Long Egged Poems
Long Egged Poems. Below are the most popular long Egged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Egged poems by poem length and keyword.
We hid in the pig sty the other side of the path
That edges a cess-pool crossed by a little
Wooden bridge where the run-off from the cow
Shed passes just beneath, ahead the gate
To farm front door accross the well kept grass
I was not yet six.
I know because we left the farm
When I had reached that age.
The sty, breeze block built with rusting roof
Was where we met in secret, my older brother
And I, with two girls from Guston Elms,
A little down the lane. Felicity was the older one,
Though I can't now remember the other
Sister's name. One day we dropped
Our pants to squat and watch,
To see who could do a poo.
Though we pushed and strained and egged
Each other on, not one of us could do one.
Older, it might have been a bit obscene.
But we were only curious kids
Just starting to explore (not really even friends)
And we were well before that coming age
When fig leaves need to cover shame.
In money we believe.
In superstition we trust.
Fill the offering basket
And present yourself for duty.
Preach fire to your Facebook choir
And get your social media fix
With sacramental podcasts and tweets
From the pantheon of agitprop.
Videotape your obsessions
For anonymous voyeurs’ delight.
Let Tik Tok compel your attention
As your mind fills the void it deserves.
Arouse your conspiracy’s fervor
On the way to gaining likes and shares,
While the women and the children
Fall in on the refugee trail.
Soon your ego’s grown bloated
Like those dead army mules
Lying by the side of the road
In a war correspondent’s photo.
If your house gets egged
On the first day of war,
You can expect that escalation
Is just a hand grenade away.
autumn lingers unfinished
though cold drops november
rain and waits undiminished
'til native summer sun remembers
what could unmake
when days full ache
bloom autumn colors
quick winter all borders
golds greens yellows
reds purples browns
a rusted rainbow frowns
as leaves scoot over meadows
fallen from mountain forest
after fields have given harvest
a father of one teaches his son.
chase catching leaves for fun
they twist turn swivel pirouette
lunge leap slide slice 'til earth is whet
while boy staggers with arms stretched
missing while dad knows misdirect fetched
two and three leaves while son fustrated
cries to quit but egged on infuriated
at last by chance or by experience
claps and traps one in victory dance
Copyright © Cornelius Brantley | Year Posted 2024
I let go of train of thought when I notice a person getting caught, and abused by another person in the form of cursing or some sort to have that person feel distort....and after that person is abused...and used to amuse...suicide becomes
their last resort....word weapons are such a discretion...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons...!!
Stop the words weapons that are being used more than machinery...
it gives people a reason to start swinging in a violent matter...after that
word weapon's egged on chit chatter....
I let go of train of thought when i notice a group of people circling another person...laughing...and giggling...pointing...and singling out one after another...
while he or she is crying...like a bullet hit deep...signs of that person's pride dieing...now rendered weak...unable to speak...misjudgement of character...like a book chapter missing....someone should say something but they act like they're not listening...
Stop the Word Weapons...Stop the Word Weapons....
Stop the Word Weapons....!!! Stop the reason for violent discretion...stop the judging...stop the pushing...and shoving...stop saying nothing...
let the abused's pride be rebuilt inside...let the weak speak....
let the shamed look up to the sky...let the quite unable to speak stop being shy...be strong instead of weak...laugh instead of cry....we all are people...we have feelings that are equal...no matter the color...let us listen to our mother when they have said...to treat others like we want to be treated...smile when being greeted...
cool off when you are heated...look with a smile instead of a frown...
'cause our father who art in heaven is looking down...wondering if we are lost...and can't be found...
United We Stand...Divided We Fall
Mrs. Holloway polishes her poetry dimly,
Regaling herself with the accoutrements of
Selected poetry, cluttered and less jinxed
By way of satanic slamming by famished,
Idle critics who read The New York Times
Just once in a sugared year.
She chooses her stanzas locally.
By that I mean her stanzas nurse patience,
Drifting from gossips to loose, impotent
Talks held when midnights ail.
She digresses from north’s steady arrow
To the rump of the south, where watersheds
Of a nation’s difficult history are published.
Chances are that her poetry would win a
Contest in a fortnight, but the era of romance
Is jaundiced, which is her constituency and
Her background for coloured matters.
Her abbreviations for the names of her old
Suitors are carved from pillars to posts – reposting
Caryatids as common sentinels on a poisoned bank—
Losing the Greekness required of such adornments.
O Holloway, read, read, read,
Her acolytes pressure her.
Time loses sense of time in its own timeness,
They warn.
That, to me, is the commonest blandishment.
I should never have sipped from her potsherd
Such stale beer as she offered on the day her
Poetry was reviewed by a proscribed newspaper.
But her urge for anything dead and horrid,
Egged me on, especially when she narrated
The murder of seven sisters by seven creatures that
Very Sunday morning when the taverns closed
Before they opened.
Holloway shocked me with the gory details.
Oh, I forgot to tell you she hankers after things
Truly, truly hebdomadal.
I call her Mrs. Holloway the Hebdomadalist.
Seven churches, seven trumpets,
Seven seals, seven heads, seven horns... and now
Seven sisters murdered by seven creatures.
That’s why her poetry is cluttered.
Full of nerves and airs of salutes,
Mrs. Holloway’s poetry thunders.
She presumes that time will, like the morning
Dew, settle on the sinews of her poetry.
(And I agree with her) .
And smoothen it —yes, time, the masseur of
All time.
Smoothen it.
Oil it.
Massage it.
And level it.
At least to street level.
(And I agree with her) .
