Long Ducked Poems
Long Ducked Poems. Below are the most popular long Ducked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ducked poems by poem length and keyword.
The rec was where we dug sandy tunnel dens
in danger of collapse.There I fired my catapult
on a group of three children some distance away
as I hid behind a willow tree
not far from the passage leading in.
The straightness and speed of the stone
surprised me. It struck a young girl
on her spine, someone unknown,
and as she swung her left hand back
to clutch at her pain I ducked to hide
and slunk aside in the shadow of the trees.
They did not see me as they turned.
I think of it now with shame.
There was no reason.
Much older, as I walked alone across a parking lot
in upstate New York someone took a shot
at me from a window of nearby apartments.
The bullet pinged the lamp post near my head
and I turned to scan the windows from where it must have come, but saw no one.
There was no reason.
Burpsey that's my name,
Burping is my favorite game!
Burps are my art,
Better than a fart!
Burps are my fancy.
Forever with a grin,
They find away,
My teeth can't hold them in!
I open my mouth and out it roars,
My burps can knock you to the floor!
I can let out soft little burps,
To tease you along.
Short tuney burps,
Almost a song!
Unfortunately,
When I get home,
My burps and parents don't get along!
My mother pleads,
My father grieves.
"Can't you shut the door?"
At diner they will say,
"If you're going to burp,
Please go away!"
I try very hard to hold my burps in.
But I know when it's time,
The burps always win.
The burps are so fierce,
They're not allowed in the house.
As sounds escape from my mouth,
When grandparents come to stay,
"Bad manners", says my mom.
"You put me to shame!"
I have no one else to blame!
When my tummy begins to growl,
Bubbles forming in my throat,
I run for the door,
To let the burp out!
Blew the door off its hinges,
Left the light hanging by inches!
I ran outside,
Lucky to be alive!
Went down to the lake to make my escape.
Ducked my head in the water to let the burps relate.
Unknown at the time,
I saved the fleet,
From whales that where hungry and ready to eat!
Burped out an SOS,
When a baby fell to the ground!
Rescued a cat hanging upside down,
My burp righted him up and we got him to the ground!
Now folks are glad that I am around!
I'll tell you the reason why my neighbor's head has a big dent.
I mowed his yard and cleaned his gutters and he paid me 25 cents.
When he handed me that quarter, I began to yell.
Before I slugged the jerk, I told him to go to hell.
He threw a punch at me but I ducked.
This man is a cheapskate, he really sucks.
I tied one end of a rope to my car's rear bumper and the other end to his leg.
As I drove my car about seventy miles, he asked me to stop and he begged.
After dragging him with my vehicle, his butt had a big rash.
That's what he got because he's too cheap to pay any cash.
When I told him that he'd get even worse, he stopped threatening to sue.
If you decide to hire me and pay me 25 cents, I'll do the same things to you.
...He struck with the gunstock, smashed the man’s teeth,
then dropped the weapon and ran hurriedly,
Indians saw him, three of them gave chase,
he dashed for the woods in a deadly race.
Around him the woods were filled with the yells
of men and women, fleeing like himself,
cut down or captured, to be sold as slaves
up north in Quebec, where war captives paid.
He tripped over roots, he ducked behind trees,
and ever behind him came their swift feet,
for hours he ran, his lungs howling,
yet still he heard the bastards following.
But there were less feet now, two sets of them,
he heard ragged breaths coming from both men,
he heard words that he could not understand,
bits and pieces of the sound as he ran.
He came to a stream, rock-choked and rapid,
behind a large boulder mid-stream he hid,
and picked up a rock the size of his foot,
against a musket it wouldn’t do much good.
But by the creek’s edge he heard angry shouts,
between the two men, there could be no doubt,
they were arguing from the tone of their words,
were they thinking this more work than its worth?
One threw up his hands, started walking north,
the other cursed him, and walked down the shore,
looking for tracks, still focused on his prize,
how near Ned was he did not realize…
Until Ned leapt out, hurled the rock at his head,
it hit and the man slumped to the riverbed.
Ned sprinted for him, slammed down with both fists,
then jerked the brave’s head in a brutal twist.
The man went lax, fell into the water,
Ned took his gun, his knives and his powder,
waited not a moment, kept going south,
as fast as his battered frame would allow.
