Long Blow Poems

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


Premium Member Happy Birthday to Me on Route 65

I’m doin’ 65 in my car                          
in life’s fast lane bound,                
it feels like I’m speedin’                       
but I’m slowin’ down                            

My grindin’ gears drag,                        
odometer is off the chart,                   
the motor is still runnin’                      
but needs a kickstart                           

Lot less gas in the tank                        
and radiator is leakin’,                  
the old tyres are bald                               
and my chassis creakin’                      

Transmission slips a lot                       
yet in top gear really rips,                
crankshaft still works                          
but only on short trips                          

Valves need replacin'
and gaskets hot cinders,
pistons are pumpin' still
but not on all cylinders

Temp gauge in the red
and oil light is flashin',
the rev counter is stuck
but still gets a thrashin'

The booty trunk is full
and my rear axle rides low,
I smell gas and smoke cos
my tailpipe does blow

The grille needs work
just as under the hood,
body showin’ its age
and brakes ain't good

The leather is all worn
and lost its smooth skin,
many years peeled away
the shiny chrome trim

But I'm still on the road
and mean to get my kicks,
God willin’ here I come
next year on Route 66


Written: January 2026
Form: Lyric


Finding Ourselves In Sickness

here we are
in bed sick together
all feeling bad because i gave this bug to you with no flyswatter
we both call in....thanking God it's Friday
we cough....we hack....we sneeze....we watch old cartoons
inevitably, we remember that there is a world and a monday and we get up and take medicines, fix soup, and pour vitamin c beverages
i wish we had some brandy
you wish we had some tequila
tomorrow the ceiling would have been a funktified trampoline
yet we suffer and have fun making ourselves cough violently due to loud laughter
the crazy thing is....it took both of us to get sick to realize that we have not been here since hearing our respective 'your hired's
you grab my hand and i intertwine mine in yours in unison
we shake our heads and reach to give each other an tissue with aloe and vitamin e
we blow our nose in the name of love, and the feeling is so wonderful
time is standing still like she is being kind to and sympathetic towards us
we take advantage by pulling out some board game that we have not played in ages
as usual, you win numerous times to my one
from there we do things around the place that dust has made a permanent home out of eons ago
sneezing like mad in the name of reconnection, we find each other and love again....and the reasons why....
© Marty King  Create an image from this poem.

Sounds of the Night

I heard a long whistle blow
as it rippled across the pristine
valley, full of glistening snow.
I felt the trees brush off the 
wind as that long, lonesome,
unlit train roared until it's end.

I shuttered deeply from the
bitter cold, for I sensed the
chill of the night's story had
yet to unfold.
Gathering my thoughts I looked
toward the sky and seen so many
stars twinkling undisturbed by
the sounds of the night.

Long glowing walkways through
the dark's horizon, slowly faded 
out of sight.
A nibble at my nose a true reminder
of Winter's frozen bite.
Quite now and stillness is all that is
left, since that lonesome whistle 
headed west.
Form: Rhyme

What Is Happening

Mountains are shaking; even rivers have stopped flowing,
In roaring thunders and scary storms the rain has vanished,
The world is dusty as the winds continues to blow
Even leaves have lost their birth colour as the sun proceeds to drain them.
What is happening?

Tears And pains are screaming; sorrows are stuck in Africa
The devil is roaming around inflicting tragedies in the lives of the innocent
Blood everywhere with souls lying scattered in graves
Killed by their brothers and sisters.
What is happening?

The world has changed; different in a sense that conscious exist no more
People have become so heartless as if sympathy is expensive
Friends are jealous, siblings kill one another
Chaos is no surprise because money rules the world.
What is happening?

Heads are shaking, mouths wide open with protruding tongues
Lips only reflecting disappointments as hands claps with shock
Faces eroding with disgust while noses slightly lifted
Our world is rotten, our nation perishes; lost generation it is
Africa my home remains surprised.
What is happening?

Premium Member Forevermore

                     for as long as 
            there is sand and sea,
                     for as long as 
      there are periwinkle blue skies 
          with marshmallow clouds 
          hanging above our heads,
                    for as long as 
          birds will sing in the trees 
      and take command of the sky, 
                    for as long as 
there are footprints left on the moon 
             with no water or wind 
                   to erode them, 
                   for as long as 
       there will be snow in winter,
   that flowers will bloom in spring, 
   that the sun will shine brightest 
                      in summer,
      and soothing winds will blow
                   come autumn;
                   for as sure as
           all rivers will flow today,
     tomorrow, and the day after it...
                    you are mine
                  and I am yours...
                                  forevermore.


The Great Play

Did you see the showman,
His act a lion he outran!
Let me tell you how it all began,
When in youth he lived in a van.

Where the lion hunted,
For food it was confronted.
A sad tale it resulted,
In the feast being plundered.

Do you understand now?
He was the lions crown,
A cub which is how,
He grew up and- ow!

Was there no child here?
Just a starved lion I hear,
But didn't lion disappear?
The story is unclear.

So anyway- the lion died,
And vultures circled its blight,
Ripped a gap so wide,
To eat its inside!

They all became lions in time,
For they ate the spirit sublime,
And became not a mime,
No, no, it was the perfect crime!

Understand now? Its a vulture!
What? "Not in your culture"?
But it smells of sulfur.
I am not being vulgar!

What do you know about lions?
Widen your tiny horizons,
Lions kill and are suppliers,
Vultures the shy ones, they're liars!

You see they made it up!
The savannahs not corrupt,
It's rotten,- dont interrupt!
Put lion, vulture in a cup

Mix it good and well,
And you have a human to sell!
Does showman ring a bell?
Secret ingredient? Not gazelle!

