Long Bat Poems

Long Bat Poems. Below are the most popular long Bat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bat poems by poem length and keyword.


Bat Crazy 5



"Bat Crazy 5"


Some say

she was batsh** crazy
life hits the windscreens 
in the labyrinth of life
that way

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand 
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

an upwards inflection, “You know”,
in the Queen’s Land, "all under control"
the open palm under the shaft
moving all the way up to 5, 

reflecting on the mirror rearview
she watches the eyes
of her child
dreaming of open highways

the foot remains pinned
to the metal, fast to the floor
full speed, left brained left hand
holding hard-gripped the gear stick

never once moving from 5 
the left all the way up to targa 5
right hand up on the wheel
left hand down right up to 5

windows spitting emeralds
like a baphomet 
the two finger salute
the other above so below

watches on

"here we go again",
the 1 above it all 
watches on 
as above so below

that 1's long-suffering 
that way, aghast, but resolute, 
that 1 has never-ending reserves 
of eternal patience

and watches on 
perplexed

her mind geared on 
how to kill off 
a spider 
and his sister, next

changing lanes
easier said than done
when you're hell-bent on 
Freedom

the highway sign 
Happy New Year 
flashes ever onwards by, 
foot to the floor 

left brain baffled
at forgiveness
at Christmas 
long gone by 

right hand on the wheel
left hand down 
open palmed 
shifting gears 

accelerating increduality
towards the accuracy 
in the justice of karma 
drivers sitting on both shoulders

inside the vehicle 
holding the wheel
the internal speaks
to the universe 

listening 
for kindness 
and answers
on a lost highway

Blue Sky 
nods, as if in agreement,
that 1's always amused -
but never confused, that way

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)






“Is it possible to switch dimensions? 

There is currently no conceivable way to get to these if they exist, and they may only be possible, not actual. To travel between realities, they need to be in proximity. To be in proximity and not interact, they need to be incompatible. If it is a compatible universe you could travel to, it is already here.” 



"Won’t you let me know, 
if you made it home that night
Oh won’t you let me know
If our bones made it home alright..."
Form: Narrative


Children's Poems I

These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families.



The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy

There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.I wonder how
he learned at all...

He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates' necks.

He played with pasty Elmer's glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!) .
He earned the nickname 'teacher's PEST.'

His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.

But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.

One thing, though—

one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer's glue...
and you'll outgrow this old desk, too.

Originally published by TALESetc



A True Story
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy

Jeremy hit the ball today,
over the fence and far away.
So very, very far away
a neighbor had to toss it back.
(She thought it was an air attack!) 

Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew across our neighbor's yard.
So very hard across her yard
the bat that boomed a mighty 'THWACK! '
now shows an eensy-teensy crack.

Originally published by TALESetc



Mother's Smile
by Michael R. Burch

for my mother Christine Ena Burch and my wife Beth Harris Burch

There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than 'much.'

So more than 'much, ' much more than 'all.'
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.

There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you!

Originally published by TALESetc

Keywords/Tags: children's poems, child, children, childhood, family, mother, father, son, daughter
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Night Santa Brought Us Weed

Twas the night before Christmas and all were in need
    as we waited for Santa who had promised us Weed.
Our parents were sleeping with not a clue in their heads
    that their children were Stoners and away from their beds.

The cheetos had been placed on the table with care
    with an idea dear Santa soon would be there.
The winter was cold with no time for a snack
    hoping Kris Kringle would come with fresh Pot from his sack.

I had been to the Bank and had obtained hordes of cash
    with a fervent desire St. Nick would bring the best of his Stash.
We had our concerns for a reasonable fellow
    who was honest and straight... no harshing our mellow.

The time had been set as I looked at the clock
    knowing the waiting was tense and we needed our Pot.
And then from the porch a strange sound did we hear
    but it was only friend Jim who had gone for some beer.

I stared out the window and peered through the snow
    and we were greatly concerned whether Santa would show.
And then from the street... what did I observe?
    A '72 ford Pinto...  which was stuck on the curb.

The engine was smoking and the tires were flat
    and with the windows quite frosted... I reached for my bat.
This didn't look good as I gave way to doubt.
    Wondering who was the driver and who would come out?

And who should come forth? But Santa himself
    who was all bearded and fat, a jolly old Elf.
He climbed to our rooftop... was nimble and quick
    thus avoiding the doorbell... this fella was slick.

He was now in the chimney and this lightened our hearts
    and we knew he was close when we heard the Elf fart.
And then in an instant the Big Guy appeared
    but asking double the price for which we had feared.

We told him our troubles as he pondered our point,
    he then lowered the price on every third Joint.
The payment was made and the dope was obtained
    and up the chimney he rose unconcerned for the flame.

