Long Copping Poems
Long Copping Poems. Below are the most popular long Copping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Copping poems by poem length and keyword.
I cry for the boys who just need to be left to be themselves
To play and explore, take risks and learn the hard way
With peers, and fathers and grandfathers
Getting the role models they need and deserve
From actual males and not the nurturing females
Who are now head of almost half of all households
And more than three quarters of all teachers and counselors
Females who all may mean well, but end up
Raising something that too often really isn’t a man.
I cry for the girls who just need to be left to be themselves
As tough as that can sometimes be
To slowly and steadily fill out
To become a woman whose whole is greater than her parts.
To celebrate and respect their femininity
Safe and secure to excel as females
Protected from males in sports and social spaces
To embrace being female, instead of copping out
To try and be a male, while ending up neither.
I cry for the children who just need to be left to be themselves
To play and explore and grow
For the few short years it is to be young
To keep their innocence as long as possible
And a child-like sense of wonder forever
Even if it remains hidden in private beneath a maturing face.
To be cherished and protected, nurtured and empowered
By the adults in their lives, and to know their elders
And the love that only comes from generations of experience.
(7/12/24)
I'm just writing my story
Leaving out all the glory
I never tore them; yet the pages and spine are all but broken
Its letters are scattered, yet still the words form a concise omen
Would you read it back to me slowly, please, as you reach the bitter ending?
It hurts my eyes, you see; this heart could use a break from all this bending.....
Being devoured alive inside is such a epic novel unsavory
Moments, however, are kept in order by thoughts of your light upon my gnomon
They just keep coming, though without a care as to whether or not they are heartrending
It's so sour to own a form of pain that is this condescending
A barren land uncultivated and so divided from this yeoman
Painless by comparison to a nose job given by the grindstone of life's knavery
Just as I finished; then, the ink ran dry right before me.....
It's in this here and now that I've broken out
I wanna scream, but they drown out every shout
Then I think of all the things I ought not talk about:
Have they ever not been a couple minutes too late?
Do they ever have their story straight?
Inside me, hope has made its case to abate....
Hung from ropes unknown, can you relate?
Am I the world's least astute gadabout?
What I feel is that my intentions are drawn and quartered; based fully on others' self-doubt
But there is no way I will let this point of pitiful; be an excuse to live life by copping out
(Snapping fingers rhythmically) Cobham's downbeat/ A thunderclap birth/
Shorter's sax, a comet's fiery girth, blowing jazz-poet notes, a furious chase, too quick for the tongue, lost in sonic space/
The new head of jazz, they say, has spoken true, searching for the next, the unheard, the new/
Charles Lloyd, a soul song, a sweeping refrain, brooming the blues off/copping a new jazz riff to be played and improvised on/ never to be played again/
Herbie's Headhunters still echoes in the mind, a rhythmic revolution, a groove you can't unwind/ his Headhunters smashed the groove/
Jackie McLean's Institute, man, he got it going on!/
A jazz rebellion brewing, before the break of dawn/ Functionality plus, a thought bubbling bright, who's the jazz rebel burning through the night?/
Thinking big, a canvas vast and bold, Chick Corea's ivory keys, a story to be told. Piano whispers, intimate and deep, then Esperanza on bass, secrets she keeps/
Man, I'm coasting now, riding on the wave, drum bags packed, the next gig I crave/
Who's next to rise, the champion to claim/
Whose name will echo on the top of the jazz playlist's fame? (Silence, then a final snap) The music waits.
Unaffordable, yet valiant speeding,
tailgating, and zooming Pep Boys, I cannot dodge.
Yours truly grief stricken
(sob... sob... sob)...
wheely hard to bear
this anticipatory anxiety
riddled joker impossible
mission thwarting despair
death knell tolled (told),
woebegone news, I did fear
hears stunned me into silence,
the unwelcome prognosis,
I needed to hear
no joke, but good humor
totally wrecked vehicle forces
yours truly to become...,
no not a lion tamer
but, yes a panhandling junketeer
begging, copping, dilly dallying... ha
to accept unpleasant
unexpected dire straits
gravely digging within lithosphere
bidding... fare thee well
treasured automobile faithful and near
synonymous with ideal paramour, yet now
must confront stark reality,
lack ample disposable income available
no financial resources to persevere,
and worse case scenario me
and the missus will need to don
faux Santa Claus outfit,
and roundup available reindeer
for ourselves (yea... yea... yea...,
I realize how spare
and tired, pessimistic,
forlorn success such short notice
unless if... nah no fat or slim chance...
apocalypse ushers abominable thermonuclear
war, (I doubt Trump would
pull publicity stunt
to be re elected - ha) whereby
Beatle browed, foo fighting
foreigners, survivors impressed, feted,
compensated... for service
unless they willingly volunteer.
Combination future pluperfect
birthday presents and Noel hi
Christmas gifts well nigh,
noah ark cake "FAKE" attempt,
to hoodwink, engine ear,
trunk hate, et cetera
drum, harp, trumpet... belie
including objective to shanghai,
nor fall out of good amazing graces
toward (me) garden variety generic guy
providing steadfast generous
figurative air supply to fortify,
revving me shaky talent,
ye may oft times decry
as unintelligible gobbledygook
brainstorming ideas to try
single handedly ambidextrously
poetically kindle indeed codify
to elucidate how transportation
car reared and gone awry
moderate expenses as original parts wear out,
(i.e. battery, fender, brakes,
hood latch, shock absorber, tires...
albeit almost all simultaneously), hence I sigh
aware expounding circumstance that doth defy
immediate resolution incumbent to pacify
troubleshoot immediate impasse
squarely render quintessence
problem solving the overriding
challenge, I vilify.
Spring necked victim
Will be decked again
For pure amusement
Of fast pummelling fists
Layered bruise symptoms
Display punching bag pain
No retaliation movement
While heavy assault persists
Swung away, come back
For more of life's abuse
Copping it on the chin
Brings rhythm of survival
Waiting for following whack
Knuckle impact profuse
Tenderised gums begin
To resettle sidewards
Jutted out awkwardly
Jaw a crooked angle
Punished and punched up
Laughs with sinister taint
Prospect guaged morbidly
From unwieldy wrangle
Sippping from near empty cup
Limping with wounded gait
Fractured face suffers
Receipt of endless blows
Dislodged red teeth spat
Are metallic meant to be
True opinions muffled
Turn other cheek advice goes
Superbly for great diplomat
- For irate me, dismally
7th October 2020
'Take It On The Chin'
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
They have been wandering for decades
Journeying to the land that was promised by their forefathers
A land that would seal the faith of future generations.
They rove night and day guided by a single pillar of light
Looking for the land that was just minutes within sight
But faith had them wondering and pondering
Meandering up steep hills and giant rocks
Roaming around mountain and caves
Looking for that sacred spot.
But they could not find their way home
The road that leads home was covered with tall thick giant grass
Blade as wide as the palm of my hands overshadowed the path
And the visible eyes could not perceive it
Only the spirit of God could reveal it.
Suddenly a bulldozer appears,
And a little man holding the levers
Reversed it back and forth and leveled the dense path
That leads to a dead end spot in the middle of the town.
The bulldozer could not handled the thick mass of grass
That forms little mountains on that anguished path.
Determination kept the bulldozer rolling along.
It pushed and scraped until it leveled the towering grass
That connects the main road to an asphalted road.
Without warning the bulldozer blade broke off in a circular hole
And the little man came from behind the levers and peeped into
the hole and grumbled that he has strained his back.
All of a sudden two men with machetes appeared
And start copping around several mounds
Close to that very spot potato vine sprouted
With blossom forming an archive in the air
potatoes ready for reaping hangs from
vines that juxtapose with blossoms.
Be quiet!
The machete man exclaimed
Stop chopping!
He peered at vines and leaves above
And discovered that the abandoned path is guarded
By a gigantic wasp nest with thousands of wasps standing guards.
They hang from branches and form clusters
that appear as brown potatato blossom
Laying wait in silence to attack their preys
in the patch of bush that surround the mounds.
But they were exposed and dismantled
just before the break of dawn.
©2014 Christine Phillips
I was driving and crossed over the line
Intoxicated with lust, and half blind
You see, I was out on a date
We'd had drinks and it was getting late
I had one hand on the wheel
The other completely concealed
Lost in a fuzzy sweater
Looking for something better
She was nibbling on my ear
I was in the stratosphere
Realizing they were real
Mashed the gas copping a feel
Now to me that light looked yellow
I swear I didn't see that fellow
Just as he stepped from the curb
She grabbed my shifter, that's when I swerved
All I heard was a thump
Yeah there was a slight bump
Before I could get out of sight
In the rear view I saw blue lights
We turned in to the nearest drive
About that time she took a dive
Right when beauty saw the beast
Busted by the dream police
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner