Long Ahs Poems
Long Ahs Poems. Below are the most popular long Ahs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ahs poems by poem length and keyword.
We were drinking in the Eagles Nest; a cozy little pub,
one Friday evening after work completed in the scrub.
Most of us are timber workers, who get paid on Friday night,
so we’re all cashed up and thirsty in a setting that’s just right.
There were six of us who formed a shout and mixed to socialize,
and as the beers were going down, glassy turned our eyes.
Tongues were loosening up a mite and too our rationale,
and hints were being thrown about by master card sharp Karl.
Karl’s the gambler we avoid he’d bet on two flies up a wall,
but when we’ve had a skin full and Karl begs a poker call,
fifty per cent will jump right in and claim themselves a seat,
and the rest are easily convinced, for grog does hide defeat.
So with Ron and John, plus Bill and Stan, I walk to Karl’s abode.
We’re all carrying two six packs that we surely will unload,
while we shuffle, deal and raise and show, or play a game of bluff,
to find out whom at poker holds the nerves of stronger stuff.
And as the night went deeper and the stubbies emptied out,
some were holding piles of money and one was now without.
Stan had squandered all his pay and now he looked a mite unstable,
but then to top his bad night off - Stan drops dead at the table.
At first we panicked seeing Stan but knew there’s nothing we could do,
and seeing that we’re full of booze we only had a short review.
It was suggested we should show respect now Stan has passed away.
We stood up for the next three hands and thanked Stan for his pay.
And when new dawn began to break, it was time to close the game,
Karl was quick to put his hand on Stan and then he did proclaim,
“One of youse walking home my friends must notify Stan’s wife.
Who will it be?” But no hand rose and Karl felt he’s in strife.
So it came down to drawing straws that Karl held in his hand.
When I plucked me piece of straw I plucked the one I never planned.
Karl stated I must be discreet, be gentle, and not to make things worse.
With me virtue for discretion at Stanley’s door I did converse.
Ums and Ahs were flowing freely ‘til at last me courage grew,
“Your husband Stan has lost his pay now he’s frightened to face you.”
She glared with eyes that proffered hate - “Tell the mongrel to drop dead!”
So I uttered as I turned away - “I’ll go and tell Stan what you said.”
The mountain, it was steep.
The snow was very deep.
Caused involuntary “ahs”
from anyone who saw.
To get up to the top
was not some little hop.
It took tram, chair and poma
to tackle that big momma.
To start from the summit,
a near vertical plummet,
took the heart of a lion,
and left most people cryin’.
He checks skis, boots and poles,
but really he just knows,
he’s putting off the trauma,
the approaching descent drama.
It’s really exhilarating.
His heart is fibrillating.
He sucks up, screams and GOES,
and attacks the chest-deep snow.
It’s man against the mountain.
On his wits he is a countin’,
for to miss one little turn,
means a faceload full of burn.
He turns, he slips, he sails.
It seems he never fails,
to again make it down,
to that quaint little town.
With heart so pure and strong,
it doesn’t take too long.
He’ll never give up the fight
to conquer fields of white.
He goes again, again
The battle he does win
between the fields of snow
and our mighty hero.
The day comes to an end.
Misfortunes do portend.
Our hero’s not come in –
Good god, what’s happenin’?
A cry goes through the town.
Our hero has gone down.
The patrolman are a scurryin’.
The crowds they are a worryin’.
My gosh, good god, oh my
catch a glimpse as he goes by.
Our hero’s on a gurney.
Why’s he on this journey?
Is he hurt – did he crash?
His head a tree did bash?
Please say it isn’t so
Come on, we gotta know.
Speculation runs a flutter.
The crowds they stand and mutter,
with faces stained by tear,
they say “Please help us here”.
The data is a mess.
His friends they won’t confess.
So people stand and stare
at their seeming lack of care.
On his buds there is no frown -
just big smiles all around.
They don’t understand the cries -
he merely thrashed his thighs.
Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such
shrubbery mimicking the likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind the ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus
wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast,
where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly
authentic rooted ready to frolic in the grass menagerie
a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.
