Long Drag out Poems
Long Drag out Poems. Below are the most popular long Drag out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drag out poems by poem length and keyword.
When I imagined what it would
be like to be a writer,
I saw myself hunched over a
typewriter with bourbon on the
rocks sweating a ring onto my desk.
I could smell the ink on my fingers
and feel the burn of alcohol in my gut
and hear the keys clapping, a standing ovation
for the poor sad boy who wrote wings onto
his back and flew away from the red mud county.
But it's quiet here.
I sit alone at my desk and I reach into my guts
and I grab fistfuls of blood and viscera
and the keys don't move
I choke up the rage my father left in me
and the keys don't move
I cut out the fear my mother so lovingly placed
and the keys don't move
I drag out every black eye, bloody nose, and split lip I ever earned, every fight I lost, every single argument I had, every sunset I was a brother beneath, every truck cab I ever fell in love in and
THE KEYS DO NOT MOVE
Constantly misunderstood
doesn't mean I hate them
or they don't love me
we are just oil and water
incapable to make perfect emulsion
even though trying hard is not questionable
at the each end we walk out divided
continuously misinterpreted
race against your walls
leaves me in bruises
which drag out mine worst
and I can't stand those mirrors where
your perception of me becomes my reflection
words are metamorphosed in winging daggers
I'm always the one with apple on the top of the head
confidence that you are trained not to hurt me
doesn't decrease sorrow for your choice of the game
you know
I'm wearing that apple deliberately, but you ...
have you got valour for envision
how far is it from my ceasing to stand still?
It is snowing! It is snowing! It is SNOWING!
Three children I usually have to drag out of bed are heading for the front door.
I say “don’t forget your bookbags! Don’t you want breakfast?”
Mom, it’s SNOWING! Says the middle one. No school. Right?
I begin to laugh. This is Minnesota. We don’t cancel school here.
An abdominable snowman could be eating busloads of kids,
we would not cancel.
An avalanche could bury six cars on the school road.
We would not cancel.
MINNESOTA I remind them.
We used to live in California where they would cancel school for rain.
They begin grumbling, put their pajamas on, and try to feign illness.
Too late, I say. I saw how fast you got dressed and got those sleds out.
I hear grumbling all the way to the bus where other kids are yelling “Snow!”
I’ll SIT UNDER THIS TREE HOPING SOMEONE MIGHT STOP AND TALK TO ME
I’M TIRED OF BEING ALONE AND IT’S OH SO LONESOME AT HOME
MAYBE THEY MIGHT CARE AND HAVE A LITTLE TIME TO SHARE
WE COULD GO SIT DOWN IF WE COULD FIND A SEAT SOMEWHERE
I THINK I’LL BUILD A BENCH WHERE WE CAN SIT AND SHOOT THE BREEZE
TALK ABOUT WORLD PROBLEMS AND OUR SORE BACK AND KNEES
WE CAN TELL STORIES AND FIBS EMBELISHING THE PAST
DRAG OUT EVERY WORD TO MAKE EACH SHORT STORY LAST
IF YOU GOT NOWHERE TO GO AND NO PLACE TO BE
COME SIT ON MY BENCH THERE’S ROOM NEXT TO ME
I BUILT MY BENCH SO ANYONE CAN FIT
IT’S THE PERFECT PLACE TO REST AND SIT
RELAX A WHILE TAKE A LOAD OFF YOUR FEET AND MIND
ENJOY THE SOLACE THAT’S WAITING HERE TO FIND
IF YOUR LEGS ARE GETTING TOO TIRED WHEN YOU WALK
HEAD BACK TO MY BENCH TO SIT SOME MORE AND TALK
THIS BENCH WILL LAST FOREVER I BUILT IT OUT OF STONE
IT WAS MADE TO BE SHARED NOT JUST SAT ON ALONE
There's a spider on my ceiling
He's been sitting there all night
From the moment that I spotted him
He gave me quite a fright.
Even at the long off distance
He appears to be quite big
I've never really liked them
ever since I was a kid.
When I have to walk beneath him
I run quickly along the wall
I dare not walk beneath him
knowing my luck he would fall.
I yell up to my partner
"Get down here its bloody back!"
It cant be the same spider?
Because I sucked him up the Vac.
I rush into the kitchen
If the kids see him they'll freak
I drag out our old cleaner
And attachments with long reach
I drag them in the living room
plug in and then switch on.
Then I look up at the ceiling
And the bloody thing has gone!
written and composed by Mark Longson (c) 2018
One thousand & one souls!
Treading along my endless road,
Are you going to my stream
To drag out all my fishes?
When they saw me, they laughed;
Then, I’ld kill a thousand of them;
One thousand to die for laughter:
Laughing at my thing all day long!
One thousand & one birds!
Flying along my endless road,
Heading for my forest then:
To perch on all my trees?
When they saw me they sang;
Then, I’ld feed a thousand of them;
One thousand to grow for song:
Singing solely for me all day long!
One thousand & one fishes!
Swimming inside my endless stream,
Heading for my sea then:
To swim in all my waters?
When they saw me they danced;
Then, I’ld feed a thousand of them;
One thousand to grow & dance:
Dancing solely for me all day long!
Some think that I am mad;
Yet only mad people laugh at others:
One thousand & one souls!
When they saw me they laughed.
Better are my thousand singers;
Better are my thousand dancers;
Than all the laughter at my thing:
Songs & dances are better than thinking!
O, I’ve not been to the sea:
For long long time I miss my sea!
Ha! I’ve not been to the bush:
For long long time I miss my bush!
Tell mother, I’m gone to sing;
Tell father, I’m gone to sing;
On the plains of my road, so empty,
In all the world, I’ld sing & dance!
Form:
Summer stands for beaches, parks, and camping.
In June most flowers will be in full bloom,
Zinnias, Begonias, and sweet-scented
Zephyranthes share every color, while
Lavender freshens the air with each breeze.
In July, a thirsty sun sips dewdrops,
Night deposited upon the moist blades of
Grass that now sparkle in dawn's breaking light.
Hot, humid, and sultry, describe August's
Oppressive, sweaty, sticky, seek shade days,
Thank God, the public pools stay open late.
Summertime's for fun and relaxation,
Under the shade of your favorite tree.
Many find that the warm weather somehow
Makes them feel more connected to nature,
Especially if they flee the city,
Rather than stay in a concert hotbox.
Dog days of summer drag out the heat
And the chilled breath of fall sounds appealing.
Yet, I'll take summer's heat over winter's
Snow anytime, I’m no fan of the cold.
(Acrostic)
06/14/2020
Soon the sun will shine
Through the east facing blinds
I haven't worked in seven months
Yet, I rise every day before him
And write a poem or two
The ceiling fan wobbles
Finches, sparrows and a cooing dove
Greet the dawn
Sweet morning love
Best time for me
Should be waking up in cooler climes
Shoulda been coulda been woulda been
Gone by now
But for this old house
Drug off a mountain top
From a mining camp
That got scraped away
And dumped across the highway
Miner's shack really
Bought it for about
One year's teaching salary
In 1995
Kept all its 100 year old doors
Crystal doorknobs and skeleton key locks
Stripped away the lath and plaster
Took out some walls, moved another
Replummed, rewired
Refinished wood floors
Put down some maple
Added on some rooms
Guarded it all with white pickets
It has it's charm
Why I fought to keep it
Quit my job in Vegas
Retired altogether
So I could stay here
I don't know
Funny like that
Usually don't care
Pretty good at it
But this old house in this old town
I do
Although right now I wish I were
Dwellung somewhere north
Grand Tetons,Yellowstone, Glacier
Somewhere cold
Got my eldest daughter in Montana
But I'm here near my youngest
And her baby
Son just got back from Kuwait
He and my favorite daughter in law
Coming to visit from NY
Wants her dad here for barbeque Wednesday
Golf, then dinner out and a pub crawl Thursday
She's good to my son--good to everyone really
Si she gets what she wants
I'll put a shine on the place
Marinate a prime rib for the big easy
Buy her tequila, his whiskey, some beer
And get a tee time
I'm happy
I could be snuggled up in the cold
On a pine scented morning
Be fishing before the sun hits the water
But no one would come see me
Guess I'd fight again
For this old house
Sun's beating the blinds
It's garbage day
Gotta drag out the bin
Two whole bags
Higher trash fee now than
When the house was full
(Sigh)
I mean could it be any worse on this level
Trying to keep it together not lose control
Is this just a curse like the work of the devil
Perhaps it's true my spirit he has then stole
And why I always dwell, this loss of self worth
Because inside feels like this bottomless pit
As at times it dose feel like it is hell on earth
A light at the end of the tunnel, it's no longer lit
If I could only for once find some sort of heaven
Misplaced, if I'd watched where I had then trod
But would I still have this feeling of Armageddon
Looking for saving grace forever praying to god
It is that same old feeling the same old marignrol
Its like hay mister am I really ever being heard
I feel like an unsolved case, this troubled soul
I can hear a whisper but though never any word
A TROUBLED SOUL ORIGINAL IDEA BACK IN 2001 CHANGED SCAPPED SO MANY TIMES
BECAUSE DID NOT KNOW HOW TO PUT IN TO RIGHT CONTEXT STILL NOT HAPPY
WITH THIS ALSO WANTED TO MAKE FOUR VERSE RATHER THAN SIX VERSE
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
FOR EXAMPLE HELL ON EARTH IN ONE LINE SOUNEDE BETTER THAN TRYING TO MAKE TWO LINES INTO ONE VERSE
FELT LIKE TRYING TO DRAG OUT TO MUCH I DONT KNOW AN EXSTENSION OF
STATE OF MIND STATE OF CONFUSION AND SHADOW OF DOUBT MORE PERSONAL
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
PAST AND PRESENT a troubled soul written 2012 2013 by my self davidscott
this part one to a shadow of doubt....................................
Rubbing boys shoulders with sunburn oil. The sun smiles at the pain, the brush of fingers against raw flesh. But like a war wound, those boys be proud. Offer them a salve and they scoff, don’t need that stuff. Head back to the beach. Nudge them with a board and a wave, and they take off, up to their knees, casting themselves into the sea. Cheeks and hairlines have enemies, but the boys will wait for the tan that turns them brown, puffed up, back to tell the tales to jealous schoolmates.
They won’t speak of palm trees, nor the hot sand; perhaps they will not even remember what to say, until a prompt. Perhaps they won’t shut up about the knock down, drag out fights with the ebb and flow of riptides.
They might not remember the food that filled their empty bellies, but they enjoyed each bite of burgers at Ford’s Garage in the oldest city in America. I heard from an eyewitness that it has ghosts, the city, not this particular haunt.
Packed like fish, we headed to Florida, having to use one of the back seats for the overflow of things. My oldest grandson had to endure his seat, likened to a ball turret gunner. But this pubescent heartbreaker, though cramped, loved the isolation.
Speed traps, speedy biker, ear-splitting emergency vehicles, pelicans;
and a swift breeze upon a chilly-sunburn covered up with a soft blanket and cozied up to grandma (of course this is the nine year old).
Trip back as the GPS constantly pushed us farther from home, not in miles but in minutes and hours. But the miles moved quicker than a remembered icestorm where I couldn’t get home (only 10 minutes away), so like all long travel, the kids got their first taste, and survived.
So much to say, but signing off…