I'll remember that night... for it was a doozy
    when Santa came through... and brought me a Doobie.
As he drove out of sight... I heard him calling my name...
    Merry Christmas to all and goodnight Mary Jane.

                              The End

*For those who are interested. I will be posting my cartoon 'Bob's your Uncle' on my homepage. A new one will appear every second day.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Amazing One-Third Inning

Regardless of which field of endeavor you happen to be in, never say never, and never say, "It's over'' until it's over. I was in my garage during chores better known as this, that, and the other, but I don't remember what. 

Two outs, bottom of the 9th, and the home team was down one run.                                                                       Being announced by one of the greatest announcers in Major League                                                                                             Baseball, it was the first game of the 1988 World Series between two                                                                          California rivals, one representing Northern and the other Southern California.                                                                                                            

That 9th inning, especially the last at-bat, was being played as if it was                                                                a game to end all games and certainly among the greatest that I ever                                                witnessed, but I don't remember why I was listening to the game over         
the radio and not watching it on TV.

Anyway, the visiting team, most-favored to win the series, was ahead 4 to 3                                                                  with the best closer in ML Baseball. However, He was matched against one of                                                            the game's greatest clutch-hitters. Moreover, the home team had a great base stealer on first base which was critical to the game because the great clutcher, not in the lineup and not expecting to play, could barely walk, much less run, which meant that he had to hit a long ball for a single or hit a home run.                                                                                    

With the clutcher at-bat, the base runner stole second base which was a great boost, and it also meant that a long single would tie the game and take it into extra innings, or a home run would win the game for the home team which is what happened.  8 pitches were thrown at this at-bat: two strikes, three balls, three fowl balls; 2-run homer, and the home team won 5 to 4. I tell you, it was one amazing one-third inning.

040620PoSpCtest, Strand Pick 6, Brain Strand
Form: Narrative

A Letter To Trump

A Letter To Trump
you don't know me & that's good
is your choice of water Fiji  now
going to speak to you man to man
Mr. Trump do you really understand
when you took the oath of all that was planned
did you ever think about me a lone poet man of society
as you sit there in your invory tower filled with power
did it ever cross your mind that not everybody is doing fine
sure there's no gas shortages anymore and no Studio 54
yet what my inner heart beats for is a common courtesy call
remember when you were young playing with the bat and ball
some folks claim that your just a know it all
but here am i sir giving you the benefit of the doubt while some people just ***** and pout
sure you like Twitter and some of MTV but one one heart felt plea
is that we all live out our days in sweet harmony
while your working on that wall did you forget to give Pink Floyd a call
I no save your money for your momma and try to forget about Obama
but what are you promising us is it in God we trust
crushed beneath the seams do you just seek out evil means
that's the beauty of this country we can both agree to disagree


where does the working man now stand
how shall we salute the flag all mad
building bridges make sense of all of this as if life is one big test
So Mr. Trump what you have up your sleeve are you going to help people in great need
The world is watching and i'm not lying yet may have fish for frying
so without further a dew some days you must not a single clue
maybe going through the motions trying to figure out next of what to do
can we meet together on some significant level
these are questions i often ponder perhaps its some heavenly call from up yonder
but we as Americans need to know the full story
not taking any more pot shot from TMZ
try if you will to get that big kid out of North Korea
perhaps we should look to our past to tell us of our future
now you hold the keys to my future so both polite and kind
for i'm just one lone beggar trying to tell another where to get some bread
tonight before you lay your Trump head down let's learn from Rodney King, "Can't we all just get along"?
take it from me its best to stay with the devil you know then to go with the devil you don't.
perhaps you can't even cope when your having a fight with that soap on the rope.
lastly from me to you what's knew ?


Premium Member Trolley Buses

BACK STORY
Me and my dad used to work as a team on the Trolley Buses for Manchester Corporation, out of the Hyde Road Depot. Dad drove, and I was his offsider, collecting fares, and keeping order on the bus, like making sure people did not block the aisle, or go past the stop they had paid for. and no one was standing up if there was room to sit down, also making sure people upstairs did not bang there feet on the floor. General Spoilsport eh. In the second part, Moses was a big African fella, and his offsider  was a little red headed Irishman, they usually had the run in front of us, and tried whatever they could to get us to go ahead, and take the load off them, timetables did not bother them much. I always told dad, 
                      if it comes to a fight, I will take the little one
                                       Trolley Buses
                            By Robert (Bob) Moore ©
                                           
I used to work on trolley buses, up and down Hyde Road
My dad he was the driver, and I controlled the load
Move along the bus I’d say, there’s room for 2 upstairs
that’s where you were allowed to smoke, in those days no one cared

Leave from Piccadilly, the 210 was our bus
Keep eyes on the timetable, it meant a lot to us.
Ardwick Green and Belle Vue, then on past Debdale Park
Hyde would be the Terminus, then turn and head right back

Sometimes a petrol driver, would try to make some cash
With overtime on trolleys, but sometimes they were rash
They’d forget about the trolley arm, and try to overtake
They’d see us wave and shouting, and realized “mistake”

It was all too late of course, and the sparks would start to fly
The arms were bent and waving, and the power it would die
Then swearing and apologies, and laughter close to tears
Then back to depot on batteries, for the ribbing and the sneers.

