Long Cocking Poems
Long Cocking Poems. Below are the most popular long Cocking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cocking poems by poem length and keyword.
Bank robber Jim was one unlucky bloke
Went to draw his gun but the holster broke
It dropped on the bank floor
And went off with a roar
The shock was too much and he had a stroke...
Though he was unconscious he hadn't died
Woke in a coffin for his final ride
In a desparate bid
Banged on the coffin lid
But all he could hear was laughing outside...
Written 17th June 2021
Then someone shouted can you hear banging
It was quite faint because folks were singing
The sheriff prised off the lid
And he was so glad he did
Because he thought we'll have us a hanging...
Jim didn't know whether to laugh or cry
Resigned himself to the fact that he'd die
Saw sheriff holding a rope
Realised there was no hope
And for unlucky Jim the end was nigh...
He was taken to the gallows in town
Handcuffed and wearing nothing but a frown
Jim was then starting to choke
But with the drop the rope broke
The crowd screamed as poor Jim came tumbling down..
Unlucky Jim jumped up quick as a flash
As he passed the bank ran in and grabbed cash
He stole the first horse he saw
Then let out a loud yee haw
And for sweet freedom he made a quick dash...
Written 19th June 2021
A bounty hunter called Nevada Slim
Went after bank robber Unlucky Jim
With tracker Spirit Bear
They discovered Jims lair
And Jim's future was now looking quite grim...
Slim called out "put your hands in the air"
Jim grabbed his gun, Slim said "don't you dare"
But Jim was too fast
And let off a blast
Slim fell dead then Jim shot Spirit Bear...
Jim quickly packed his things and rode away
Thankful that he'd survived another day
He decided to lie low
But what old Jim didn't know
Was that Pinkertons were heading his way...
Jim was sleeping in the afternoon sun
And didnt hear the cocking of a gun
He woke up with dread
Saw guns at his head
And a lawman said "Jim looks like your done"...
Jim was handcuffed and they rode back to town
There to meet them was Sheriff and Judge Brown
The charges were read
Jim nodded his head
Sheriff said " this time Jim you're going down" ...
For Jims last request he asked for a smoke
And noticed the hangman had a new rope
He put a hood on Jims head
Jim dangled then he was dead
An escape this time!, there wasn't a hope...
Written 1st July 2021
RIP UNLUCKY JIM
As you see, hear a few moments later a funny looking Huckleberry Hound dopey little dog
cartoon the families all time favorite as the children snicker, and everyone there comes
in the room just in time and laughs together. With our dog cocking her head slightly and
barking with us. As our kitten Timid whacks at her ears stops again and chases her wagging
tail, hysterically.
And I tell you if it is all I can do to cherish the freshness of these things, friend I
will. I tell you I've already won.
My baby's laughter there in the highchair clapping with his superman bottle sitting in his
diaper splashing away all over Him listening to Dave Matthew's' It's Not Easy To Be Me
waving it in one hand as he shimmy's and rocks too and fro to the beat of the ambiance of
the new day, yes, reminds me ... .
Our Oreo cookie looking kitten named pounce, playing alone today now there
in-the-rain. How everything from birth has remained so curious to him. His
resilience as he laid there with her saying goodbye ... . As Gracie his sister just passed
on, yesterday. So I feel fate brings us to this opportunity, gentle mercy, tender beauty,
purest of goodness, when willing, everyday. Though even we do, or do not pray.
Like the perfect feel of those glorious tender kisses. Sweet caresses flying footballs
bike riding scuffed up knees tender love and band aids humming-birds-humming.
As-they-hover by the honey water feeders. The dog barking Pounce and Timid playing with
their super bouncy ball bouncing around whimsically too and fro. The Mango Chicken
Surprise chicken in the Set-It-and-Forget it rotisserie. Slippery wet feet legs flung up
swinging arms and tossing shoes loud thunks of your older swimmer Son slipping coming in
from His morning workout on the linoleum floor being just freshly mopped right bye the
back door.
As Mama cries out ""sorry Son" the dog or cat peed and you yell too"" You alright", and he
yells back frustrated "Whatever!" "This is a crazy family"! "I want out" Let me out"! And
yes some other real good humor I cannot really hear right now, and as well yes I feel he
is like Jim Carry and Robin Williams and a lot like me and my morning coffee.
