Long Bluffed Poems
Long Bluffed Poems. Below are the most popular long Bluffed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bluffed poems by poem length and keyword.
PEARLY GATES
I’m brought before Saint Peter,
On display in a clear glass crate,
Nothing hidden up my sleeve,
Except a hammer, I jest to escape.
He approaches me out of nowhere,
Ask him for a chat while we wait,
Gentle voice replies “of course son”
We’re summing up, there is no haste.
Listen! played the hand I was dealt,
Although bluffed, behind a poker face,
Concealing more lies than honesty,
Yet love always, outshone the hate,
At times life seemed unbearable,
Beyond all reason to procrastinate.
When younger I couldn’t get enough,
Though excess, simply led to waste,
Won’t bore you with petty details,
For fear deaths a pitiless place,
Bit late in the day, seeking salvation,
Begging forgiveness, no saving grace.
“Never said a truer word my child,
Crocodile tears, cannot work this case,
Condoned, condemned, in the balance,
On very thin ice, this verdict skates.”
“Whatever I say does not matter,
It’s meaningless gone past debate,
God alone will pass the sentence,
Life’s evidence, will judge your fate.
By
David Kavanagh
It’s the morning of a different day—who knew there’d be another?
Lisa and I went on our harbor jog @ 5am—that’s nothing new.
It was, like 44°—we’re enjoying fall’s cold, refreshing bite.
Anyway, my mind wasn’t on it and I nearly stumbled over
a chunk of dark, uneven roadway, made invisible by its function.
Charles, jogging beside me, wordlessly managed to right me
without us losing a step and I smiled my thanks.
argh! I’ve got to get out of my head.
Later, in class, lulled by the comfort of the stiff, wooden chair, my eyes unfocused and the professor’s voice seemed to fade into the backdrop. Suddenly, he was asking me a direct question that seemed almost without context.
Metaphorically slapped back into focus, I scanned the room and the whiteboard for clues before awkwardly—walking the edge of catastrophe—I bluffed it out, because, well, I’ve an instinctive reluctance to admit defeat with any sort of grace.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I had dreams—nothing with a defined purpose–just an amalgamate of bonfires and storms in a coastal scrubland with an odor of fresh cedar and a sense of casual vulnerability.
My attention today is like an intermittent pulse.
.
.
Songs for this:
Headz Gone West by Nia Archives
Dark Red by Steve Lacy
Memories, like fine wine, sweeten with age,
cavalier ways, appear less defiant.
Yet in life's book, tears saturate the page
marking the times; Hope was non-compliant.
You sense the pain, anxiety, and fear;
start to erode the foundations of trust.
And catch yourself wiping away a tear
while your tinder-heart threatens to combust.
In the game of love, you're easily bluffed,
ignoring the odds, you go all in, blind.
And dreams drift, like a dandelion tuft,
afloat in the back of your conscious mind.
When you gamble on love, you'll likely lose,
while your fragile ego oft bears the bruise.
Goldie Locks
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Goldie Locks
I did not know your name
You swayed your hips
With small steps
As you pass me by
I did say hello to you
You did not answer
You growled a little smart
And bluffed a little bark
Which caught my heart
I could not say goodbye
It would have been a lie
I could not take back
You were too
Cute for goodbye
It was too smart
When you looked at me
Up and down
My heart began
To skip a beat ..
So I picked you up
And brought you home
My little hazel
Brown eyed puppy
And called you
Goldie Locks.
Way down
Years gone by
Without tears
You met a pug
Called Mulligan
And had
Lots of pup's.
Turks swept into Smyrna, set it aflame
Europe stood watching—silence its stain.
Desperate Christians crowded the Quay
Hoping for ships to take them away.
The crowd was missing women of marriageable age
Turkish forces had taken them, lets close that page
Some men swam to the boats, but orders said no
Sailors with bayonets pushed them back to the flow.
So, in the hour of darkness, who could come?
A lowly YMCA director braved the Turkish guns
His name was Asa Jennings, went up high, made a plea
Got an eleven-day window for those remaining to flee.
The Greeks had just lost a war, and were afraid
Asa went to the Greek leader, who was hard to persuade
Asa threatened he'd uncode their communications
The failure to act would be displayed to the nations.
Asa also went to the Turkish leader Ataturk.
Predicted world revulsion, argument partly worked.
Ataturk ruled young men must stay, women could flee
Men must go to labor camps, far from the sea.
Asa was just the head of the YMCA
He didn't have official power, but he bluffed anyway.
He threatened, lied and cajoled
It took nerve, but fortune favors the bold.
Asa got the Greek navy, and merchant marine
Moved a 3rd of a million, from that deadly scene.
Then radio requests began, more and more:
Jennings directed more ships to the Aegean shore
A rescue of over a million lives
Children and old men, husbands and wives.
Some American naval officers also did their part
They all deserve remembrance, they all had heart.
Some would say this story is oversimplified
There were others who helped, took the refugees side
Halsey and Giannis played important roles
In saving so many desperate souls.
But picture this, one man in the right place and time
It may never happen again, in your life or mine.
Asa Jennings, leading a convoy, Old Glory flying high
refugees cheered and refugees cried.
Asa was a religious man, maybe that's what it takes
Later in Lausanne, he negotiated more breaks
The men in labor camps could go to Greece
A prisoner exchange, since now there was peace.
Asa died at 55, a short lifespan
But who of us could do as much, let's honor the man.
She sits at the lunch table with her good buddy
a Greek fellow with no english
she-a canadian with no Greek tongue-
they commune like there is no tomorrow
siding with each other
against
the staff who would wash them
clothe them
feed them
so much like a child would behave
She seems to glow with a radiance of innocence
a sweetness wet on the lips of time
held within a cocoon of
dementia
that robs her body and mind of life
leaving a withering shell that breathes to live
consumes nourishment to breath
she knows not where she is
cool hand of death
nearer and nearer
waiting patiently until her chin falls deeper to her breast and
the shallow breath
all but becomes inaudible and still.
I
in the depths of my being
wish somehow she would snap out of it
recognize me
recognize the card game myself and my brothers now play with her
the game of
recognize the numbers~
She bides her time sleeping, eating, and watching
desperate to recognize and hold onto the familiar
"pleasantly confused"
they label her
out of an ignorance to truly deal with things
"blissful ambivalence" another describes her
and I shot out inside myself
she has been more than this...
she is more than these damn labels
she is a person
an integral part of the life of this society
so deserving of respect
and compassion.
recognize the suits
and it makes me sad
that her mind is playing the final trick
bluffed and lost
Look into the camera the mighty space man said.
Jon’s Cat was hypnotized, clobbered in the head.
We are taking over, honey, the alien said with a chuckle.
Jon’s Cat was mad. He wanted to give the guy his knuckle.
Take us to your leader the head of the rebels demanded.
Jon’s Cat understood, but he would not do as commanded.
His human was his hero, and he wanted to keep him out of harm.
So he bluffed, and he bamboozled, and he waylaid them with charm.
He finessed, and he fidgeted, and he fiercely fixed them hard and good.
He did what any wise, smart, wonderful, adoring, Kibble-loving cat would.
He led them away from his owner, down the hill to the Alien Catchers Pound.
Next he knew, Space Catchers had netted them. They were on the ground.
He was declared the hero, named Grand Marshall of Thanksgiving Parade.
He took Jon with him. They celebrated with sips of warm pink lemonade.
It’s the sixteenth arrest you’ve made, Jon said. What is your secret, Cy?
Jon’s Cat could not tell him, but he worked undercover for the Cat F.B.I.