Long Dogs Poems
Long Dogs Poems. Below are the most popular long Dogs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dogs poems by poem length and keyword.
Questions of doom averted.
new sound waves crash under morning meditation.
Searching for the words of God in subway mix tapes and under coffee shop tables.
Allowing my mind to wander to distant lands of ancient Empty graves.
Sparrows sing each new day a song of praise to God.
Dogs bark in the distance as I hear Jon talking with Mindy
Thirsting for living water I seek Yeshua Christ known as God made Flesh.
Clocks tick and water drips as my coffee gets cold.
Sleep escaped me last night and now a new day is here.
Lily is ever talking much today.
She can hear things Brian cannot like Jon and Mindy arguing in the distance through the open door.
September is soon beginning a time of in between times where summer is not fully over yet fall has not truly started.
two thousand and twenty six years since Yeshua was born
troubling sounds outside I do not like to hear.
September eleventh is the highest watch day of the year for a possible rapture.
If the Rapture happens this year Turn to Jesus before it is too late.
Pot of food
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
Our pot too whoo
You home through the storm
I am in .. you are out
Lighting strikes again
The maple tree is terrified
The dogs are petrified.
The window's fear
The thunder near
The cat runs
under the table.
Hearty beef stew
boiling stable.
Misty you sway
wet back to me.
My heart in hope
For lightning to miss you.
My hope is heard.
The fire keep's it burn
This warm house
Your winter food
Waits on the stove
Wanting you to get home.
This winter storm
A jealous woman
To strike and divide us
To be seperate.
I see a frame
You dripping at the door.
Our beef is warm
Like love
We beat the storm
And a hearty beef
Right in our home.
Rats in the cellar, squirrels in the tree,
things aren't the same as they used to be.
When I left for school with my li'l lunch pail,
I didn't expect a penguin to swallow a whale.
Such an injustice, I've never seen,
a cantaloupe falsely imprisoned a bean.
It's unheeded screams, uncontrolled laughter,
when it's trolls that live happily ever after.
Doors off their hinges, pancakes are stacked,
biscuits are burning, windows are cracked.
Termites in the baseboards, rabbits that fly,
pigs that regularly take to the sky.
Voices that whisper, mad dogs that bite,
winds that go howling and look for a fight.
Wrapped in cellophane, mixed in a blender,
taped up in cardboard and returned to sender.
Rainbows and ravens, kaleidoscope dreams,
leafless branches, gallows lit by moonbeams.
Music boxes, pink ribbons and bows,
tags come on packages; tags come on toes.
Curtains lifted, sick, unsavory scenes,
gear wheels in gear wheels run strange machines.
Dissected, disowned and double-downsized,
unaided, unacknowledged and unrecognized.
Puzzles, conundrums that cannot be solved,
water plus turpentine make witches dissolve.
Pimentos are diced, harsh words are spoken,
nightmares are jumbled; eggshells are broken.
Lost in the doldrums, eyeballs protrude,
walking on blisters, a horse latitude.
Spineless jellyfish, lackeys and flunkies,
silver tongued vultures, branch swinging monkeys.
Experts and pundits, paid authorities,
Kool-Aid in canisters, down on your knees.
Bishops take pawns, the fat lady sings,
fires ablaze on black nights with kings.
Shattered stars, fragmented stones,
shining splinters, bleak, burning bones.
Songs without meaning, songs without words,
sung by unseen phantoms and silent birds.
Refrigerators with pictures nobody knows,
eyes staring back, no answers disclose.
Spiders and spinning bicycle wheels,
buffalos, bandits, and slippery seals.
Electric toothbrushes, electric chairs,
lethal injections, pushed down the stairs.
Pieces on the floor, a sad state of disarray,
the gift you've left me is insanity's bouquet.
You stole my cookies, pilfered my cat,
laughed at me roundly and turned me down flat.
Mice it in the attic go chitter chatter,
have I lost my wits or gone mad as a hatter?
A wolf when
raised by dogs
forever
is a wolf
A banker once
he’s crossed the line
can never
steal enough
Aristocrats
their titles
banned
in practice stay elite
A dilettante
who’s been exposed
is then declared
effete
An arrow
with its feathers gone
when fired
lethal still
A grizzly bear
that’s been declawed
his teeth
remain to kill
A judge
without a jury
still hands
a sentence down
A clown
without a circus
can yet
erase a frown
A cop
without a badge
will chase you
till you’re caught
A Nun
without her habit
plain clothed
— in virtue walks
(Thank You Gertrude: December, 2025)
Look for the black and white cow,
the water tower,
the high school where astronauts
grew up to be dancers.
If you come from a foreign land
truck-stops provide rest and release.
Be sure to always wear plaid.
90 miles east of Wapakoneta
on US 33,
you can catch a small plane out.
If you are caught unawares
be sure to visit
the bicycle museum.
The young women
are the fairest in the land.
Freckles are still legal.
Males are predominantly
red faced.
There is very little prejudice
against corn-dogs and hogs.
Drugs of choice can be found.
If you drive a banana yellow
Chevy Corvette
you are asking for trouble.
Information regarding how to leave
can be had at the Dairy Queen.
A comely girl works there part-time.
She may look at you
as if you had horns
growing out of your head,
but keep nodding and smiling,
until she points a finger
southward.
It’s a straight shot
down I-75.
Alarm goes off, my sleep it breaks
The house is cold
The dogs are awake
My bones creek as I am old
Another morning up to early
Darkness still upon us
My eyes are still blurry
Take a few minutes to adjust
The wind is cold as it blows
As I quickly open the door
Another morning of extreme lows
As the dogs race across the floor
Dogs please come in
Stubborn they will be
Calling again and again
As they continue to ignore me
Quickly the food is served
The water is all around
Their hunger is finally curved
They look for scraps to be found
Too early for coffee
Maybe some tea
The husband is up and groggy
A good breakfast is the key
Off to work he goes
The dogs are sleeping on their bed
Back to sleep I will go
As I rest my tired head
THE REVIVAL OF MEANUS
'a real no-skip banger'
----------------------------------
by: Gobble Cladd
---------------------------------
Guarda Spira & Spira Tanto
---------------------------------
--------------------------------
Hasken Safiya & Rana ta Tsakiyar Dare
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Pre-incorporation contracts
Fiduciary duty
------------------------------------
Over heard by someone who was in a better
position to take advantage of the Opportunity
they were approached and conveinsed
"oh but honor bounds me
that a friendship shall now be in doubt"
spoke Mr. Glory a.k.a Hasken Safiya.
He shook the "Shadowey Images" hand in agreement
and laughed that he had
undermined
the creators vision of
a future.
'A man who can afford to pay us
will now reap the benefits of
being Boss!"
"Yet someone who worked diligently
shall now be out of an opportunity:
Maybe the cart before the horse is the best
phrase"
Laughing they walked off sealing a deal
that would be the legacy of
someone's opportunity"
The phrase "the legacy of someone's opportunity" means the lasting impact, benefit, or doors opened for others as a result of a chance, a break, or a specific opening someone had—or provided—in life. It looks at how a single moment of access or good fortune continues to help people long after
"this is the reason why the Guy saod these people "All involved" were
"no good low down dirty Dogs !" Taking my idea before I could afford it:
"Maybe just maybe I should have shut my Mouth!"
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Cladd de Gobbler
When growing up, I had a dog
And when he had to go,
He did his business in the street;
A leash tug let him know.
We didn’t have a pooper-scoop,
But we’d prevent a squat
On sidewalks where pedestrians
Might cross that very spot.
Yet nowadays, the owners let
Their dogs go where they please
And even if they clean it up,
It doesn’t quite appease.
Just yesterday, I took a step
And - take a random guess -
My sneaker sole with lots of tread
Became a stinking mess.
It took a while to get it clean
And here I will admit
That, in my mind, that owner is
A selfish piece of ……spit!
Television commercials do not have any effect on me,
Turn away when there’s something I don’t want to see.
I don’t possibly have enough money to send to the poor,
Would I really miss a dollar a day, now that I’m not sure.
Sad, thin dogs tied outside without food, water or a bed,
Humans who do this, deserve worse, that shouldn’t be said.
People carry guns, just because they say its their right.
What do they really need them for, just to cause a fight.
Cars are a necessity, we need to drive them everywhere,
Using gas daily - can I walk there, share a ride, do I dare.
Smoke fills the air but the factories are needed to employ,
Profits may be less but the clean air would bring such joy.
If I am unsatisfied, I’ll just sue because I could use the money,
No wait, I’m Canadian, we don’t sue, we are sweet as honey.
I’ll foster a child, adopt a dog and if in trouble call the police,
Walk to work, accept less salary and promote world peace.
Written September 7, 2012
For Nancy Jone’s Contest
“If I didn’t think what I think, here’s what I’d think”
In heat
the pulse of your streets.
I've heard the crack
of hard political whips
that pinch the air.
Cores of human topography,
your aging neighborhoods.
Your people kick cans
counting gravel like jewels,
while chiselers roast dogs
in the courthouse.
Swine flu kills
the papers.
And already the sky is
feverish.
In your train tunnels
a violinist plays pianissimo.
I've seen
railroad men search for him
along your tracks.*
But you are always
the sweltering sore
of the Atlantic.
A rusty mouth
for dark ships.
A blind brick town
of boarded storefronts
and ***** flicks,
you are buried.
Brown bag your way
to the last alley.
The tenants throw
rocks at your windows.
The rain has stopped
washing your sewers.
*From an old legend of
railroad workers on the east coast of the United States.
Published Black Buzzard Press - 1982