Long Chaw Poems
Long Chaw Poems. Below are the most popular long Chaw by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chaw poems by poem length and keyword.
When auld friends meet,
To chaw and waste,
And barmaid brings,
The Lad's the taste.
The more the taste,
The more the waste,
And under breath, the wives will curse when call for grace.
But wives agreed. They took the vows.
And grace can wait on hearth and stone,
Til' Lads' be done and oot and home.
Lad's cause no harm,
And some say charm.
And barmaids' heard,
Much worse the yarn.
Bring more ale!
The Lad's will call.
But barmaid says "No more to all",
She knows for where,
And Lad's know too,
That home is where their hearts are true.
And home come Lad's,
Til' next is time,
When taste is calling,
And waste is fine.
For Lad's work hard,
Complete the week,
But only once for they can meet,
Again to taste and chaw and waste.
Graham Alexander Devenish
You get to a point where
you can’t read them anymore
and consider yourself a grown-up.
But it wasn’t until I was fifty-two
that I threw them away.
How long could they hide
in a high school brief case
next to a box of sweaters
in the attic?
So…into the Dumpster Doodle-Doo
they went: her Wuthering epistles,
and my Heathcliff’s angst
Risen to the “beep beep beep”
of a trash trawler’s chaw.
By then she was a preacher’s wife
in Pennsylvania, and I was running
Manufacturing trades for a defense
plant in Rhode Island,
a job for which I was
wholly unsuited
They were two new skins
for the both of us
only one of which
had been redeemed.
Chocolate Molten Cake dessert for two
Layered Devil's Food Cake fluffy and rich
In the center chocolate oozes through
Frozen vanilla ice cream does the trick
A little to cleanse the palate of sweet
Warm chocolate syrup which can bewitch
Not on my diet, for a taste did cheat
A huge dessert to be shared by just two
Or maybe more, a few bites each can eat
When shared a special dessert's fat won't rue
Eaten with loved ones, savor each morsel
Bid all ill effects a happy adieu
If shared with all at the table, don't gobble
Let sharing fairly be the story's moral
Chocolate can be pronounced with two or three syllables:
chaw-kuh-lit or chawk-lit
Inspired by Alfred Vassallo's contest Terza Rima/about what you like
Written: Monday, September 15, 2014
She never gave up that recipe, the
boys' favorite iced tea, made
smooth and sweet. Women
sit in the kitchen going over
coupons and recipes, regurgitating
the latest gossip heard in the
pew behind at this morning's
service. men sit on the porch
tucking chaw in their
lip pocket, spitting in a bucket
on the railing. Waiting for the
race to start, supper to be
served, the clouds to pass so
lawn can be mowed. Another
Sunday without Mama. The
iced tea is off, just enough
for the boys to notice, the
women to know they missed
again. If only she'd learned
to write, we'd have the recipe.
You think you enjoy the radical,
flaming in the gas jets of astral fumes,
spinning in the ocular midnight of a rabid dogs dream,
yet, I think you know, NOTHING is as it seems.
An all too thorough pondering
of mundane thought comes to naught
as vulgar words don’t necessarily wax poetic.
Talking, writing, hurl, polysyllabic words
across a dot matrix screen in a pixel fight with the Lord
don’t made you a prophet or a prophetess
You just scream now, scream…
show your pain across a global terrain in a globular dream
‘Cause I know, you know, NOTHING is as it seems.
Rebel, rebel hell, damn good for nothing navel watcher
pick the lint out, start a fire, you don’t have to die to mean something
you have to do something, damn, it's not enough to just BE
ACT don’t just bite the dirty hand, green with the bile of your blood
eat the whole arm…chaw of a chunk and spit it in the systemic eye
of a postulate system which MAKES have and have nots.
See that fading grin wink from existence and the twin terrors of
DUMB and DEE saying “Howdy and Fiddle Dee Dee” to the
arses who claim to KNOW, ‘cause I know, you know,
NOTHINGS as it seems………..
*Dedicated to Jeffery Cohen from one anarchist to another
**This would be my Alice poem ;)
The sun settled over the mountains jes' 'bout two hours ago.
Now the moon is risin' in the east a-castin' its meller glow.
In the distance, howlin' wolves render a very discordant choir,
As weary, sleepy cowpokes lounge around a glowin' fire.
They've had their supper, the usual beef, beans and applesauce.
Each has seen to the comfort uv his good and faithful hoss.
They slurp cups uv steamin' coffee and each the others regale,
With talk uv wimmen, whiskey and many a towerin' tale!
It had been a long and dusty ride on the old trail today,
Roundin' up the herd and chasin' dogies gone astray.
'Round the fire some fellers enjoy a wad uv terbaccy chaw,
While others savor a roll-yer-own, fashioned by calloused claw.
Frum across the vale a harmonica's melancholy tune is heard,
As the night guard keeps vigil and soothes the restless herd.
The boys by the fire sprawl on their blankets a-gazin' at the sky,
Marvelin' at God's handiwork, thinkin' uv home with pensive sigh.
Cowboyin' is a lonely life and the rewards are mighty few.
It's fer certain the material things uv life he'll never accrue.
I s'pose some folks reckon a cowpoke's life is purty strange,
But he'll keep on a-wranglin' 'til called home to that celestial range!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Sittin’ in th’ saddle. Gotta soon skedaddle.
School marm says she’ll tattle. Sheriff wants a battle.
Kissed her on the cheek jes’ to git a li’l peek
at her widow’s peak ‘cause she’s purty an’ petite.
Gotta hankerin’ to git off ol’ Buck and sit
a spell afore I quit and have a chaw to spit.
