Long Bass Poems
Long Bass Poems. Below are the most popular long Bass by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bass poems by poem length and keyword.
My husband had a great idea.
Let’s build a lake in the middle of my woods.
No, I screamed, I begged, I yelled.
For I did not want any of my oaks or maples felled.
I was talked into a lake, with the promise of cool
Water to swim, and maybe a natural spring or two.
It happened in the month of June,
A Grand Canyon hole in the middle of my woods.
I could not believe how cavernous and
Intensely clay-like that crater was.
I had never seen anything so gigantic
A Pentagon spaceship would have left more trees.
I figured it would take sixteen years to fill
In order to grow up and become a real live lake.
It took four weeks of constant rain. Less than a month.
I was swimming in it and it had two natural springs.
I think of it fondly, and my paddle boat and my bass boat too.
A wonderful couple of years I had on that lake,
Swimming with dogs, getting bitten gently by fish,
My own nirvana, when the cool water hit my flesh in the morning.
Written 3-23-2019
Contest: Intensity
Sponsor: Julia Ward
It is Labor Day
I am paid not work
but what am I to do
the festive trimmings are not attached
so the perk is an useless quirk and
my boring schedule quickly fills in the gaps
as usual, my alarm sounds at 6am
the coffee maker perks at 6:15am
my rested body flings away the covers
I watch the Today show while shaving
fetch the newspaper, quickly scan the headlines
wait, I have more time my curiosity to prime
but the dog is on his normal morning schedule
so I speed to the door, his bladder to mollify
no fancy holiday breakfast awaits in the kitchen
so, on cue, I grab an egg, poach it, down some juice
my family sleeps on through the holiday mirage
my engine is in overdrive, but where to go
no parades, pageants append this vapid day
but there is no reason to stay at home either
no arriving relatives to amend the boredom
still, I have one day's free pay to spend
maybe, I'll take the car to the wash
nah, that is a weekend ritual
perhaps, I will canvas Pro Bass Shop
nah, the drive is longer than my work commute
OK, I will stay at home and be a utilitarian
I can finish trimming the bedroom shutters
but wait, I am out of that flossy white paint
and didn't my wife need the car for her
annual holiday shopping spree
I could re-mow the lawn to give it
a manicured look, but nah
to labor on Labor day is too oxymoronic
so I curl up in front of the TV
finish watching the Today show
contented with the lofty notion that
I am being paid to while away the day
.
she'z just az pretty
az
the dolphin
frolicking
thuh sea
out back here
in
the spring fed
pond
splash'n az the
anxious bass
'fore hern
i mean
'it's
net
Day's end, sun's caisson doth wend
Residual rays a respite to append
Twilight's shroud dreary dividend
Swirls of gray into firmament blend
Vestements of light shed sacral veil
Luna's naked, pale orb flashes its spell
Twinkling sprites across dark tides sail
Constellation's mystical portents braille
Nyx, Erebos eclipse Hemera's blithe melody with bass duet
Earth's warmed bed yields its thermal blanket
Ocean tides move in rhythmic tandem to cadence of lunar clarinet
Swarming shadows stalk each footstep paring each dark secret
Greek gods
Nyx: goddess of Night
Erebos: goddess of Darkness
Hemera: goddess of Day
She was a bookworm of the most finicky kind
reading every day with a book always in reach
at the thrifty store the books were all consigned
she rebuffed discriminately with slow impeach
and rebuked all books that weren't a food find
She ravaged books about cakes & pate de foie gras
buttered tarts, angel hair, and little canape things
books about how to bake fish and how to fry bass
like a true galloping gourmet she would bring
the recipes home, then make them sing...
When winter came she'd sit like a chow hound
and copy recipes into her little red book
feeling lucky for the precious books she found
Pillaging the remnants with eyes sharp as a rook
she made the kitchen her haven, and fair ground
Her recipe for lava chocolate soufflé had charm
and her English toffee lollies were never fickle
she bought her eggs fresh from the dairy farm
and when she made cucumber and gin popsicles,
you could lick to hearts content they do no harm .
March 12, 2019
Contest Name: The Book Worm
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
my twin and I were thrilled
We got to wake up at four a.m.
Each of us had a new fishing rod
Mine was blue, hers was red.
We were eight
This was a big event
Grandma had sausage and eggs ready.
We were too excited to eat them.
She made us take them in a little pouch
“in case you girls get hungry”.
Grandpa warned us all the way we had to be quiet
Our giggles could be heard all over his truck.
The day was silent.
It was dark, like night, not morning.
We jibber jabbered, and he told us not to.
We were quiet when he put the boat into the water.
He held it for both of us.
Lake fishing! Wow!
We thought we would be fishing on the pond.
But this was Red Haw Lake, the big lake.
We did not want to pierce the worms, so he did it.
