Long Dredge Poems
Long Dredge Poems. Below are the most popular long Dredge by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dredge poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh dear earth, the psalm of the willow dredge,
whose angles, toil amidst the waters' edge;
Her posture is sorrow's ally,
her form a perpetual sigh;
She stands speechless,
disheartened grieving priestess,
beside the snail-paced river;
Her leaves are the green tears quiver,
of a thousand unnamed sorry sorts;
Each quiver in the breeze distorts,
a saga of a hurt heart that dares;
Her arms, a cascade of emerald hair,
skimming the face of the river,
to wash the stains of a time giver,
from the current’s infinity flowed;
She knows of the sirens that hold,
the harps wilted muted upon her tree;
She brooks the duty of their memory,
an eyewitness to the anguish of Zion's ploy;
The waft in her boughs not songs of joy,
but the wails of a woe so deep,
honors the age-old stones weep;
She offers a nice shady canopy,
for those who seek out a refugee,
from the sun’s harsh shedding;
Her shade is a balm for the grieving,
quiet enclosure for the rested souls;
Beneath her flowing aplenty boughs,
loads are sans a word shared;
She holds the space for despair,
a loyal friend who will not bend;
Her strengths are not at all sand,
tall and defiant, standing
but in their best yielding;
She bends, sways, weeps bleak
—but she does not dare break;
Her roots anchor her deeply,
in the moisten earth steeply,
a testament that despair soundly,
can root a life more profoundly;
And so, bless the weeping willow,
the tree of tender lament swallow;
In her hushed weeping trails,
she teaches us the grace of Ails;
That a broken heart can still shelter,
and a spirit crushed can cell her;
And that even in the long darkness,
one can stand and still offer solace,
woe be gone and freed from strife,
rooted deeply in the river of life.
catalyse of chalk
circles sooted box, reveals
the vortex inside
stakes open her eyes
pries into her private life
draws blood with madness
insists a deep cut of ties
a vampire’s bite sucks
glistens under moon-lightning
with darkening of iris
the rectangle shut
and discomforting inside
the satin lining
that swaddles her until when
feeds the lack of blood pressure
buried in the earth
instead of mausoleum
means she is fated
until flood rains dredge her up
bitterly famished and ripe
her tormentor’s plot
enjoying her plight of pangs
and her screaming fangs
that engulf her first victim
she begs a silver bullet
…and who will shoot first
the gun, with no reflection,
or the too-white teeth?
does lover want to join her
or distribute her ashes?
the two quick rounds nail
tormentor, his protogé
bloodthirst vanishes
end of bad day, sky’s crimson
and the hungry are looming.
Shirtless and nervous, I sit at the edge
Of my bed, all alone, my courage I dredge
From deep within in my heart so long gone
The matters of heart can't by solved by pure brawn
I hear her getting ready and my heart won't slow down
Just like the first time, its pace is abound
And it slams to a halt as she opens the door
As she walks to me, I feel it drop to the floor
I take her in my arms and hold her close to me
Inhaling her scent as she presses close to me
We both fall back hard, her lips pounce upon mine
As I taste her sweet breath, I lose track of time
The minutes slip by as we return to roots
Scents more intoxicating than the sweetest of fruits
At the end of it all, we fall back with a grin
Some things never change, that's how it's always been
12/20/21
Ten hut!
Can't let up
Even though, it can get messed up
Really F'd up
Do not get fed up
Keep your head up
Stay sharp, don't get set up
Careful where a disagreement ends up
Heads up!
