Long Boasted Poems
Long Boasted Poems. Below are the most popular long Boasted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boasted poems by poem length and keyword.
"Diamond Light"
Downy soft
Love Light sharply glistens diamond prisms
from rainbow's seven colours, in each colour a meaning
imparts a visitation message from fallen angel off a gosling’s wing
A mother whispers secret stories
A child cries silently and remembers everything
In unread chapters
LOVE, is a strong army that loyally delivers Truth's reckoning
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
gvlm/llb
https://youtu.be/27c3JaZq4_c
“Unmade”/Thom Yorke
“The old woman remembered a swan she had bought many years ago in Shanghai for a foolish sum. "This bird", boasted the market vendor, "was once a duck that stretched its neck in hopes of becoming a goose. And now look, it is too beautiful to eat!" Then the woman and the swan sailed across an ocean many thousands of lei wide, stretching their necks toward America. On her journey, she cooed to the swan, "In America, I will have a daughter just like me. But over there, nobody will say her worth is measured by the loudness of her husband's belch. Over there, nobody will look down on her because I will make her speak only perfect American English. And over there, she will always be too full to swallow any sorrow. She will know my meaning because I will give her this swan, a creature that became more than what was hoped for." But when she arrived in the new country the immigration officials pulled the swan away from her, leaving the woman fluttering her arms and with only one swan feather for a memory. For a long time now, the woman had wanted to give her daughter the single swan feather and tell her; "This feather may look worthless, but it comes from afar and carries with it all my good intentions."
The Joy Luck Club
Old Caleb Trotter had great plans for his town in Colorado.
For years he'd roamed the Rockies, finally finding his El Dorado!
He discovered glittering gold that would surely make him flush!
He founded Trotter's Gulch and soon there was a frenzied rush!
Cabins were built on plots that prospective miners selected.
Why, there was even a school and three churches were erected!
'Twas a bawdy place with the usual brawls and seedy saloons.
Soiled doves and gamblers invaded the town by platoons!
Time moved on and Caleb established a general store,
Figuring that the mining game wasn't for him anymore.
He made his fortune catering shovels, overalls and boots,
To hard-rock prospectors and other such galoots!
The population reached ten thousand and showed great potential.
It boasted a railroad station and other services essential.
It included three undertakers, five blacksmiths and ten preachers,
Four doctors, two newspapers and twelve well-respected teachers!
Alas, the pay dirt around Trotter's Gulch soon petered out.
The future of the town was left very much in doubt.
'Twas soon abandoned and another ghost town was born.
'Tis no longer on the map - it now lies desolate and forlorn!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Great Grandpa Moses first built the old shack
in the summer on nineteen twenty-three,
thrown up with big logs, hard maple and oak,
it only measured twelve feet by fifteen.
There have been two expansions since those days,
a real bathroom and a whole upper floor,
with the bunkrooms it will sleep eight people,
but gets crowded if you add any more.
It sits way back in the Northwoods forests,
in an empty corner way up in Maine,
amidst logging roads sits four hundred acres
that have for so long boasted of our name.
In the Fall months in has been the site
where we’ve taken close to one hundred deer,
one at a time, you got to follow laws,
we’ve just been doing it for many years.
And though the hunt carries its own appeal,
it’s comradery that has made this place,
all that goes on when nightfall has settled
and we sit ’round the fieldstone fireplace.
The amount of beer consumed on these grounds
may strike a rock star as very obscene,
not to mention the cards tossed fast about,
and the stories told that nobody believes.
Outside stretches a ground-level deck,
an outdoor room in the long, warmer months,
a hand-made table sits there upon it,
a good space where we often clean our guns.
The land is mostly an evergreen swath,
though forty acres cleared form a good plot,
to keep the herd big, it’s around this place
where we get them more likely than not.
Though it was deep in a small old-growth patch
where my father bagged the family’s only moose,
he’d been lucky, got a permit that year,
and shot the bull while it fed under spruce.
I’d like to say I got a deer every year,
but hunters can be well-known for their lies,
I usually get a buck every other,
those whitetails really know how to survive.
These days some of my older nephews
want to run power and wifi to the joint,
whenever they do well all roll our eyes,
they seem entirely to miss the point!
