Long 11th Poems
Long 11th Poems. Below are the most popular long 11th by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long 11th poems by poem length and keyword.
Cashing in my savings bonds
and tapping out my bank accounts,
got me into a high stakes poker game
in a Las Vegas casino.
Emboldened by my knack for winning
Texas Hold 'em online,
I dove straight into the deep waters
where it's sink or swim, with whales and sharks.
Gambling's an additive rush
that offers instantaneous gratification
found only in the thrill of taking risks,
and I can hardly wait to wet my toes.
I get dealt an ace of clubs
with an ace of diamonds down,
but the flop's flushing with hearts.
And the bluffing commences,
with ruthless, aggressive bids.
Not here to play it safe,
I call all in!
But, no sooner had the words left my mouth,
when I got called with a pair of kings, and one is a heart!
Fear seized me, griping my spine like a vice
as the ace of hearts lands on the turn,
and a flush is now on the table.
But lady luck rowed in on the river,
and the ace of spades fell in Her wake,
giving me a miraculous, heart-pounding win.
And climbing on top of an adrenaline rush
I make it rain,
watering the garden of my dreams
with hundred dollar bills.
(Free Verse)
04/22/2020
A store that only sells leggings.
What? How is this even possible?
In this economy? What would keep it in business?
Serious, this is as ridiculous as a store that only sells
Mickey Mouse stamp pads. Crazy!
The posters say the entire store costs ten dollars.
Is this the whole store, including the cash register?
Does this include the display pieces?
Are you buying the land? Or is this just the leggings
That cost ten dollars? One legging or all of the leggings?
I prance in to do my damage, because the guy is alone.
Tiny guy, large round glasses, looking at a cell phone.
Gee. I wonder why people do not feel welcome.
He glances at me briefly, figures I am not his market,
And starts playing Paint the Birds or Cotton Candy or something
Equally wise on his phone. Come on guy, turn down the volume!
Bing. Ping. Ding. Ping. Sing. Bring. Are you kidding me?
I try teasing him about the sign. He is clearly not amused.
Not delighted at conversation; a particularly dour shop boy.
Who obviously owns no piece of this place and is not paid on commission.
I could have stolen all the leggings, and he would not have noticed.
Even if he had noticed, I doubt he would have moved.
Reminded me of so many I see who have forgotten about real
People, living an I-phone life now, a fantasy I-phone life.
How 'Bout Stoichiometry For A Conversational Hook?
Nary a clue exists about
the relationship between
relative quantities of substances
taking part in a clean
(non GMO contaminated)
gluten free reaction,
or forming a mean
compound, typically a ratio
of whole integers umpteen
place holders long proudly,
(albeit microscopically)
swaggering analogous
to a prideful
home coming queen
walking with her beau
appearing much older looking
than a latte (drinking) teen,
the third word up above, (affright
full looking, isle
lid lashing sorely,
trying, torquing, and
testing vision, i.e. eye sight),
where with insight
red left to right
across conventionally,
sans persons write
ting, and/or read
ding English, who might
live within neck of the woods,
how zing this knight,
where the whirled wide webbing
haint so bright
this smart aleck (comprised
fancy title), excite
ting immediate uptight
reaction came to "light"
just in the nick of time
to spur a sprite
lee chary reader to take
pro nouns hubble flight
(at what the ĵ** -
in reference quite
understandably to multi
syllable chemical airtight
romance masquerade),
this barred bard did write
unfamiliar word, which undoubtedly
triggered consternation,
and fierce urge to bite
and/ or sentence this "FAKE" cur,
who whiz unable to height
ten interest toward me senseless
poetics with supreme delight.
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Across the banquet table
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Blooms crowd every plate
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He arrived on the back of a wild ferocious beast
He came with a fury that originated way back in the east
The tormenter is on the way, he is leveling every town!
We began to pack up our bags, without much of a sound.
He’s in it for vengeance, they say our kin killed his kin.
We ran as fast as we could, to the tavern next to the inn.
We are not fighters, we argued, wondering what next to do.
We were out of time; the doors opened and in the beast flew.
The rider was ruthless, brought hell with him in the form of an axe.
He slashed and he gashed, and we fell down; these were the facts.
A one man army, hell bent on revenge to make us all pay.
I knew I was a goner as he advanced on us, that very day.
You, he said, pointing to me, you have one second to leave.
He was holding an axe that could have been a meat cleave.
I ran like I had never run before, a chicken’s way out dance.
He left as suddenly as he came, the others had not one chance.