Moses was an African, his offsider was a Mick
They tried to get us to take their load, with every dirty trick
We pulled into Hyde one day, they had their trolleys down
You should be in front they said, and take the load to town.

Dad did not bat an eyelid, we’er on a break he said
you’ll have to wait 10 minutes, before we go ahead
they knew they could not wait that long, they had to make their run
so trolleys up, and off they went, we drank tea and watched the fun.
Form: Rhyme

Withdrawals

Trigger warning ??????????

This was a pretty hard piece to compile, and definitely a personal piece to post but my hope is it may reach someone who needs it. 

Withdrawals 

The pain is indescribable, but with my words I can but try,
To describe the hell on earth that withdrawals will supply, 
It covers every single miniscule molecule of every one of your bodies cells 
From every hair follicle to each tip of every toe, your head rings like orchestral bells 
You can't concentrate in fact you simply can't think as your skin begins crawling 
You want to cry but your eyes cannot even weep, you cry out but no tears come falling,
While the sensation of an infestation begins to infest you under your skin, 
Your every muscle has lost its strength and then the sickness and diarrhea begins, 
Beads of sweat trickle down from your face, 
Yet your bitterly cold, no matter how many layers the shivers continue to play chase 
They penetrate right down to the bone and you cannot hide the inevitable shaking 
Try as you might because of your body's unbearable aching, 
It's like a baseball bat was used to literally batter you, 
Nothing helps to sooth any of the pains your being subjected to 
You find yourself contemplating things you'd never thought you'd do, 
This poison is like the devil himself whispering in your ear he's cunning acting like a saviour 
But it's evil plotting conspiring against you talking you into failure, 
Just one hit and you'll feel so much better, don't suffer he repeats and replies, 
While the people who love me my family are the angels shouting loudly rallying I hear there cries
And it's now a game of tennis my head is the tennis ball, back and forth you can't construe 
You contemplate continuously, do I have the strength or the willpower to see this through,
Or will the devil on my shoulder finally conquer and prevail taking my soul back with him 
Back to the depths of hell from which I came which was grim, 
But failure would mean I would never be free of this addiction of this disease, of this affliction,  
Therefore failure isn't even an actual option? 
The weeks of hell you endure of withdrawals comes with the greatest reward you could ask for
Freedom, of the mind, the body and soul, withstand the biggest test of your life because for sure, 
You've got so much more to live for!
© Sarah Cope  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Xmas' Redoter (Redux)

Note: "How can there have been such strife in a Morlde` filled with beautiful Music; &
how could there have been beautiful Music such in a Morlde` filled with strife?"  -Soupy 
Sales, 2012.

The 12 Panes Of Christmas:
_____________________________________________________________________________
___

                                                 - XMAS' RADOTER -

Yule be Xmas
afore ye know
the pag'an go
for patterned 
stamped snowflakes
'bove the
Andy Williams' Shows
DVD Stufftaculate CD, 
Away, In A Manger For The Happy Employees,
drivelings (no place like) home
for the Hollydayease
in
a Ford Barricade & SUG Thirsty,
Nay, the new GM Bailout.

Suffer
the little Children
new bornes, infants
what nary see
but a Semi-Claus 
ere
semiclaws,
tithes for the celibre-cause craws.

Remembrances
to things past-past, of
natal assemblies
en callow chorale masse 
gone  
Proustikipped,
to mortitorium's
N'well

& stockings filled
with 
the chimney's cold care
yet in hopes
das Geheimnis Viktoria
would 
somehow brassiere...
rout despair
the Tree hovers
Cabbage Patch? Nay!,
but the oft'splayed
Perry Como - You Win!,
Get to poke Golgotha pins -
WakeUp, boorros!
Bing-Bing!
WakeUp!, Jokers
to the St. Jack Nihilis...
but ya wanna
bat 'n ball this 'round?
You a'ready donned Santa,
with a semi-

Dear G*d,
(Walsch also asked)
How're You doin' It, &
Your Son?...Tarnished
proof weighdown here, filled
with
vanilla, frozen grins &
Joyburdened smiles...
'neath
pattern-stamped snowflakes &
piney Glade heads
afore the marshed desert
Koyaanisqatsi

Like yearlings'
trotted-out
Saviormusic 
whilst the other 333 
like
666 -
doubled for toil 'n trouble -
employed
to savaging
One, many, or 'nother...

