Long Humor Poems. These are the most popular long Humor by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Humor poems by poem length and keyword.
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Sentenced to hang in the town of Lincoln,
Billy made his bold escape.
Both of his guards died from thinking
that a shackled young boy couldn't break away.
I've often wondered what thoughts were going through his head
as he stood staring out that window chained to the floor by his bed,
watching the gallows being built that would soon seal his fate.
Was he planning at that very moment his greatest escape?
Did he already know that his hanging would never come to be?
Was he already aware that before night fall, once again he'd be free?
Whatever his thoughts, they were interrupted rudely
by Deputy Bob Ollinger, one of his guards while in custody.
"Word has it you said that if we ever met again you'd kill me on the spot.
Well here I am Kid. Now's your chance. Show me what you've got.
It's a shame that you'll hang in another week or two,
because I'd love to be the one who gets to kill you.
I've got 16 silver dimes in the barrells of my shotgun.
I'd love to try them out on you, but I can't unless you run.
If I free you from those chains will you run for the door?
Oh by the way Kid, your Ma was one sweet dirty whore.
I'll kill you before you hang Kid. That's a sure bet."
"Be careful Bob," said the Kid, "I'm not hung yet."
Bob thrusted his shotgun hard into Billy's gut.
The Kid looked up at him in pain and said, "Now what?"
"Don't do it Bob," Bell screamed angrily,
"or you'll be the one who'll hang for sure
for killing an unarmed man in cold blood
who was chained helplessly to the floor.
It's time for the other prisoners to be escorted across the street to be fed.
The Kid's not going anywhere. He's chained to the floor by his bed.
Anyway, I took the prisoners last so now it's your turn.
Go and have yourself a beer and I'll stay here
and guard the Kid until you return."
Bob Ollinger placed his shotgun into the gun rack.
Before he left he said to Billy, "I'll see you when I get back."
No one can say for sure if the above dialog ever truly took place,
but one thing's for sure,
Ollinger tormented Billy at a merciless endless pace.
They were arch enemies who fought against each other
during the Lincoln County War.
Ollinger was in the posse that killed John Tunstall,
Billy's employer, friend and mentor.
"I have to use the privy Bell," Billy said to the deputy.
Bell kept his rifle trained on Billy as he tossed him the key.
Billy unlocked the chains that kept him bound to the floor.
Still in handcuffs and leg irons, Bell escorted Billy out the door.
Billy entered the outhouse closing the door behind him.
"Let's not take too long in there Kid," Bell said with a humorous grin.
While in the outhouse Billy managed to slip one of his hands out of his handcuff.
"You fall in there Kid?" Bell laughed, "You've been in there long enough."
"I'm coming out now Bell," Billy said opening the door.
"Sorry I took so long Bell. I must have ate something bad for sure."
Deputy Bell then escorted Billy back to the jail cell.
Once inside, Billy spun around and smacked hard Deputy James Bell.
Bell lost his balance, dropped his rifle and was momentarily stunned.
"Hands Up Bell!," the Kid yelled. In his hand was a gun.
"Please don't do it Bell," Billy pleaded, but Bell tried to run.
The Kid had no choice but to do what had to be done.
He shot and killed Bell, then went and got Ollinger's shotgun.
The Kid never found pleasure in killing,
but Ollinger would indeed be the exception.
Knowing that Ollinger heard the gunfire, Billy stood by the window
and waited for Ollinger to appear in the street down below.
One senior named Godfrey saw Bell fall dead down the stairs.
The moment probably gave Godfrey a few more gray hairs.
Ollinger ran out into the street as Godfrey screamed,
"The Kid's killed Bell!"
Ollinger looked up into both barrels of his own shotgun
and whispered, "..and now he's killed me as well."
"Hello Bob!," Billy called out with a song in his heart
just prior to blowing Bob Ollinger apart.
He blasted both barrels into Ollinger's chest and face.
Pieces of old Bob lay scattered all over the place.
Billy smashed his shotgun in two, threw it at him but missed.
"You'll never rifle me again," he screamed, "you son of a b*tch!"
On the balcony he addressed the crowd whose jaws hung agape.
"I don't want to hurt anyone,
but I'll kill anybody who tries to prevent my escape."
In the office he found a sledge hammer
and smashed the chains of his leg irons free.
