Long Fence Poems
Long Fence Poems. Below are the most popular long Fence by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fence poems by poem length and keyword.
He's back
like he never left
with scary undertones
in tow
The story goes
They're chasing ghosts
& a known host
of other things
Who knows
what they're really
after in reality
They know Casper
brings a mentality
that borders on
unfriendly
Never mind the surface
it's what's
underneath the matter
that counts
The numbers continue
to mount because
of the unseemly
things that are about
This is a stout reminder
not to take anything
in life for granted
On this planet
the thinly constructed
veil hides more
than they surveil
With a heavy head
I say frail appearances
shouldn't be taken lightly
Granted they talk
a good game
but can they play
them all the same?
So many strange things
casually happening
but this is no
coincidence
They coincide with
certain incidents while they
claim they're on
the fence
His cryptic brilliance
is in question
but I swear that's
nothing new
It's true his
suggestions grew wings
& flew the coop with
an air of exposing truth
For those that know
this is the proof
that they try but cannot
hide
He resides somewhere
between what is seen
& not seen with
normal eyes
A sonnet
I sat on a stone fence, in flat agricultural
landscape, trees been planted around farms
to protect from the North Westerly wind
I had collected shiny pebbles in the stream
only to find when the stones dried they were
not shiny anymore, but dull like pebbles are
A man and horse came walking up the track
shoulder to shoulder, like two old friends.
Can the horse run fast? I innocently asked
No, he is very old now, like me, he smiled
can I pet him? The man lifted me up so
I could pet, the horse looked at me with eyes
of slaves, who no longer dream of freedom
What's left, the love of a kindhearted man
If lawyers get de-barred and clergymen de-frocked
Does it naturally follow and make sense
That electricians are de-lighted and cowboys de-ranged?
Need some answers, no sitting on the fence!
Can a motorist be de-fined, or a balloon be de-flated
This silliness surely must stop
Do dead mailmen de-liver, are old ships de-ported
Better stop before I call a burly cop
Do musicians get de-noted, dry cleaners de-pressed?
Now hold on, I'm getting quite upset
Can models be de-posed, do tree surgeons de-bark?
Haven't heard any answers as yet
Do skirts get de-pleted, has your hair been de-parted?
This must be some kind of a plot
Artists quit by de-sign, symphonies de-compose?
I think about de-strings a lot!
STALKER
At late night train arrived my station.
I am regular daily passenger.
Also got down another stranger.
I did not pay much attention
Suddenly sensed someone behind
Turned back being conscious.
That stranger suspiciou
aroused fear in my mind.
Entered a lane to misguide
Decisive follower chose same direction
I started running on desperation.
Stranger gained speed, I could not hide.
Made useless jump on a fence.
He did not miss leap in dark.
Needless I loitered in park.
He followed without uttering a sentence.
At last I charged ‘What do you want, say kindly.’
'My destination is just beside
the house, you reside.
Station master asked me to follow you blindly.’
11/14/17
STALKER Contest by Silent One
Second Place
It's early, as I enjoy my coffee this morning
Birds are chirping, as I hear a blue jays warning
I look outside and see a young red breasted robin
He's Jumping and dancing, his head’s busy bobbin
Goldfinches appear in their bright spring yellow
Chirping, singing their songs sweet and mellow
A pair of red cardinals land and take the show
They’re always together no matter where they go
I decide to take my coffee and go outside
Watching all the songbirds soon scatter and hide
I relax in my chair, smelling sweet lilac blooms
One of my favorite scented spring perfumes
A Baltimore oriole appears on the fence
His black and orange feathers are still and tense
A blue Jay swoops down and lands on the ground
He looks at me, then peculiarly looks around
He takes off quickly, lands in a nearby tree
The oriole is now feeding, chirping with glee
I need to go in now, and get ready for my day
I enjoyed my morning watching spring birds play
4/25/2020
Contest: Spring Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
(Syllables checked on Howmanysyllables.com and rhymes checked with rhymezone)
A child stood whimsically staring beyond my stately fence of
neighborly convictions, I stoically beckon my approval of his
eyes invasion of my overly priced tag of the American dream.
I proffered a parents nightmare of wrapped gooey sweetness
towards his outstretched soiled hands made possible by his,
dad's muscle car with the loud revved-up oily covered engine
mobile man-cave with handle-with-care lovingly polished car
with his license to drive barely passed Kindergarten Diploma,
Issued by The State Of Corrections Probationary Office of the
Justice Department where a line that states, "Sign Here" has
an "X", along with three authenticating officials who support
the fact that the under-signed knows what a nod of the head
indicates as a yes and that the shake of the head is regarded
as a no. After further inspection, I handed off the kid's bonus
then he triked on the home next door, passing a rolling can of
oil down his driveway, his dad tinkering under the car's hood,
with an open can of beer sitting on the car's body, as he grins
cause his dad stood up looked at his son and with a nod from
his head, the kid showed the nightmare to more nods then he
gazed around his fenceless yard turning back at me mouthing
"thank you" proudly holding up his head smiling un-noddingly
before heading into their behind-the-rent American Bummer.
2020 January 29
Cannister shots explodes overhead,
stripping the leaves from the trees,
a rain of jagged steel above…
it takes courage not to flee.
The generals say we strike the center
and the Yankees will run hard,
if we break them here the war is won,
so we’ve got to make this charge.
We all step out, a long gray line,
and see what is a-waiting:
An open field, a mile’s walk,
then a rock-wall with blue-coats, hated .
And worse still, it is a small hill
up which we have to march,
but our guns have broke the Yankees down,
so we’re going to make this charge.
But their guns keep roaring endlessly,
as we trudge on in the hot sun.
The blue-coats have all found the nerve,
I don’t see one of them run.
Shells crash down in fiery rage,
and tear in our ranks great scars,
but it’s too late now, the die is cast,
we must continue with the charge.
People falling, to the left and right,
as we come up upon a fence.
Commander’s cry,”Get over quick!”
amidst screams so violent.
Yankees rise up and they take aim,
they are in no mood to spar.
Volleys scythe down men like grass,
but we push on with the charge.
All I hear is pain and death,
as I drive up to the rock-wall.
Few Southrons left besides me,
endless Yankees, standing tall...
Armistead, he breaks through them!
But blue reserves come forward,
Armistead goes down, bayonets reign
at the end of this great charge.
I stab, I swing, I smash one,
but another stabs my thigh.
I fall and struggle in the mass
of good soldiers left to die.
A blue-coat sees me lying there,
says,”How did you ever get this far?
It matters not, you’re a prisoner now,
for making this foolish charge.”
The Yankees they walk me away,
my fight is over for good.
I don’t entirely feel ashamed,
even though I know I should.
Out on the slope, the meadow is
by endless broken bodies marred.
I pray to God that he might damn
This futile, murderous charge.
Disenchanted sandcastles
Alone on a silent shoreline,
sea breeze emotions paint my skin
Sands of time slip away as I count the stars
wondering why so many seem to smile,
when I don’t
Storm fence pickets stand straight,
weathered of years watching
Holding at bay the impending dunes
where my footprints once shared these moments
with another
Salt water teardrops fall,
meeting the beach in sorrow’d pools,
lonely silhouettes of my heart shaped shadows
empty and vacant, longing for that one
to forgive
Disenchanted sandcastles disappear with the tide
as do these words we compiled together
never to be written again, on paper or in the sand
Now I only watch my dreams fade into the horizon,
vanishing forever
I pass it every day, a small brick house,
that's shaded by a maple tree in spring;
and underneath, the worn-out bench still sits-
awaiting to be used, as in the past.
The sale sign pains my heart as I pass by.
Oh, how she loved to tend her flowers there,
in her small garden near the lattice fence-
then sit upon the bench to rest awhile.
Three houses down the lane away from her-
when we moved in, she welcomed us to join
the neighborhood- so many years ago;
the eldest on our street- we cherished her.
The small brick house is vacant- four months, now.
How sad- her flowers will need tending to,
for spring has just begun, and she had passed
at Christmas time- so unexpected then.
Oh lady down the lane, we'll miss your smile
and those dear waves you shared as we rode by;
your time spent tending the backyard to keep
us- and your flowers- smiling back at you.
March 23, 2020
~1st Place~
Contest: Strand Pick 4
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 04/09/2020
~7th Place~
Contest: Lady Down The Lane
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
Judged: 03/29/2020
Written in presence tense- reflecting
on her passing many years ago at
Christmas time.
`
From a weary weathered beach
I watch the sunset fade
beneath angry wintered seas
drowning possibilities
of another moonlit night
washing up on shore
and still I go on,
for what calls can not be heard,
it must be felt…and I feel it
Vivid reflections falter
atop a jet stream
heated from below, chilled from above,
willing feats of great wandering
when raindrops licked old wounds
and footprints
became yesterday’s puddles
Forgotten mariners,
ghostly silhouettes
cling to ancient dreams,
shadows swimming the deep hollows,
elusive treasures swallowed
by the disturbed mire,
swirling in slipknot patterns
and anchor chains apparitions,
as I now brace against a frigid wind,
traversing dunes
and snow fence barriers,
heading towards the light,
a flickering lone candle
left in the bay window,
a signal that her love
still awaits,
and my heart warms
as I approach the beauty
I have so longed,
on the other side of
a blue weathered door…