Long Cow Poems
Long Cow Poems. Below are the most popular long Cow by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cow poems by poem length and keyword.
There is, in the Los Angeles area, a well-known brand of milk, called Alta Dena. Near also,
is the city named Alta Dena, and my grandson lives there. I asked him if he had seen the dairy there, and he told me that it does not exist. I then asked him if he had seen herds of milk cattle there and he said that he had not, and doubted that there were any. Of course I wondered why the milk had such a name, and jokingly asked him to look for at least one cow in the city, since it was well built-up, and there were no obvious open pastures at all. I told him that we could only conclude that it this had to b a very famous and rare cow that could supply all the milk needed by a large urban dairy, and thus must be insured, protected from the idle public, and secreted in some private home where she would not be disturbed. The whole story and speculation grew into a riotous family "search" for this wondrous animal. I, of course, ask my grandson each week when I see him, for a progress report on the search. Finally, I have decided to turn it into a poem:
A Search Continues
Something very hush-hush is going on
and Alta Dena folk aren't going to tell.
All cowdom secreted within its bovine lair
yet Bo would stare contentedly at us
with no incursive moo directed at the hellish
vine that she must eat, in lieu of meadow grass.
That ever-present cud must still
be masticated; yea, her celebrated udder
must be filled.
Yet none admit to having sighted her.
Beastiana though she be, no Altadenian
will dare so much as low on her behalf,
no bull, Eden-bound, is ready to exchange
his bold, testicular desire
to service mewling ruminants
who merely run away.
Nay, uncowed are they, though cowed they be,
and cowards not--and if you do not see
their wisdom, chalk it up to power,
Bo's mammary magnificence, so easily
in jeopardy before a single squeeze,
not of a nipple but a trigger
thus applied, and speeding out of sight.
Challenge, indeed, our quest to find
this noble and prolific queen
who dominates with graceful quietude
her milky empire slurping quite
without a care, lush liquid destined
not to slosh within her, rather
in those tumescent tummies
ever crying out for more.
Would I betray them for a share?
Of course. Away with those content
to sour the milk of human kindness
with deception. Let the search go on!
~
It's a wonder young children still turn out all right
With the stuff that gets crammed in their heads every night.
Things like visions of sugar plum fairies and sprites,
Or a thousand tales of Arabian delights,
A frog who turns prince with a kiss from a lass,
A girl who goes dancing in slippers of glass,
A cow that gets high and jumps over the moon,
A crockery dish that elopes with a spoon,
A boy who can fly but refuses to grow,
A difficult girl who plants maids in a row,
A magician who wants to trade old lamps for new,
A woman so poor she must live in a shoe,
A waif who sells matches out in the cold,
A king who can touch things and turn them to gold,
A dog, an old woman, a cupboard that's bare,
A girl locked in a tower, a ladder of hair,
A magical wheel that spins gold out of straw,
A guy helps a lion with a thorn in its paw,
A girl wearing red visits grandma who's resting,
Finds a wolf in her nightdress and Granny digesting,
Three kids and a wardrobe, three men share a tub,
A brave tailor kills seven mean flies with a club,
An archer makes merry with men in the woods
While relieving the rich of their money and goods,
Kind huntsman, fair princess, a vain evil queen,
Seven dwarves, and a prince who gets caught in between,
Hateful fairy, a baby, a hundred-year snit
'cause her name's accidentally left off a guest list,
A piper who lures out of town rodent varmints,
An emperor with new but invisible garments,
A farmer's wife butchers three handicapped mice,
A house drops on top of a witch who's not nice,
While another with gingerbread children seduces
Then gets baked by some twins in her own savory juices,
A giant and a beanstalk, a cat who wears boots,
A wolf who's outfoxed by three pigs in cahoots,
A bad little boy who sticks fingers in pies,
And another of wood whose nose grows when he lies.
There are others, of course, far too many to mention,
But I hope these will serve to excite some attention.
With stories like these knocking 'round in their heads,
It's no wonder if kids toss and turn in their beds.