Consciousness,
A vast existence,
Where Time and space,
Become Conflicted.
To save our race,
We had to face,
A fall from grace.
All for one,
One for all,
Time to heed,
The hero's call.
Fighting the fall,
We build a wall.
Internally Conflicted.
Wants, desires,
And all that we Admire,
flooding through the Mind,
Leaving our Needs behind.
No need for the Divine.
Look, We're doing just fine,
Watching its crumbling design.
Seek, ye shall find,
Your spark inside.
As FEAR subsides,
Love resides,
Conflicted.
The battle of duality,
Constantly,
Challenging reality.
Awareness is key,
Smile, you'll see.
You,
Me,
Are Together,
In harmony.
It was 1949.
Slow music was playing on the radio.
A young, handsome fast-talking 24 year old named Dick was driving around small town Iowa in a yellow convertible with red interior, feeling pretty cocky until his car went off a bridge and he found himself on foot.
He had not been on foot since he was 16, and he was pretty pouty about it.
Let’s go to the skating rink, a friend said.
He was about as interested in skating as he was interested in staying home on a
Saturday night, to listen to the radio.
The friend kept hounding him, trying to lure him there with the promise of pretty girls, cheap pop, snacks, finally breaking him down because there was nothing else to do, on foot.
Dick had to scramble over many years of junk in the shed, and open a multitude
Of boxes before he found his skates.
By the time they arrived, he’d set his mind hard against having a good time.
Until this tiny waif of a girl with snapping brown eyes started showing off her skills.
She was doing circles, figure eights, dizzy lous, and pretty sallies, skating around the floor with the expertise of a nymph, turning herself backwards, forwards and upside down.
The competition was now on. Dick laced up those skates lickety split.
He could not wait to show her his skills.
She was young, focused, and not interested in the least.
She was the champion ignorer of all times, and it drove him nuts.
Pretty soon he was hanging around the office where she worked, daily, trying to get her to look up.
She ignored him there too.
He told me the story and I laughed.
She ignores you at home too, Dad, I told him.
She didn’t even look up.
Dorothy could not wait to become eighteen, so she could move away.
She loved her parents, but they were smothering her.
You have to be in by eleven.
Call us when you leave work.
Let us know if you are not coming home for supper.
Do not stay out all night unless you have permission.
She was tired of their rules, their Christmas carols and their Christmas house.
Her mother always had it decorated from side to side with Santas and snowmen.
In December, not every month, but thirty days of this was way too many!
Dorothy moved away to college.
She loved her new life.
At first.
But then….
She realized that no one in the dorm noticed or cared
If she got home by curfew or if she got locked out for the night.
No one cared if she did her homework or if she failed her classes.
December came and there was no explosion of Christmas in her dorm room.
Her roommate did not decorate, and all she had was a Christmas stocking.
She could hardly wait to drive home after her finals.
Her mother had decorated the front tree, the driveway, and the bushes.
Her heart leapt with joy when she opened the door to the Christmas house
She felt loved now.
Lulu wanted this, that, those, these and the other.
Thought she deserved them, she dated a rich mother.
He liked tattoos, pretty soon her legs were tatted up.
So many tats, it rivaled the hair on her cat and pup.
Red tats, blue tats, yellow tats, purple tats, black tats too.
We asked her not to tell Grandma as she fixed our stew.
We had to all stop our concern and our ’n
When we saw Grandma’s legs out in the kitchen.
Grandma had six tats herself in pink and blue.
Not as much as you, she told Lulu.
But I am going to get them now, I bet.
The only one we saw cringing was Old crow, grandma’s pet.
Holly did not communicate with people in a social way.
They interested her in almost no capacity, but cows fascinated her.
She decorated her room with cows, and she studied all their breeds.
This is how her parents learned to communicate with her.
Is this a dairy cow? Holly would scoff at their questions.
That is a Charolais, she would tell them, using her monotone voice.
What color is the Black Angus? She had no tolerance for this.
She did not understand teasing or a sense of humor.
The oldest recorded cow was forty-eight, right?
You know she was, and her name was Big Bertha.
When did she die? Sepember 29th, 1993.
Holly grew up knowing all kinds of facts about cows.
She knew the difference between Belted Galloways
and Wisconsin dairy cows.
Cows have panoramic vision, she would state matter-of-factly.
They can see almost three-hundred-and-sixty-degrees.
She invented many machines that aided in milking cows.
An improved milking machine with a gentle touch.
And she invented a musical score that helped them relax to milk.
Her genius was well-known in the Midwest, she knew her cows.