In some integral green ways,
and blues truths,
and red-hot fear-filled/angry rightwing lives,
We all began as the ecofeminist
EarthMother-wombed and -birthed
children
And, thereby,
co-attached with her EarthMother's health-egged
mind/body habitat-nurturing womb
Ecosystemic
regenerative,
win/win committed
embedded
indigenous
Win/Win ReGenerative Living
Loving Nature EcoSystemic
environment
Holy EnSpirited back
back
back
to when we were each
a mere NonZero Egg
integrally potentiating
another EarthTribal Living Soul.
Each individuating
segregating
original win/win toward win/lose
conversion experience
severs EcoSystemic Mother
from New neuro-systemic EgoDeveloping
BiCameral-Life
Originally one dipolar co-arising win/win
eco-political conversion communication system
for transactional nutrition
and bilateral neurosensory co-invested exchange
for Ego/Eco BiLateral Intelligence
Emerging into a segregating
comparatively autonomous physical win/lose
heuristic neurosystemic mind//body
conversion experience
for new EgoLife
Into monoculturing LeftBrain dominant
straight white patriarchal-hierarchical orthodoxy
competitive BusinessAsUsual verbal debate
following rational deductive Either-X/Or-Y
complex branching distinctions
of many multiculturing differences
definitions not also seen as potential refine-moments
That we may also convert
out to expand multicultural experience
with co-empathic
Both-X/And-Y RightBrain interdependent memory
of primal X/Y Win/Win Attachment
Draws us toward healthy win/win EarthMother Justice
polyculturally thought/felt ego/eco-systemic
CoPassion NonVerbally-Felt Healthy/Safe Communion,
ComPassionate Verbal Communication,
CoEmpathic Health/Wealth EcoPolitical Community
EcoSystemic Conversion Experiences.
Written with capital headings
because LeftBrain dominance
seems to prefer capitalism
competition
Either-X/Or-Y debate
over Both-X/And-Y discussion
about historic merits
of Win/Win multicultural creolization
over Win/Lose monocultural colonization.
I'm fuming mad Bobby,
where's my Halloween candy?
I'll make you a zombie
so don't try to lie to me.
I know you took it.
You've got chocolate
smeared all over your face
and you're the only one here.
Dog–gonnet!
Dog–gonnet!
Where is it, Bobby?
Give back my Halloween candy
or you better say grace
cause
I'll box your ears.
Ha!
You can't tell mommy or daddy
or I'll tell them you egged Dandy's
house, do you understand me.
Don't play dumb you crumb;
You don't fool me.
I know you have it.
10/16/2019
Poetry Contest: If I were your brother
Sponsored by: Bobby May
Things are getting a little shaky the way
they’re opening the border walls.
And “The Covid” got us all twitching;
sneaking around doors and halls.
Trials and troubles all across creation
egged on by crazy schemes,
regular folks don’t know which way to turn;
right or wrong, don’t mean a thing.
Why invade America? No reason, I can tell,
let them in on bus and rail.
Don’t test them for Covib or any other disease,
let them all in, their drugs, terrorists and thieves.
It’s a bloodless plan to take down America, all in perfect time
The so called educated,
lending voice to the grand design.
They have a higher slopping spot on the fatted hog.
America, slipping on a trail of stench, to her final fall.
it's better to go after the children,
in the name of keeping them safe
Dividing the races farther apart will weaken her
more, just in case.
Bring in President to be a puppet
and let the news work it well.
A Vice President giggling out of a comic book
in rendition of Tinker Bell.
Order a mask to cover the face, any old sack will do
Train them to be sleeping dogs,
and Covid push it through .
Work on the voting laws,
It's only right, all should vote.
Pull it out of the open air,
it's better than we could ever hope.
By all means, go after the church,
let the rapture take them home.
Anyway, God's out of style, a little blink
and they will all be gone.
America will stand with the others,
diversity on a shining hill, the world tied together
one leader, one church, one seal. 666
Now I know you met with Sarah and she got in your head
and I guess your bitter brother egged belief what she said
cus he was born a bitter bugger always hating upset
so both of you chose to pursue a truth she had set
but for months I had told you the daily things she'd do
the rumours, the slander the set ups and scandals
that you, such a good mate would humour as untrue
along with your brother out to hang me to dangle
and after ignoring my stories you now seek an angle
as Sarah, a stranger to you had plan to
typically motivated by hate your brother helps handle
you both treat me horrid seeking facts and proof
remember how I didn't matter as accusations flew
always subtly done but always miles off cue
attitudes towards me stood out, something new
eyeing bigger fish my eyes weren't clocked on you
in hindsight a sore thumb, the sun or the moon
as I lost my job you carried on through
until she behaved a way which shifted the mood
you get me a job... thinking I now owe you
And I let you mate, but the friendship was through
you believed a stranger over a mate
your brother was happy helping as it's what he do
now you claim I'm strange with a delusional hate
a job I loved I lost and the job you replaced
you treated me nasty and showed you're two faced
listening to strangers and your brothers embrace
he lost friends then yours too, this is what took place
I had only just heard that UK cheese was revolting.? Not mildewed or slimy which could be
Insulting? No.! even the cheeses have it seems had enough of that quyeer kahmer
Nonsense and stuff.' It seems they're egged on by mother goose? Probably a code name
If what I hear is truth? The thing all got started because of some cows Daisy and Ermentrude
Were insulted and how..? This angers all cheeses! the Leicesters are mad red.' And some real Tough chedder is about to shed, its cool staid image before all is said.' As sure as
Grass makes hay.' And cows our milk, we need un-tarnished cheeses not some man made
Filth.' Yes cows have farted.. And will again' and humans grew strong and repulsed some pains the
Products great' its allways been green.) Like the farmers fields a beautiful scene..Yet over to
The cheeses.' Who are on the roll.' They want to escape from (old kahmer's) intended gaol
I think this cheesy battle could come true.? Here's trusting to human acumen though it's another way to get
Through.'