He told Godfrey to fetch him a fast horse immediately.
As he walked down the stairs, he came upon Bell's lifeless body
and many eyewitnesses admit
that the Kid looked upon him and said almost tearfully,
"I'm sorry I killed you Bell, but couldn't help it."
As Billy mounted the horse the chains of his leg irons startled the beast.
The horse reared up and threw Billy down onto the street.
He was at this point his most vulnerable laying down on the ground.
The crowd could have overtaken him easily, but none made a move or a sound.
Once again Billy mounted the horse
and fled with the sound of his leg iron chains ringing.
Many claim that as he rode out of Lincoln County
that they heard the Kid singing.
Billy had escaped danger so many other times in his past,
but this was his greatest escape ever. It would also be his last.
"I had no intention of killing either one of them. My plan was to tie and gag Bell and then get out of there before Ollinger got back, but then things went terribly wrong.....I certainly didn't want to kill Bell, but I had to in order to save my own life....I never felt happier than when I gave it to old Bob. I said, "Look up here old boy and see what you're getting". I then blasted him in the face and breast. He use to ride me to the point where I just couldn't take it anymore."
- Billy the Kid
uncomfortableness, and hesitation arose that you might reassess a possibility for friendship or.... whatever with me.
A disappointment set in place in the event that based on some facet of my being (inexplicable flaws within this corporeal human male), forecast that an about face (booked on charges inherent in this googly eyed, earth-linked, kool hotmail of a yahoo) would be un liked!
Juno what i mean?
In retrospect, no matter that this average boyish chap desires enjoyment, he admits that ordinary punctuating various stages of development difficulty coping found him msn (miss sin, missin, missing, et cetera) on ordinary interpersonal experiences!
No matter yours truly usually finds me each morning, noon or night conjuring up maximizing temporary residence on this planet earth versus bemoaning those futile and essentially counterproductive mind games sans could a, might a, should a, would a...
today = the moment to cherish, enjoy, help others, ponder the remaining years
since fruitless to expend tears
for suppressed emotional, financial, grammatical, hormonal, physical, and spiritual angst
that roiled mine inner sanctum - mainly from decades in the past
which unseen scars with humor this fellow (who by the way likes you) wears!
Notice the sly inclusion of my comment per -- affinity, desirability, rhapsody for you
although just but a mere inkling prevails about an ye taelje john thru
a rather contrived manner - albeit an online adult oriented website - amongst a slew
which yields to this bipedal hominid a scant few
initial responses - as if a ghost app paired in the recipient email - going boo
which unwittingly seems to turn the ivy blue!
So...no matter a constancy of follow-up electronic communiques occurs from ye
bringing tears of joy, that nobody can see
while simultaneously delivering digital glee
a reality check restrains proclivity and predilection to let thoughts run wild and free!
Immense and immeasurable mounts in moi little rock
inducing an electric arc for myself to kin neck embedded in all this schlock
for a sixth sense arises that this holme body strongly suspects yar self
to generate sunny watts as an s spy she lee Sherlock
but, reticence to gush with ebullience reins in a cascade
of utter delight washing o'er this less than satisfactory mwm
who as a boy and youth happened to b a frayed
of his own shadow - while walking along the boulevard of broken dreams
listening to the sounds of silence on a green-day.
Thus => the following from one
Cerebral being ™ in the am and pm
This ordinary human
Finds himself a mystery
Within the terrestrial
Firmament and frequently
Feels in a feverish pitch
At his existence
That seers the temple
Mounted upon this slender
Frame - wrought by the
Combination of genetics
In tandem with exercise
Which latter helps to
Sublimate the coiled
Tension wound tightly
Like an indestructible spring
Without a healthy medium at large
To channel emotions fraught within
Me might find demise
That would rent asunder literate fellow
And thus annihilate without a trace
One true valued father of two us special
Lovely lasses as just another statistic among
As the world turns (indiscriminately oblivious of the harrowing days per one simian), an agreeable, amiable, edible, immeasurable, likeable, pleasurable, sensible woman (such as yourself - predicated on a gut level intuition) goads more seriousness to share
Plaintive unheard heart strings o mine that wail
Displeased with this marriage fraught with travail
As if in a maelstrom whip-lashed vessel without a sail
Yet - averse to lambaste or rail
Against abby (whereby we pass like two ships in the night) who married this male
When each of us happened to seem more similar
And thought each ourselves to fail
At any endeavor, though now confidence
Buoys my heart while she doth ail
And exemplifies attitudes, beliefs, efforts,
Idiosyncrasies, pathos that life does rot
Ill suited to Matthew Scott,
Whose bon vivant manifesting faith in him
Perhaps from herself deferring many domestic
And child rearing tasks not
Of course being boasting - even when scissoring the umbilical cord
As a now beaming papa, whose daughters
Blithely ignore "mother" a lot
Thus necessitating this quest
For a counterpart to offer succor
To eden (age 16) and shana (14 on february 4th, 2013)
Yet accepts that i must dispel any dreamy fantasy even this ours - a mere jot
At this juncture knowing full well how unwise to set myself up for disappointment
By thinking and rushing like a fool,
Where angels fear to tread
Though "chutzpah" i got!
U r slowly filling my mindscape with joy
Thank you so much - for accepting without complaint how atypically words this writer wannabe
Named Matthew Scott Harris dozen ploy.
Bradlee Joe is mine, he's always been mine,
The younger brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr.,
Those gorgeous brown eyes staring at me, natural hair color,
That's brown; just like his brothers, but he dyed it blonde.<3
That gorgeous angel face, I think of him everyday all day, think of,
Those memories, that smile, that laugh, that voice, those strong arms,
The strong arms that hold me, just like his brother used to.
The sweet things he says to me, those precious eyes look into,
Into mine, the way he runs his fingers through my hair, the way he tickles me,
The way we play wrestle, the way we talk, the way we look at each other.
Eyes full of wonder, wonder how long we'll stay together, then he says,
He says "Baby we'll stay forever", and I believe every word he says,
My God if he only knew, knew how he makes my heart pound, the way,
The way it's just so easy to talk to him, man I can tell him anything, and I know,
I know that he'll keep it a secret, that's why I trust him with everything,
Everything inside of me. Everytime he asks me if I wanna start,
Start over with him, I always say yes, because I love him!!
No matter how much he hurts, I'll always love him, I do, because,
Because I know it's real, I love him with everything inside of me,
I want to wake up next to him everymorning and fall asleep,
Fall asleep in his arms everynight, say "I do" to him, have his,
Have his children, be in love forever, my God I've never felt this way before.
I fell for him the first moment I saw his gorgeous smile light,
Up that dark lunch room, the way you hugged me tight, exchanged,
Exchanged numbers with each other, and the way we talked on the phone for hours on end,
Oh how I wished for you to be mine, How I still wish to change,
Change my name to Briana Lynn Rasmussen.
Babe I can't inagine a world where you don't exsist, babe without you,
Without you I'd honestly die.
The son of David Authur Rasmussen Sr. and Sandi Rasmussen,
The brother of David Authur Rasmussen Jr, and Cheyeene Rasmussen,
The cousin of Kenneth Michael Hampton, better known as Mikey :) You have
Have a older bro, a younger sister & brother, and you have you,
Father's eyes, your brother's strength, your mother's beauty, and your crazy,
Crazy sense of humor.
With you I can't stop smiling, laughing and giggling.
Babe I am finally home, it's been a long time, and I am glad you kept the bed warm for me,
My home is with you, it's the only place where I belong, and babe I am so glad to be home.
I love your curly hair, I love the way you hold me, the way you kiss me, the way yoy,
You love me.
I love everything you do, and everything about you,
Babe I really do hope that day comes where we say "I do."
Hell I'd do it right now if I could, if you wanted me the same.
I want to be the mother of your children, I want to be the on;y woman you come home to,
Come home to after work, the one you give sweet kisses to, and the one you tell,
Tell me about your day, the one who wants to fall asleep in your arms, and
Wake up in your arms with my head on your chest, see your sweet smile everyday,
Hear the words "Good Morning Baby, how'd you sleep?"
I'd reply sleepily "Great, how bout you Angel?" I love everything about you, everything
Everything you say, babe I love the fire in your eyes, the way you are protective over me,
The way you fight for me.
Babe I just wanna be your forever, and when we die baby,
I want to be laidto rest next to you, or with you in the same casket, because,
Because I'm only me when I'm with you, you are the only one who keeps me warm, The only one
Only one who makes me feel like I am home, like I'm finally alive,
Like I'm finally me, babe you are my better half and really honestly,
I've been so lost without you, and I am so glad to be back home.