Form:
There once was a little balsam
who was growing green and free,
And he hoped that he'd be taken
to be used as a Christmas tree.
He'd spent all of his early years
growing tall and full and straight,
The greenest fir in the nursery,
thus insuring his joyous fate.
It happened on Thanksgiving Day,
when a family came to choose
That proud and towering balsam,
so they paid his nursery dues.
To home, they took the little fir,
to adorn his spreading boughs
With pretty lights and ornaments,
and a chorus of "ahs" and "wows".
And there he stood, quite diligent,
through the holidays and nights,
Stunning with his proud display,
and his dazzling yule delights.
"Best tree on the street!" said all
through Christmas and New Years,
Until ... one day the family took
him down, not shedding tears.
And tho' he'd served them ardently,
it seemed his time was done,
For off came all the shiny trim,
all the garland, bulbs and fun.
They had treated him so kindly
in the weeks of Christmas, past,
Yet now they tossed him to the curb -
seemed their good will ... didn't last.
The trash truck carried him away,
with his limbs now dead and dry,
His tears of sap dripped on the street,
his boughs waved sad, goodbye,
For Christmas trees are blessings,
but there's always a price to pay -
An early end to the grandest life,
in a landfill ... cold and gray.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Contest 530 Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 6th Place ~ in the "Christmas Tree" Poetry Contest, Shadow Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
Devil In My Kitchen
Eyes wide open staring at the ceiling
Body aching, heart breaking
The voice in my head
Is telling me to stay in bed
First on my knees, thanking you
For another day light
Lord please strengthen me for today’s fight
Coffee perking, breakfast sizzling,
Wake up children, time to get ready
Through the ahs and oohs and alarm clocks ringing
The voice in my head is quietly singing
Slow down, give up, work will always be around
Four sets of feet sounding like wild horses stampeding
Come in to the kitchen with smiles on their faces
Gathering around the table and set in there places
The last child plants a kiss and exits the door
When the door close my spirit dropped to the floor
The voice is ranting I can make the pain go away
Soothing and gently, just listen to me today
I have clothes to wash
Kitchen to do and bedroom too
The list in my head is long,
The hurt in my heart is wrong
I pray Lord make my spirit strong
Go to battle with the enemy in my head
I fear he definitely wants me dead
I’m pressing my love’s work clothes
Than later I will paint my toes
Lord please dress me up fine
Later my love and I will candlelight dine
Lord, Lord take the devil out of my mind
I see a knife in my chest, my car rolling
off the bridge, a gun in my hand
Lord these thoughts are purely in sane
He’s chanting and ranting, now down right angry
Kneeling on my knees, again I pray
I don’t have time for the devil today
Lord God Almighty please make him go away
Evenings near, my mind is now clear
Chores are done, the end of another day
The Lord has chased the devil away.
Painted ladies
Platform boots
Mini skirts
Stockings, garter belts
Low slung Vs
Bubbling over with mottled mummeries
Hanging around Butcher’s Corner
On the hook
The pray orbit
Slowing down, speeding up
Slow…gone
Around a corner, back again
Red car arrives
A Tom tentatively
Extends his index finger
‘You’
Chubby whore saunters over
Too much sass
For that much ass
She leans in the car window
‘Head?’
‘Ten quid.’
He scans her lumps, ‘I’ve got five.’
‘Go on then.’
[We’ll be eating tonight]
Opening the door
Pushing the passenger seat forward
Saying
‘In the back, stay low.’
