Long Country music Poems
Long Country music Poems. Below are the most popular long Country music by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Country music poems by poem length and keyword.
Best sung in a country music way
with a redneck attitude , Hoorahhhhhhh
This is a work of fiction, and
any resemblance to anyone or contest
is purely coincidental.
All Together Now !
Oh, a Sponsor, Has done it again
Made a contest, I can't get in
But that's fine
I'll just sit here with my rhyme
They posted a contest, with a couple of rules
That make rhymers like me, feel just like fools
But that's fine
I'll let it go one more time
chorus
I could maybe pen a sonnet
Just to get my song in
Or try to write an Ode
Just for giggles and grins
But it's true and you know it
I'll never win
What a sin
Why don't we try it again
It's all about the form,of poems today
Not about the words that they have to say
But that's fine
I'm going to stay, true to mine
chorus
I could maybe pen a sonnet
Just to get my song in
Or try to write an Ode
Just for giggles and grins
But it's true and you know it
I'll never win
What a sin
Why don't we try it again
"Here is my hand to lead you
Here are my arms that need you"
Cilla Black _ I Only Live To Love You
When I met Henry I thought to myself, this will not work. We seemed so
different. I considered that I was a sophisticated girl ! I love art and love
poetry and red wine. Henry on the other hand was a Jack Daniel's sort of
guy. A fix up old cars, motorcycles, and horses kind of guy. A country music
guy. A cowboy! But Henry liked poetry, especially mine. He liked nature and
he liked me. I think that I knew he was for me when I looked into his sea
blue eyes. I loved how his smile would fill a room. He became my best
friend and my lover and I love him more than the sun and the moon. Each
kiss is like the first one. My life is better with Henry in it and I am never ever
letting him go, because who is going to love me more. I need him so
much. When he is not with me I miss him and whisper I only live to love
you darling. He was that missing puzzle piece that I needed .Sometimes
he must leave me for his job and my arms ache for him ...
the dawn is breaking
and morning birds are singing ...
tires on gravel road
_______________________
April 05, 2023
Poetry/Haibun/I love My Country Guy
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1537-547-05
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, I Only Live To Love You
Sponsor, JCB Brul, Judged04/12/2023
Third Place
Trucker's road stories. Trucker's Manifest log. Two days Trucker's drive Highway to highway. Every mile. Truck stops here and there. Overnight sleep within the trucks. Morning rise, and drive again Hours upon hours in schedules to keep. Watch acceleration in delivery time. Horn blowing to trucker's in greet. Night flashes in changing highway lanes. Code of road in respect. Headlights flash at times for alert of caution. Through all kinds of weather good and bad. Deliveries to pursue. Doing what a Trucker is supposed to do. Up hills and downward mountain steeps. Playing country music to pass the time. The song "Keep on Trucking". Never an endless beat. Trucker's schedule. Trucker's sleuth. Arriving at delivery location. Ontime conclude.
*The feline Texan way*
A clean coat of paint - on my nails
Red shade of lips - on my smile
Solid oak charms - on my wrist
Country music - around my core
Flattering eyes - a rustic shell.
Join me in a "Country Girls Tale"
~~
Every day I draw near the morning dawn,
Abide by the landscape towards the new Texas sun
A track of yellow roses and cactus galore
I brand my name everywhere I travel
Allowing you near the bounds of my Wild West soul
I maintain it above the snake level everywhere I roll
Got my head up like a cowgirl,
Men around my black leather chaps
I tilt my bull hide hat leaving behind a sweet Texas Trail
Driving down a midnight Texan storm
It takes more than raindrops to knock me from my- “2-Steppin’ world.”
A windy ride, bruises under the hide taking it in like- “A Real Cowgirl!”
I got a tight hold on my saddle, holding on to a brighter morrow
Enjoying the voices and the sound
Tex-Mex lingo, round and round
Ropers and Wranglers are how I dress
I'm all covered, except for the top of my chest.
Living’ it up^, down here in the south.
Erin’ the lungs, shooting up the sport
Long necks’ and kissing under a rodeo’ moon.
Honky-Tonk, tattooing the mockingbird.
Down here:
You will see me sitting on the Country ground,
Peacefully staring into the optics of the "Alamo Stars."
Falling with the art found in the flag I hold.
I am The Wild!
I am The West!
“— A little dotty, but civilized!”
Enjoying the morning breeze,
Where the dew sits on the tip of Mother Nature’s tongue.
There and only there you will find me,
Under the brightest Texas Star
When them cotton trees get rotten,
You cain’t pick very much cotton.
If I cain’t vote for Huey Long,
I’ll sit right down and write a song.
Country music has its themes,
the stuff that Big O saw in dreams:
prison, railroads, pickup trucks,
where kids are Billybobs or Hucks.
It’s telephones and wrangling steers,
and cheating hearts and chandeliers:
you’ll know just where I’m coming from
when I say, best of all is Mom.
But shorter, better: briefer, sweeter –
that much I have learned from Skeeter.
No necklace, then – just one fine pearl
(don’t want to leave you haggard, Merle!)
Ridge’s shoes are derelict.
Looking down, he says, “You picked
a fine time to leave me, loose heel!”
A lonesome whistle – gamblers deal.
Is Ridge in Fulsom? Nothing new,
but headed where the grass is blue.
Let the Long-Hairs twist and shout –
Ridge is fixed on busting out.
Once free, he finds a Travelodge,
unseen, hot-wires a jacked-up Dodge:
FM playing, wailing sax,
Ridge now needs to cross the tracks.
He’s almost reached his side of town.
Speed up! The bar is coming down!
A woman, dressed up to the nines,
on foot, steps on the railroad lines!
Thus Ridge fulfilled the Country rules
(not taught in fancy East-Coast schools):
the long-term loser fought the law,
but crashed into his loving Maw!
