Long Burrs Poems
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I Wait With Bated Breath...
(slack jaw froze mine countenance
when eyes blinded with figurative
daggers asper mistakes in original draft,
hence...this flood proof, fire resistant,
and fever reducing error free version.)
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with pizazz, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingeniousness emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled and docked by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over active imagination whirs.
Metamorphosis
Tracing footsteps in the overgrown field
where sunlight and raindrops date
Counting sticker burrs like lemon drops
in a candy counter display
Hitchhikers I remember them called,
lovers of socks and pant legs I think
Each with their own story to tell,
minute worries clinging to that last hope of life
The path, familiar but then again not,
it leads somewhere else now
Dragging shadows like kite strings,
knotted in the weave of its boundaries
Taking in my surroundings and releasing them
for another may find them useful as well,
I find still no sign of that last phrase,
spoken softly but misunderstood…is my understanding
A collection of stone and gravel stew
finds my shoe souls imaging in the dry dusty paste
Outlines of thoughts, perhaps poetry in oblong shapes and
perfect tread patterns stamped and posted,
showing no indication of my ever being here
Staring now at a cocoon on a lone branch, I see
what my life had been, dark and lonely, dreaming of the colors,
feeling confined but grateful for the transformation
You smiled, I smiled, my wings appeared and I flew,
as might a rainbow on a balloon, soaring until the tiniest speck
in the sky could be me or just something on your glasses
Light headed in a good way, free at last to define love,
the metamorphosis of my heart,
the changing of a man into more than he could hope to be,
seeking and finding that blossom,
sweet nectar, a sugary substance, love deep in the petals of life
Though, no one told me of the life span before hand,
no calendar hanging on my wall with circled dates highlighted in red,
nor a stamp of expiration anywhere on my heart,
good if used by…used by, funny I should write that now
as my attention rests still on this cocoon,
wondering where I went wrong,
somewhere on this path lies the answer…
for I once was a butterfly, just as you will be small cocoon,
at which time you will learn…
it is easier to fly with a heart that is unbroken
I Wait With Bated Breath...
(yes...yes...yes, this rhyme
resembles a recent one of mine
from a previous time,
yet appropriating wands zone writing
haint no crime -
at least not yet!)
Okay bull heave me you,
at this moment
alm completely unaware
what the a muse zing
genie of poetic
inspiration will bring
possibly shelving what Calliope
holds in store for me,
meanwhile now
with impatience it ching
visa vis to discover
what this Earthling,
(albeit modest) will be amazingly
graced with, meanwhile aye fling
haphazardly, indiscriminately,
and jocosely blitz
krieg feebly attempting
to contrive ingenious emits
poetic prestidigitation in fits
and starts, sans "FAKE" wits
as this humble
human imperceptibly orbitz
around mister Sun,
(which about bajillion years
from now suddenly quits)
shining foisting misery,
where Nyx knocks
(paddy whack give
my dog a bone...) divinely,
knowingly and spiritedly visits
(believe me you) this trumpeting
stupid moron loser
forever doth taint
after this moment
(no need tubby saint
lee and suppress any quaint
gut wrenching chortle)
at what aint
no farce), nor literary feint
yours truly painfully,
sorrowfully, and verily avers,
he now lacks fire and fury
(as if nettled by burrs)
nonetheless, which ambition
dust hanker mink thinks furs,
and foremost (Tom
morrow i.e. purrs
sues tha owl mighty,
where fame posthumously spurs
me amidst pantheon
of great writers
which dream dashed
into a million,
(no...no...no...not
bajillion this instance,
though good guess) pieces
abysmal silence replacing
(palimpsest like),
mine over imagination whirs.
I opened the top drawer of my mind
and carelessly took out some words.
I threw them about with little thought
of where or on whom they might land.
Many bounced when they hit becoming scattered and lost;
Some stuck like burrs holding fast where they fell;
A few jabbed like barbs causing prickling and itching;
One flew straight as an arrow into the heart of a friend.
But I was amused at myself and filled with conceit,
there in the midst of an admiring crowd.
Caught up in the wonder and pride of it all
I gave no thought to the missiles I'd fired.
But wait, the crowd grew quiet, and
suddenly I knew something was wrong!
They were all looking at me with disbelief and fear;
then the circle parted and I gazed on a terrible scene.
My words had become visible, each ugly one of them,
glinting and mocking me everywhere I looked.
I ran from the crowd, from their jeering delight
thinking only one thing, disappear, disappear.
It was then I saw my friend.
Fighting for breath and losing the fight;
impaled and dying on my careless word.
I cried, "Oh my dear God. Please, what have I done!"
