Long Digger Poems
Long Digger Poems. Below are the most popular long Digger by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Digger poems by poem length and keyword.
I can take one pumpkin-spiced cup with a pear –
With a pink lipstick visage, my heartrate resides with this gay pear.
Excellent exhalations process a plan that has gone…pear is not a bad shape!
Squareness sucks in each day’s pear.
Anglia Pear, I hope you are apeare that pear is a pearticular charm to in-your-face industrial archipearcture.
You may be pearpetrating the pearposless rule to not scran grey pear.
Until the moon is a golden peartal près
To an island of oak & hazel May pears,
Pearple always will. No-one is naturally scented with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger & cloves.
What sort would be best to dress a pear?
Dull mugwort – a pearennial plant native to Europe’s air,
Asia’s & Africa’s as well!
It grows now in North Apearica, too.
The first of seeds to have earth
Are frizzled over par l’eau pear.
Oh pear, it seems like a second since – as we watched The ApPEARtice last Friday - you asked me to go prepear
A painting to be exhibited at The Art of Bowls.
My pearpose has been bathing with you know the pear –
Profound pearsions are pulled without a trigger.
Yet humankind pins them perpeartully to product tally charts.
Pearhaps now it’s enough simply to remember pear pear,
Rather than shoving Terry straight in some digger.
Whether clean or not, I would pearfer pumpkin spice to that
Chai!
...
....
.....if you truly searched and found me not
for five weeks.
I'm sorry 'cos..
I fed little or no poetry.
stories are meant for the tellers
this, as accorded :
my muse bled painstakingly
I wasn't just robbed
my gadgets were too.
At first, I spoke like a goon
identity forgone, fear has risen
on my scale of actions.
Even though the mirror hurts
later found the reincarnated me
feeling once more, the childhood I left.
Assault in rounds of slap
beaten to pulp, factually , no bandages .
my diary explains more while time lapses
indeed it was a witness
I nearly lost my mind
after loosing some utterances
Cat and dogs ran, I feared to live.
They dare not come to my rescue
I'm no tatterdemalion! non adheres,
some thought I was begging for alms,
left inbound like a stray ?? .
Thank holiness,
pejoratively, there exists no male urchin
I was there in the street, weeping like a stream
still, they believe the gold digger hath come.
Men ain't faulty,
little do they know about faults
even I lost all hope
here I am, life is still
my naked ??
Form:
The torch is raised
To the height of an elbow
Its flame pronged
To the flicker of a pitchfork
The sunrise charges over a hill
For old man
Winter
And under this sun on March One
The eave troughs of our house
Still cling to the grip of winter
Growling silver fangs
And crying long tears
Resisting the pry of the flowering season
Finally succumbing
Plummeting
Through the sponge of snow
Below
To slip away forever
Into the streets steaming
Like opened rivers of fish leaping
Hooked on lines
While chunks of ice
Dislodge from corners outside the house
Avalanching
Loud as silverware drawers in the kitchen
Opening and banging shut
Makes you turn
Look
And wonder who is so angry and why
Downstairs
A boy
In a short-sleeved shirt
A stoned graveyard digger
At the end of my driveway
Uncovers the drain
And its copper coins buried from autumn
And with that iron resurrection
The afternoon is engulfed by a rush of waterfalls
From rooftops and balconies
Banks of snow
The whole cliff of the planet
Washing away
Cleaned to its streams and lakes
Some of us
Lift our feet
Before, we too, the worn and tired
Are swept away by this light of spring.
This little guy in white is tunneling around the place.
He is aware of the many dangers he will face.
There are pookas and fygars situated all around.
Those adversaries can sneak themselves right through the ground.
He gets more points by dropping rocks on their head.
If not, he can inflate them until they burst instead.
Throughout the game, he must stay one step ahead.
Those nasty little creatures would like to see him dead.
Dig dug gets treats after dropping rock number two.
In the middle of the ground, bonuses appear when due.
From a carrot to a pineapple is what he can get.