And now my boy Mose, though you be but one year,
I pray you will not become like those fools,
and grow to have may adventures here,
one day I know you will love this place too.
The stars always bless us and
we look up to the stars to communicate with our loved ones.
The stars in the eyes twinkle with the blood flowing in the veins.
The world may count by gold and fame, but he is blessed to bear his name.
He stands alone and stands tall.
Yes, the love which never boasted, quietly passed it all.
The world was harsh and he lived unsung,
His life was a chain of perpetual struggles.
May be, that too has been passed on to the son!
He is born with a wand to fight it all.
Yes, he created a wizard, who has it all!
The quite gaze bestowed power to see through the haze.
Silent support which seemed unsung through decades,
Carved out a rare righteous and upright man.
The contentment within nurtured patience immense.
His sturdy back created the one who leads with strength.
With loyalty within he is never scared to stand upfront!
His sturdy physic carved out most gracious one.
His dusky tone now his son adorns,
Through the son his grace divinely radiates.
When he created, barely he knew that that it would be second to none.
He is up-there, twinkling in the dome to see the son who proudly roars.
Yes, I have never seen him but you hymn all his songs so I know the prudent one!
Dedicated to my best pal and his father, who are most dear to me.
A ladies’ man, one of a kind,
to guileless females gave the eye
response highlighted by a sigh.
He had seduction on his mind
intentions hid behind a smile
he took them in with charming style.
Unwary victims he would find
their full attention swiftly grab
his forte was the gift of gab.
To love eternal he was blind
immersed he was in selfish aims
and boasted of Quixotic claims.
Fragmented hearts were left behind
betrayal tasted, bitter, vile
instead of walking up the aisle.
A ladies’ man, one of a kind,
He had seduction on his mind
Unwary victims he would find
To love eternal he was blind
Fragmented hearts he left behind.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contest: Constanza
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
© 19th November 2017
I saw Lucifer in starlight standing elegant and grim,
A slim, conceited bastard in his uniform and boots.
And I watched him get excited as he waved his arms and boasted,
“The world’s a prize to seize for those who have the will”
(And would I be inclined to run for office?).
I thought it over quietly, politely turned him down
And wondered, Was he beaten as a child?
The biggest bullies were once victims themselves.
A lot of little Hitlers have grown up beneath the lash.
His is no temptation; I had loving parents,
And I cannot help but pity his disease.
I observed the young seductress flash her long silken legs,
The skin above her stockings so invitingly smooth,
And she broke the breathy silence as she arched her back and whispered,
“Women dress to be undressed, or so they say in France”
(And would I like to stay and do the honors?).
I thought it over quietly, glanced down to check my watch
And wondered, Is her mother waiting up?
If all I cared about was pleasing myself,
The weight of my desires would be more than I could bear.
And this sweet temptation, she’s some father’s daughter,
As I cannot help but be my father’s son.
Emotion should be molded by reason
Into something that’s designed to do some good.
No need to fashion a hammer,
If the only thing to pound is someone’s heart.
And all you’ve got to do is take one more step,
One more step, one more step.
All you’ve got to do is take one more step.
(And one more after that.)
I’ve been on this train forever, or at least that’s how it seems.
I’ve traced the buckled strap iron from the highlands to the sea.
And I chuckled in agreement when the club car porter grumbled,
“It’s amateurs who brag about how much they dare to drink”
(And would I like to have another double?).
I thought it over quietly, sat back to light a smoke
And told him, “It’s a tough profession, friend.”
Inherent weakness or just simple fatigue;
A stumble’s still a stumble, makes no difference how you fall.
But I’ll fight temptation till the thirst turns brutal,
Then I cannot help but reach for my reward.
'Neath the restless waves of the unforgiving North Atlantic,
Rests the rusting hulk of the 'unsinkable' ship Titanic!
Alas, 'tis another example of the foolishness of feckless man,
Demonstrated in so many ways since the dawn of time began!
Her designers touted her as the safest ship afloat.
They proudly boasted that she was a grand and luxurious boat!
A respected and experienced man was Captain Smith her master,
But he made a fateful decision that resulted in her disaster!
Mr. Fleet espied the ghostly berg lurking in the murky gloom.
He sounded the alarm, but seconds later she met her doom.
Due to fatal errors by man, the berg her hull did stave.