Many fast to wet up
From the legs up
To the neck up
Bleeding out a color similar to Ketchup
The proof was there or quickly got swept up
Prices continually went up
Falling behind, because you never kept up
Get your bread up
Often in life you'll have to step up
Sped up
Engines revved up
Couldn't let it go, so they dredge up
Old news they spoke and penned up
But I did my homework and read up
So you're about to get shred up
You'll never surface, even after a check up
Kept mine, others went against their own word
Too late to sojourn
At the point of no return
Due to a slow burn
Often went through the wringer
You'd think I've been on Jerry Springer
She wants the whole world and a gem on her finger
Meanwhile around the corner death always lingers
Hit them with another zinger
Hook, line and sinker
As I continue to tinker
Ya'll can be some stinkers
I always put on a blinker
Soon to give up being a daily drinker
Becoming a complex thinker
Avoiding any gold diggers
Feeling vigor
It's time I'm onto something bigger
Don't need to reconsider
Even though many are quick to pull the trigger
People continuing to bicker
Remaining bitter
Known as a fibber
Caught up on twitter
It's been pleasant or gotten sicker
Going well or down the s***ter
Staying clean or full of litter
A whole nation hooked
Easily getting cooked
And forsook
They never caught on or looked
Strength, dedication and heart is what it took
Couldn't find it all from a book
Had to put each foot
Through miles of soot
By the end they were shook
Or tried to portray me as a crook
Not a big fan of dungarees
Getting tired of all this gluttony
Too much redundancy
And puppetry
Still living sucker-free
Yet another attempted to humble me
So I got the upper hand suddenly
Their soul the devil took custody
I continued on triumphantly
Cautious of who's around as company
She's just a tease
And he's such a sleaze
Try to touch my cheese
Then the trigger of a gun I squeeze
Doesn't matter if you run or freeze
referred to as
a creation
where lovers
enjoy what they eat
something greater and grandeur
than something ordinary
................................................
6 pork chops
1 tablespoon of cumin
1 tablespoon of garlic powder
2 tablespoons of cayenne
1 tablespoon of onion powder
1 tablespoon of celery salt
4 tablespoons of cornstarch
1 tablespoon of ground ginger
1/4 cup of flour
7 tablespoons of olive oil
..............................................
mix together seasonings and cornstarch and flour
dredge equal parts on both sides of the pork
fry golden brown to each side and place in a oven until done.
................................................
2 cups of Greek yogurt
1 large cucumber peeled and diced
1/2 cup of granny smith apples
1/4 hydrated onions
1/4 cup of chopped dill
salt
and black pepper
3 tablespoons of olive oil
mix and allow to sit at room temperature.
.......................................
2 cups of chickpeas ( smashed0
1/2 cup of green onion
1/2 of smoked fish (flaked)
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
1 tablespoon of cayenne pepper
1/4 cup of chopped mustard greens ( cooked," Glory brand")
1 egg yolk
1/4 cup of diced green pepper
2 cups of Mixed, olive oil and corn oil(for frying)
mix all ingredients, if the mixture is not stiff enough to make into balls add more chick peas, allow the chickpea mixture to chill, fry until golden brown
.................................................................................
7 yellow squash
cut into medallions
1/4 cup of olive oil
to coat the squash, sprinkle McCormick's spicy seasoning and grill
until soft. Serve with pork, yogurt and Chick Peas!
grill
Walking along the edge she could not see the abyss below
As onward she would dredge for little at all did she know
So close would she get wondering how she stayed afloat
As other woes beset life too can have many a sour note
But there she walked teetering on the edge of the abyss
For now at life she balked and of it nothing did she miss
Just wanting to be alone no ones help was even needed
Her Light wasn't being shone and she felt so defeated
When one single sparrow landed farther in from the side
Like Someone had planned it a little helper or a guide
And soon there were two and then there came two more
At this point she knew for Her Creator had much in store
Soon she lost track as that edge was no longer in sight
Many others also lack perhaps they could use my light
She left that mountainside looking back to now realize
Wow! I could've died, glad His Sparrows opened my eyes
Psalms 102:7
I watch, and am as a sparrow alone upon the house top.
Adrift is smoke, that rises into the shape of a question mark...
Blurring the vacant night, with a ceremonial arc
Tomorrow, under a different sky, in a brand new way
I will wake up to a different sun, and to a wistful song of yesterday
'Though, I cannot find a star, through the drowning dredge of rain
Tonight the moon, left behind, wears a bitter frown of blame
Like a crying mother calling, with a voice of great devotion
A whistle's wailing sadness, resounds my own emotions
With tear-stained eyes, I witness the reflection
In view from where my heart once lived, a dismal day's rejection
I feel the rumble of the wheels, and a tumble of my heart
With a tremble, as the landscape is swallowed by the dark
The snake-like chain bends eastward into constellation courage
With strange misshapen shadows, streaking illuminated passage
Raindrops mimic my own heart, upon the window glass
Spilling over imprints of all the futile questions asked
I find my throat is swollen, and my will too worn to speak
Beside me, rudely flaunting, is a taunting, empty seat
Like a sickle for harvesting a lonely star…
Smoke sketches the sky with the shape of a question mark...