Still being drank all throughout whatever heat of the day.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HWJVmk8s9NU&playnext=1&list=PLAAF17CBEBB7C3D44&index=78
A CHRISTMAS ARRAIGNMENT
Late one December evening
A sound woke me from my bed,
I grabbed a baseball bat for safety
And crept downstairs full of dread.
I must admit I was not fit
For foiling midnight burglaries.
My cousin had kept pouring eggnog,
I kept on saying, “Yes, please.”
I slunk down the stairs, bat in hand,
Jumping at yet another sound.
But never in my wildest dreams
Did I realize what I had found.
Someone was in my living room!
I could hear them moving around.
So I jumped into the darkened room
And bonked him upon his crown!
He fell face first upon my rug
As you maybe have suspected,
But when I turned on the table lamp
What I saw was quite unexpected.
Santa Claus himself lay unconscious,
My heart filled with a child’s worst fear.
I had gone ahead and clobbered
The source of all Christmas Cheer!
I had to hide the evidence
Or suffer a Christmas curse!
I could not guess how my holidays
Could possibly get any worse.
I dragged that fat elf out into the snow
And began to dig a hole.
I hoped to hide the evidence
Lest I be doomed to a lifetime of coal.
But then he awoke, and began to yell
And my neighbors began prying
To spy the source of all the noise,
The screaming, yelling and crying.
The cops showed up, and saved St. Nick
Before hauling me off to the station.
They said they hoped the judge threw the book
Like I was some inhuman abomination.
Not long after I stood up in court
While the victim showed his bruises.
I tried to tell of eggnog-induced haze
But the judge was hearing no excuses.
I hung my head in utmost shame
While the verdict was entered and read.
I got twenty long years in a state prison cell
For cold-cocking the man in red.
Then Santa’s elvish lawyers worked,
And a fireplace was magically erected,
Santa winked and vanished with a finger on his nose
Although not the one I expected.
Now when Christmas time rolls around this year
And you all have fun with your celebrations,
I sit in my gray ten-by-ten room
Fulfilling my legal obligations.
So take my advice this holiday season
As you fire up the traditional Yule log,
If your cousin is anything at all like mine
Say “No thanks” to a sixth eggnog.
With eyes closed,
particularly after never
mine lips ne'er touching drink
I experience replete surreal visualizations
vividly pronounced heightened, augmented
mental journey virtual realistic brink
particularly the following link
https://www.youtube.com/
watch?v=1ZYbU82GVz4
yours truly (i.e. me)
enters sweeping dream state,
whose (ahem this modest) great human
experienced way after hundredth wink
no mean feet recherché special effects
haint no rinky dink
trick the average kindergartener could think,
quite the contrary skeptical reader!
Impossible mission yours truly,
could never describe for dogness sake
no,... NOT even after I make
transition back into webbed
oft times trumpeted as "fake"
wide world of consciousness
mere seconds eyes of mine ache...
dumbfoundedly blink awake,
yet cerebral impact analogous
exiting hypothetical dark cave
eyes painfully adjust to light
no mutter me noggin I soberly shake
Socratic dialogue - described
even today (across swaths,
where silently occur
metaphorical tectonic Earthquake)
of college/university students far and wide
with mooch hoopla and rave
communicated, viz out fancy schmancy
rhyme nor reason courtesy
one cereal lactose intolerant flake
courtesy within Plato's Republic
(worth rereading even
non political science majors ought
to give revered literature fair shake.
'Course aye haint here to lecture
but moostly strive to enlighten
hmm... methinks most likely bore
extemporaneously spewing pablum
also aiming to appeal toward
self accomplishment less or more
before tonight April 23rd, 2020
becombs tomb morrow,
with unbeknownst notion I explore
which aspiration to craft daily poem
constitutes what endeavors apt (guaranteed)
to find thee into deep sleep
cocking mine ear to hear ye snore,
no matter bajillion miles away your
respective dwelling from mine -
now (at long last), similar to the night before,
(Christmas), I hightail out - with minor confession
where Matthew Scott Harris doth
strive to become substance of legendary folklore
(hence no need to utter vamoose)
with cheery bonjour!
