Long Cribs Poems
Long Cribs Poems. Below are the most popular long Cribs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cribs poems by poem length and keyword.
Surrender, sweet Madonna, softly moaned,
In the luscious bud the atoms groaned;
Skin incandescent, hiding one
Most beautiful, euphoric son.
Then laughing, knowing, out of sight
Beneath the purple roof of night,
Beneath a behemoth umbrella sky
A host of angels sang on high.
The wind crooned as the sweetest flute,
A wordless poem stricken mute;
Held fragrance fragile, nectarine,
Rose on the evening evergreen.
The cribs where gurgling babies lay
Fell silent, keeping wolves at bay,
All breath of infants held and bated,
All powerful Gabriel awaited.
The wings of pigeons in the straw
Unruffled, anchored to the floor;
Their heads bowed reverently down
To honour he who wore the crown.
Like hermit crabs emerging out
Of clouds of fast dispersing doubt,
The congregation would believe
A king was born this hallowed eve.
Their spirits soared in setting free,
Exalted wild epiphany,
They reeled and danced in Heaven's cloud,
Most joyous laughter laughed aloud.
In giddiness from life and love
Fell joy and freedom from above,
Remorse thus banished to the past,
And beauty, passion ruled at last.
Upon this night new hope was born
Unto a world of hate and scorn,
To loneliness, to fight, to lead,
To death, to ultimately bleed.
It keeps on truckin' through the age,
The story of the saviour sage,
Who chased the sun and showed mankind
There was a greater good to find.
For life laughs with us if we try,
Or shuts it's eyes and rushes by
If we refuse to help a brother
And cease in caring for each other.
The rhythm of the heart in words
Is poetry with ease unheard,
Yet it still strives to illustrate
We are not merely slaves of fate.
This day we praise his destiny,
Vocation-charged like energy,
His sacrifice, the gifts he gave,
Eternal life beyond the grave.
Thus celebrate of all these things
That honour, duty, glory brings;
To know the meaning of the birth,
To know that God has walked the earth.
Beauty of December
Cause weather is calm and cool
When good friends remember,
About vinyl from the spool.
Joys of Santas’s goodies
When we were small back then,
Mother and her cookies
Six men wiser than a pen.
No sweets sold in market
Mother made them all,
Beating deadline target
Before the eve would fall.
Tailors were visited by many:
Crowds to get their wears,
There was mummy and granny,
With children under their care.
There was a rush of decoration
That filled the streets with gay,
Choirs practised their rendition
Before that Christmas day.
Midnight saw costumes parade
With lace and trimmings rare
Gentlemen suited and booted
Walking in style with their pair.
Salons too did brisk business
Making ladies to look their best,
Not to show their riches
Only to join the fashion fest.
Now a days clothes are ready
Bought and to wear
Colours are in plenty
In online stores everywhere.
Christmas tree is ready to use
No tedious work to do,
No decorations needed
Saving an hour or two.
No streamers are required
All done by lights and beams,
Just plug in your connection
To a wonderland of dreams.
The excitement of decorating
Is not there anymore,
With children lending a hand
Putting up a mistle toe.
Cribs too are ready made
With lights and Carols too,
No mess of straw and sand
For a Nativity to construe.
Visiting friends and relatives
Is a forgotten practice of past,
Cause everyone is a distance
Greetings are easily podcast.
Zoom are now meetings
When greetings are exchanged,
No sharing of goodies required,
Connection still maintained.
Ted has gone to Canada, Chris in the UK
Mike went off to Australia
Jen is the US, far away
So, you see we are all scattered to
WhatsApp on Christmas day.
Christmas has grown unfamiliar
To us of the past
Its now time for the generation
To make up a Christmas caste.
