and spread into impassive skies,
Some simply - Gone
All joined in the weave of memories
The dreams they bring to birth.
The edges of her dreams
Go melting down to sweetness now,
As within, behind the inscrutable, wrinkled face,
Young Lady Godiva slowly starts to smile again.
Strolling through the museum today I saw a fancy mirror on the wall.
'Twas framed with baroque gilt and standing nearly nine feet tall.
A card attached revealed that is was over eight score years eld.
I sat on a nearby bench to muse upon past images it might have beheld.
In my reverie I pictured many scenarios, letting my mind roam.
Could it have graced the entry hall of a fine Victorian home,
Reflecting a gracious young lady clad in fancy ribbon and lace,
Sadly parting, seeing her soldier off to war with a final embrace?
Perchance it was displayed in the ballroom of a grand hotel,
Reflecting the graceful dancing of many a beautiful belle!
Could it have been owned by a colonel of cavalry on the frontier,
Where he preened himself practicing to appear militarily severe?
Perhaps it hung on the wall of a raucous Cripple Creek saloon,
Capturing images of high-stepping dancer and drunken buffoon!
Maybe it saw a reflection of the sheriff coming through the door,
To quell a gunfight, leaving desperadoes sprawled upon the floor!
I sensed a profusion of ghostly images peering back at me,
Each an icon with a tale that will be etched for all eternity.
Reflections of exciting and glorious days now long gone by,
Evoking precious memories, perhaps a tear and many a doleful sigh!
Entry for Craig Cornish's "Mirror Mirror" Contest
Born in a time all are at their most divided,
A young lady eventually for herself decided
To live life pursuing all religions which guided
All humans in ways in which Truth resided.
She found love first in one who is farsighted,
Yet he is shortsighted due to a strict religion.
He held a distance, so this love had ended,
He was also too lenient about his every sin.
She then went with one who is so atheistic,
Yet he often took what she did for granted.
She found his attitude became so apathetic,
So she left what once made her enchanted.
She finally found one who truly understands
What the cycles of eternity truly mean.
They see how in all lives, they held hands,
"He's just right," as he crowns her his queen.
Through out her life we really weren't there
Not lack of Love or that we just didn't care
So many years now that we've missed
It was out of our hands we would insist
Not even sure how much time has now passed
To late but we've got it together at last
Now we look for the Love that was one there
The kind that only her and daddy could share
There's no excuses or things that we can take back
And against us the odds seem to be stacked
Why is it that it never takes long
Before she is hurt by what we do wrong
Still we remember the day she was born
We ran through town tooting our own horn
That Love how can we ever get back
And is life worth it if that's the Love We lack
We never stop paying for years that we're out of our mind
When even rock bottom we couldn't find
So through out the rest of our years
For her we may shed many tears
There is no one else we can even blame
And no matter what we'll love her just the same
Maybe when a few more years she has lived
We will be someone she can forgive
We now write this with a very shattered heart
Hoping and Praying for a new start
Young lady if this you should read
Please believe it's your Love that we really need!
An Uncle Charlie Original
© 2010 unclecharlie
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S_ A_ H_ born...
twenty three years ago
today February 4th, 2022
begat about nine months prior,
approximately late April/early May 1998,
she exited thru fully dilated cervix
10 centimeters or just under 4 inches
immediately cherished as a precious gift
her radiant pink flesh did healthily glow
despite developmental delay
observed during babyhood stage,
blessed timely intervention
hallelujah to countless social services
helped bring her up to speed
and in accordance with average statistics
pertaining to population of girls
at various ages of her life
most vital metrics indicated she did grow,
and matured into an attractive young lady
now mindful (courtesy common sense
and valuable life lessons)
said offspring quite aware the necessity
to comply with status quo
unlike this nonestablishmentarian papa,
who frittered away priceless time show
wing measly abysmal track records
regarding academic and employment, though
not necessarily criminal, I barely lived
analogously solely placing big toe
within streaming rush of opportunities
upon reflection, I experience woe.
Thank you immeasurably youngest daughter
valuable Shayna Punim
beloved gifted progeny bold
coaching, daring, encouraging... herself
whether the weather hot or cold
to take positive growth risks
you count as more precious
than fine spun gold
enhancing mein kampf,
whose absence warrants
birth mama or papa to hold
our darling offspring,
when she clamors for attention,
yet prohibitive physical distance
renders impossible mission
to proffer sought after nurturing,
hence the best attempt to lyft
your spirits (if sagging)
finds me driving in one direction
across information superhighway insync with
electronic uber global positioning satellite
merely wishing ye happy birthday
now intent to email thee told.
YOU GO GIRL!