Long Clincher Poems
Long Clincher Poems. Below are the most popular long Clincher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Clincher poems by poem length and keyword.
FOR GOD’S SAKE
When living "...of the world" despair unfurled.
I lost sight of heaven’s glorious pearl.
Truths shouted out from the depths of my mind.
God’s loving whispers to me stayed entwined.
Higher education became my goal.
Scientific teachings soon took its toll.
My mind strung out on various theories.
My soul, in doubt, became very weary.
But faith persevered and earned the prize.
My trust in God was more realized.
Despite what seemed to be a worldly life,
The soul of me soon felt less strife.
A professor asked my Evolution class,
How can creationism truly be? Alas.
Scriptures say God created…in seven days.
Right? Who shall rule in this duel of ways?
The Bible contradicts itself, He said.
His words from there, down doubts highway sped.
Evolutionary theory is certainly logical.
Creationism seems to be mythological.
Then came the clincher, clarity disparity.
The Bible says God created in seven days.
After the seven days, confusion starts to blaze.
First it says it’s finished; then, it starts to haze.
During that lecture, I was compelled to know.
Believing God created; what did the Bible show?
I prayed to grasp truths as man’s theories grew.
I did not choose to tell faith in God adieu.
At that moment, nothing else mattered.
I refused to let my faith be shattered.
That professor, on that day, changed my life.
My golden goal grew to be God’s true light.
Creation pondering absorbed my essence.
A lifetime flew without great wealth’s presence.
I was blessed with children; around them joy revolved.
But there was no rest until those questions were solved.
Strongly stayed upon life’s different path.
Even, when disrespect judged me with wrath.
I loved my children and bore the wait.
Seeking, the answers congealed…my fate.
My life was spent pondering this topic.
When finished, at last, truth embraced God…logic.
Then, my soul found rest from its weary state.
Thus, in the world…not of the world, I wait.
© Dane Smith-Johnsen
March 10, 2010
Poetic form: Free Verse
The results of the pondering are posted on Redbubble.com =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3355478-genesis-decoded
For complete discussions, go to =>
http://www.redbubble.com/people/daneann/writing/3479742-bridging-the-gap-between-
science-and-religion-the-hypothesis
This summer was so crazy with a drought but still where mosquitoes multiplied.
And we’re leaving behind a hurricane that attacked the Midwest from all sides.
The crops were lost as months of over 100-degree temperatures, drove us hard.
They were Months that steadily held us captive within our own house doors.
I was soooo looking forward to Autumn where every thing would step aside.
I was dreaming of cool nights so mellow and days where I could walk my dog.
Yes, where the dogs feet and our shoe bottoms, would not be melting off.
Where leaning over the fence while talking to neighbors could be done.
But then, BOOM, along came Autumn, and I do mean with a capital B-O-O-M!
Our acorn tree decided for the first time in 30 years…to go forth and bloom...
And the gumball tree with its little spikes, doesn’t ever want, to be outdone.
The trees are very old and big at more than three stories high, you know…
I shouldn’t have watered them soooo much during the drought and heat, with glee.
For those cute little acorns are now shooting off the trees at mock ten, I do believe.
They hit the house and ground, then ricochet with a force that makes me grieve.
Dozens come down, at a time, bouncing with speeds even planes can’t achieve.
Umbrellas don’t seem to work as they bounce off the house and patio below…
Lord…help me Jesus… I say, as I dodge back and forth, under the rain below…
My dogs won’t go outside… and even my birds have moved a few yards down…
To a more docile terrain we’re all bound, as we were steadily run, off ground.
Even the squirrels stopped trying to bury them, and have left it all behind, so forlorn.
They're hanging a few doors down as my ground has become, wall-to-wall acorns.
Acorns have hit with so much force, that I’ve had to cover my windows for once.
I no longer sit by my window to write… Yep… Bazinga! Won, with a vengeance...
Once the acorns finally end…the spiky gumballs will be gleefully awaiting, to begin.
I’m looking forward to winter, though I begin to believe it’ll be an unusual clincher.
As I’ve learned to say… You never know when life will send you a… Bazinga!
And that... sometimes Autumn's fruitfullness isn't so mellow after all.
find the messenger and shoot
she smiles and looks art me and says
you don’t know do you?
plant the seed to take care of number one first
censor defaults of sentiments left to chance
head east head west head north head south
It makes me blind s
Save some time and ask may I go
It might save some time
Just wake up
I feel like nothing
Nothing
Nothing at all
I cant take it no more
BY E BYE baby
in the morning and know you’re doing right
Slide slide slide
May I go
Ask yourself
Chant for the ending but ask where do I start?
Would I crumble
Up or down the stairs
I’m oblivious
Hypocritical
Such a stupid riddle
Why?
And out the door
Right or left?
blind man leading the blind its gonna be something else
I will survive
and in this world where I lead this brainwashed believer into the realm
where the sucker patrol saw him coming
Dear Jesus
Right tight left Lucy
Whispered Mary
What you’re doin to me!