Let’s pester Uncle Fester
After dafter Luxon
Pushed the button
Welcomed every glutton
To the isles of mutton
Theme of the meme
Team New Zealand
It does seem
No longer a
Stronger eclectic sceptic
Spanked by the rank
Septic tank stream
Peptic Pyramid scheme
Grand slam.. glam sham scam
Desperate Dan or Tangerine tan plan
God damn..American dream
Our rancour on social media
Danker seedier leaders crimes
Hanker for every greedier
Rhymes with banker
Sleazier golden geezer visas
Accept any offers to
Fill their many coffers
Brokery.. jiggery pokery
Immunity without impunity
To the unity of community
Profanity of their vanity
Insanity of their depravity
Clarity...disparity not charity
Tramples ample wokery
Our amazing landscape
Instead becomes their escape
Coined..after all they’ve purloined
Jolly jape…no red tape
Not being rash
But it is a rash
Debunk the gunk & funk
Forsaking the avarice
Taking the pis*
Bliss abyss monk
Crass..brash..flash git
S***k a chunk of cash
From their balderdash stash
Making..a complete hash of it
Fake elite on the take
As they see fit
Billionaire boys ploys annoys
Replete yet still cheat
Have your cake and eat it
Our government just envoys
For a small fee..sweet
Deploys the swanky..w**ky
Yankee all about me
Time to flee plea
They lit the fire
Liar & denier
Dug the quagmire
Piety for impropriety
Moolah Messiah ruler
High flyer pariah
Crueler society
Who when the s**t
Does hit the fan
No fibs..his nibs gets
First dibs on cribs
Outlier masterplan zen..know
Then where to go
Can always hunker down
In a spick & span den
Their Queenstown bunker
Amen
Night has stretched its star filled blanket over the little town of Bethlehem
Crickets singing in harmony, orchestrated by the breeze, rustling wheat stems
Shepherds are watching over their flocks
Captivated by the beauty of the full moon when there is no cloud
Town is vibrant with visitors from near and far
Kids are playing tags in the alleys built of clay mud walls
Mothers are humming sweet Hebrew lullabies
Missing their own cribs, babies will just cry
Pain has been excruciating not lessening my joy
Of seeing the promised one, my very own boy
Joseph has been knocking at every and each door
They offer no care but shrugging shoulders and snubbing ignore
The time is near and I just picture the mansion I would want
for the birth of Emanuel, the very blessed Son
Where are my many servants to wrap him in silk
To anoint him with the best fragrant emulsion elite
I wish I had a feather filled bed cushion,
a wooly sheep skin; as soft as the angel who once paid me a short visit
I wish I could prepare a comfortable bedding
for my precious Jesus magnificent coming
Oh my Jehovah, the pain has increased
Where I am going to deliver your prince?
Look! Joseph is pulling our ride inside
At last, I no longer will be giving birth under the staring eyes
Joseph come help me, bring me some hay
Don’t worry about dusty floors, I really need to lay
Bring me the manger and a piece of dry cloth
As I was wrapping him, didn’t he open his beautiful black eyes?
God, how I wonder in your awesome ways
I am a mother who worships his son
You blessed my life with the curse undone
You are the splendid king who has always won
Thank you my Father, for promise fulfilled
For my very own eyes to see the Son of God unveiled!
November 19, 2015
Written for Christmas with Christ - Poetry Contest
Believe it or not, their ubiquitous webs
Are everywhere; they are the dictators
Who kidnap, maim, torture and kill teachers,
Poets, ordinary folks and babies in their cribs.
They rob and ransack innocent citizens,
Steal elections and after a lifetime in power,
Categorically refuse to leave the tower.
Very often, they do everything to muzzle the chickens.
Monsters are constantly in disguise,
They are well dressed, they wear uniforms,
They know how to blend and to socialize.
Monsters, at every turn, want to control the dorms,
Manipulate the data, fool the media,
Hire henchmen and spread false propaganda.
Monsters behave like manipulative magicians,
They suck the air out of the innocent bystanders,
Befriend desperate and impoverished musicians,
Surreptitiously inveigle the nosy neighbors
To exteriorize their feelings, and they spy and lie,
At every opportunity; and at every occasion,
They bury their preys alive in the dungeon.
Believe it or not, monsters are like rats,
Their appetite is insatiable; they crawl under the mats,
Bite babies, steal millions, and hide the money in overseas coffers;
They rape young boys and girls, and destroy the future of many.
The revolution was not done right ‘cause the kidnappers,
The pick pockets and their accomplices are still under the tree.
Those raccoons, those bedbugs don't go away easily.
They outlive the exterminators. These goons are really bright.
Be cautious, because they are out there day and night,
Operating at every meeting and at every party.
Believe it or not, all bad things must come to an end:
The lies, the crimes, and the arbitrary executions of the church band.
Copyright© February 2012, Hebert Logerie, All Rights Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books:
“colore nero”
When the colour
was sucked out
of our breath
our worlds
waited for
3
ecstatic
prophecy
Taigi
we
turned
our backs
waiting
like zombies
in long lines
we returned home
closed ourselves in
waited in our cribs
for our
curtains to call
black ball white ball
curtains drawn
not a peep
awake unable to sleep
bees wax blessed
trying to remember
childhood prayers
by then
in those days of darkness
not many believed in ghosts
QR codes
granted an audience
with the shadows’ host
counting numbers
angels denied
beasts blessed
dark nights
dark days
roll called
waiting for the light
and long forgotten
last minute heroes
by then
in those days of darkness
not many believed in ghosts
anarchy reigned
in the time of
colore nero
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Heaven and Hell” / Kanye West
https://youtu.be/XKWcAsT8Sqc
3 Days of Darkness
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Days_of_Darkness
https://www.virgosacrata.com/three-days-of-darkness.html
666
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Number_of_the_beast
https://faculty.wts.edu/posts/why-is-the-number-of-the-beast-666/
Nero
https://penelope.uchicago.edu/~grout/encyclopaedia_romana/gladiators/nero.html
Anarchism
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anarchism
Anarchism and Religion
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anarchism_and_religion
https://www.oklahoman.com/article/3325929/anarchist-neednt-be-anti-christ
Italian/ colore nero
English/ colour black
LYRICS/"Heaven & Hell", Kanye West
https://genius.com/Kanye-west-heaven-and-hell-lyrics
The Dolphins in the sea dear Lord, they dance for You
They dance for You, I know they do....
Trees which sway in the breeze their rejoicing, as they bow
Calling Your name as they bow, to You dear Lord, I know they do ~
Birds that sing, Mountains and Oceans that gaze, Angels who bring
These Gifts of Your Light and Love, to this world, I know they do?!
Everywhere I turn I find You there, Your Beauty, filling the air....
In the night sky Your Stars that shine; Your Holy Spirit *
Within all of Humankind; their Hearts, their Eyes; Your Creations
The valleys, the fields, the depths, the heights; Your Glory ~
Your Majesty; the darkness can no longer hide!?
Your Kingdom, dear Lord, soon like a rushing tide; washing away
Forever the sorrow amid it all; this day, this poisoned dust....
O' death where is your sting? O' grave where is your victory?
Swallowed! As a shooting comet piercing this passing plight!
“Free at last, thank God Almighty, we're free at last.” ~
The Lions in their dens, the Babies in their cribs....
Every living thing and every Spirit reaching out; Shout
For the Lord His coming; His hands, His Love, His plans
Eternity, with the Majestic and Only, Glorious Great I Am *
The Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, the Beginning, and the End....
Standing at heavens threshold; everywhere I turn, everyday, every
Breath I take, I find You there, dear Lord?!
In the flowers, in the forest, in the sky, in, their Beautiful Lives ~
Deep inside; Humankind, this rushing tide; “All of Creation”
They dance for You, dear Lord, they dance for You, I know they do....
********************************************************
....“Selah” * ~ {Written 10/29/05} ~ * “Selah.”
Form:
The Dolphins in the sea dear Lord, they dance for You
They dance for You, I know they do....
Trees which sway in the breeze their rejoicing, as they bow
Calling Your name as they bow, to You dear Lord, I know they do ~
Birds that sing, Mountains and Oceans that gaze, Angels who bring
These Gifts of Your Light and Love, to this world, I know they do?!
Everywhere I turn I find You there, Your Beauty, filling the air....
In the night sky Your Stars that shine; Your Holy Spirit *
Within all of Humankind; their Hearts, their Eyes; Your Creations
The valleys, the fields, the depths, the heights; Your Glory ~
Your Majesty; the darkness can no longer hide!?
Your Kingdom, dear Lord, soon like a rushing tide; washing away
Forever the sorrow amid it all; this day, this poisoned dust....
O' death where is your sting? O' grave where is your victory?
Swallowed! As a shooting comet piercing this passing plight!
“Free at last, thank God Almighty, we're free at last.” ~
The Lions in their dens, the Babies in their cribs....
Every living thing and every Spirit reaching out; Shout
For the Lord His coming; His hands, His Love, His plans
Eternity, with the Majestic and Only, Glorious Great I Am *
The Prince of Peace, the King of Kings, the Beginning, and the End....
Standing at heavens threshold; everywhere I turn, everyday, every
Breath I take, I find You there, dear Lord?!
In the flowers, in the forest, in the sky, in, their Beautiful Lives ~
Deep inside; Humankind, this rushing tide; “All of Creation”
They dance for You, dear Lord, they dance for You, I know they do....
*****************************************************************
....“Selah” * ~ {Written 10/29/05} ~ * “Selah.”
Form:
At the foot uv Pikes Peak sprawls the old minin' town uv Cripple Creek.
They wuz nigh on fifty-thousand folks thar when minin' wuz at its peak!
Ol' Bob Womack, a cowpoke, struck gold in Poverty Gulch stakin' his claim.
'Tis said he sold out fer 500 bucks and a jug o' booze - whut a pitiful shame!
Others with more business acumen moved in and made millions off'n them hills!
Platoons uv gamblers, soiled doves and saloons wuz thar fer the miner's thrills!
They wuz even a few preachers and churches to tame them rowdy souls!
The Ladies Cultural Society strove to guide the rabble to reach more noble goals!
To the west, Mount Pisgah, bare and bleak, stood sentry over the raucous town,
Located thar is the cemetery containin' the bones uv some uv dubious renown!
But it must be said that thar is some decent souls sleepin' on that dreary hill.
Thar lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Pearl DeVere is buried thar, 'madam' uv the classiest cribs in Cripple Creek!
She catered only to upscale gentlemen, those with clout, men uv wealthy clique!
The undertaker done her up right smart and the town turned out when she died.
They saw her off in style with a grand parade and finest hearse fer her final ride!
'Doc Susie' Anderson is also buried at Mount Pisgah and wuz the inspiration,
Fer "Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman" and is remembered with great admiration.
Saint and sinner, lawman and desperado lie side by side on that desolate hill.
Their lonely graves are swept by the winter winds that shriek so bleak and chill!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Of all the minin' camps in old Colorady, the town of Tin Cup was truly,
With all its gamblin' halls, brothels and sleazy saloons the most unruly!
'Tis said that Jim Taylor dipped his tin cup in the 'crick' to take a sip,
And found gold in the bottom of his cup even before liftin' it to his lip!
The rush was on and in 1880 the rowdy town of Virginia City sprung up!
In 1882, assorted drunks and ne'er-do-wells insisted on namin' it Tin Cup!
Stakes were claimed, shovels flew and ore was packed out to railheads.
Men who worked in 'ore houses' were the butt of jokes by facetious heads!
By 1881 there were 6000 denizens and over twenty saloons in the town.
Gamblers met at Frenchy's Place and they controlled ever'thing aroun'!
Marshals were told, "see, hear and do nothin' or yer first arrest will be yer last!"
One quit, two were fired, three were shot, one went insane leavin' the town aghast!
For those who died gloriously or otherwise from flamin' guns and billowin' smoke,
Boot Hill Cemetery was established south of town to plant many a hapless bloke!
Raucous prospectors spent their 'dust' on booze and 'soiled doves' in their cribs.
Others got uproariously drunk and awoke with busted heads and shattered ribs!
In its heyday, Tin Cup produced millions of dollars in choice Rocky Mountain gold.
The last mine, the Gold Cup, closed in 1917 spellin' disaster and the town did fold.
Alas, today 'tis a ghost town with curious tourists and sagebrush driftin' about.
The ripplin' streams teem, not with gold nuggets, but with fightin' rainbow trout!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved