Long Chewing Poems
Long Chewing Poems. Below are the most popular long Chewing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chewing poems by poem length and keyword.
Their pounded wind
called our neighborhood.
We were children
who entered their work
like a hearth.
Electric wisk, whine,
sawdusted the cool summer
uder our trees.
From banded boards
basking in dirt
to skeletal hints
at form.
Their whistles were
crisp greenery out of
trees and earth.
They tooled and straddled
their working days,
leaving their plywood,
their drywall chalk
for our pictures.
In the last light of the trees,
we robbed scrap from their
silent structure.
And they were ghosts
still working after hours.
Our tree fort,
ropes, nails chewing deeply
into bark
was worship.
A monument to them.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982
The full moon glistens on the fallen snow;
He still has a couple of miles left to go,
As he walks on home from the bus depot;
Of his visit there nobody yet knows.
His deployment in Iraq has come to an end;
The Purple Heart hangs on his chest;
Of his shortened tour he told no family or friends;
His left sleeve is pinned to his vest.
The Greyhound bus that dropped him off,
Passes him rolling down the road;
The shrapnel he carries in a chewing tobacco tin,
As he marches along in the dark and the cold.
The long driveway to the house he grew up in,
Has not been shoveled of the snow;
The lights are still on, as everyone within,
Prepares for a midnight mass to go.
They are startled by noises out on the porch,
And wonder at the knock on the door;
They all rush in to see who it is,
As he drops his duffel bag upon the floor.
A one-armed hug isn’t so bad,
On the Eve before a Christmas Day;
When received by a hero son
Who’s been missed ever since he went away.
They all went to church with tears in their eyes;
One family of thousands of more;
Overjoyed by a wonderful Christmas surprise -
A soldier coming home from the war.
“In the end, money always collects.”
Money will hold you, then skin you alive,
Kiss you sweet, then gut your drive.
Feed you today, starve you tomorrow,
Bury your joy in a pit of sorrow.
Buys the love that’s sold in the dark,
Perfume to mask the cold of the heart.
Buys the heat when your bones start to bite,
Flicks the switch in the dead of night.
Buys the powder, buys the blade,
Seals the deal in the backroom trade.
Buys the blood, the hit, the debt,
Every mistake you won’t forget.
Buys a smile that don’t reach the eyes,
Buys your truth, then sells you lies.
Buys the chains you’ll wear for free,
The dream you choke on, down on your knees.
Buys the roof when the rain starts to fall,
Sells the walls, leaves you with nothing at all.
Buys the crown, it buys the throne,
But nothing it touches is ever its own.
Money don’t care if you’re young or old,
Don’t know hunger, don’t feel cold.
Keeps on moving, keeps on fed,
Won’t stop chewing till you’re good and dead.
Buys your breath and it buys your skin,
Waits for the moment you let it in.
Grinds you down till there’s nothing to save,
Spits in the dirt on your unmarked grave.
The study all alone,
in the corner of the home,
where a man can think,
reflect and have a drink,
be free of charging kids,
of daily cares be rid,
read what ancients say,
this is a male space.
In the wood with a gun,
tracking deer that run,
putting his wits and wiles
up against the wild,
Field-dressing the game
in frozen winter rain,
embracing primal days,
feeling the male space.
On the battle field,
the consequences real,
has to take it all,
or is doomed to fall.
Gunning down the foe,
ever harsh to know,
sometimes you have to hate,
it’s part of the male space.
In office or board-room,
facing ruin and doom,
competing for a prize,
Struggling to get by,
it’s always looking grim,
yet he plays to win,
his family must be safe,
he stays in the male space.
Ye olde barber shop,
blades Ol’ Charlie strops,
shaving with straight-edge
his best customer Fred.
chewing over local news,
the good stuff and the blues,
away from the rat race,
here in the male space.
Dimly-lit gentlemen’s club,
up against him she rubs,
sells him simplicity,
an illusion for a fee.
For a moment he is sane,
not trying to play the game,
she throws them in his face,
He loves this male space.
Some say it has to go,
like the men’s clubs of old,
their ideology demands
that of men they are no fans,
they forget we undergo
troubles they’ll never know,
to bring up boys that rate,
you’ve got to have male space.
If not, boys lose control,
don’t live to grow old,
with no male sanctuary
they gang-bang on the street,
Oo they have worse luck,
become pansy, Beta-cucks,
with no pride and no place…
better to have male space.
These twelve acres are mine,
out in the country-side,
to teach my son things
a man should be knowing,
to hunt, to think, to drive,
to fake being civilized,
won’t leave it up to fate,
don’t tread on my male space.
there is another retirement party for me tomorrow.
I was wondering how in the world I could attend.
After all, I have a new puppy and there is an old angry dog here.
She is less than thrilled about this new interloper.
Luckily, Buddy has adopted Beau, the new puppy.
They are frolicking in the yard together,
chewing on sticks together, sleeping alongside each other.
As a trial I left them alone for an hour today.
They were cuddled up asleep upon my return.
I could not even think about leaving tomorrow
if I did not have Buddy, a big boy who has become Beau’s brother.
I am thrilled that this is working out!
I see her face crumble down when she hears something new.
Ill wait to tell her what she needs to hear, the information yet to be due.
I might be angry with her sometimes, but right now she doesn't need a clue.
I wait
I wait
I wait
I wait till her silence comes to an end, oh, oh I know.
I could read it off her face, how she felt and the scratching on her clothes.
The tension brought higher, sooner than expected, I can sense the attitude on her nose.
An angry angry woman, an incorrection decision?
Well I suppose she knows.
A sentence whipped without precision, she sews, oh, she sews.
This time will be the last time i say, as if that could be true.
A conjured up face she brings to the table, how could i refuse.
My eyes are chewing on a lime, my reflection being a muse.
Understanding both sides, I'm the trout with many hues.
I wait
I wait
I wait
I wait until I'm fine with scrambling my case, defensive off the bat she'll be.
I know it is not the best time but please, oh please, please let me be free.
Sharing my thoughts, looking as if I don't understand the situation that is near me.
I promise I know, but do I need to restrain myself when she always acts so witty?
Ghost Santa Stealth came upon a dead night dreary,
His intention was madness and I was quite weary
He took bits of my mind, but not in the usual way
He chomped it out of my fleshy brain dendrite gray.
I felt him chewing, his masticating was angry and mean.
He was a destructor, a Christmas devouring, ugly machine.
He took my ideas and threw them outside in the snow.
He burned up my house, not fast, really slow.
I was trying to tell the firemen, but I could not speak.
He had eaten the part of my brain where language doth peak.
Might as well have scalped me. He chewed slow and gave me a fright.
I was terrified of this devil, that Christmas Eve Night.
Did…I…. tell you my father had a horse?
This story is true, you know that, of cause
Well, one day, we found her, with her legs in the air
Chewing a pair of my dad’s old smelly underwear
The poor old nag had broke out in a sweat
The old fart decided to take her to the vet
So off they set off down the farm trail
She moved a little faster than a French escargot snail
At the end of the farm she began to bolt
For twenty meters like a young colt
They had reached Ascot where a horse race was about to start
And behind her she dragged my dad the old fart
It was not long before they were on the race track
With my father flapping like a half mask flag at the back
The gun sounded and the horses began to race
But all slowed down behind the old nag at a steady pace.
No matter now much the jockeys gave their horses the nudge
They wouldn’t take over, they wouldn’t budge
She eventually won 1st prize
And dad 2nd with a bruised pride
While dad lay there out of breath on the ground
They presented him with a cheque of two thousand eight hundred pound
Later the vet told dad she would have never been beat
For the old nag surprisingly was on heat.
*A Horse is A Horse Of Course... Contest by Tirzah Conway*
Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
I load the washing machine up with my dirty wishes
Found myself lost and broken in the kicthen
All the writing on the bathroom stalls
Surpasses the shoppers at the malls
And why must I write about you at all
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Swimming in odd-houses while cutting class
Grown up thinking pew is a piece of church furniture
Watermelon basketball salmon crochet patties
Wring on the sidewalk with a broken bleeding thumb
Picking up harden day old chewing gum
You come before me and you think it a lark
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
Now while you are trying to comprehensive and make sense of my lines
Don't condemn me because my words don't make sense
I'm no more or less educated than a bowl of pink grapes
Bet you gonna try and fluctuate and define my lines of morphemes
And why must I worry about you at all
You come before me and you think I am lost
it's circumstances Folding Flowers While Ironing Rocks in The Dark
11/25/17
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
I use my thumbs to pry my dog’s mouth open
when he is chewing hard plastic or a pair of glasses
they are also used when I want to open or shut doors
pull a dresser knob, use a fork, knife or spoon
I cannot imagine how worthless my hands would be without them
They are imperative to grasp turn or twist anything.
Imagine opening pickles without thumbs or
putting a cookie sheet in the oven without them
They are the appendages we rely on the most
They seem to be more valuable than the rest of our hands.
Thumbs, you are amazing, I am so glad to have you!
More grateful than ever after thinking about your value today.