Yet throughout countless ages these stories survive,
Kids listen, and dream them, and still wake up alive,
No worse for having been charmed or affrighted,
Imaginations are stoked, little minds are ignited,
And continue to hold them in dear veneration
As they pass them along to the next generation.
Run Bacon run, the sound come echoing from the gun, run bacon run there is nothing to fear hold on to the third and the fifth gear. The oil is in the hip, grease your joints before you take that dip.
Meringue and carhop is no match for the crown. His body is on fire, and his passion is rolling with desire. The cow is on heat and the miracle is underneath my feet. He is running around in the sty so come catch the bull before it dies; the herd is waiting at the crossing with guitar and drums getting ready for that final home run.
Run bacon run, tie up your belly and run, take off your socks and shoes and anchor your feet in the ground before the mid-day news. Take up your baggage and run before you hear the final gun.
They are no match for your ingenuity, your originality and your brevity the crowd is pressing on with courage, ambition and perseverance but the dictator is hiding in the room and you have to remove him before noon.
Run bacon run the race is not yet done, this weekend promises to be fun if you stay in your lane and follow your gut feeling. You have got to know how to roll the dice and you got to know how to run on ice, you must keep your feet firm on the ground and follow the beam on the screen.
Run bacon run, you have three more laps before it’s done, the universe is watching you, and the crowd is patronizing you.Run bacon run, and take control of the track, the president and prime-ministers are in the stands, they are tossing money and playing lot, and way up in the gallery the Saudi dignitaries are getting jittery and the referees are moving around the field taking notes and observing the “goats”. They have thrown a lot of money in this race and anxiety is swelling in their face but they were not in a hurry, for the estimated glory.
Beacon is turning the corner and the crowd is roaring louder, bacon is getting is on the home stretch and it is pulling away in depth. The eastern stand is on fire and it is dancing with pleasure while the northern stand is cruising with the breeze and water is dripping from their knees, they are also on fire.
The western stand is burning with desire and the bacon has just crossed the finishing line in a striking distance of more than fifty meters. I have got to take the bacon home to cool down this internal fire, and give the niceties their final desire.
Run Beacon run!
I hear their idle chatter and wish that sound was optional.
A box checked in a menu, a simple click and forget.
The rapid dilation of my pupils brings me back.
Back to hypnotic aisles of temptation and necessity. A selection of the finest they say.
Right there see, on the cardboard, next to charts and columns of calories and strange
numbers I’d sooner forget.
But buy one get one free still gets me every time.
I stare intently at the dancing numbers until the man with the tie moves away.
Glossy pages shine brighter than the fruit racks they mirror,
Competing for importance in my wallet and my life
The magpie wins and the bananas will wait.
Half the magazines hawk five a day in rounded sans serif, bold against the background of a
chef’s haircut.
Maxims of bizarre cosmopolitan playboys and hustlers marked up at 3.99. Landscapes of
polished flesh glow beneath the loving airbrush of the paycheck. Competing for nuts at the
zoo.
A vanity fair for the hollow, shining in the fading light of a red top sunset.
Paraphrased blogs and condensed morsels of crude celebrity nudes for the I-Generation and
the remnants of New Labour and Thatcher’s Britain.
Anglers, caravans and 50 cent, half the demographic, half the price. Count me out.
I finger a few and find no real desire. The Internet offers this bilge up for free.
They’d all be nude and crapping on each other.
The great silicon toilet of humanity
Past freezers of long dead prisoners, pulped to perfection. Pigs in tubes and flat cow
concoctions.
Pancakes of vomit and fish dishes I won’t ever try. No time for it.
Frankenstein's monster behind glass slides.
Packets of sugar in various disguises. Cereal and chocolate, soft drinks and sauce dips.
Lattes and ladles, loofahs and loaves. The prattle returns through the shelving
I turn around the curries and there is the tie. Talking sport and hard drinking, women and
the weather. Looks me in the eye.
I turn before any interaction and feign interest in something, a scouring pad. Intricately
woven metal coils waste major concentration and he’s gone. Box checked, minimize and move on.