Wears a smile,
A weapon,
Sharp and cold,
Strings me along,
A story left untold.
Every word's a dance,
My heart’s out of tune,
When she laughs at me
Under the moon.
I give her my all,
She plays away time,
I’m a puppet on strings,
I know I’m losing my mind.
I drive through the night
Pain in my soul,
Finding solace in whiskey and gin
To drown out her toll.
She makes me pay.
Come the morning light
It’s hard to conceal,
When I wake up in a field
Don Williams on the radio.
I know my heart will never heal.
Sweet lies
Keep me chasing the sun,
Each heartbreak I sip
Feels like she’s won.
Tonight I am in the bottle,
I’ll forget who I am—
Lost another dream
Wrapped in her plan.
Don Williams is playing
My song once again,
I'm drowning my sorrows
In a bottle of English gin.
I drive through the night
Pain in my soul,
Finding solace in gin and whiskey
Drowning out the toll
She takes on my soul.
It’s hard to conceal,
When I wake
Listening to Don Williams.
On my radio lost in a field.
Stars fade away
reality bites;
Confusion and hurt
linger deep into nights.
She toys with my affection
To her it’s just a game;
But to this heart
She laughs while it breaks
While I call out her name.
I drive through the night
A damned pain in my soul,
Finding solace in gin and whiskey
To drown out her toll.
Come morning light
It’s hard to conceal,
When I wake up in a field
Don Williams on the radio.
Every dawn finds me
My dreams slip away;
Searching for answers
No one will ever say.
A heart full of scars
An old country feel—
I wish Don Williams
Would tell me
what I should do
and would reveal...
Great Uncle was a musician
He chased his dream on a mission
He never penned a song
Folks knew him well down in Nashville
Though music paid no big gas bill
He had true ambition
His songs found a sweet rendition
He played with open admission
His true love was lifelong
John picked his guitar with goodwill
With joy, the music he instilled
Sharing tunes, his mission
To make music his tradition
Spontaneous compositions
If I could string along
I'd play it with my own free will
John Craig showed such a master skill
He strummed strings all day long!
John Craig rode as a musician
With grit and a deep ambition
Just pickin' it along
John would pluck out his chords at will
With six-strings he'd ride and travel
Playing good tunes, headstrong!
He was a slick string technician
A musical aesthetician!
He played for trav'lers all night long
I'm not sure he knew a playbill
His playin' was a sweet earful
John Craig's songs still roll along!
[Even if in my mind!*
Living the Dream
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
From Hobart to Cape York from Perth to Sydney
And all the cities, towns and country in-between
I am visiting places on this Island I’ve never seen
Experiencing the highs and lows and living the dream
East and west of the great divide a picture so different
In the west the landscape so bruised, dry and parched
With the drought lingering and causing so much suffering
People so resolute and tough don’t know the meaning of giving up
East of the divide a picture of greenery as far as the eye can see
Not feeling the hardship of life unlike their cousins on the other side
Here the cities and country towns are vibrant and alive
For the mountains hide the devastation on the western side
Thousands of kilometers and thousands of liters of fuel
Not to mention the thousands of dollars well spent
With my Ute and van I’m able to greet a new day in a new place
So every day is a new adventure called living the dream
So many new and old friends I have met and greeted
Lots of campfires and happy hours under the stars
Filled with stories of travel, adventure and friendship
The memories of which will stay with me fore-ever
So many places I have been, so much I have experienced and seen
The sea of sugar cane from that stretches the eastern coast
The beaches, the forests, the mountains, the flora and fauna
All visited and reached by manmade roads that stretch from coast to coast
The country music musters so enjoyed by so many travelers
The buildings and relics of old so rich in fame and history
The diverse cultures that live on because people care
Are just a small part of living the dream in Australia
I will keep travelling as I follow the ribbon of tar
For every day I wake to something so different
As my life unfolds towards an ending down the track
I’ll sleep with the memories, I’m living the dream.
Ode to Berkeley TBC
I grew up in Berkeley, my spiritual home.
I grew up in the 60’s crazy time.
No matter where in the world I might roam,
Berkeley always center of my space time.
Berkeley is the center of everything
Berkeley is what it is, a special place
Berkeley is a special place, a special city
To Berkeley, California I sing
It has always been there, my special home base
Berkeley is gritty and also pretty.
Berkeley has always been in its own zone
Berkeley at times is stuck in a time warp
Berkeley is my home, foundation stone
At times Berkeley is stuck in a warp
In Berkeley it is always the 60s
A city stuck in time and in the past
Berkeley is a very expensive town
But sometimes it is also the 80s
Berkeley holds on to its values steadfast
Berkeley use to be a very blacktown.
Berkeley is a city with many hills
I graduate from Berkeley High
I grew up in the Berkeley foothills
Berkeley is foggy, seldom a blue sky
Berkeley is a city of such music
The best band ever, tower of power
Also home of such great bands like green day
All kinds of music except country music
There is no band better than the tower
In the end Berkeley is a city by the bay.
Years ago, this saloon was too boring
and all you saw was cowboys drinking;
no music to take away their blues,
no wonder they all seemed to lose!
I got this low-paying job in Nashville,Tennessee,
a close friend read an ad and referred it to me;
even though Country music is popular and loved:
earning bread and butter in any club was very hard.
With all the bustle on any busy Nashville's street,
it can never have the fast-paced New York beat,
and making a living as a piano player got me almost nowhere...
folks listened and noticed that the Southern spirit wasn't there!
Today I'll be packing, hop on the bus and head up North feeling kind of sad;
it was so nice to have met good folks who smiled, listened and applauded
and living just a few years there, I've learned the friendly hospitality of Rotgut,
but for the sake of my sanity, I must leave this place and not become a nut.