Long Caveman Poems
Long Caveman Poems. Below are the most popular long Caveman by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caveman poems by poem length and keyword.
To my husband,
Our life is far from being normal.
Our days do not require us being formal.
When we met, we were just words upon a screen.
Today, I am your fallen and tattered queen.
You are my mighty, rough around the edges king.
You have somehow become my EVERYTHING.
You have managed to see beyond all my flesh and bone,
You took me away from all the lies I've ever known.
I always wonder what you see
When you set your gaze upon me.
Do you see how vital you are
Or do you think I am bizarre?
You broke down the walls of my shattered heart
In which you promised me a fresh start.
You offered promises of pleasure
Knowing there would be pain of some measure.
Our love has seen it's ups and downs
While we argued more than a few rounds.
Do you not see what I see when I gaze upon you?
Do you not feel that our love is something anew?
I have seen my gentle giant of man
Become more than the touted caveman.
I see your sweet, wistful, and sometimes sad smile
That makes me see our troubles we can reconcile.
Please see how extremely special you are.
To me you are a bright shining star.
My husband, I love you and I love our life.
I am proud and happy to be your loving wife.
Form:
LXII+ years old and he still carries a security blanket
Move over Linus
Van Pelt of Peanuts fame,
cuz yours truly
also psychologically lame
since prepubescence
mine noticeably long hair
delivered inner comfort,
yet found some classmates
calling me "hippy" by name
though other tormentors among them
hurled expletive laced offensive insults
even ethnic slurs much less tame.
Absolute zero
anti-bullying laws prevailed ahoy
when reasonably rhyming poet
just a little beastie boy
"mean kids" hurtful tactics
they did deploy,
though one bookish lad named Donald Hoy,
he rode the same bus as me,
and most likely practiced magic ploy
to ward off nemesis.
Impossible mission
to detangle mane reason why
I experienced omnipotent
hair reed bond neither thy
father, mother nor therapist
could understand or qualify
outsize (obsessive/compulsive)
significance well nigh
much more (hyperbolically writing)
blatantly mystifying and unsettling
versus comprehending meaning
regarding the bridge on the River Kwai,
whereat these long strands
emanating from scalp, I
imagined them extending
out into space into no fly
zone, and if adored locks threatened
with someone brandishing scissors
one puny lad would cry.
Parents did not berate,
when early within mein kampf,
no matter my mother did execrate
obsessive compulsive thoughts did instigate
long necked pencil geek son
did unwittingly irritate
analogous to Samson
(though Delilah not my mate),
I imbue power courtesy each golden lock
atop me addled sub tracked pate,
where fifty plus shades of gray matter
houses ticky tacky psyche substrate,
which doth bubble, gurgle and percolate.
Only upon taking me last breath of air
viz, when grim reaper delivers death,
I will unroll welcome me
Scottish Harris tweed mat without fanfare
(for this common man),
and just maybe allow, enable, and provide
thee opportunity for scissors
to lop off longish straggly hair
subsequently repurposed into a
security blanket ideally suited
to create creature comfort within lair
for garden variety and generic caveman,
who truth be told lives very near
yours truly in Schwenksville.
Should a caveman or woman accidentally wander into our time zone,
He or she would feel right at home,
With their keen ear easily able to interpret our not-so-subtle Grunts,
And groans.
Their good eyesight and sense of smell soon aiding them in finding a free meal.
On many a movie set.
With a home invite from the director or producer on the cards.
With real muscles and body strength dwarfing what we consider as Power,
Suitable for the Frey.
Able to leap from building to building with consummate ease,
They would soon adapt to our concrete jungle,
With their trusty club at hand,
Making us quiver as we hide behind the nearest bar.
Their fleetness of foot and turning speed able to,
Test out some of our smaller cars.
Their ability to deal to snakes in the grass an extra bonus.
Who would benefit most from this accidental meeting?
I think we would, as they would know where to find the best caves,
To help us overcome the housing shortage.
Those with a culinary masterplan
Know go for neon glow talisman
Spick & span with fancy dan elan
Wooing doing the cooing can-can
Riot on a diet expands my lifespan
Wrinkle free wry mystery Peter Pan
Doorman to sly new world deadpan
For sushi like John Belushi a madman
Oodles of noodles like silky doodles
Caveman craved calming ramen amen
In a hurry then lasso a curry.. yep Katsu
From svelte purveyor and belt conveyor
Time to have a durry in the rusty daihatsu
Beg for an egg sandwich from heaven
Palette parsons from Lawsons not 7/11
Stricken saved by nori or yakitori chicken
Remembers glory of flaming embers story
Or ditty of look at me too pretty sashimi
Detect such respect in every single aspect
Mingle & scan no defect full effect scran
No also ran but our number one suspect
Wasabi touch of ginger..trusty kemo sabe
Culture protect am a fan can only be Japan
(This is a fictional poem)
I'm a caveman who carries a club.
I'm very dirty because I live in a cave and I've never seen a bathtub.
My body smells like manure and my hair smells like pee.
People jump through windows just to get away from me.
Those Geico.Com commercials are mean and unfair.
They think cavemen are primitive because we drag women by their hair.
I'm not primitive but i do smell worse than a corpse that has decomposed.
If we ever meet face to face, you'll have to put a clothespin on your nose.
I haven't bathed since I was born which has been over three decades.
Maybe that's the reason why I've never been laid.
Form:
Through the mire, lie rows of houses,
in fact there all around,
This is suburbia the sprawl,
Spreading in all directions,
Concrete and steel surge upwards,
Indigenous trees bulldozed down,
Roads dark alleyways fester,
Behold this was once my town.
Weaving through leaky tunnels,
Stench permeates foul air,
Organization of the multitude,
Rats in a Rubik’s cube maze,
Where else can we go,
peasants of urban growth,
Incognito behind our masks,
Eyes burning, smog chokes,
A caveman of bricks and mortar,
Blind man who doesn’t need light,
Awoken from my life of slumber,
Searching for the high ground,
Find a weird monstrosity,
Towering above my head,
A ski slope, shopping mall,
I only seek, milk and bread,
Never seen the future coming,
Perhaps looked, the other way,
I helped create this Frankenstein,
To call it civilized would be a mistake,
Once reaped what was sewn,
Now concrete over everything we see,
Where in hell, has the sky gone,
Dystopia now, Can this really be?
COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE (43)
Sponsored by Brian Strand 18/02/2021
It definitely is not, but some men act as if it is.
"This is a man's world," sang James Brown,
but he ended every chorus repeating the refrain,
"But it wouldn't be nothing without a woman or a girl.
Read that line again....
Condescending supercilious men should never
become a SOUPercillious prig, a bug on a rug
that likes to bite like a flea. That should never happen,
especially when women have done nothing to provoke.
Don't talk down to women about being 'woke.'
We're not broke, nor are we mean girls or churls.
If that's a male gender problem, adjust yourself...
where the testosterone counts the most.
Don't boast to women as if you're superior to us.
We're not fragile and have the right to make a fuss
over being treated like subservient females.
Douse your fire and put down your swords.
A woman's ire is not something you should incense.
It makes no sense to spout and spew ugly remarks.
Stop growling like a mad dog that barks and barks.
'Fools rush in where wise men never go.'
Another song with lyrics that men should know.
Being a Charlie Big Banana doesn't make you a man
Pound on your chest like King Kong or a caveman
if you must, but supercilious you'll still be.
Indiscriminate bombardment will flow
with endless pigmented possibilities;
A cross of Penelope pop-socks and indigo;
Abstruse, the two primary colors;
It must be that brush of butterfly effect
the wild one pulled from under the covers;
Intangible to all but the one who strokes
the canvas with bubbling neon flames;
A smeared showpiece each drop stokes;
Quilted texture of poodle-prairie red
dances with lines of earthy caveman;
Stimulated Muse taunted, empowered;
Passion-ridden poppy colored hands
leave only the most elegant stain;
That backsplash born of bold badlands;
Lush hues of whimsical rain pour out
exiting the smallest tube on the table;
Children’s daydreams fall from it’s spout;
Behind perfectionism a child will lurk,
screaming at you to relax and have fun;
Who cares if it is pristine or patchwork?
We look up at the sky at night
There is so much to see
Planets, stars, and meteors
Then, past vision, what can be
The further back the light comes from
See deeper in the past
Worlds like ours have come and gone
Unlikely that they last
Our Earth is just a blink in time
Say just a speck of dust
Revolving with its molten core
We live here on the crust
The comets cruise our system
Held here by our sun
Some orbits go so far in space
We may not see that one
Our planets may be hot or cold
Gas or solid rock
It makes no difference in the end
As in their orbits lock
Mars there for the God of war
Venus there for love
Mercury for heat and speed
They wander up above
They take a spacing from the sun
Mercury, Venus, Earth
Mars, Jupiter and Saturn
All have different orbit girth
Uranus there, and Neptune
And with far too many jeers
Tiny Pluto scorches round
In just two fifty years
The constellations guide us
As we travel in the night
Guided to our destination
As an early caveman might
The supernova of the stars
When their life is done
Collapsing to a small white dwarf
Or huge red giant one
And so when we are dead and gone
Earth swallowed by the sun
Will those that follow wonder
If they follow anyone
You ask me why I live in cave
Caveman not want to be a slave
I take a chance and look around
I see that people act like clown
Your little ones you not take care
You always running here and there
You drop them off at crazy school
No discipline when they break rule
They spend their time in front of screen
You wonder why they act so mean
They don’t know sex or what is real
By age of ten know how to kill
Government tells you what to do
You give up trying to be you
Purpose of life, make more money
Hate is growing it not funny
I choose a life here in my cave
Not make a choice to be a slave
I took the chance to look around
No way I’d choose to live in town