Long Dodged Poems
Long Dodged Poems. Below are the most popular long Dodged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dodged poems by poem length and keyword.
Cobblestone Echoes
by Odin Roark
Ancient stone
keeper of darkness
of auras reaped from high seas
vast is your harvest
from earth rumblings beset by molten tears
to charred obsidian made hard
glass reflecting where primates once clamored upon
From paws a running
sniffed calloused drippings in peril
where sandal swathed footsteps
dodged blade and spear
as wash water dumped from high
added slippery footing for predators ever lustful
ever hungry
ever historic
Now the high noon of modern life
the wonder among your melodies
amidst recent fabrications emulating your path
you the wrinkled skin spirit of ancient masons
who served sun-baked feasts
from the past of pasts
Alas…
Genuine micro-canyons of irrigated seed and drift
send the spirits aloft from once grasses high
reminding us that while calendars may crumble
time’s enduring stone of old remains original
transcending the language of vowel and consonant
acknowledging the reach of sentient eye to eye
the whispered caress beneath a Nike sole
sharing the tongues of old
echoing the murmurs of weary travelers
the severed limbs of warriors
the rivers of plasma-red passion
polishing fossils within
within
within
Yet many choose faking Nature’s setting
even making ready counterfeit copies
to pacify the blind living without preference
massaging serpentine monsters of ignorance
whose Gucci laced feet now prance upon this facsimile
sold as make-believe
glittering’s bondage
hidden in fakery
having not a clue of the Carthaginians
or Mediterranean isles of blood and sweat
from whence it all came
For like Rodeo Drive’s cobblestone plazas
where modern celebrity prisons of today
masquerade as credible reality for borrowed tomorrows
knockoff décor identity everlasting
unaware their own history
reaches inevitable fade out
may never know the hidden messages
Perhaps…
The subtle cacophony of shadow and whisper
cobblestone’s enigmatic infernal
made orchestral for those who can hear
those who dare see through the darkness
those who can be moved and touched by
shadowed silence protected with truth
will experience the magic
How few seem to hear the deafening message
I’ve had my share of Pitiless times from years gone before.
Most have dragged my bleeding knees over life’s dirty floors.
I’ve got scars decorating my body that still cause me pain,
and hundreds lie beneath the surface that batter my feeble brain.
My hide still bears contusions that took me down another peg.
I’ve had busted lips, sore feet, and at least one broken leg.
I can count lost love affairs that left my heart in a twist, even with those trials and troubles, they were better days than this.
I was bit by a rabid dog and scratched by a hissing cat,
slapped by trashy women, and oodles of “This and That’s.”
I’ve been embarrassed numerus times, through no fault of my own,
and all the times I dodged jail have long sense come and gone.
I hate to cry on the shoulders of strangers that I’ve never met.
Yet, friends that I could make a plea, got their reasons to cry and fret.
I’ve played my part with shady actors chasing life’s busy bucket list.
But even traveling those hard roads were better days than this.
I’ve cried tears many a time when ole Hank sang the blues.
And a piece of friendly advice, is something I can use.
I ‘ve heard songs that jerked tears, and I can sing mine to share,
for the scratches on this record run deep that time can never repair.
So, tell your stories of good times and talk of fortune and fame.
Ride the rails on the winning ticket, set high on the golden train,
fly first class on your fantasy trip, take pictures and reminisce,
but I’m riding in the pockets of a clown, I’ve had better days than this.
Gray smeared sky like a quilt of rags
Winos sip rot gut from brown paper bags
Threadbare cloud crotch splits up the side
Rain pours down, you got nowhere to hide
Cheap umbrella from a street corner pimp
Turns inside out before going limp
Putrid puddles, soggy doggy doo dollops
Are artfully dodged by high-heeled trollops
A rat scurries by with a piece of bread
Like the ant that totes a leaf on its head
You too once held big dreams in your grasp
But they got drowned with a gurgling gasp
You told me before, no you don't stutter
Your genius ideas got washed down the gutter
Now like a scavenger after a flood
You salvage what's left from out of the mud
Ashes to crashes, lust to rust
In the end it only goes bust
Caught in between the future and past
You start out just fine but finish dead last
____________________________
by Brian McClain - Jan 23, 2016
Stop blocking all the opportunities that make it your way. Don't let your fear dictate your fate. That, you should be the one to create.
You have made plenty of unwise decisions, some that caused you pain. So one day you decided to build a shield that practices keep away. In batting off the "bad" and protecting your heart, you somewhere along the way managed to push anything worth a damn from getting closer to your, deep parts.
You thought you had it covered, you truly had no doubt. I see you had one thing covered; your ego and let me tell you ouch. You now see the damage you caused trying to be safe. You actually thought what you dodged would not come back and try to have it's day?
I never meant to block our long-awaited amends, my stupid ego had feelings and some were just too bent. I now have learned a lesson, and this one truly stings. I guess I have to show up and face whatever the universe flings.
Keep in mind just because it pitches you don't always have to bat. I sometimes watch the bs, as it blows over and then that's that.
The joy this Christmas will come from
The celebration of being alive,
And avoiding strife.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
The written word,
Not the presents scored.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
From bullets dodged,
Not complaints lodged.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
Playing the role of a kind stranger,
And looking out for a neighbour.
The joy this Christmas will come,
From listening for the patter of little feet,
And not the police on the beat.
The joy this Christmas will come from,
Playing music that is sweet,
And paying compliments to all in a tweet.
The joy this Christmas will come,
From pardons granted,
And new friendships started.
Wild hands
Touch wonder
The Earth shook
I heard thunder
...fault line
Angry words
Whipped about
Lashed at silence
I heard a shout
...fault line
Salty residue
Throat sensation
Music halted
Willing participation
...fault line
Personalities surface
Crazy run a muck
Responsibility dodged
Just passing the buck
...fault line
Working it out
Healing the fracture
Knocking down beams
To restore the structure
...earthquake
It's over
Leveled, scared
No one to tell
About all my affairs
...demolished
Stay away
Don't come near
The TRUTH
Is what you fear
...the New Earth is here
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-18-2026
The Mill wheel wouldn't turn until the Spring
The yellow tape defines it a crime scene
Similar to one in 1930
Locals watch police investigating
The 1840 gristmill's history
Involves the town's most famous mystery
A man charged with fraud and duplicity
Dodged first degree murder complicity
Whispers ran through the town from door to door
A dead body, missing cash... furthermore
Under the waterfall... just like before
Talk of murder weapon left on the floor
A deep freeze had the town on hold for weeks
No official info... except for leaks
By and by the case was about to peak
Ice melts, revealing secrets - the wheel creaks
Tips led to stolen cash confiscation
Perps confessed on cross examination
Funds came through for the Mill's renovation
Waterfall Weddings... book reservation
Submitted July 5, 2018
One, Nine, Sixteen V3.0 Contest by Viv Wigley
Seventh Place
I whispered on the breath of hush
Yet He heard,
I closed my eyes and laid still
on the lap of night
Yet He saw,
I hid in the folds of darkness
Yet He sought,
I played deaf and mute
Yet He persevered,
I barred Him from my heart
I shunned Him from my soul
Yet He lingered;
I dodged and ducked
in every likely place
And tried to shun
comfort of His grace,
Yet, troubled still is my heart
And my sorrow just won't depart;
So now I yield on my bended knee
To ask if He will set me free,
He gently mended my soul
With His grace made it whole!
~For "His All Seeing Eye" contest Mystic Rose
The reunion that caused all of the zany brouhaha
From a family kerfuffle with one humorless raw flaw
It all went down quite swiftly, in a quick split lickety
And ended outside in the hedges most thorn thickety
A tray of food put cattywampus on the table by papa
Slipped and fell in by our taradiddle called mama
She was always a snip uppity and pinch or two persnickety
Especially toward mad uncle Ed who's getting old and rickety
As she landed on her derriere he let out a great guffaw
We chuckled and chortled but soon saw our big faux paw
She hurled everything at us from cups to fence white pickety
We dodged and ran fast as we can it was quite a sticky wickety
Flabbergasted brother Bob signaled to hurry with a caw caw
Grampa ran by gramma and pinched her rump with Ooh la la
She caught us all with a sprightly jump, hop and a skippety
And threw us in that hedge like a wild flibbertigibbety
This tale may be strewn with yickety yak and blah blah blah
But that's how ma and pa caused all that wacky brouhaha
January 28, 2023
Writing challenge B word poetry contest
Sponsor Constance La France
Theme : Brouhaha
*Image of Cardinal & Rose by WatsonWR.
The Friendly Strangers
The Cardinal dodged its harpy,
And hides amongst a Rose,
The Cardinal notes its sturdy,
The Rose's regal pose.
The Rose's blossom velvet red,
The Cardinal blend and,
The parity of the Rose stead,
The Cardinal friended.
The Rose petals opened and spread,
The Cardinal wings too,
The dangerous predator fled,
They both had guessed it flew.
The Cardinal now unafraid,
The Rose smelled of relief,
Thanks, the Rose for the masquerade,
Parts bird and bud in grief.
2023 January 09
*10th Place*
SECOND CHANCE
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2023 January 18
*RZ & HMS.