Long Cubbyhole Poems
Long Cubbyhole Poems. Below are the most popular long Cubbyhole by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cubbyhole poems by poem length and keyword.
A troll followed me home one day,
Looking to bring me down.
I told it I didn’t want to play,
To go dig a great deep hole,
Roll its little soul into the black hole.
It didn't matter where I went
It just wouldn't go away.
The troll climbed up the phone pole
Stuck its drooling tongue out and scolded.
I had troll in my soup bowl,
Troll in my egg-roll,
Troll my keyhole,
Troll in my buttonhole,
Troll in my toilet roll,
Troll in my toilet bowl.
It followed me to school and crawled
Into my cubbyhole.
It followed me to the barber shop
Sat on top of the barber's pole.
It followed me on my date
Sat between me and my date.
I finally decided I was going to get control,
Ignored the troll and foiled its day,
Until one day it got bored
And slithered away.
3/12/2021
Children Story
Welcome to the "Wheel of Misfortune"
With your host, “Dirty Clothes” Pat
And dear sweet “Hole In Her Gowns” Vanna
You could lose your fortune like that
Players contribute ten grand of their own
The one with the most money loses
Ain't easy giving all incorrect answers
Ya feel like a bunch of silly gooses
First contestant is the one that goes last
Are you following, it can be a bit confusing
Audience get baffled, some leave in a huff
A few were even caught snoozing
Where's all this leading, I haven't a clue
Really feels like I've lost my control
Maybe I'll just gracefully fade to black
And crawl back in my wee cubbyhole
© Jack Ellison 2015
A dark road creaks, a crackling of ice-skulls
under bruising rubber.
Driving to the all-nite store --- need antacids.
It's pre-dawn, an hour behind the light,
those black hollows of the night
where time goes blind.
No one rides this deadened road,
no car beams, or open-eyes gleam
until the car drifts into the low hum
of a forecourt.
The neon Mini Mart has sunk
inside an insane façade of purpose,
lost as it is, in an electric trance.
Nobody dwells here at this hour
only the heavy-eyed-blue-heron man.
After the purchase, he disappears
into a cubbyhole of shadows.
Back home, the grinding jaw
of a garage door
seems to awaken a lick of daylight,
not here, but
in the back of my mind.
my curiosity coaxes me into sneaking in
to this cubbyhole built under an old robust tree
a rumor I heard, there’s a clandestine
so, I peep through its small and dusty window pane
I widely open my eyes as I could
while I’m surreptitiously gazing inside this empty room
the only thing I see is a barricade of wood
Oh, I think, playing hide and sick in there is still good
as I go around to find if there’s a small door
to my dismay, it’s locked with a rusty knob
then, I find another small window on the other wall
on big branch of the tree, I clamber to view the whole
watching all over again the void inside
shadows begin to appear behind the wooden bar
as they accrue, my braided hair rise up on both sides
for a high jump, I prepare my legs while thinking where to hide
their ears likely found on top of their nose in shape of cone
so creepy things they are, I’m so scared but I must know
are they giants or dwarfs who’ll give me their magic stones
or a black lady to transform to white and lurks me with her bones
while my whole body is reverberated with numbness
I hold on to the small branch of a tree with a glued grip
suddenly, a mother cat with her five lovely kittens
coming out buffing their fur softly with tenderness
March 31, 2013
Note to the contest sponsor:
My dear friend Seren, I’ve seen your blog before but I’m so sorry if I was not able to leave a comment because of time constraint. However, I vividly remember the picture because it was truly beautiful. I’m pretty sure it was one of your awesome paintings. You’re a very talented artist/painter and I was inspired to write a poem today for that beautiful paintings of yours. Thank you so much for sharing!
Fourth Place
Contest: What Lurks Within
Judged: 4/7/2013
Sponsor: Poet Seren Roberts
A dark road creaks, a crackling carapace of ice
under bruising rubber.
Driving to the all-nite store --- need antacids.
It's pre-dawn, an hour behind the light;
potholes dream in their black bunkers.
No one rides this deadened road,
no car beams, or open-eyes gleam
until the car drifts into
the low magnetic hum
of a forecourt.
The neon Mini Mart has sunk
inside an insane façade of purpose,
lost as it is, in an electric trance.
Nobody dwells here at this hour
only the heavy-eyed-blue-heron man.
After the purchase, he disappears
into a cubbyhole of shadows.
Back home, the grinding jaw
of a garage door
seems to awaken a lick of daylight,
not here, but in the back of my mind.
~~~
edit
I am a shy girl who's never been on a date
But I'm twenty, and Mom says I'm just blooming late
I'm destined to be an old maid without a mate
Soon, I'll be past my prime
Always a wallflower. Alone, I brood and sit
Sometimes I'm a little quirky. I will admit
But talk with me and you'll see, I've got charm and wit!
I've mountains yet to climb
I'm the guilty one that no one ever suspects
Overlooked, as one of life's pathetic rejects
Here's a clue: I used a knife, and other objects
I committed the crime
I'm the actor never given the starring role
The person always shoved into a cubbyhole
I'm not invisible! I have a heart and soul
Might as well be a mime
I'm the elusive word for your poetic line
Look in a Thesaurus and you'll find me, Einstein
We can be a couplet, two planets that align
Let's make our poem rhyme
Sometimes I feel like the hands of a broken clock
Going nowhere fast should never come as a shock
But where is the man who holds the key to my lock
The one who'll ring my chime
So what country did you make?
Is it a penthouse, or a rented cubbyhole
in the same sky high city where the difference
is the size of your hold-out that can also peer out.
When the TV is silent and sullen
do you wonder
what other country you belong to?
Do you risk getting shot
for just looking out of a window,
or do you lollygag over fine wines
and does your bowtie spin
when you grin?
Do the people guard you
or impinge upon your sovereignty
with their greasy knives and forks?
Did you register as a foreigner
with the borderless guard dogs?
Did your country come with
a trash compactor and a rattrap?
I also come from a land as isolated as yours.
I travel incognito
as a stranger known to be unwanted
until kidnapped.
Did you choke twice
over an olive in your dirty martini?
Did you vow to stay far away
from the drug-dazed
and only send out or call in
for your own addictions?
Does your country salute you
for having regular bowel movements,
for not clogging up the toilet bowl?
I, like you, wrote my own constitution
it is written on an old postcard
that I sent to myself.
Are you a founder or a spy
snooping from an eye in the sky?
I may visit your county;
feel free to borrow my nose hair trimer,
my first born.
We, the Emperors of just enough space
should ratify unworkable treaties,
we may need to test
the limits of a mutual hostility.
When you turn the TV back on
do you, like me, wonder what country
this is that hates us from afar?
Blow smoke, smoke blow, suck when necessary,
bruit a patriotic vapor
into a rattling air conditioner,
never surrender.
I admit tubby distracted by a modeling
female physique when attempting to write,
an aching agony rips thru this son,
gripping with hard on – tight -
by Dickens constricting sensation,
who orbited the sun LX times
coon sitters himself heterosexual male,
where slumbering testosterone forces unite,
no matter my libido feels
deadened, this despite
the above mentioned
asthma ordinary devoid sexual drive,
when these eyes (brown and myopic) sight
even just a picture
oven an attractive gal fanciful flight
evokes dormant longings
crashing thru concentration
without any invite
sparring dueling animal urge,
I know ain't right
since being married,
and all (witches nothing to celibate)
boot even if aye hapt tubby
dim witted with cerebral blight
prurient predilections, would
nonetheless prevail causing affright,
whereby the photographed lovely lady
dashes out like shuttered image,
though only so few inches in height,
would make a bee line into an
unreachable cubbyhole,
not totally airtight
just enough breathing room
to await darkening hour of night
than with lightspeed akin to meteorite
off into the farther reaches with a blink quite
invisible this quasi
holographic like pseudo sprite
leaves yours truly in the lurch ignite
ting a supposed sexual propensity gone cold
nay, no can do, cuz
untethered high as a kite
electrifying animal desire forced to bite
the dust, though thankfully concupiscent pang
ordinarily not the least bit aroused, aye attest
nope, not lascivious provocative
Barenaked Ladies can NOT excite
an older fellow, whose adolescent body
seethed with hormonal secretion,
and any pretty young thang did alight
a stick up between still skinny legs,
hence people watching
(particularly gals), a birthright
even migrant and/or
teenage mutant ninja turtle doth delight
tool hook, but NOT touch
most times an effortless fight,
yet every once in a while atavistic
pulsations, asper call
of the wild bobwhite
overrides instagramming, snapchatting,
and twittering uber with such might
even erupting sexless interludes of eunuch
or "FAKE" shining knight
chess moonlighting also as “FAKE” playwright,
hence if perchance a beauty catches me sight
lack of youth in your favor
from my penitent penile plight!