I think the lambs of god are dieing
And the words that lingered slipped and fell
Because you wont believe a word I say!
So what is it like for you she asked
As long as I know how to love oh go on now walk out the door
we'll all predict his surrounding and his reality have prayers of virtues and
poisons to discover our own brave and cowardice selves
but the clincher is this
everyone\
every family has this book
I don’t want to miss you baby
and the last page reveals another hidden truth sparkling
shining tired defeated
another layer of this perfected riddle of missing layers
and oxymorons
stay I go
if I go I stay
If I stay I go
Coast to coast
Smooth smooth smooth
Coast to coast
My operator
Nothing at all
Coast to coast key largo
Nothing at all
Lover Boy we’re face to face
With this champagne
Shadowboxing the double crossed
around the block and method to the madness totally beaten of every
alliteration ,made easy to hurt
this major puzzle
is a conspiracy fast love poem and its slow masterpiece of every easy families
hurting creation
Keep this under your hat, guys....I'm just back from an undercover investigation of
what turned out to be a real hidden nest of Alien invaders....they foolishly made
serious strategic mistakes, which, of course, your favorite spy here, caught on to
immediately. Quick recap.....remember, this is on the Q.T.!
I penetrated an alien cell in the Vassar Brothers Medical Center in upstate New
York. I'll explain how.....shhhhhh!!!!!.....I was admitted under the pretext of 1)being
dead 2)mentally unbalanced! Imagine that!!
First thing I noticed is some of the alien technology thay failed to mask
adequately....they were all walking around talking with their shirt pockets...which
somehow seemed to answer...now, that's just a plum give-away!!!! Next, I
noticed a plastic container hanging on the wall, marked, foolishly, I'd
think...."Impervious Gowns"....yeah, right, like such a thing exists! Come on,
where'd ya get it, from Superman? There were smaller clues too; like what
earthling would have a bright red food blender/mixer hanging on the wall? Come
on. Martians, you can do better than that!!!! But the clincher, the absolute proof,
was when I finally peeked out the door....the whole buiding was totally round!!! I
was actually IN a flying saucer!!!! Pretty cool, huh? And the stuff they labeled as
food was, certainly not of this earth....they even had something they
euphemistically labelled a "Cheeseburger"? It was obviously an alien child's
plastic toy, or perhaps, a concealable weapon....it obviously would be fatal is one
were struck with such a thing..... and I'll report on my O.H.S.A. investigation as
well, next week. And I escaped, undetected!!! Pretty classy, right? Okay- enough
for now.....remember.....this is not to be discussed, officially, it did NOT happen,
and my alias, (agent) Benjamin (call me Ben) Dover....report is now
concluded....regards, Ben Dover!
We’re lucky to have a math-whiz kid
And one day this is what he did.
He said we all know about going number two
Now I’ve sorted out the decimals too.
First, there’s the basic, number two
Which chiefly, is going to the loo
Yet there should be a, two-point-one
Which is not flushing when you’re done
Or how about a, two-point-two
That’s when the bowl needs a cleaning, when through
He blushed when citing, two-point-three
Which is when the seat is damp with wee
And nobody forgets old, two-point-four
Which is when you’re scared to open the door.
Our son doesn’t like, two-point-five a lot
As when it takes much longer than you thought
Personally I’m a, two-point-six hater
Which is when you can’t find more toilet paper
My wife says, two-point-seven is worse
As in going again-like you need to rehearse?!
And, two-point-eight is never a breeze
As in squatting amongst the trees.
But the clincher of all is, two-point-nine
Which below is briefly defined
That’s when after flushing
The water keeps gushing
And it never stops
When it reaches the top
Which is bad when alone
But you’re not in your home
And your feet are now wet
Coz there’s no plunger to get
So you search for some towels
But there’s pain in your bowels
You then splash on the floor
Then someone’s at the door
He asks, “What’s the matter?”
As you clutch your bladder
So you call out to the guy
“In a minute”, you lie
As you turn off the water
You then need one more squatter
So you go one more time
But can’t flush down the slime
So out the window you climb
As quietly as a mime
Coz you can’t face this crime
And disperse covered in grime.
Our son hoped we enjoyed the overview
Of the finer points that follow, going number two.
Poem is from 2013
Some say there's nothing poetic about blue-collar work.
I'm here to prove them wrong.
What is a poem?
For one, it has rhythm.
"Well, where's the rhythm
in a discordant jumble of a thousand tools
all clamoring for dominance over my ears?"
It's smack-dab in the middle -
where you hear clanging and banging,
I hear the smooth, even strokes
of a well-swung hammer.
Where you hear chopping and whirring,
I hear the harmony
of a saw producing a masterpiece.
What else constitutes poetic achievement?
Diction and language.
"Well, sure, there's all kinds of
colorful language among those types -
not the kind of language I meant!"