He moves quickly through the underbrush
I follow close behind, pushing
Briars cautiously with a hand prepared
To let go hastily and a throat
Holding onto a shudder in response
To the graze of the briar against
Soft, naked skin
He pulls bare branches back,
Threading his way through the pines,
Oaks, birch and different trees
Who sit waiting the first sunlight beam
Of a morning breaking through the night
Delighting in the flickers of life
Birds chirping, honeybees buzzing,
Deer and rabbit scurrying back toward
Their havens, dens awaiting
Leaves crunch softly beneath our feet
In the heart of the forest where
Silence is never as silent as it seems
He keeps moving and I keep following
Listening to the soft whisper
Of a mountain wood coming alive
I break free from his heavy step
Begin to follow the trail of a doe who must
Be going back to her fawn
And look closely for the signs of life
That cling to the dew covered vines and wild flowers
As they grace the edge of the woods
With lavender breath and a crimson caress
Creating beauty amid the jungle of emerald sighing
Softly, like a trace of joy embracing
The colorful nirvana of a realm that relieves
Hearts of their suffering and minds
Of their anxieties, creates a sphere of bliss
Where only God has the ability to grace its perimeters
With gentle hope that warms the heart
And soothes the spirit
He is with me, but up ahead of me
Where I have yet to see
And I hear it – the lifting of the gun
The cocking is quick and it remains to be seen
If it was my step or the raising of the barrel
That caused the stag to lunge forward
Free from the freezer
Free from death
Free for now
Hunting brings me the assurance
That there are still treasures untold
Within the heart of these mountain trails
Where God’s creatures remind us all
God blesses each one
With a purpose
A function
A aim
Take my hand victims of hate don’t be afraid
I’ll pull you up and away from this place
Come with me into the night
We will walk down lanes of soft moon light
Come to me lonely souls
Fight for your right to be heard
Open your eyes sunshine
Day light has casted a hazy glow
Were not alone
Others walk this hidden path as well
Put down the knifes that carve your flesh
Sew up the wounds that bleed and fester with loves string
Take their hands
Hold them tight
Reassure the need to stay
For we all fear the fall back into abandonment
Cradle the young left on the streets
Fill their hunger by staying with in arms reach
Let us walk as one
A line that reaches shore to shore
For we are strong and loved
When we remember are hand are linked as one
Let your feet stomp down hate
Your hart sing songs of strength
Don’t let genocide harts think their forgotten
Let them find sanctuary in are rebel arms
For hatred has wounded and scared us all
Take them up and sooth their fears
Listen to their stories of war in time when it seems so unfair
Do not weep alone my loves
Let your tears falls on the shoulders of use that have healed some
Rubbing your back to sooth cocking sobs
We all must weep when things have become too much to bear
For you are not alone nor week
Even when others pass over you as if you’re unseen
So to all my passer bys
Bullies
Racist
And you that pray upon the “week”
I can not hate that what you are
But I will rebel agents that what you do
For us who you hate and torment out number you
One day you will feel the wrath of what hate can do
And when you do…………..
Even you may join are line
For even you will cry
Even you will feel alone
Even you will one day want to die
Perhaps you all ready do
Perhaps now you see
We all need love
Love from and for each other
We are all human
Even you
Form:
Carpe diem.
Life can turn on a dime.
One moment you may be engrossed in a book and the next,
it's as though time...Time slips away, taking with it your imagination and civility.
Time steals your identity.
It fractures under the daily stresses.
Life....., OH life! It totally depresses.
You stand on an icy pond, frozen... sub zero temperatures.
Then suddenly it cracks beneath your feet, it ruptures.
You try to hold on, before long..... you're gone!
The cold, inviting-biting all the way to your very core.
All of your memories good and bad begin to soar.
Your last breath, your lungs filled with filthy pond water.
You sink down deeper and deeper, nothing else matters.
The last thoughts you pondered.
-What could I have done differently?
-What other options were there?... taking all precautions.
I have tried to see it through others eyes.
But linger the questions; what, where and why?
Carpe diem is a word many say.
When karma decides to have her own way.
Like a serpent, in the night!
Large enough to devour you, she may strike.
It is time that enslaves us all.
Good or bad, big or small.
Each decision made. Each word spoken.
A gift, a journey, a trial, lives stolen.
We may feel as though we are protected.
But the system is set, your minds redirected.