Christmas partidges'
riffeled feathers family?
pared, unprepaired,
Indeed, vouchsafed
an enemy sans name
on 
a horse with no name, save
Internecine

AmeriKa.

For
A kiss 'neath
the mistlesilo
whilst acaroling 
of the Bedlamites
(Acts, II: 2-6),
the Psalming 100?,
Screeching 
like sleds in pit gravel to
the Silent Night

HeyMen!

There lies
an evergrander Light
at the Dawn, but
Hey!,
who's gonna 
tear-away
from
Yawnni,
& the extra-Vaganza
of
Truth?

                    H.e.m.
                    12.13.MMviii.
                    (ST)
© H Mantel  Create an image from this poem.

Zika Virus What Next

Zika Virus What Next

It is officially announced, there is a global health emergency...
World Health Organisation (WHO) has just issued this health warning...
The rapid spread of the Zika Virus is an international public health emergency..

From its first  outbreak was detected in Brazil in May last year...
This mosquito borne disease now threatens in more than 20 countries....
Latest to join the strickened Latin American countries are Costa Rica and Jamaica.

The science behind the global outbreak of this disease is of much concern...
For the Zika Virus was first encountered in a rhesus macaque monkey in Uganda..
It is very worrisome, for this disease has jumped from animals to humans...

The rapid spread was in part due to the lack of immunity in our species...
It is after all a virus that profilerated before only in  the monkey species....
Its drastic spread in the Latin Americans now necessitates travel advisories...

Once afflicted, a human victim suffers 2-7 days of low grade fever, joint pains..
No fatalities yet, but symptomatic patients suffers a facial rash that spreads ...
Diagnosis is tricky, its symptons easily confused with other mosquito diseases...

But the greatest danger is threat of brain damage and microcephaly in new born babies...
And the spread of the virus through sexual contact and the blood stream is for real...
Prevention is better than cure, so is precaution before things get out of hand..

The common denominator in the rapid widespread of this scourge is a pesky insect...
One tiny little hellish insect with little wings that stridently brings victims into contact...
A little nip from an infected insect, the Zika virus is introduced into the victim's blood stream..

This dangerous little pesky insect is none other than the common mosquito...
To be specific it is the tiger stripped and blood thirsty Aedes mosquito...
Prevalently found in early morning hours and in the late afternoon daylight hours ...

Get the bug spray,  the insect repellant and out with the electric killer bat...
Do whatever it takes, so long you escape from the irritating mosquito bites..
Kill the Aedes mosquitoes, and save yourself from  Zika, dengue or chingkunya virus...

http://www.webmd.com/news/20160203/zika-microcephaly-link
http://www.futurity.org/zika-microcephaly-1115772-2/

Eternity To Enjoy It

I barely notice the horse as he walks,
his gait is so incredibly smooth,
we’ve been riding all morning on this ridge,
and have settled down into a nice groove.

My friend Joshua rides just behind me,
drinking in this Rocky Mountain scene:
cool breeze, bluebird skies, and a well-marked trail,
with sweeping views right out of a dream.

We’ve been riding for a few days now,
the trip has been nothing but sublime.
“Around the next ridge,”Joshua says,
“We’ll come upon the town of Centerline.”

The thought of a drink, a shave, and hot bath
puts a smile across my tanned face,
so we ride around a pillar of stone,
and gaze down a hill upon the small place.

It’s then that I sensed something not quite right,
I had been to Centerline before.
Where was the highway, the exit ramp?
What had happened to the big box stores?

And why could I see, sharp as a hawk,
when there were no glasses upon my head?
Why were my forearms smooth and muscled,
and why were loose strands of my hair dark red?

What was I even doing riding a horse?
Doctor told me to stop ten years back.
And I should be meeting my son for lunch,
then going to see his boy up at bat!

Joshua sighed,”It can take some time,
for the spirit to accept the change.
Your heart gave out in the shower this morn,
I’m afraid you’ll miss your grandson’s game.”

I turned and realized that I had not
seen this Joshua before that ride,
in fear I blurted,”Who are you man?
And why do you talk as if I’ have died?”

He just smiled, said,”You know who I am,
I’ve carried you when your legs grew weak.
And you know exactly where you are,
it’s the place your soul always did seek.

“You always did love those western tales,
even though you knew they were fantasy.
On Earth, perhaps, but I think you’ll find
that here there is nothing beyond me.

“All the questions spinning in your head
will be answered, have no fear of this.
This world that we’re in is your heaven,
and we’ve eternity to enjoy it.”

I knew at that point that I should speak up,
but couldn’t find words to put to my friend,
he just grinned, said,”There is no need to fear,
you’re going to see all of them again.”

And just like that the worry vanished,
and the only thing that was on my mind
were thoughts of that bath, whiskey, and a shave,
so we rode on down to Centerline.

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