~Our Endured Love ~
Today and yesterday I am who I am not asking myself during
my life lived with you,how many times have I lost my energy
morally and physically, my answer everyday every minute every
That was the only way to search for solutions, discover a road
that would prevent us from getting lost again, I ask to allow
your soul remain generous protect me and my heart, walk together
face the sunshine, and seal our lips,
with a kiss.
Give me the whole of you, allow my body never to sleep, awaken
my instinct, allow the nights remain young, before our time is
over, I cant loose you, I prefer to burn alive, your power saves
me, your eyes when inflame they light our candle, and puts off its
flame with your tears, because I love you,
I am willing to vanish, leave my dead body as a gift to be free
from that pain, stare into my eyes, find me attractive, don't
break my heart, my life feels ignored when years ago it was
Today I do not know who I am without you, feelings abandoned
me, I prefer to live with my pain, my soul wouldn't want life without
love in it, which belonged long,
before to you.
We looked at our teary eyes for hours, we needed not to talk, just
hold each other for years to come, as we both cannot live without
one another, that is the power,
of our love.
He took me outside held my face into his strong hands, turned towards
the sun, and kissed my boiling lips. We both melted into each others
arms, kissing under the sunshine, I was marked by a strong reaction
Pulling from his pocket a letter gave it to me still holding me tight
he said,this is my answer to you, please read it.
To My Woman:
You have been very patient because you know how much I love you.
But in the past year I was living in the darkness within me unable to
forgive myself of feeling lonely,even if we were together,I was hiding
under my hood blaming myself of not working hard enough to support
you mentally,I felt I was not good enough for you as a husband,today
I promise you to bond our relationship with hardly no obstacles.
Our humor will be included,communicating,understanding,giving,loving
all those together will allow our solid marriage to evolve no matter what
were and what is and what will become. The circumstances of such a
future nothing will be allowed to shake it anymore I promise you that.
When I am with you,we will feel we will heal to seal our love we sleep
we dream we wake up we kiss we hug the bed is warm to sleep our
bodies heat cannot resist to shelter our hands from that heat when
burning lips utter whispers on fire our bodies under the sheets has
too much love. Oh come my love let us share our love like never
before your bodies smell awakens all my existence when
I am with you.
I ran to the bedroom undressed to put on a beautiful sheer night gown
to show him who I am in body and soul both so young our bodies were
crying out begging each other to embrace to share the compassion
through love making yearning for his lips his touch his eyes his voice whispering how much he loves me I was feeling a woman climbing
higher than expected if this is love I am a woman in love.
We lived till old age and never
did we not kiss under the sunshine.
They had his life story twisted as he plotted his death in advance
outsmarting his enemies evading cops and *****es
People hated him they wanted him dead
They said that he was good for nothing
Humiliated him showed him as a negative image in the public trying to
take him down
Telling the viewers he is nothing but a thug and a negative role model to
But that’s what racist people do they care less about a nigga that trying to
make a change and get out the gang life
He was a poet, a rapper and a political leader in many of his fans' eyes
Always encouraging them to hold on and stay strong things will get better
and tomorrow will be a better day
He was a motivator speaker always helping the poor and the hood
He wasn’t afraid to claim where he came from
He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when things weren’t right
A lyrical genius that had his enemies spook and fans confuse
A lot of rap stars were envy of him because they weren’t as real and
talented as him
So they started riots and destroyed his sense of humor tried to drive his
fans away from him
They wanted him to fall
And his life couldn’t get any worser when he was shot five times in
Manhattan by two armed men
On his way to the studio not knowing he was going to get shot
He was set up by a snake that acted like he was his homie
I guess his rapping buddy didn’t know what hit him
Because he had to take the blame while the true phony set in the
background and orchestra the hit
And the one who did it is still living repping bad boy records signing
people and then sacrificing them just to rank higher and get up to the
It’s a shame how can you still hold your guilt for so long for almost killing
your own kind
You’re still being controlled by a white man you didn’t even shed a tear
when your homie die instead you celebrated
Because you knew on the business side you were going to blow up
You’re a cold hearted person and the only thing you care about is money
Selling your soul and going through gay rituals just for money man you
gotta be mess up
And my guy was marked for death because he wouldn’t **** Quincy Jones
in the ass
So what is the music industry all about?