But there is one, you are right,
Its of which they lose sight,
The rattlesnake hiding in the night,
Silent and deadly, about to take a bite!

I'm not lying! Would you though?
Befriend him with pet snake in tow?
No?
Thats why it's kept on the down low.

Now that you know,
Though,
Would you give him the deadly blow?
Or watch the reptile grow?

What do you mean I'm insane?
These questions arent inane,
We're debating a show, so plain,
About a man in pain!

The lion was the van,
The lion he outran,
And starved did the man,
What do you not understand?

I see, I see, you don't get it,
Too many plotholes to fit,
So allow me to permit
A secret I'll admit

The lions the favourite they say,
They want more but it went away,
Wanna know why it didnt stay?
It is I who wrote the play!

Now treat that bite with spray, yea?
Form: Rhyme

A Husband's Nightmare

‘Twere a foolish youth indeed
that ne’er his parents’ voice would heed.
“We hear you’re courting Mary Lue.
Dump that flirt, what e’er you do!
Once you’re wed, she’ll run you down.
Her name is known throughout the town.”

Alack! O woe! O Sorrow’s pang
upon the morn those church bells rang!
No altar’s blessing could subdue
the direful glares that came to view.
Of a nightmare I must tell,
 the very sort that springs from Hell.

Mary Lue met loathsome Jake,
a drunkard, gambler and a rake.
A distraught husband roamed the dark
and met a couple in the park.
With one fell blow he struck Jake dead.
Panic-stricken, off he fled.

Now strapped tight to a certain chair,
he endured his parents’ stare
through a slot of perspex glass.
A priest in black arrived at last..
Will this nightmare never end?
Angels and  ministers of grace defend!

When he awoke , what should he view
but his two bonny kids by Mary Lue!
From the kitchen came a song.
‘Twas Mary Lue in voice full strong.
‘Twere a foolish youth indeed
who ne’er his pleading heart would heed.

Premium Member Dad


Even though fathers might all seem similar in some ways
They are actually all different as are cats and bears
Or even pirates and trees regardless of hidden fees

When working in the woods
Dad was a bear and a force to be reckoned with
But like a famous man, “he preferred it nice and peaceful”

 He liked to be on the go as the winds did blow 
On some Father’s Days I would say 
“Yo ho Yo ho” we shall go wherever we go
                                                         
 My thought eventually became
I do not want to relocate any more 
But Dad, the good man that he was
Kept us on the go until the end
                                                              
 I eventually got my wish 
Like a fish eventually gets a hook
And every Father’s Day, I think of Dad
© John Long  Create an image from this poem.

Jesus and Peter On the Water

JESUS AND PETER ON THE WATER
(Gustave Brion) 

Walking on the water, 
Walking on the sea, 
I see Jesus walking, 
Walking towards me, 

Coming, He's coming near, 
In fear, I'm dismayed, 
He says, "Take heart, it's I, 
Do not be afraid."

I say, "Bid me come, Lord, 
Walking towards You,"
He says, "Come" and I walk
On the water blue, 

The wind blows boisterous, 
And I look at it, 
Frightened, begin to sink, 
Sinking bit by bit, 

I cry out, "Lord, save me!"
He caught me stretched out, 
"O you of little faith, 
Wherefore did you doubt?"

Then we walked together
Back towards the ship, 
The wind ceased, we all bowed
To Him in worship, 

"You are the Son of God, 
Now we know it's true", 
That day, learnt a lesson, 
Let me share with you, 

"Look ever to Jesus, 
Even in the storm, 
Do not doubt His power, 
Wonders He'll perform. 

I was about to drown, 
A wind's blow away 
From sinking in deep doubt, 
But He saved the day.

When I stepped out that day, 
My faith, He restored, 
Will you walk on water
Along with the Lord?"



28th March 2023
Form: Quatrain

Who The Police Protect, Part II

...It went up on the internet,
people argued in vain,
some said, “Monster,” some said, “It’s good
that ‘the rich’ know their pain!”
Tyler ignored all the hoopla,
knew nothing would be done,
all cops were bastards, after all,
he had already won.
When nobody came after him
he knew that this was true,
but in his ’hood’ several strange things
soon came into his view.
His boys would see some SUVs
too nice for this ghetto,
then his friend Maurice was shot down,
a head shot, brutal blow.
Two days later it was Andrew,
his throat cut from within,
then Marco was killed in his bed,
his face slashed to a grin.
One by one all his boys went down,
Tyler grew so afraid
he even went to the police,
they cared not what he’d say,
there were too few to walk those streets,
resources too far stretched,
Tyler retreated to his crib,
afraid that he’d be next.

He kept his last four brothers near,
their pistols well in hand,
then one night poor Rico was sniped
near where Tyler did stand.
He and his boys jolted to life,
three guns riddled his walls,
another man was hit by slugs,
to the ground he did fall.
They raced off from the crossfire,
to the hallway they ran,
only to see, at the far end,
a large and armored man.
His shotgun spoke and cut them down,
Tyler shrieked out and fell,
he heard many footsteps coming,
how many, he couldn’t tell.

He saw the man who had shot him,
a stern look on his face,
with a military bearing,
his eyes a focused hate.
The others didn’t look so tough,
just like middle-class dads,
but the guns they held were no joke,
and right now one seemed glad.
“This is the one who raped my girls,”
said one with an AR,
the stern one said, “You all did well,
better than most, by far.
The quick training did lots of good,
these thugs were not prepared,
and this bastard is still alive,
this human filth looks scared.”
The AR-guy stalked up and looked
with a face cruel and grim,
he had no need for trials as
he aimed the guy at him.
Tyler could only cry as he
placed a foot on his neck,
in his last thought he understood
just who the police protect…
Form: Narrative

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