Everything shines in this weird three-quarter light, hypnotic. Confusing. Conscious of the
bottles ahead that I can’t ever touch. Seedy and appealing, puerile and appalling.
Something for everyone.
And nothing for me.
''A good deed is rewarded with an evil one'',
Said the snake ready to bite the poor fox
That had just set the snake free
moving the boulder from his hole.
''This is not true'' she replied
With a fear in her eyes
''I am ready to show you why''.
So the poor, yet sly fox took the snake for a ride
To show him that good can dominate over evil.
They passed together mountains of snow
Along with seas of gold.
In the middle of their course
They met a white, beautiful horse
With eyes dry, sitting lonely on a field.
''What are you doing all alone''? The fox asked.
The horse turned lazily his white head and said:
''After ten years of devotion to my master,
After ten years of love, he left me here
Alone and hungry to die forgotten from all''.
''See? The snake smiled,'' evil is stronger than any good, I have to bite you''.
''No'', said the fox, ''I know the world and that is not true, come with me,
I'll show you''.
They passed green fields of storm, deserts of thirst
Until they came across a fat cow.
''Hello'' waved the fox. ''I want to ask you something.
Do you think that a good deed is rewarded with an evil one''?
''Of course'', said the cow. ''I always offer my milk to families, to children.
But now, that I am old, I can't give them anymore.
So, they are ready to kill me and eat my meat''.
''I hope that by now you know that good is nothing in front of evil''.
Said the snake and his tongue of poison slipped away from his mouth.
''Give me one last chance to prove you that you are wrong'',
The fox sadly replied.
They passed cities of red lights, roads of distance.
Suddenly, they see a hungry man with cloths torn
Running to steal a woman's purse. The man was thin and weak
As he could not keep balance he falls in front of the woman's legs.
The woman sees him and with compassion says:
''How many days are you foodless my poor man? Come, take some money
To eat and buy new clothes''.
He takes the money with his trembling hand, the woman sheds a tear and leaves.
''You see?'' said the fox, ''a good deed can change any evil intention''.
She didn't finish her words and the man stands up on his feet,
Runs towards the woman and grasps her purse with a violent move,
Dropping the terrified woman on the road.
The fox watches frustrated and disappointed. Turns to the snake and says:
''What a world! Just bite me''.
Strangely, the world – strange
Has transformed from graceful,
With stardust laughing across the plains,
Sunlight silences the darkness, the night
Falling beneath the shadows of light…
As I lift my eyes to see the alterations,
Changes that speak to my spirit,
Stirring up the silence, lifting the ability
To reach out in anticipation, for the wonders
The amazing – bravely coloring the earth
In spectacular shades of joy so worthy
Fluctuating between silence and sound,
The inspirations imagine a softness, gentling
Hearts, trembling through the spirit in waves
Passing through the seas of memory, the past
Warms my faith and reminds me to listen
To the abiding truth, the ancient – forgotten
Among the memories of my youth, my life…
Before the new – before I knew paved roads,
Skyscrapers – cars who break through my dreams,
Singing of places I’d never imagined or believed
I might see – because in my past, where I lived when
There were horses everywhere, dusty roads,
Fighting with swords and fists, never expecting
The police to carry away the problems in shackles
Yonder, where there once stood a barn – a fence
A cow and a sheep, the horses in the pasture…
There stands a building, a sidewalk or some car
And, everywhere I look… there are people checking
The little boxes they’re carrying, taking chances
Never looking beyond their hands where the mysterious
Little boxes appear to be the reasons for their attentions
To be drawn away from others, into the mightier lands…
The lands of mobile dreams, ideas that seem to bleed
Through the impossible cells where they believe
Others can read all their feelings, their thoughts, their
Opinions… alive inside the little boxes they carry everywhere,
Revealing the wonders of the future that has come to us,
The ones who once knew freedom in living with the natural world
And, finally, discovered – here in the present, a life that will
Silence the past with its slow moving theories, lighting today
With the stars, twinkling in a sky that still has not changed
Despite the transformation of the entire earth, - the natural
World erases every doubt, each cloud, that dims the candle