Fifteen hundred precious souls now rest in that watery grave.
Tycoon and immigrant alike sailed on that maiden trip.
Class distinction was strictly observed aboard the fated ship.
When waters swirled upon her decks and grim disaster loomed,
Class mattered not when they realized that they were doomed!
When man in his petty pride doth too boisteriously exclaim,
That his follies are indestructible, he's doomed to certain shame.
'Twould be well to heed the Scriptures and its proclamation:
"Tempt Not Thy Creator" - and that needs no further explanation!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
100th Anniversary of the sinking of the "unsinkable" Titanic.
A Couple Of Nags
A couple of fellows who weren't very bright
Got terribly drunk in the pub one night
It gave them a bit of a shock of course
When in a drunk bet... They each won a horse
With just enough money for chips and some haddock
They couldn't afford the price of a paddock
Bob said we'll rent a small field for a start
But how would we then tell our horses apart?
Ted slurred his words and burped when he said
Couldn't we paint a white stripe on one's head
Bob said we're too skint to buy us some fags
So we can't afford paint for marking our nags
We could tie a pink bow onto one of their tails
Scratch names on their flanks with a couple of nails
Or if you're not liking the sound of all that
Could we make one of them wear a straw hat?
Bob simply belched before he then said
We need to do something much cheaper instead
We can't afford ribbon or a silly straw hat
Did you think me too drunk to have thought about that?
Well we need to do something before we get old
Or before we end up stone dead from the cold
But then Bob jumped up and he started to gloat
I've sussed it he boasted, just give one your coat
Not likely said Ted, the thought makes me chilly
So frankly, he burped, you're idea is silly
Next you'll suggest that we smear one with jelly
Or maybe we ought to make one wear a welly
The two of them sat there, each scratching his head
Then Bob had a brainwave and here's what he said
We really must get this decided tonight
So you have the black horse, and I'll have the white.
After playing devils advocate in the beautification
of the nun who had played mother to many..
given hope to many.. the poverty struck peoples
the hermit had just made his submission..
to the Holy see..the hermit is now on a river bank
A bank where ages gone slave masters beat
tortured their own people into forced labor..
many a servant perished on this very river bank
at the hand of their cruel masters.. tortured..
Our hermit sat on this huge Rock by the river
Upon that rock he saw in a vision.. the past
and he understood his purpose.. rising up
with extraordinary strength.. carried huge rock
across the river... never minding the poisonous
river serpents or the vile shadows emerging
On the other bank the hermit put the huge boulder
now mother you have a place to sit and rest...
muttered the hermit and no more do you need cry
the sacred mother has a place to rest and faith...
faith in the Supreme Merciful creator has gained foot.
Faith has gained foot in a dark land where the cruel masters
boasted they would reign forever.. till eternity over the land
but i bet they failed to realize.... or calculate on the hermit
on a hermit in the future undoing their evil by rooting for good
did i say he was playing devils advocate for a nun of the church
I ain't about to reveal th' month an' year that I wuz born,
But here's a clue, cars than sported an ooogah, ooogah horn!
To start th' motor required enthusiastic spinnin' uv a crank!
On th' rutted roads, its ride wuz comparable to that uv a tank!
Cars had many levers an' pedals fer th' shiftin' uv th' gears.
To git movin' required th' savvy uv a platoon uv engineers!
No fancy radial tires er anti-lock brakes to bring it to a stop,
Nor air bags er seat belts to ease th' pain if it landed on its top!
Nowadays, cruisin' is cool with stereo music pleasin' to th' ear.
Th' engine roared an' Ma nagged frum th' rear seat in yesteryear!
Model-A Fords boasted a seat in th' rear called a rumble seat.
Th' kids an' dogs delighted in ridin' there, considerin' it a treat!
Pa found th' hand signals needed to stop an' turn very confusin'!
Th' kids an' other drivers on th' road thought this most amusin'!
Today's sedans provide a signal light to warn what ya' intend to do,
Without hangin' an arm out th' winder, yer intent hard to construe!
Mister Ford offered a choice uv colors as long as it wuz black.
Today ya' kin opt th' colors uv th' rainbow, if'n ya' have th' jack!
Cruisin' at seventy miles per in my sleek, air conditioned car,
My thoughts drift back to when autos were really quite bizarre!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)