He reached Fort Edward come the next morning,
other survivors had come, trickling,
hundreds of souls dead in the massacre,
the British claimed Montcalm had broken his word!
News spread quite far of the great treachery,
cries of horror at the French perfidy,
in the colonies it was soon to be said
that a surrender would just leave you dead.
Montcalm himself was soon in a hard place,
his native allies saw him as a disgrace
tor trying to temper their victory
many of them left, his numbers did bleed...
CONCLUDES IN PART V.
“I suggest we break the ice”, the interloper said.
I began chopping with a snow axe, and she laughed.
You must have been born with a silver spoon, she threw out.
I threw the snow axe at her; irritated she had called it a spoon.
She ducked, as cool as a cucumber.
I was irritated now.
“I’ve got your number,” she told me.
I had no idea how she had gotten it.
“I was not born yesterday,” she added.
I knew from her wrinkles she was not lying.
“This is as easy as ABC,” she said. “You are transparent.”
I was not a happy camper now, she was getting under my skin.
“Hold your horses,” I told her. “You are coming on too strong.”
“You’ll be in hot water if you continue egging me on like this.”
She laughed. “Let me put a bug in your ear,” she said.
“Hot water is something I do best after falling through a hole in the ice.”
The town was all festive the lights all aglow
Decorations were hung as children played in the snow
There stood a large snowman the children had made
Something strange was to happen this very night I’m afraid
They had used a magicians magic wand for a nose
I guess that’s the reason he came to life I suppose
As the people, all walked down the sidewalk that day
That crazy old Snowman just wanted to play
He gathered up snowballs in a pile, they were stacked
And everyone passing soon would get whacked
They ducked and they dodged but they stood not a chance
That snowball throwing Snowman was making them dance
He was throwing them high he was throwing them low
He was throwing them fast he was throwing them slow
He was throwing curve snowballs that took all by surprise
He was throwing them up and let them rain down from the skies
The people all said this has to stop
We can’t walk past that Snowman without getting popped
They all got together to form a brigade
It was time Mister Snowman was fully repaid
They stood in formation with snowballs galore
And they fired on that snowman one hundred times four
He fired back at the crowd but just could not win
The town folk had won, mister Snowman gave in
The town had allowed him to stay where he stood
If he’d stop chucking snowballs and just stay and be good.
So every Christmas when the lights are aglow
And the kids are all playing in the new-fallen snowball
You can see the old Snowman but don’t ever stop
Cause you just never know when you’re gonna get popped
I was dancing and prancing
And singing whooped Dee Dee
Not realizing I was not alone
Until he opened his shirt to me
He threw out the mayo, some jam and some jelly, a real hoot.
I caught the chocolate milk in midair, he was dancing up a toot.
He laughed and winked and some ice fell down his crushed ice shoot
He was a rascal, a scoundrel and a womanizer to boot.
I have never seen a dishwasher who can move like you
he said holding out his hands.
The oven, his furious ex, reddened her burners and threw out some pots and pans.
We laughed and we swirled and we boogied and we dipped.
She threw out ovenware but The frig and I ducked every one.
I shut his door, so we could dance up a storm.
Refrigerator boogie was so exciting and fun!
Dishwashers are reputed to be the best dancers around,
And I was confident as we twirled, we were breaking brand new ground
The ovens burners were blood red now, the kitchen was like a Sauna.
I blew him a kiss and whirled away giving him back to his ex, so sound.
As they trotted through the the kitchen, laughing, their sensors lit,
I danced around them with a loud dishwasher's whoop Dee Dee
Now whenever the three of us decide to liven the kitchen a bit,
We dance cheek to cheek, and throw sauce pans, the wild three!
