Long Bailing Poems
Long Bailing Poems. Below are the most popular long Bailing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bailing poems by poem length and keyword.
When you live on a farm and hear cockadoodle-doo
What do those words mean to you?
They mean pretty soon you'll hear moo,
and you'll have lots of work to do.
After a while, the horse will neigh,
and, before you know it, you are bailing hay.
I wished that rooster hadn't made a peep,
so I turned over and went back to sleep.
What if the animals were a musical team?
I thought to myself and started to dream:
Hey everybody, clap your hands
and listen to the Animal Good Time Band!
It's got animals of every kind.
Their grunts and snuffles are in 4/4 time.
Animals from Africa and Australia -
Reptiles, birds, and mammalia.
Rat-a-tat tat, let's have a drum roll
Man, the elephants and zebras are outta control.
Thump, thump, thump goes the bass guitar.
McCartney? Hah!, the walrus is better by far.
Time to kick back, get in the groove and relax,
and listen to the ostrich toot and wail on sax.
Their new lead guitarist is all the rage.
Yep, the orangutan out-twangs Jimmy Page.
That mournful cry of the violin's trill -
Ain't nobody bows it like a gorilla will.
Hear the monkey smash that thang.
Bwaaangg - the cymbals crash and bang.
That ain't no monkey, that's my mother
Huffing, "get up and work, you and your brother".
Out at sea for so long I fear my sanity's failing
Like pirates of old, trust in my vision curtailing
Are mermaids waving there or tails of whales flailing
Perhaps a mirage is where I seem to be sailing
Yet my great love for the sea is still prevailing
I close my eyes and lean forward over the railing
Breathe misty ocean air in, inhaling, exhaling
The unknown lies ahead with regrets behind trailing
My sailboat silhouette in the horizon impaling
Rocking to and fro over waves that I'm scaling
Through sun and storms, through raining and hailing
Smiling to stay afloat, with a bucket, keep bailing
When water came in I'm still singing, not wailing
Whatever happens now, this sure cured what was ailing
July 25, 2022
Sailing poetry contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
Surviving the waves of pain,
Loss of three children that she gained.
Flowing into a pit of despair.
Home burned.
Taken away.
Raped until her uterus faded one day.
Left starving on a lost shore.
No hope anymore.
Hair gone short except for a straggle or two.
Neatly braided with an old tin can.
Necklace found buried in the sand.
Ready to try for a new land.
Selling self for the money that's due.
Off on a boat with three hundred and two.
Everyone bailing until close to land.
Not surviving as water rushes in.
Sinking slowly.
Floating back.
To where she began.
I sold my accordion ‘cause I couldn’t find the time to play.
Some bum stole my fishin’ pole, but I hardly used it anyway.
I spent my “vacation” pullin’ stumps to clear the lower ten.
And last week that old antique diesel generator broke again.
I should be mucking out the stable. I should be harvesting the wheat,
But when there’s hotcakes on the table, I guess it’s time to take a seat.
Ya don’t need an artist’s soul for to straighten out a crooked frame.
Just stand tall and face the wall; every level’s gonna be the same.
I’m done diggin’ postholes and the generator’s back on line.
The cat’s loose, there’s no excuse not to be my honey’s valentine.
I do my chores as best I’m able; go through ‘em once and then repeat,
But since there’s hotcakes on the table, I’m sure it’s time to take a seat.
I wash up and settle in when my angel fixes me a meal,
Her nightgown all draped around what I’m hopin’ she will soon reveal.
Though I’ve got incentive and the energy to run the farm,
There’s no way I’m bailing hay when my baby takes me by the arm.
She serves a steaming stack of hotcakes; they’re always sugar maple sweet
And when she lays it on the table, I know it’s time to take a seat.
Deep down in America's southern land when I was a little lad, there were too Few Breezes on those long summer nights. There seemed no end to the sun shining fiery hot and bright. It wasn't just the weather but also people who didn't do it right. It sometimes felt so hopeless, like prosperity was far beyond sight. Mean weather and mean men created misery and desires to take flight.
Deep down in America's southern land when I was a little lad, it was hard to survive, much less thrive, where breezes were few from both humans and nature. Nature's breezes are set in motion and no human can control such powers in the universe. Our differences will usually bring us gains, but hate and bigotry will only drive us all insane. Our parents and friends were always there to calm our spirits and blow upon our pain.
Deep down in America's southern land when I was a little lad, there was much more to our unhappy life than the torching weather. For my generation, to continue living there was a "Never, no not never". I would not dare blame it all on the Gulf-driven humidity. There were also those dark human clouds that bore overwhelming words of hate and despair. There was cheap labor but no sharing of the wealth and too little sharing of the love.
Deep down in America's southern land when I was a little lad while chopping cotton or bailing hay, we always longed for a much better day. There was also a heaviness and a deep sense of stress that struck our hearts with loneliness.
08032018cj
Students Shaky Sing-A-Long
***A bolted school bus amidst bobbing heads rolls downhill...
Fictitious dank bathroom basin bailing;
a mother's kiss and general list spelled.
That rickety school bus horn toots, trailing;
wide-eyed, groomed hair, texts deftly being held.