Do you really have to sell your soul and do gay things or sex orgy in order
to get what you want which is money and fame
Man ya got it all twisted because I thought that you rise to the top
because of your talent
Not doing insane things like changing your religious and worshipping the
devil or sending many of your fans souls to hell doing blood sacrifices or
voodoo killing people
Man this game is dirty all the real people are either dead or gone
somewhere far hiding from the secret societies that’s trying to kill them
And now we’re stuck with these phony ungodly rappers on TV That sold
their soul and did crazy things to get where they are at
Now what type of example are these so call rappers to the children in my
They are nothing but puppets slaves that has to take orders from their boss
in order to sell records
What a shame but nobody will never be the greatest like Makaveli retire
from the rap game and still making millions
While people are selling their souls trying to make a million
When I was just a teenage lad, and growing up out West
I never wore a cowboy hat or fancy leather vest
Never put on cowboy boots or western shirts with snaps
Never wore tooled leather belts, much less a pair of chaps
To be in style the Ivy League was what one wore to school
A skinny tie and button-down was how you dressed up cool
We wore Weejun penny loafers and tapered chino slacks
The boys all sported flattops, kept up straight with wax
Rock and roll and sock hops, my dance was then the twist
Cotton-eyed Joe and two-step didn't even make the list
Good ol' Willie Nelson could hardly make a sound
'Cause the King and Frank Sinatra were the coolest guys around
But when I joined the service, and moved outside the state
It didn't matter where I went or if I spoke my name out straight
For a while I thought I had some kind of omnipresent hex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
When I said over yonder, they'd all say “Over... Where?”
When I talked about a horny toad, I'd get a funny stare
It didn't matter if my name was Buck or Roy or Rex
'Cause anywhere outside Texas, they'd always call me Tex
When they shipped me overseas, I thought that I would die
Couldn't get a Dr. Pepper there, or any Frito pie
When I wanted longneck Lone Stars, all they had was Beck's
And all those Europeans would always call me Tex
Any label kind of burned me, so right then I made the call
I'd learn to talk just like those guys, to hide my Texas drawl
I practiced on my diction, with elocution persevered
And soon the sideways looks and grins had finally disappeared
I traveled all around the world, got married overseas
Learned myself a few more tongues and got a few degrees
Now if I talk to British lords or English-speaking Czechs
When I masticate the lingo, they never call me Tex
Finally made it home one day, after way too many years
Came back to salute old pals and maybe share some beers
I wondered how the touch of time had treated all those lads
To my surprise, those preppy guys had all turned into their dads
Each one wore a cowboy hat and dandy leather vest
Some sported a bandana, some with bola ties were dressed
Some shod those M.L. Leddy boots with fancy pull-on straps
Each had a set of bootcut jeans and western shirts with snaps
Something then came over me, something that felt right
I heard my voice inside me say "Well boys, ain't y'all a sight!”
That educated accent that I'd worked so hard to gain
Had evaporated quicker than a light West Texas rain
I guess that you can travel, and learn lots of fancy stuff
But with friends who knew you when, there's no way that you can bluff
They might be polite with you, and humor you no doubt
But you're better off to cut it loose and let it all hang out
They all let out a holler, yelling “Waitress bring the checks!
Give 'em to that ugly hombre yonder with the handle Tex.”
Now if I were any other place, I'd likely wring their necks
But when I'm home in Texas, then you can call me Tex
Africa sucks… miracle fruits
Power seekers ignore water for blood,
Blood seeks life in water ignored,
Ignorance kneels to power and rules blood,
While the sun governs democratically, the moon seems to be bored,
Bored like the look of Zimbabwe’s farming success…
While time and again have to deal with tomorrow’s distress,
Eish! Africa sucks, but it sucks miracle fruit juices that grow the pain it bears.
uTata embarked on a journey while Mugabe’s busy walking in circles,
Doing his rounds of winning elections, winning failure by drawing best circles,
Circles that ejected khaki outfits and unacceptable farming misfits.
Time counsels all Posttraumatic Stress disorder patients from British colonization,
Succeeded by Chinalization; a dissolution of China.
State confessed its love for Africa, now Africa blushes and brushes with its eyebrows like…
Look at me now.
