I need a good long poem!!!?

Question

i need a poem that is kind of kid-ish and it has to be at lest 4 min. long it can be 2 poem that = that but it is for theater arts!!!! help me it is for a tournament!!!! help me!!!

Answer 1

4 minutes is a long time, read slowly.

Plantation Tamerlaine

by D. C. Dilley

A tale I am about to tell,

Of one adventure great.

So sit right down and listen close,

And try not to be late.

It started on a fair spring morn,

She climbed down from her bed.

She dressed herself and brushed the hair,

Upon her fair skinned head.

Her face like alabaster was,

Her eyes were sapphire blue.

Their gaze was focused on the frame,

Which held her love so true.

Will he be home today, she mused,

If so, will he be well?

The last good look she had of him.

He marched off into h**l.

Why do these men go off to war?

Why try to maim and kill?

Just sit here in this mansion grand,

Upon this Georgia hill.

He had no slaves to fight to keep,

Just land and fields to tend.

It is a shame that when it’s done,

The wounded may not mend.

She had a muffin and some tea,

And walked to the front door.

She walked around the bloodstain spot,

Upon the hard pine floor.

Her son had fallen down the stairs,

One year ago today.

She went outside to see the cross,

Out where his body lay.

For two long years her man was gone,

To join in this damned fight.

When would these men just get a mind,

And try to see the light.

She looked out on the land around,

As far as she could see.

And thought how it was owned in whole,

“By just one man and me.”

She saw some riders coming near,

But they were far away.

The only thing that she could tell,

They were not wearing gray.

Blue uniforms were soon in sight,

Her heart began to sink

She feared the worst for she had heard,

Of Sherman’s mighty stink.

On they rode so slow and sure,

They sat the saddles high.

In only a short space of time,

The troopers had drawn nigh.

The captain was a handsome man,

He tipped his hat to her.

He asked if this were Tamerlaine,

The home of John and Cher.

She nodded with her voice still mute,

Fear showed in both her eyes,

The fact that he knew of their names,

Had filled her with surprise.

“I have good news”, he told her then,

“Your husband will be free.

He’s lost a leg, but not to war,

He lost it to save me.”

“My horse had stumbled on a track,

My cinch strap slipped around.

I found myself wedged tightly in,

The train track on the ground.”

“Alone I was, could not get free,

When John came riding by.

I thought for sure he’s shoot me dead,

But all he did was sigh.”

“He got down from his trusty mount,

And worked to get me free,

The train could have killed only me,

But got John at the knee.”

“He would not leave me there to die,

That’s why I rode this way.

He should be on a train back home,

He’ll leave there on this day.”

At that the captain turned his horse,

Then said, “Oh, by the way”,

“This bloody war is over now”,

And then he rode away.

Three days it took the train to come,

The people there did cheer.

When John departed from the train,

The noise too loud to hear.

She ran to him and hugged him tight,

He looked around for Tim,

For in too long no word had come,

To tell what befell him.

She told him of the tragic day,

The Lord took him away.

And how she got the news of John,

At one year to the day.

John looked at Cher, tears trickled down,

“I think I saw my son.”

“I saw a cloud that looked like him,

It felt that we were one”

Then home they went to Tamerlaine,

Their home throughout this life.

John learned to farm with just one leg,

With help from loving wife.

They had more children, girls and boys,

Farmed cotton and farmed grain.

And all lived out their mortal days,

Plantation Tamerlaine.

Answer 2

wow, so you're cheating?

Answer 3

o.o;

mm...you should at least start with something so people can help you finish it off. I hope you're not looking for someone to just give you their poem because if they did that and you turned it in, it's very dishonest. I'd want to kill someone if they stole my poem and put their name on it anyhow. lol

Answer 4

(I need to lower my percentage, as it looks bad.)

BOOOOOO!!!

Farmers? Jesus wept...

"Oive got a brand new combine 'arvester... Give urs a kiss Aunt Sally! Hurr hurr."

So...

My piece would be entitled "Opus Magnifico - Cornetto No.2".

It'd read:

Opus. *sotto voce* "magnifico, cornetto, magnum iiicccessssss."

This is...

One.

[This is where the bearded beanie, white hippie dreadlock, fluffy, pre-pubescent goatee'd guy on the bongos would do a minute solo. Badly...]

SKAT!

Two.

[This is where I'd eat as many strawberry cornetto's in 2 minutes as I possibly could, ensuring I made as much mess over myself and on the stage - requiring clean up between acts, wasting more of my valuable time - in time to the rhythm set by Mr. Bongo and splurting it over the crowd as I expleted my next words.]

Four! Times Four is not eight. That's addition and I failed Maths at school - I had to do creative arts because I'm a furkin artist!

This is so long, it's no piece of string. You can't measure it by the minute, nor from it's distance from end to middle.

[And Mr. Bongo would be rhythming his beat and saying "diddle de diddle de diddle de" throughout the fourth part... Hammering his bongos ever louder to drown out my voice, because what I'm saying here is the TRUTH!]

I stole this poem, it was not mine, but I don't care because I want to win:

So, judges... Suck my Opus. Magnifico Cornetto. No.2. Not number one - I sit down when I use the bathroom. Even though I am a man.

If I had any time left on the massive stopwatch that I'd have been holding between my knees, face to the crowd, for the performance - I'd say "Judges judge; Jude Law; Judges judge; Jude Law" until the cuckoo came outta the clock and said:

"I'm a furkin ARTIST! I ain't no idea! You can't conceptualise ME cuckoo!"

Here - since I agree with Yi J, I've written you some total shinola shinecake. (read shin as S**t - it has an hard "N")

I hate it when people steal my ideas.

If they like them so much, they can just ask and they'll probably be given license to reproduce them. However they wanted. Whenever and wherever.

So long as they asked through representation...

If you hate me, you can answer my question:

http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?...

[edit]

I think you'll find that kids really dig conceptual beat poetry with abstract symbolism and poor prose and an healthy dose of surrealism to wash it all down with.

At least, the ones I poke with my cattle prod - the kids that live in the cupboard under the stairs - seem to like it.

But they're just Pavlovian childe, really...

mmmm... Strawberry Pavlova...

You're definitely right. I DO enjoy this far too much - I need a break. It's detracting from my proper stuff...

Answer 5

Choose a subject that is kid-ish, write down all the rhyming words you can think of, even making up words as you go.  Just write.  Soon you will see a common thread or an idea will jump out at you.  Remain calm, do not freak out or get too upset because you brain will not function properly and then it is more or less a lost cause.  

Kids like:    Ice cream, swinging, monkey bars, playground, basketball, some like school and some don't, candy (!!), they typically have one favorite food, video games, Internet browsing, challenging tasks, movies, popcorn and chips, soda, Kool-Aid, BBQ steak, and someone special in their immediate circle.  

Here's some ideas you can begin to write down rhyming words about and it may be an assignment completed in no time!  Good luck.

Answer 6

buy a slower watch