Ums and ahs; disgruntled, shamed
Hard times, little pride
Squeezing titanic thighs in-between fake leather
Beehive head pressed to the back seat
Familiar odors filling her lungs
Milk, cough drops
Shampoo, crayons
Telltale signs of little ones
Nostalgia boils
Gulping, suppressing tears
Shoving guilt from her nut
There’s work to be done, no regrets
Tires churn pebbles
Arrival at Rubber John Alley
Her office
A life
His zipper strains a loaded gun
In under five minutes
Dirty deed done
Not even time to soft boil an egg
With blind ego intact she declines a ride back
Done for the night, enough flow
Over the road
Into the park
To three little girls identically dressed
On swings, dangling legs
Ultra-white socks to their knees
Giggling
~~^~~
The courtroom sat in silence as if issuing a dare,
a mountain and a hillside told each other to beware
The judge was in his chamber with the deputy in charge,
they couldn’t hear the little hill claim it was very large
A ticking clock was counting as the minutes slowly passed,
darkened by the shadow that the mountain’s girth did cast
Things were getting very tense, the temperature did rise,
as the mountain and the little hill compared each other’s size
Suddenly from in the hall another did appear,
walking through the courtroom door and it was very clear
All the people turned to look, the oohs and ahs did sound,
for there they saw a valley that made all of them look 'round
The valley said in echoes “What’s the meaning of this fight?
It matters not how big or small, it doesn’t make you right
I wouldn’t be a valley if this mountain didn’t hide
and not without a little hill there on my other side
I need you both to get along so everyone can see,
how beautiful we all become with you two here with me”
The mountain then said to the hill, “I think you’re very tall”
And in response the hill replied, “And you’re not oh so small”
The three of them then went outside, the people wore a grin,
for they could see the beauty formed by nature once again
there is a moral here…
(Hint: It is not the title)
we must decide to stop pollution before it to late, natures struggling it won't wait!
misuse of fossil fuel, deforestation, habitat destruction, plastics, failing to recycle is sealing our fate!
that is what the green party environmentalists are always preaching, you bet their fretting!
climate warming, no, climate warning, look, the green party their pants they are wetting!
i will speak on their behalf for they are right, we should all fear!
next general election vote them in, don't wait to hear the tories say, "oh dear"!
labour once a cracking party, still is, check out all it's splits!
most thought it favoured green, with good intent, now a load of silly gits!
lib dems, omg! nearly lost it all, have to get their act together,
in fact, stop acting, live life for real, throw away their tickling feather!
next time, what ever party gets into power must remember the clock is nearing midnight!
were not talking Cinderellas glass slipper, we are talking cinder hell ahs! right!
mass extinction, yep, all seven point three billion in one big puff!
let us not forget all the other fauna, flora, all that stuff!
we can talk parties all night and day, parties talking fun, done!
facing self-destructing, come on, poll lotion, rub it in, life can be fun!
Form:
He reassured with a kiss
And sorted out
The Details
Persian Cat and the
Humming bird
Watches the flowers
Swaying in the garden.
Sweet nectars shall
Awaking her to be natural
Once again, but now they
stand together in awe!
Adagio Crescendo was introduced to
Fugue Crescendo at a time when her
name was Fugue Verse. They meet
In a little town named Bridge and began
corresponding and became engaged.
They became Cantar and Cantrix , there
In Bridge. Louvers Lyrics united them in
A contractual concept. They joined the
very popular concept orchestra "Genre"
and sang background- ooh-ahs and foreground
Hooks prechoral and choral. Meeting Choral
Made me happy. Where nights and mornings
Lovers are we. Cantrix, I love you. Cantar I love you to. Some might this is an overture with concerns to boredum. Look to the one you love and say we will endure. Mr Adlib do your thing
make it right. Sweet get this man to sing: Cantrix you
know this is a lovers night.Got me saying: and I ain't playing Mister Counter Bass do your thing. Alto please bring me
to my knees, love get me all Kissy Phaced.
Discerning Deception
Intuition and scrutiny, everything you need
Just read the following, if your sure you want to see
They're saying yes, while their head shakes no
Their hands are often moving around their face and throats
If they shrug their shoulders only one goes up
The words they like to use are except and but
Their body language doesn't match the words
They often face sideways, not forwards
They give way too many unnecessary details
Their feet are moving, their fidgeting with their nails
Their breathing is rapid, hands behind their backs
Their mouth is dry, their voices crack
They never touch there palms to their chests
They avoid eye contact, may look up to the left
Their mouth does all the expressing
The rest of the face is stiff and repressive
They want to make their bodies small
Time between answers, lots of ums and ahs
There is redness in their cheeks
Leave out pronouns when they speak
It's a lot to observe and not all people are the same
It could be fun in a poker game !