To that, I say, read my musings,
hear my words and see
if you can say without lie
that there's no fine vocabulary present.
A coarse man in the company of other similar types,
one may come home
and show his refined and eloquent side.
What is a poem?
One more thing it has is sometimes rhyme.
"What, now you're going
to come right out and say
that you all speak in rhyme?
You must be joking."
To which I reply,
look me in the eye,
and see if you detect any jest;
For those of us down, in the mud and the dirt,
may look the sort to be simple and curt;
But we can sure rhyme with the best.
What do the poetic greats have?
A mastery of their form.
"Well, here, in this final point
has got to be my clincher;
There's no way you guys
are spitting out haiku and so on."
To this I say that here
lies the winning facet of my argument, not yours -
for you need look no further than the piece before you;
Two lines to start, four groups of a dozen,
and two at the end -
I dare say that that is indeed some kind of form.
One more job done, another task complete -
this humble poem of frustration and explanation.
I stepped in for my first colonoscopy. I was nervous everyone could see
I had a choice to be awake or put out if I was skittish...but no not me
I chose the former so I could watch my own ass on TV
They go right up your canal with a camera like an RV
Imagine my surprise when up my butt they found my phone
The tiny ones they use to make before the smart cell phone
But here's the clincher it was set on vibrate. The doc was suspicious
"My wife insisted" I told him "she bribed me with cake. It was delicious"
Then the doctor red faced handed me something, said "what's this"
I borrowed his bifocals. It was a rolled up playbill. He looked pissed.
"I can explain. It's dated Sep. 8, 2001. That's my wife's 40th birthday
We were drinking. We lost it, got a fancy room right after the play"
He handed me one more thing, a broken pencil if you will
"I'm a mathematician. I was constipated I took a special pill
Then I used math to work it out with a pencil. This one I suppose
It broke. I thought I got it all. I guess I didn't. I mean who knows?"
The good news is the test went well my colon was clear
They found nothing threatening just stuff that was *****
I must admit however ever since that very day I live in absolute fear
That doctor knows my wife's father. I tell you this, in case I disappear
10/02/2014
They’re bargain basement bimbos, checkout chicks:
they know me, but I don’t recall their names.
“Good morning, sir!” Oh, no – the same old fix!
Unrecognizable, these dime-store dames!
Guess Karen? Sharon? Best not play those games.
Ignore her utterly? I wouldn’t dare.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m nobody’s Ving Rhames,
George Clooney neither. Pass me on the stair,
You’d hardly notice me. I’m barely there!
If I played Center for the New York Knicks,
or had the chutzpah of a Jesse James,
I’d understand it. Big in politics?
No. Humble teacher, me. I have no claims
to specialness. My somewhat boring aims
include (the sort of thing you, too, will share)
avoiding small embarrassments and shames,
to get through life unbuffeted by care.
Why hit with “Hello, Sir”? It isn’t fair!
But girls are all extensions, highlights, flicks,
and knowing this protects me from the flames!
I scrutinize her curls and bangs and licks,
and then I say, to cast away all blames,
and neutralize the misery that maims,
“It’s you!! I’ve always loved the tops you wear!
Are those new glasses? I adore those frames!”
(It works, if you apply a little flair!
And then the clincher.) “Have you changed your hair?”
We had the craziest time in Istanbul
We were stuck for three months during
the ongoing Pandemic
The bustling city lost it’s rhythm and rhyme
Like a heart that misses a beat one day at that time
The streets grew empty the Café’s were shut
The people were few and the weekends were curfew
There was no Funicular to greet me.
Hotels were shutting one after another
We changed eight different ones till it was time to go
We were lucky and chose to stay in front of the
Bosphorus Sea once more
This was a blessing and a clincher for me.
My companions now were the gulls
And the different ships and hulls
And the best of all was the wide open sea.
We would walk the promenade
And keep ourselves fit so that the virus doesn’t
give us a hit.
The sea was our guide and friend
When we felt lost then
To our utter delight one day we saw
Dolphins swimming in the sea
From that moment I knew nature was
the truest companion who stood by me
We braved it all and came home safe to
Our beautiful family.
Dated: 20.08.2020
Choice 2: Craziest time in..
He thinks he is bright with his comments of wit.
I am a cute little actress he's picked for his skit.
Key on one of those words in the sentence above.
Is she the one playing this game he calls love?
He chooses his prey when it's just the right time.
Using strength above weakness; an unthinkable crime.
Yes, I recognize him for he's been here before.
I've changed many a lock on my chamber door.
Though, I can't demonstrate it now that time will reveal,
and I only wonder how this man will eventually feel.
When he oozes his charm with the ladies and then.
To finally wake up and notice how selfish he's been.
Now, for the clincher my rhymes almost done.
I will dangle my key in my lingerie of crimson.
For you've met your match in the art that you own.
For I am actually the player; The actress of stone.