Africa sucks but it sucks the humor Thomas Rymer embedded in concept ‘poetic justice’,
How Shakespeare skated on sonnets and so did Maya flap her wings of poetry greatness,
Africa’s best –
Willie Bester’s progressive thinking enables one to float unrestrictedly with own creative writing,
And Africa’s poems fight timelessly human battles where human battle for hiding,
Hiding for safety that imprisoned Africa’s courage and the strongest of warriors, values and morals,
Witnesses of jaw-dropping case studies of inhumanity assume the consigning existence of knowledge to the grave.
Obama came and told Africa to put values ahead the first foot whilst being brave.
His great presence tasted like a two minute microwave meal, despite the protests and bitter prophets.
Hae! Africa sucks.
Substituting Nestum with knowledge is vital in a changing game,
Cause the future’s looking at fatuity in modern generation clouded with instant gratifications.
Vision my lyrics of Hip Hop with a conga beat, changing the game and the way I play,
Play with my head in rhythm, though Western, it’s still African.
Applause for western cuisines and caviars, now it’s time for Shish taouks and Bunny chows,
Chow your pride to learn about the other.
Substituting miracles for ownership is vital in Africa’s global interaction,
Interaction of gifted minds spearheaded with differences but one action,
Action of putting Africa first if not putting Africa in self-reliant action,
Don’t judge my tears for you’re not the eyes and ears of my realities.
Don’t test my dream for I’ll fail to your norms and judge my dream wrong,
And I refuse to benefit any less out of what you’ve taken from me for so long.
Africa sucks but sucks a miracle fruit that spare taste buds from even tasting global bitterness after tasting,
Tasting rich criticism from vicious conspiracies of economic powerhouses now dependent,
Dependent on Africa’s minerals that their land produces at the brink of extinction,
Extinction that now the ‘dark continent’ is labeled, ‘beacon of hope.”
"I was born at a very early age",
this, along with many other immortal sayings, from dear ole dad, will always have a way of sneaking into my everyday life. He'd come into the room, unannounced, and lay this idiom on me, "I was born at a very early age". He would give a deep pause afterwards, letting the words truly sink in, as if it were some grand piece of wisdom that should be savored and mulled over. Then of course the laughter would swallow us whole, stealing thirty minutes (at least) of our day, and replacing it with utter nonsense. "How could you NOT be born at a very early age?". Rhetorical, mind you. Lest you want an overtly inflated banter of words let's leave it at that... rhetorical. Some have a dry sense of humor, yes, but this seemed to be the extreme. If it were any drier it might just rival with a Dominoes pizza. And this is about the time when 99% of the population leave the room... leaving dad and I to talk "philosophical". If you're laughing, great, you can stop by anytime. If you're not well... there's the door.
But more than just a terrific sense of humor (in my opinion), he has other qualities worthy of note as well. A love to learn... not just learn in the kindergarten sense (or even the college sense). To THRIVE off of knowledge... to be encompassed into it, to have it be your bread. This sorta never-ending craving for facts and figures is what drives him to hours of perilous typing, in his tucked away office desk. He'd come home, sweaty after hours of working with cabinets, or working on some guy's tub, give an efficient nod to the rest of the fam... and zoom! Off to Information Center (AKA Internet). There wasn't a subject too obscure or to trivial for his ready fingers not to plow away the rest of the night: Geo-engineering, worldwide politics, long and tedious Bible discussions, truth behind Monsanto... you name it. I remember one time, when the Mormon duo came a'knocking on our doorstep. If it was me, my mom, (or really anyone beside pops) we'd give a polite, "No thanks, we're not interested today." But one fateful day it WAS my dad who answered the door... and one thing led to another. I'd come home after work and see a set of three people sitting in the front lawn, two bicycles laid askew as well as two helmets. I'd think to myself he's at it again. And for the next three days dear ole dad would be chatting up a storm with these Mormon folk. One of the pair left still feeling strong in his belief (if not a bit blindly). The other well... it looked as it his world was turned upside down.
To be continued on in part 2 (even with becoming a Member this piece was still a hundred characters over the limit... darn).
I had a dream the other night
Of walking in a field of cornbread
Baked just right
As I softly crunched my way
I looked up
Coming toward me
Was a line of tigers
With a man in the middle
No one was tethered
Just walking together
Enjoying the day
There was no fear
I woke up laughing
This was so silly!