We live in the matrix. A maze, just like mice.
Derived, deprived. A roll of the dice.
Have you ever Russian Roulette?
One bullet in the chamber, cocking the gun. Life's regret.
With each and every breath you take.
Remember and know what's at stake.
Do on to others as you wish done to you.
Because the frozen pond is your life, it can crack too.
With all seriousness set aside.
Life and time, a wild ride.
Always remember karma may come.
Do on to others as you want done!
~mp (copyright protected )
I was blessed to have born in the good old USA and adopted at age thirteen.
Blessed to have been brought up in a beautiful small town surrounded by great mountains, and grass of the color of emerald, green.
When hunting after a torrential rain I slipped into the Potomac River and saved by holding onto the stock of my pellet gun.
What happened after that wasn't at all much fun.
When the gun slapped the mud the cocking mechanism sprang open, locking onto a stump allowing me to pull myself free of certain death from the rushing chocolate brown Potomac River.
Reflecting on that moment gives me quite a shiver.
Blessed to have survived a heavy weapon laden military aircraft which lost an engine and fell five hundred feet before regaining our altitude.
After such a terrifying incident my faith in my creator was renewed.
Blessed to have a gun aimed at me and the bullet to pass through an open passenger window of the car I was in, passed right in front of my nose and smashing the driver's side window instead passing through my head.
A fraction of an inch closer and I would have been dead.
After being wrongly accused and facing twenty years in prison I was blessed by a man who saved me from committing suicide, and there after all charges were dropped.
They tried to bury me, but they forgot I am a seed, and all their plans for eternal incarceration was flopped.
After all of this and that, there must be a good reason for me still remaining among the living.
Perhaps because of a personality that is always giving.
I am truly grateful for each and every day of this life I have savored.
I am without a doubt here for a purpose, here for a reason, blessed and highly favored.
Behind, left in dust, of the old gravel road
is a faint trace of Marlboro and a soft summer wind
Skies burn orange and amber, and a blazing red sun,
that is filtered by a windshield, that's never been groomed
A radio station, has more static than tunes
and the song of the work day are tires, worn thin
The sun's going down, where the road never ends
There's a bend near the hill, where a windmill spins slow
and where dozens of blackbirds create ebb and flow
They dapple the rain clouds, like bats out of hell
then will perch pole to pole, plucking heartstrings, as well
Headin' home there are doves, that will bend every limb,
sittin' high in the cottonwoods, while cocking their heads...
Where a hawk circles low over fields, leveled plain
waiting for thunder to bring home the rain
She waits by the door, beneath light from the porch
It halos her hair, like a torch that she's carried
from the day they were married, in a little white church
that has baptized a newborn, asleep in the crib
He drives an old pickup, with a paycheck so slim
He has sweat on his brow, and grit on his chin
He is bringing home flowers, his heart and his grin
There is smoke in the horizon, from a fire within...
Not far, there is heaven where all reason begins
______________________________________________
"Sing Me A Country Song" Contest:
Resubmitted for Skat's Contest: Premiere Contest: #9
Written : 10/12/13
____________________________________________________________
You kill three people, you take a shovel and their buried at the steeple, and you can’t take it, your minds so feeble. You go to your house, and your neighbors hear you laughing, you can’t help it, your thoughts are flashing. They called the doctors, and they take you away, you smuggled a knife, come out and play. Your in the asylum, getting locked in a room, the guards are cleaning, and using a broom. You’ve been there for seven months; the guards treat you bad and call you a dunce. One night, they take you in your sleep, they take you to their ward and they don’t make a peep. You wake up, with pale skin and feeling sick, you taste blood in your mouth, and you start to lick. You look beside you, and see a needle, you’re chained down, you wonder what’s crawling on you, and you see a beetle. The curtains are bloody, and so is the bed, you feel your blood pumping; there’s an IV in your head. You smell blood; you sniff the air, your coughing it up and nobodies there. Finally, you hear people talking, walking toward you, and a gun that’s cocking. They open up the curtains, and ask you your name, you respond, wrong move, what a shame. They shoot you in your leg, you scream out in pain, they walk over and pump more liquid in your brain. You struggle and scream, and do everything you can, but that’s what they want, that was their plan. But you know your beat, you get a craving for meat, and in a few days, you’ll be walking the street.