Lighting up the past’s memoirs of what once was so normal
Shakespeare in 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
January 12, 2023
Myths About Snakes
By Elton Camp
As to snake myths, a good place to begin
Feel and see. They don’t have slimy skin
Not matter how many this fib have told,
They certainly aren’t slimy, but only cold
Though many believe, there’s no way how
A milk snake could possibly milk any cow
In a barn that type snake may well be found,
But that’s true even if there’s no cow around
A hoop snake can’t make a wheel to roll away
“But I’ve seen it,” the uninformed man will say
If they could do this, it surely would be great fun
When scared, like any other snake they will run
Another myth that need cause no iota of alarm:
Snakes can their victims hypnotize or charm
But when a dangerous snake does come near,
Some animals will “freeze” in the greatest fear
Here’s another story that is simply of no account:
Calculate a rattlesnake’s age by the rattler’s amount
Each rattle show the snake have lived another year,
That a rattle is left at each of many sheds is clear
It’s untrue that snakes in pairs will always be found
In the brief mating season is when the male is around
A snake’s “mate” never on its killer vengeance seeks
Another falsehood is what that particular myth speaks
In great danger any person may become embroiled
If he believe a snake can strike only when it’s coiled
Because that foolish belief most assuredly, isn’t right
The fact is, from any position a snake is able to bite
To believe this dangerous myth, you shouldn’t oughter
A cottonmouth is unable to bite if it is under water
How could a water snake possibly eat and survive,
If it couldn’t feed on fish and other snakes on a dive?
Another widespread belief that is quite a bad mistake:
Is that there is such a fragile creature as a glass snake
Though such an ability would be an interesting sight
If it could, when threatened, break apart and reunite
But if someone whom you know insists these are true,
There is actually not a great deal that you are able to do
The adage may apply: He who is persuaded against his will
Will almost certainly remain of the very same opinion still
P.S. There is a legless lizard that looks like a snake except that
it has eyelids which no snake has. It can break into three parts
when threatened, but can’t go back together. The end with the
head may escape and later regenerate the missing parts.
Locked in the history through the doors of his mind
Are the remains of an unwritten contract he signed.
The rules he lived by with his own flesh and bone,
Wrote in his blood and signed alone.
An Indian father or a Spanish bride,
The white mans greed won’t alter his stride,
The black mans courage with endurance within,
Mixed with trials errors and mortal sin.
Through the hardship and horses through courage and pain
These are the hands that held the rein.
Annie Oakley, Kitty Wilkins and Bell Star,
Combined lace with leather and created a gender scar.
From Picket, Custer, and Crazy Horse,
These are only a few who would not alter their course.
And those less know on Oregon’s trail,
Who sold all they had and to the west set sail.
Chisholm, Goodnight and French, some of the Cattle kings,
They all are the reason a cowboy sings.
And their blood still flows through our veins,
These are the hands that held the rein.
Forgive them for they knew not what they done,
As they settled the west with hand and gun.
Fought for open space they went through,
Not knowing that greed and politics followed them too.
Restless by nature a curious kind,
Searching for answers they will never find.
An unwritten code he rides for the brand,
It pumps through the veins into the soul of this man.
He gathers those memories and tries to remain,
These are the hands that held the rein.
Writing no letter for he can’t but he would,
To who he’s not sure but it is understood,
There is no place to send it anyhow,
So he saddles his pony and rides for the cow,
Sings a song and says a poem in rhyme,
To cut the quiet and pass the time.
That helps keep the stories of his horse and life,
As he sings of a friend and dreams of a wife.
Through the doors of his mind those memories remain,
For these are the hands that held the rein.
Like shuffling a deck he’s held in his hand
He has gambled his life and made a stand,
And made a vow he will try to fulfill,
With the luck of the draw his blood flows still.
To the next generation, with changes in time,
We still hear his stories in song and rhyme.
And if one more day could be spare
For the songs sung and poems shared
Let him live just one more day,
Let him ride for the brand and draw his pay.