As many as eight thousand points this digger may net.
The dragon-like fygars pose an extra threat to this guy.
The ability to spit fire is something we can’t deny.
Our hero gets more points when he is deeper in the ground.
I don’t think a better video game can be found.
JACK OF ALL CARDS??
Factotum polymath of a soul,
here's the one that has it all
yet a comprehensive sciolist still stand tall.
Jack of clubs??:
Lack two-thirds
but still ride against all odds,
as an odd, joins class of gods.
Jack of diamonds??:
Strengthens our bonds,
our jewelry glitters as our studs,
not all that glitters is gold.
Jack of hearts??:
Tactical winner-breaker of hearts
even without being caught in the act,
Says "flattery artilleries are my Arts".
Jack of spades??:
Goal-digger with no help or aids,
the home of jackasses is Hades,
till then, build legacy that never fades.
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © July, 2020.
There comes the EAST, against the SOUTH
The WEST against the SOUTH
Again the NORTH, all against the SOUTH
Just to use, manipulate and enslave
our minds, One said music is all
I say
The growth of a country
Depends on the knowledge Of the youths
But money makes everything worthwhile
Them songs; Bursting Up the speakers
The knowledge birthed, connections for elevation
My money bossing up, Mi world
They call me
A LAZY GOLD DIGGER NO i am
A POET, I was a once a hustler
Here comes another, they said...
Laughter is everything, It keeps you entertained
I said; Laughter without, happiness and contentment
From within is Forgery, For social connection
Money makes it enduring and complete
Them jokes and movies, all over the NATION
With Global recognition
My people Living La vida loca (the crazy life)
La Bella vida (The beautiful life)
Amidst all hate and denials, they labelled us SCAMMERS
No we are messengers of Love, Oneness was our message.
da vida (life-giving) vida Feliz (happy life)
There came
The other, boosting of their. strengths and powers
I told them
It's not by power, neither myth but
Consistency without resistance
Money makes whole, It adds honor
We all will die one day, but not certain
Now they got
The military With armed forces, ARMY
Forcing, forging lies and flogging us to
Move their ways, my people
Still showing love, amidst the tortures
They call us vultures with cultures
No we are healers and seers
Which they keep seeking, Unknowingly
Silence and discernment was Our weapons
Their perception of us, Was a reflection of them.
All them wishes On us was to be their
Sheep for slaughter
Copycat to navigate the negative poles
Propelling the heroes, Within
The Sleeping LIONS, they awakened
Now My people roar for;
Absolute freedom, greatness comes from it
We SOUTHERNERS also deserve power
We want to own our resources
And Our Fundamental Human Rights
JUSTICE and FREEDOM IS THE SOUND
AS WE ROAR FOR GREATNESS!!
(this is a little ode to Rian ..a lovely lad whose sparkle has given our Farmer's market in Dunedin a boyish fizz)
Oh dear…what’s that in my eye?
I fear a tear is near
Ah the curiosity of lachrymosity
Why am I starting to cry?
(cos I'm an emotional guy)
Rian.. not a dyslexic downpour
Spelt in a svelte refrain
Celt strain for sure
On your final day
Wanted to say farewell
Wish you all the best
In a pure heartfelt way
Puff out your chest
Quick to jest ..got the zest
For the fest that's life's quest
After 18 years..plenty of tears..many are bereft
The lad has left home.. off to roam
Poor old Grandad Geoff
Cheers mate.. of course beers
Down your gullet…with your peers
Not being a dull fuddy-duddy
But won't ruddy cull it
Annul it…or cut it
Just says shut it
Even as we tut tut it
That bloody mullet!
Too cool or a fool at school…not being cruel..BMW’s rule
Joke not a poke… a bespoke top bloke
Now you’re not broke..have a toke.. but no coke
Vim & vigour..the trigger..a bigger digger ace
Don’t snigg** .. be a detractor
Your baby face…maybe could be an actor..