____________________________________________________________
Submitted for Craig Cornish's Contest
8/13/13
6 fillets of sea bass
cup of melted butter
2/3 cup of flour
(7 tablespoons of cornmeal) (seasoned)
dash of cayenne pepper
sprinkle fish in cayenne, coat with butter both sides
dredge in flour-cornmeal mixture
bake until browned about 15 minutes
squeeze a lime across he cooked fish
....................................................... ..............................
................................................... ..................
6 cups shredded cabbage ( coated with 10 tablespoons of corn starch)
1 cup onions
3 cups of diced cooked potatoes
1 1/2 cups of diced bacon
2 cups of diced cooked sweet potatoes
1 tablespoon of thyme
1 tablespoon of basil
3 tablespoons of brown sugar
2 tablespoons of apple cider vinegar
1 cup of white grape juice
2 cups of chicken stock
3 tablespoons of red pepper flakes
3/4 cups of cooked kale, drained and diced
3 tablespoons of crushed garlic
1/4 cup of celery
in a heavy pot, add some bacon fat,
allow to sauté for about 5 minutes stirring.
add the kale, and red pepper flakes, add both
sweet and white potatoes
and add the grape juice, top the cabbage with the bacon
tyme and basil and brownsugar
place in a dutch oven and bake for 30 to 45 minutes
serve with the fish across the top !
The Peterson Directed Handwriting System...
Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many
heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome names
of teachers forbearance
nearly half century ago
recalled in a flash,
and helped birth this poetic instance
break open literary
piece de resistance,
yet I will make
no subsequent reference
albeit once, about Peterson Handwriting
non cursively typed poem
filled with nonsensical abundance
dashed off viz seat
of my squarepants
typed, via strong arm lance
meant tubby considered pure entertainment,
so...,this rhyme merely hints
at cerebral imbalance
as minor rave and rants,
culled from convenient
20/20 hindsight stance,
while this quiet as bobbing sponge
minutely straddled across
space time continuum expanse,
and (analogously, invisibly,
plus quixotically perched circumstance
amidst wide webbed worldly metaphysical,
intellectual, and existential kants),
yet unable to disguise me
porous (poor ass) student advance
barely getting promoted,
cuz sigh re: Seine ed lee
imaged myself prince charming
to frolic and prance,
and dreamt about being in France,
when teacher called on me,
I immediately (whistled like
a little teapot) appearance,
whereby steam issued
out chrome dome
(scanned hull – i.e. numb
skull) affixed on
short and stout genetic grants,
which noggin always
(automatically) looked askance,
while me got alphabetically seated
from grades three to six
(mrs wells, mister stout,
missus shaner, and
miss rinderle respectively)
with absolute zero exuberance
(at Henry Kline
Boyer Elementary School,
I just recalled aforementioned
randomly accessed memory by chance
casually rifling thru
memory bank, freelance
sing, while pissing
away time performing,
"I gotta urinate dance,"
thus rendering painstaking years
perfecting penmanship style
(reference poem title)
executed with Liberace flamboyance,
whereat yours truly obsessively and
compulsively excelled at
duplicating signature compliance
plus crossing T's and
dotting I's with rapacious
perfectly ruled slants.
Let’s go see Shosone Falls, Hells Canyon, Craters of the Moon Museum.
Hold up! I said to my excited husband; where are they?
Smack dab in the middle of Montana, Wyoming, Washington and Oregon.
The little “gem” state, Idaho.
Of course I knew then he had gone mad.
During this pandemic I wanted to travel the Oregon Trail?
He has been reading up on the state, and is all enthusiastic about it.
Keeps throwing photos of ghost towns at me, mentions square dancing.
I never did like square dancing, but a ghost town. Hmmmm.
I began reading.
There are a number of them – Silver City, Sierra Silver Mine, Gold Dredge.
I keep my ideas secret, knowing if he knew we would be on the road in an hour.
There are so many beautiful photographs taken in Idaho.
I want to see Shoshone Falls, Hells Canyon, and the Craters of the Moon Monument.
Billionaires – none; that also appeals to me. Means they are regular folk.
It seems like people from Idaho have a hilarious sense of humor also,
and I do love a sense of humor.
Here are two rules still on their books:
One, you cannot walk on the street unless you are smiling.
Two, you cannot fish from a camel’s back or a giraffe’s back.
They must be a lot like my family in this way also.
Head me toward Idaho, honey. I want to see an Appaloosa horse, mountain
blue bird and cutthroat trout. Not to mention those ghost towns.