HOMOPHONE RHYME STYLE TRIAL
In shining armor I am here, YES, your hero knight
Rushing to your rescue anon, day or night
With my mighty steed, Henry, I’ll come crash down the gate
Watch it when you mount him, he’s got a funny gait
I’ll save you from the tower living on a tiny little cot
Jump into my arms and I by my troth you will be caught
I know last time I tried to catch you I may have missed
But alas, it was so foggy, I could not see past the mist
I’ll do better next time, or mayhaps I’ll bring a ladder
You can trust the former, even if you choose the latter
You needn’t be so offended to make me and Henry wait
I only asked for his sake if you’d gained a little weight
I snuck past enemy lines to find you, slid down the castle chute
Sorry if I got a little nervous when the guards began to shoot
It was only a potato gun, I still should not have ducked
Or pushed you backwards onto Henry waiting underneath the duct
I’ll free you always, whether from monsters or an evil reign
As long as it’s nice weather, Henry doesn’t like the rain
That dragon doesn’t stand a chance, through the air I flew
Well, I was going to… but I threw up, I had the flu
I was going to bellow, “Beshrew thee!” but my voice was a bit hoarse
I really am Prince Charming, just with a temperamental horse
My apologies he ate your hair, he thought it was hay in your braid
It’s possible he’s an ass, as nay, he doesn’t neigh, but hey, he brayed?
It happened on an ordinary afternoon.
In the quiet kitchen I was busy like a masterchef,
moving unnoticed with self-poised dexterity.
The intent was to cook a perfect silky tomato soup.
I reached for the salt, instead grabbed the sugar jar,
sprinkled a generous amount into the saucepan.
The smell changed instantly, sweet and wrong.
I grimaced, added more spices to mend the mistake.
She walked in then when I was at a crucial stage,
for the recipe required a vigorous whipping,
I was practically dancing with the saucepan,
holding a large spoon full of half-cooked soup.
As she went past me to reach the cabinet
I spun around to ask her to taste if the salt is ok,
ended up holding the spilling spoon over her white skirt.
The only sound I then heard was the soup hitting her feet.
I didn't say excuse me or I’m sorry,
instead, thrust the spoon toward her mouth,
murmured, tell me if it's too garlicky and salty.
I could still make the tangy taste right.
She ducked under my arm and silently walked out,
leaving me with the dripping spoon.
I wondered if I should hand over the kitchen
solely to my wife, for I felt that was not my place.
Note : I am not an accomplished cook, but I often try to do some
culinary experiments. I chose this moment and the situation
because these were quite embarrassing and awkward for me,
for my wife used to tell me to not mess around in the kitchen.
The hardest line to write was “ I didn't say excuse me or I’m sorry”,
because at that upsetting moment I wanted to divert her attention,
doing and saying something else, but actually I wanted to say sorry.
From the first draft I removed the last two lines of the last stanza where
I said I should spend more time in the kitchen to be an efficient cook,
but replaced them with the two lines as shown, a realization that I think
was pragmatic at that time.
As a regular unleaded gaseous,
(i.e. papa's seminal afterthought)
begat male genetically wrought,
I valued myself as naught
with abilities pegged
at being average,
yours truly sought
to camouflage himself
ducked as if a scared mandrake,
and/or, who oft times
didst cower, and shrink wrought
mine puny body
into an homunculus, methought
to imagine myself
as an invisible boy, when cornered
and nearly caught
as dead meat, (especially
when threatened by bullies,
brandishing their taut
fists, this then wimpy
kid never fought
peers that seemed big
as a dreadnaught),
essentially, I wished tubby
totally tubular nonexistent,
and as a poor substitute wrought
natural inclination took root
re: blend with background,
sans wallflower, nee weekly fought
the irresistible urge
to begone, what meth
hood would make
Matthew Scott Harris
permanently vamoose, hmm...
how to stop breath,
thus hit on what seemed
timely novel idea,
without asking Seth
Thomas, viz lit up, asper
starving body to death
hence final solution,
would put to rest,
and terminate subsequent cruel
shocking one after another
electric kool aid acid test
solely predicated on feeling
insignificant at best
basically a sense of resignation
lacking any outstanding trait, lest
you count picking nose,
where underneath desk collected nest
of buggars, thru deep digging,
but never finding gold,
via nasal passage quest,
hence reiterating existential theme,
aye felt no good
even as a nobody,
but more akin
to an unwanted guest
secretly embarking on a
deadly mission fed in part
by lacking athletic skills,
particularly addressed
when sporting rough
necked bruisers oppressed
to destroy any vestige
of self worth, this former
pint size lad,
who lastly mentioned hapt tubby,
the but of every jest.