In our future let our history not be in vein,
For our hands are now what hold the rein.
Form:
I.
In the year sixteen hundred and thirty-five
I was a fool young man known as Ludwig,
back from the wars and flush with new money,
spent it on fine whores and copious drink.
One pale lady led me out into the street
where her pimp stood in shinning moonlight,
he smiled at her, said,”How nice of you,
I was thinking of feasting tonight.”
Before I could even start to react
his fangs had sank deep into my neck,
she joined in too, this woman I had held,
I black out and don’t recall what came next.
When I came too I was in a dark cave
and cried out, thankful that I was alive,
yet when I tried to walk t in the sun
it seared and sizzled my ghost-pale hide.
I’d never believed the legends were true,
but I now had no breath or heart-beat,
and when the sun set, I went out for food,
no meal would satisfy my deep cravings.
I made it six days, or should I say nights,
before the hunger overcame my will,
stalked a poor post-rider in the countyside,
recall the screams that came from my first kill.
I felt something within crumble that day,
a hollow emptiness grew deep inside,
knowing that with every kill that I made
meant another piece of my soul had died.
Before long I fled my Bavaria,
the peoples were getting restless and mean,
traveled across Europe, moving often,
forced to ‘live’ by acts heinous and obscene.
It was in Scotland three long years later,
hiding in the highlands from an angry mob,
unable to come out for days on end,
the growing hunger, it painfully throbbed.
When turned a vampire loses their blood
which causes their bodies to shut down,
I was so hungry I was driven mad,
in my mania I drained dry a cow!
Then to my surprise I felt the hunger
fade away and leave me feeling all-right,
it was any blood that would slake my thirst,
I didn’t have to take any more lives!
You think this would improve my situation,
but in truth it hurt me all the more,
couldn’t help but ask why had I never
bothered to ask this question before?
All the lives I had brought to an end,
all the families I had let bereft,
gad I the wits to ask these questions then
not a one would’ve had to face death.
The truth of these failings hounded my heels,
there was to be no peace within me,
until one night in France I came upon
ancient stone walls of a monastery…
CONTINUES IN PART II
I saw the news today
I'd like to know what the hell you're trying
I want to find away
to silence you, and stop all the dying
You think you're above the law
You'll send to die just as many as you want to
Damnedest thing I ever saw
the mess you've made doesn't even seem to daunt you
You spit in our eyes and say
I'm gonna hate you now
because you are more evil than I am
and I'm gonna hate you now
cause I hate your point of view
I'm gonna hate you now
cause daddy's so proud
and mamma's still crying
and I'm gonna hate you now
cause my God told me to
When will it ever end
You'd think you would have learned by now
and what about you my friend
could you please tell me how
How will we find our way
when the God you pray to is a fat cash cow
who'll stand up and say
This has got to end.
but you slap mommas face and say
I'm gonna kill you now
because you are more wicked than I am
and I'm gonna kill you now
cause I hate your point of view
I'm gonna kill you now
My daddy's so proud and momma keeps crying
and I'm gonna kill you now
cause my God told me to.
Manipulation games
and broken promises from long ago
You put out the Lady's' flame
You'll reap what you sew
The children have to pay
Old men, and old women too
they just get in the way
of the bombs I drop on you
I'm gonna hate you now
because you've always hated me
I'm gonna hate you now
For all the oil that I've bought
I'm gonna hate you now
Cause hate is all I've got
How will you return
all the lives that you have wasted
watch the babies burn
Say this will keep us free
I wish you'd drink the blood
I wish that I could make you taste it
You've never understood
and you refuse to see
You turn your back on God and say
I'm gonna kill you now
because you are more wicked than I am
and I'm gonna kill you now
cause I don't agree with you
I'm gonna kill you now
cause Daddy's so proud and Mama's still crying
and I'm gonna kill you now
cause killings what I do
When will it ever end
You'd think you would have learned by now
what about you my friend
could you please tell me why
why can't he see the sin
of worshiping that fat cash cow
just look at the mess we're in
You're killing for a lie