I went to the Fair today
And during a break
I asked if anyone
Could interpret my dream
They came up with
Corn bread = The South
And perfectly baked gold = Coming into riches;
Or at least, no money worries
The tigers = Strength; overcoming fears
As I thought about it,
I remembered a childhood dream/nightmare
When I went to bed angry
A big tiger showed up
I would point to everyone who had angered me
He looked at them and proceeded to eat them up
At the end,
With everyone dead,
He turned and looked at me
That’s when I woke up
And a true story (or from this side of dreaming):
A friend and I went to an outdoor zoo
Somewhere south of Kalamazoo
We stood on a wooden walkway
Looking at an open field through a thick glass window
In the stone wall
We spotted several tigers
Later, as I walked a trail to the next exhibit
I looked up to see a tiger
Strolling through the tall grasses toward me
A mere thin wire fence
I gulped and walked steadily onward
As I left the area
I could feel his thoughts:
“Ha! I freaked out another one!”
As one grows and hopefully gains wisdom
One learns to handle fear
FDR stated during the Great Depression,
“The only thing we have to fear, is Fear itself”
Recently I’ve been angry
About my ex-husband’s condition
He is slowly and bumpily improving from a near fatal stroke
My/our son flew to help
And I’ve been without him since Spring
They are in the South
Corn bread was a staple in our family
Many things around the house have broken
And wait to be repaired by said son
He says that every time he thinks about returning home
His dad suffers a setback
After months of “I’ll be home in two weeks…”
I gave up
Got the garage door repaired
And am making do with things I cannot fix
The working garage door makes all the difference
I finally have access to rakes, the lawn mower
And snow shovels
The car has a safe haven from the weather
And I feel calm
Turns out I could afford the door
- With only one person’s groceries
Money lasts longer than it did
God keeps telling me that I will be OK
Financially and otherwise;
It’s up to me to lighten up
To let Fear walk away
Without licking another notch in his paw
I am not a victim
May we always address dis-complacency, the vacancy,
And remove all opposes, to our roses,............................................................(Acts 18:4-6)
Here at Poetry Soup, completing love’s 100% loop, in our soup,
For an authentic rose, from God it grows, always knows,
It’s own heart, from which it grows,
For authenticity’s, dis-complacency
Displaces a rose, from which it grows, then only heaven knows,
A rose, from which it grows,
Then it tis the mind’s dis-complacency, from it’s own heart,
Then does it’s part, hid from it’s own heart,
Redresses the rose, then rose begin an oppose,
To it’s heart, from which it grows,......................................(II Thes.2:3-5) Ego mind persona
A displaced rose, is still a rose,
By it’s own authenticity, it still grows,
As the heart, still does it’s part, from the very start,
For it tis the mind, lost in it’s wilderness time, must realign,
With beginning of time, love of heart’s kind,
For it tis, redressing of mind, with heart’s beginning of time,
That undresses the rose, from it’s dress of the oppose,..........................(II Timothy 2:24-25)
For a rose, is still a rose, from whence it grows,
Not death’s oppose,
Like a tree, grows from inside itself, you see,
From an higher intelligence, to be,
That being, from it’s own heart, it’s love of start,
Like a dog, is a dog, not a hog,
Tis it’s central intelligent being, does it’s seeing,
Not it’s bureaucracy of fleas, hidden in it’s leaves,
Nor living in the hairs of your scalp,- Yeeeeeap!
Taking their ease, if you please,
As a nation, we have bureaucratic fleas, living in our leaves,
The fleas are in control, should a flea be so bold,
To tell the truth, tis growing old,
Should a parasite raise our taxes, should the parasites waxes us,
In our town hall meetings, try to ignore our pleadings,
And begin their elite minded proceedings,
By saying we are criminals, and it they are the emeralds,
Tis our freedom of speech, being bleached, under siege,
Should not even a dog own his own fleas, guys pleeeeease!
Our government is not a party to our rose,
They are opposed, to our rose, the fleas that grows,
From the power of our rose,
In our leaves, if you please,
A parasite, out of sight, must take flight,
Tis their complexity, the hex, no flex, too complex,
Will bring our nation to it’s knees, so please,
Use your voice, of choice,
Our fleas have become to numerous, to humor us,
Not a plus, but like a rust,
Our fleas in charge of us!!