Cogitatin’ and bidin’ time afore ridin’
down that canyon hidin’ lest I git a chidin’.
Starin’ out blinkin’, doin’ some proper thinkin’
‘bout the stars a twinklin’ and my heavy drinkin’.
My casual, carousin’ rife, hidin’ from the strife
of settlin’ down my life an’ takin’ on a wife.
Soon I’ll fergit the threat, fergit my social debt
I don’t wanna sweat dirt jes’ to pay a moral bet
farmin’ unfertile land, or workin’ for the man.
Druther take a stand and work as lonely cowhand.
Might as well admit it, I’m a social misfit.
Don’t wanna submit it, or give up an’ quit it.
Searchin’ but cain’t seem to find comfort in my mind.
Guess it’s ’bout time I recognize I’m doin’ jes’ fine.
Slim was pigeon-toed and bow-legged from allus bein' astraddle,
Of his faithful hoss Old Dan and his well-worn creakin' saddle!
He'd spent 30 years gazin' twixt Old Dan's ears ridin' the spread.
Now both is retired and he took up writin' cowboy poetry instead!
On the porch of the bunkhouse he propped his boots upon the railin',
To muse upon many things he'd write about in this new unveilin'.
He wrote about Cooky's chuck of the usual taters, bacon 'n' beans,
And dressin' up Saturday nights to do-si-do with dance-hall queens!
Brandin' time in the old corral and fixin' fences he put to verse.
Ridin' herd on stormy nights when he thought it couldn't git any worse!
He wrote about cattle drives and the hell cowboys raised in Abilene,
Drinkin', fightin' and gamblin' 'til marshals drove them from the scene!
He expressed his views on wimmen-folk and why he chose to stay free!
He wrote of lakes, streams and valleys and distant mountains' majesty!
Of how fellers lolled about the camp fire enjoyin' a terbaccy chaw,
And how cowpoke Pete could fashion a roll-yer-own with his 3-fingered claw!
He wrote that he warn't a pious man to be corralled by a congregation.
He preferred to git his spiritual grub from the magnificence of God's Creation!
Fer his final verse he wrote, "I reckon cowboyin' was allus in my genes.
When I come to the end of the trail boys, jes' bury me in my jeans!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
The ol' saddle warn't much to look at but it was all Buck could afford.
He paid Billy five bucks fer it when Billy died and loped to his eternal reward!
The saddle fit his hoss Dan like an ol' shoe and sat Buck's buttocks mighty well!
Fer twenty bucks a month and found, Buck cowboy'd fer an outfit called Ruby Bell.
The saddle was scratched and gouged from chasin' steers through salt pine brush,
And stained here 'n' there with terbaccy chaw and splotches of muddy slush!
The other fellers made sport of Bucks well-worn saddle but he cared nary a tittle.
He'd jes' grin his boyish grin and loose a well-aimed stream of terbaccy spittle!
He rode many a mile astraddle fixin' bobbed war fences and corallin' stray cattle,
On night herd duty or on the trail in snow, rain and dust but he allus won the battle!
He rode the ol' saddle herdin' longhorns on the Chisholm Trail up t'ward Abilene,
Abidin' cantankerous trail bosses, rushin' rivers and many a perilous ravine!
He and Dan tried their luck calf ropin' at the annual rodeo down the road a piece,
But a wily calf busted the horn off'n the saddle, bringin' his rodeo career to a cease!
Buck found comfort usin' the saddle as his piller 'round the campfar at night.
He'd cuddle it like a dance hall queen he knowed 'til dawn's blindin' light!
Buck was as bow-legged as a pair of pliers from sittin' saddle fer many a decade.
He and Dan and the saddle had become mighty weary and somewhat frayed!
"Boys" he said, pointin' to a knoll, "When I come to the end of the trail and I'm dead,
Bury me beneath that pine yonder along with my saddle as a piller fer my head!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
I am the link to the god all mighty
The grand master of this world
Dollar marks and social security carts
I am the warrior of this waste
The revelator of the word made to taste
The most high, the conduit to creation
The grand motivator
I shake your money maker
The rejuvenator on high
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all
I think
I am the word in flesh & desire
I'm here to destroy and redistribute, redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
The revelation of the revelator
Extraordinaire!
So dig down deep and scrape that coinage
Off that chewing gum and chaw
And give, give the holy dollar in sacrilege
As I rise above the great fanged maw
I'm the holiest of holy all praise the
Orange God, meet the prince, el Presidente
the Anointed One, hallowed be thy name
its kingdom come
on his toilet of golden as it is done
his holy war will be fun...
I'm the revelation the way to his pockets and praise
I'm the evaluator
The motivator
The ecstasy of one
Hollow be thy name
His kingdom is undone
His crown is crashing down
Holy is thy name the grand revelator
NO! Not a sound...!
Your online's only motivator
I am the kink to the all mighty
The grand wizard of this world a' rage
I am the war layer of this waste
The revelator of his word
I do not make haste...
The most holies of high,
The conduit to destruction
The antithesis of one
The grand exploiter
I carry the golden gun
The rejuvenator on high,
The ejaculator between succulent thighs!
Feel the coming of my fire
The revelator extraordinaire
I am all I think I am the word in flesh n fire
I'm here to destroy, redistribute, n redesign
Hallelujah, I'm here to tell ya!
Dig deep and give, give, forgive
The price to heaven, the keys to the pearly gates...OH YESSS....
Between these revelators weather clad highs
I'm the revelation
The elevator
The revival of most high
The master of nigh
Revelations n ruination…
REVELATOR
Surprise!