You are a shining light
Clearly got that X factor
Not a slight..not really that bright
Can't read or write
But not being trite
Rian will strive…jive & thrive
And boy...can he drive a tractor alright
Dad was digging in the garden
When he struck a custard well
Mum was none too happy
By her phizog you could tell
We watched the plume of custard
As it rose into the sky
Dad said “It’s bloomin’ lovely
We can have that with some pie
Mum was still unhappy
“This has ruined my best dress
You can both get out there later
And clear up this ruddy mess”
First thing in the morning
I went out, to see the hole
Scraped away the surface
And I filled a little bowl
Sitting on my haunches
In my jim jams and a vest
I took a cautious spoonful
And declared it was the best
Then later on, the press appeared
And in the garden mustered
As Dad explained how he had found
A well of perfect custard
A well known geolologist
Was hired to survey
He said our well, might just achieve
Ten thousand puds a day
So, Dad went out and bought himself
A brand new custard pump
And put it in the shed that he
Was just about to dump
With lots and lots of effort
And a little bit of planning
We built ourselves a factory
And we started custard canning
Now mum is very happy, ‘cause
We’ve bought a house that’s bigger
Don’t know what she’ll say though
When she sees Dad’s bought a digger
I am raging mad. Wishing I had hot molting killing lava to pour on that ugly human in the funny clothes who violated me yesterday. Feeling a thrill thinking of the pain he would have felt yesterday when he was poking me with his damned tools if I had been able to access my lava field. I know there is an orange and black fire deep inside my recesses, however, they are difficult to bring up when you need them. Yesterday I felt disappointed and sad that I could not access her at will. I am angry today that I am sore, pierced, and unmercifully staked by these ugly confining posts and their equally ugly wires.
Three dragonflies, a multitude of butterflies, and grasshoppers continue to hop around on me, and easily glide through the ugly fencing, blissfully unaware at the rage I am feeling today. This angers me even more. If I hurt, I want everyone to hurt. I groan loudly, trying to access my lava. My grasses quiver, aware of my broken dreams, and severed roots, angry too at the ugly piles of dirt at the bottom of these ugly pokey things.
I had hoped to stay wild, unencumbered, and free until the end of the world. It is here now, for me. A large ugly piece of equipment stops on the road. Good. At least it is not driving on me! Two uglies and an uglier get out. They are leading a baby bull toward my sore, pierced, ugly hurting self. Just when I thought nothing could get worse! My grass raises on end, and I shudder. It is bad enough I lost so many wild strawberries, so many batches of clover, and so many wildflowers yesterday when that ugly was posting me. Now this? My tall grasses strain hard, trying to bring forth the lava. The young bull is lead into this now ugly circle enclosure. The other uglies shut the gate, and secure it. Ouch! I yell, but they pretend to not hear. The baby begins chomping at my grasses, and surprisingly it does not hurt as much as I thought it would. Actually, it feels liberating. I settle down a bit, as the happy flying things scatter.
Driven virginal ice blizzard, whitewashed in puddles
Duck fluff repelling vehicle, rabid rain bites panels
Arrival of evening, two fools fuse their first of April
Abode above average, horizon fire glows on angel
Teeming ambition triggers digger, strings gay tinsel
Portrays titanium rays of central star burn essential
Tree bauble shifts indeterminate, Earth resplendent
Pine green needle necklace, spinning gilt pendant
Pendulum bells in tower drop ropes for Crescendo
Concave accolades hide fluidity quit quick Crypto
Presents piled overlapping countdown to Christmas
Car race excel brings adrenaline finish line climax
Sly slit thin grin golden grimace violet sky crescent
Moon's multitudinous kept secrets gaslight residents
Spun line unseen supports sparkling pink accessory
Melted marshmallow molest paste palate pleasantly
Endurance promised swallows doldrums resentment
Enthused level thirty lightning thorn entrenchment
Faithful needing sights sleigh flight Saint Nicholas
Father is growth motivated to bestow future riches
29th November
Twinkle finger, Nissan, NTHUZED