And I ran to my friend saying, "please, please hold on."
Then I opened the bottom drawer of my mind
and carefully, so carefully took out some words.
I carried them to my friend and gently held them out
hoping, praying that they would be enough.
My friend lived that day, no thanks to me,
and forgave me for my awful deed.
But oh what I'd give if I could recall
that word and the pain that it brought.
To you who, like I, have been careless in your talk,
take care what you say, set a watch on your tongue.
Else you too some day will see effects you never meant
from words you can't get back, ever.
Submitted 5 Sept 16
Your words burped toxins.
Like water, I quenched my thirst.
A portion too hexed to gulp,
I choked in travesty of devotion.
My favourite promises are broken ones.
My solace, found in empty words,
mellifluous as Angels chants.
Memories, you'd wish forgotten,
I embrace like burrs.
I don't want to purge my soul of your thoughts, I pray they cling like a haze
in my clouds. I want to dwell in the
illusion of your warmth.
To be reminded by crystals of you,
by every song, every Smile and kiss.
Let your thoughts sweep my brain,
a swim in rhythm I'll ripple. Like waves,
my tears would steam through the tides
of the sea. Like a child, I'll echo in my wails.
If you're stamped, a mistake,
I'll indulge over and over
till I'm glued to the hurts,
so shattered. Still, like a
blinded frog, I'll jump into
your pit of love after every healing.
Yes! I'll come back so the scars
are renewed sempiternally.
I plead that my heart is
clogged with pain and
misery, while I dream of
all the stormy nights we
stayed up whispering for
hours in pristine waterfalls.
As you enchant my being,
let me burn so bad the
stitches never seal.
Put me in a destruction
circus, savoury punishment
for being strangers.
Get me blinded by lights,
it becomes my enemy.
In recall of those sweet names,
you serenaded me with,
my lips, the last your heart
beats for.
A shuffle through
oubliette, sillage twirls sillage.
Still no sight of your ebullient eyes.
I want to throw you into caves of
evanescent but my heart no longer
listens to any scream but your voice.
You're the bridge every man needs
to cross to get to me, and you're charred.
Please take the pain of my youth and turn it into
peace everlasting.
Please replace my fears with serene solitude and the
security of your arms.
Please cast your revealing light upon the dark
corners of my deceit.
Please help me to stand steadfast in the shadow of your wings
that the searing fire of guilt can no longer scorch my soul.
Please drive the echoes of my sorrow into the waters of your
redemption, within the soft shores of your joy.
Please fill me with the song of your unconditional Love
lest I once again beat the arrogant drum of judgment.
Please enable my eyes to survey the depth and breadth of
your generosity in order to keep the shallow... narrow mirth
of my ingratitude at bay.
Please bleach the tainted fabric of my mind in the white light
of your purity.
Please soften my haughty eyes with compassion that I may
practice the only approved religion; "to care for widows and orphans".
Please hone the jagged edge of my well of forgiveness, grinding away
the sharp burrs of my rage.
Please cast the soiled stones of my hatred into your eternal spring
of living water.
Please inform the skewed angles of my understanding with the
unfathomable depth of your knowledge
Please fortify the frailty of my reason with the many pillars of your wisdom.
Please recast the clumsy forms of my relationships with the graceful
lines of Agape, that you might heal us through the loving of one another
and love us through the healing of each.
Please smooth the splintered surface and harsh corners of my fatherhood
so that my amazing children can safely draw near enough to hear your
heartbeat within me.
Please...
They see me,
but not really.
A glance. A smirk.
A whisper—
"Look at her."
And that’s all it takes.
It doesn’t matter if it’s true.
Truth isn’t the point.
The point is sharp,
and it’s aimed at me.
She’s too this.
She’s too that.
She’s nothing.
She’s everything wrong.
They don’t stop to think—
why would they?
Judging is easy,
like breathing,
like scratching an itch.
You don’t plan it.
You just do it.
Maybe I laughed too loud.
Maybe I didn’t laugh at all.
Maybe my shirt’s too tight.
Maybe my face looks tired.
Maybe I’m just there,
existing,
and that’s enough for them to decide:
I’m wrong.
It’s not about me.
It never was.
They judge because they’re bored,
because they’re scared,
because it makes them feel lighter
to dump their weight onto me.
But it sticks.
Their words,
their looks,
their stupid little laughs.
They stick to my skin
like burrs in the grass,
prickling,
digging in.
And the worst part?
I start wondering if they’re right.
I check the mirror,
check my smile,
check my soul—
is it all too much?
Is it not enough?
What am I doing wrong?
But then I remember—
they don’t know me.
Not the real me.
Not the girl who cries when the world’s asleep.
Not the girl who dreams too big
and loves too hard.
Not the girl who’s still figuring out
how to stand tall
while they throw stones.
They judge because it’s easy.
But being me?
That’s hard.
And I’d rather be me—
messy, loud, quiet, strong, weak—
than be the one pointing the finger.
Look at that big world way out there,
eyes only three just sit and stare,
Oh, how I want to go outside of this door,
to see that big world that's mine to explore!
" You're much too young," mother would say,
"to go outside alone and play".
And then to add to my bad news,
she takes away my only shoes.
But my sister's sandals are still there,
Should I take them? Do I dare?
I do, and suddenly I am free,
just as happy as can be!
My journey now I can complete,
with sister's shoes upon my feet.
The sand burrs in the alley way,
would not stop me, no not today!
Then like a big, exploding bomb,
my sister calls out to our mom,
that I have stolen what was hers,
to walk across those sharpened burrs.
Mother's angry, I could tell,
she sees me and begins to yell,
"Take your sister's shoes off now!
And get back here, I don't care how!"
I'm so scared, but this I do,
I take off one, then the other shoe.
My sister takes them both away,
and now I have a price to pay.
Our mother shrieks, "Get over here!"
I cry from pain and I cry from fear,
as burrs pierce through my tender skin,
I beg my mom to make it end.
As I am crying, "Mommy, please!"
I fall down on my hands and knees,
but still she's screaming with that voice,
so I crawl through burrs, I have no choice.
She reaches down and grabs my hair,
and beats me while the neighbors stare,
She hits my face repeatedly,
while she says these words to me,
"I'll teach you not to cause me grief!
I'll teach you not to be a thief!"
I used to want to go explore-
but I don't want to anymore.
He drove up to the Triple "T" Ranch in his brand new Cadillac!
In his air-conditioned trailer wuz his Arabian steed an' the finest tack!
He'd dreamed uv bein' a real workin' cowboy since he wuz a tad,
So he fitted hisself out with the latest fashions there wuz to be had!
On his Tony Lama alligator boots he wore a pair uv silver-plated spurs.
Over his Calvin Klein jeans he wore deerskin chaps to stave off the burrs.
He wore a hundred dollar Stetson hat an' fancy vest uv top-grade suede,
An' slung low on his hip wuz a 44 in a leather holster uv the finest grade!
His git-tar wuz slung on his back - across his shoulder wuz a coiled rope.
The grizzled cowpokes chawin' their terbaccy saw in this feller little hope!
They wuz loungin' 'round the corral railin' not believin' whut they saw!
He strolled their way remindin' them uv rhinestone cowboys on Hee-Haw!
First thing he said wuz, "When do we dine and I prefer silk sheets on my bed!"
An ol' cowpoke in scruffy boots an' jeans asked, "Whut wuz 'at you said?"
(The thoughts crossin' them cowpuncher's minds had best be left unsaid!)
"Son, you'll sleep in the top bunk tonight an' beans an' bacon you'll be fed!"
The ranch foreman trotted over to see whut the hullabaloo wuz all about.
"You fellers let me handle this! Ya'all git back to work!" he said with a shout!
He sized the lad up sayin', "Son, I ain't impressed with all them fancy lables!
Begin yer career with this here manure fork!" an' he sent him to the stables!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
As luck would have it
I chanced upon the secret
of finding things not looked for,
to enlist serendipity on cue.
The more you look the less you see.
Stop looking for, and start looking about.
Expectation kills spontaneity.
So, stop planning itineraries.
If you take a planned tour
on a planned route to see
the things you quest for,
You'll only get what you ordered on the menu.
But if you look about
and see an opportunity
in an open door off the beaten track,
you are ready to allow chance
happenings to surprise you.
Many great discoveries
in Science were made this way:
Penicillin discovered in dirty dishes, after a vacation
The micro-wave oven, when chocolate bar in pocket melted
Post-it note, a not so sticky glue
Velcro, when hiking and seeing how burrs hook onto hair
Radioactivity, when Uranium left on photo plate in drawer overnight.
Two things stand out here:
Firstly, doing something unusual, unplanned, as if by accident
Secondly, being aware that the unexpected has happened,
and taking time to investigate it.
An inquisitive mind feeds on serendipitous encounters.
The opposite of serendipity is *zemblanity:
Which is discovering unlucky expected outcomes you planned for,
when you make unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries by design.
It is the inevitable unsurprising uncovering
of what we expected, and would rather not know.
So now you know, it is better
to look about, than to look for,
to allow serendipitous encounters
to happen more by chance.
---------------
9 May 2017