We were not great at casting either, so he did that too.
Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. This set us into a giggling mode.
We heard shushing from the dark corners of the lake.
This made us giggle harder and louder, and inspired questions.
Grandma was shocked when we came home in a mere hour.
“I will never take them fishing again, they scared the bass for everybody”.
The rest of the day we went around saying “dumb old grandpa” under our breaths.
using consistency as the motivating factor
position
of being her lover to him
it disappointed someone else
some who thought one way
only to have been faced with something
completely different
yet with opportunity we are faced with
what exsist from her want to
be known as a woman
that she in all her womanhood
can be socially excepted
and physically wanted
her motivation is she is a prize
for all of those who wish
to possess her
she believes in her way of thinking
that whats right for her
is rel and right for all of those who know her
meetings are beginnings for new
love affairs
might we all be loved!
FROM THE BOOK " GLAMOROUS" AUTHOR UNKNOWN..... SHE IS QUOTED AS SAYING, " YOU SHALL BE DISAPPOINTED, YOU'LL GET OVER-IT, BUT YOU CAN'T HAVE ME: YOU DON'T WANT A WORLD OF KINDSPRIRTS TO SUDDENLY BECOME MEAN SPIRTED, YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT: YOU REALLY WOULDN'T!" RESEARCH DONE BY MISSYN THE POINT. MUSIC FOR THE FILM ARRANGED BY MIS GISSIE MISSIE DOWNDRIFT AND STRINGS CONTRACTED THRU THE SWELLS RICHARD, AND THE PULPLIPPED HUSSIE MUSIC COMPANY..... THE SONG " YOU CAN'T HAVE ME" WAS WRITTEN BY SWEET LOVE AND MUSIC SCORED BY THE GET-IT DONE SOUNDS OF FUNK MUSIC COMAPNY....PART TWO OF MEANIEST HAS BEEN USED BY PERMISSION FROM THE STRANGS AND WOODWIND GRIND PUBLISHING COMPANY. LECTRIX BASS, AND STANDING CELLO/ CARE OF"INSTRUCTIONS TO LOVE ME"
BASSASS GROOVELINE/SWEET BYTCHEZ!
Why do other people go into a store?
I have no idea,
But when I go in,
It’s a resale store, and I’m
There to buy something.
I don’t care if it’s a stuffed antelope
With an orange neon butt, and a grin
That makes me chuckle, and God forbid if
It makes me laugh, because
If it makes me laugh,
Into the cart it goes.
I usually fill up one red plastic cart, and
Check out, run back in, and
Fill up another cart, before
My daughters know I’ve started
Filling up their side of the car,
Amazing the clerks, but
Not my daughters.
In 1985, during a little
Weekly Saturday Caren wants to go
To all the garage sales in the state day,
I ran over a squirrel and we
All cried.
But we laughed again after
taking all of the furniture
And the bass boat out of
The car, to re-load so we could
Squash in a 9 foot giant stuffed lion
Whose big half-on head lolled out
Behind my headrest, waving in the
Driver’s window at oncoming
Traffic for a couple of towns or two.
My two youngest, happiest
daughters were
Laughing all the way home.
I think we sang too,
Leaving out all the words
I did not know, but at the
Top of our joyful lungs.
The 13 year-old daughter
was not with us, of course, as I was an
Embarrassment to her those
First 20 years.
What a great day!
A Caren Garage Sale
Frenzy day.
I live for those.
Fill my body full of toxins
I’m all out of options
My heart will soften
Throw me in a coffin
Your knife will be the final blow
For me to go
I will die slow
Or maybe I will grow
From this experience
I will be victorious
I will prevail
I will not fail
I’m already six feet under
I am not a jumper
I can’t satisfy my hunger
For the end
I’m staring the devil in his face
I’m in his headspace
Running in place
Playing his bass
I won’t get knocked down
I will not wear a frown
I will be grinning
While I’m winning
This fight with him
Then I will throw his bass
Right in the bin
I will pin
Him to the ground
Then he will be the one
That gets drowned
In gasoline
I will be keen
I will never die
I won’t cry
I will wave goodbye
A lovely cadence fills sounds of earth
as meadows waken with songs of birds.
Music that sweetens pleasures and worth
beat of each song--notes instead of words.
The trees rustle their spritely replies,
as summer breeze leads their melodies,
so that breeze and leaves can improvise
a soft tempo that finds devotees.
Purple clouds gather, thunder is heard
its rumbles causing lightning's bold flash.
Storm beats a rhythm, all are stirred--
viola's bass mourns and cymbals crash.
Soon, raindrops pound their opening,
softening their beat to gentle song.
Drops fall on willows--we want to sing,
Earth's cadence was around all along!
February 2, 2023
for "Writing Challenge--C Words--Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Cadence theme
First Place!