Screeched wheels, a slid-back hatch exposed wider;
scrambled soles win middle-bus-seating.
Too raw being back-of-the-bus rider;
skilled to be by kids up front eating.
The why's of school bus seatbeltless renown,
At curves, we skim, hands intently about;
all bumps we drift upwards plus swiftly down--
and stops, reeling forwards midst racked arms out.
Youth strums some ukelele from the back.
High schoolers commenced a sung melody,
immature head's turn, to a lull they lack;
savoring quite calm, grown in harmony.
We have reached midst raised spirits set to spark,
as choruses end, volumes collected;
concurring lives equipped to disembark,
ere consigned bell chimes--such is--expected.
A conducive school day has now begun...
while active minds, smartly stretched that wellspring.
School's demanding bus, stops, scored some rerun;
slid-door, as swimming brain cell's minds to sing.
~~ a ukelele freed from its case prepares to board...
2020 June 29
*1st Place*
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(2) any theme any form
~~Brian Strand
Be thankful for a day accountable of a year
Spent in various moments of cheer
Be thankful for the challenges buried in opportunities
Many are unique approaches out of anxieties
Be thankful many work out perfect
And brings good outcomes that intersect
With the drawn plans
Getting you more fans
Broaden your scope
Beyond luck and hope
While you see to all these
It seem all now at ease
Be thankful when things go vicious
Though no one feels joyous
First is to strategies
But hardly do one apologize
For the luck per chance
And the grace that enhance
Every trial
Not been a denial
And cheer up
To worship
Almighty God
Who knows the odd
As a great blessing
That shall keep you assessing
The checks
To bringing more cheques
Into the dream you're growing
Drifted to keep glowing
For gains to laugh;
Losses to chaff
Love to attend;
Clients with you to befriend
All at the end to be thankful
Not that you are artful
Be thankful as a born word
That never go blurred
Like the sun
That never shun
The moon
To borrow light after noon
As lord
In words makes you gird
Am glad you're doing well
Bailing many out of cell
Surfing the tides of life
I'm still riding the waves duck diving my way through
Or occasionally having to ask for a hand and toe in when I need to,
Sometimes I'm amped and pop up and ride a perfect ten without any hassle,
I can make it, I'm charging, it's as if I'm a natural,
My eyes locked on that doggy door at the end of the barrel,
Other times the water is chop and nothing but aggro,
And honestly I end up bailing bro.
The waves are out of my control, all I can master is the technique to ride them,
How I pop up, my stance and how I manoeuvre within and around them,
And that my friend is life in a clam shell.
Sometimes you find a pearl and other times it's just an empty vessel.
The Government's behaviour firstly no longer defends our church
this mockery in itself shows a deep lack of good sense
or the simple sourced judgement to cast defiance
within this ruling class displayed
Openly liars vulgar hounds with misunderstandings of truthful agendas
as silver lining shines within their beady eyes split tongues brag
poisoned two left feet heading backwards chaos screams from injustice
Milking a treasury for all it's worth then rising the pension age
blindsided are the fools whom are unable to see past the sheriff of Nottingham
Bailing out banks without consent and giving the bankers bonuses
this our rainy day fund feathering someone's nest
We pay through the nose breathing in this capital suffering
creating slaves illegally burdened citizens are chained
dipping into pension funds the existence for this illegal action
hands out always taking never giving
Such corruption goes beyond unchallenged by lawmakers
beggars of the very purse strings
15 million flushed down the toilet for paper postal codes
billions worth of fish harvested out of our Irish sea
Gas and natural resources given away freely
our sovereignty has been removed bit by bit stolen innocence
under false ideas stealing our children's future legacy
leaders without backbones snakes pushing agendas
For free, taxpayer-funded abortions put on the table
in this bill signed with bloodshed to legalise
the killing of unborn babies in Ireland of all places
never thought I would live to see the day
Millions spent on a referendum called choice
incorrectly claiming murder as just
to be an important part of healthcare
our family focus has lost all sense of direction
Challenging the very structure in mum and dad
to begin with motherhood is the single strongest character
filled with loving compassion such are the rights removed basically damned
Every single word into the temple of our origin
death of democracy spilling the most innocent of blood
sacrificed for the sake of pride our nation has fallen
No longer united Irishmen and women a land divided
it is from these spoils of war that's killing our children's legacy
Dads back, I hear his heavy tread,?
mum pretends not to hear.?
?
The Kitchen door opens?
he knuckles me on the back of the head,?
this is his one affectionate gesture,?
he had others, but those he keeps for special occasions,?
like when a women I was told to call ‘aunty Doris'?
and he were alone.?
?
Mother does not turn toward him,?
but I know her eyes are wet with dry sherry.?
“Fifteen minutes”. She says?
that’s how long it takes to slow cook 2 sausages.?
Dad nods to her back,?
goes to the fridge, hooks out a cold one.?
?
I have made a kind of boat with my mash,?
the gravy is inside it,?
I imagine sailors bailing. The boat is barely afloat,?
I keep bailing? also
hoping my life won’t sink today.
© 3 days ago