Long Four o Poems
Long Four o Poems. Below are the most popular long Four o by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Four o poems by poem length and keyword.
He finds himself straining with conflict, as her suspicions rise.
She suspects him, but with no proof, she may never find out.
She doesn’t want to hurt her or the family. That was never her intention.
She knows how wrong this is, she knows how deep she is, she begins to think about…
He denies and smoothes over, He feels her scrutiny, and the others growing affection.
He knows she loves him, he decides it’s better for him to let her become attached.
She tries to hide it, but she just doesn’t want to let him go, his smell his touch…
She dreams of his voice, the taste of him, and the sound of his laugh.
He uses her over and over, taking his fill. He leaves to go back to his woman.
He snuggles against a warm and welcoming body, wakes to a smile and a kiss.
She is left inside an empty house, nothing but a cold and lonely bed.
She loves him but she cannot keep putting her self through this.
He is loved on all sides. Both of his women miss him while he is away.
And what does it cost him? A few well placed lies, and hushed calls on the phone.
Her heart simply swells with more love for him every time he walks through her door.
She could never break up another woman’s family, so she knows she must let him go.
So she answers his four o clock in the morning phone call for the last time.
She knows after this it will be over, so she surrenders herself to him completely.
He can tell there is something deeper about her tonight, he can feel it in her touch.
The way she tenderly strokes every part of him, kissing each one so sweetly.
She wonders if he can sense how badly she wants to keep him for her own
She wishes she could tell him how in another life, he would be the one.
He loved how he could just sit and talk to her about nothing for hours,
And how he could let out his sadistic side, without making her want to run.
She was amazed how much she trusted him, how she let him take her.
A man with deception on his lips and destruction in his step.
He had known she could be his right away, immediately thought to take her.
He still had no idea how he knew that the first minute they met.
A LANCASHIRE LIASON
“Laugh an world laughs with yer” she said, as she cum in.
I said,“ Do you live in a barn?”
She grimaced an with er large left arm she swung out an shut door.
“Are y’ ere to read last rites? No? Well tek your cap off then”
She whipped the black wool hat from her head and settled down in the chair.
I say settled down. She perched on the edge like a hawk waiting to dive at the plate of biscuits, jammy dodgers, for a her weekly visit.
I had a builders brew all ready for her.
“Well, what do you know Dorothy? Owt or Nowt?”
She laughed in between crunching. “Do yer remember Mrs Newtons daughter, Susan?” I nodded. “Well she’s got another one living wi her, that’s three she’s ad now. This one’s a Derma Filler.”
I said, “Well she’s ad a builder an a plumber, she might as well ave a plasterer.”
She threw her head back laughing almost choking on the last bit of the last biscuit.
“No, its stuff they put in yer face to tek your wrinkles away.”
I smiled, “I know, just kidding wi yer . So tell me Dot, what else ave you got?.”
She sighed, “Not a lot an don’t call me Dot, meks mi sound like a speck”
I thought, ‘oh eck,’
“Well go on Dorothy, what about the lottery, did yer get near?”
She snorted, “Did I eck as like, as far away as Katmandu”
I said “I got 3 numbers, fifteen pounds”
She looked fallen as she creased a smile, “Did you?”
“Anyway" I said, "yer lookin well. Ow ar yer in yerself? ”
As soon as it was out of my mouth I wish I hadn’t said it. She went on for the next hour about her bowels, I were glad to hear the clock strike 4.
“Ey” I said,”that’s four o clock, yer gonna miss your bus!”
She grabbed the hat, plonked it on her head and said, rushing to the door,
“I’m off then Stanley, I ave to seh ‘time flies wen wer together, two of us”
“It does that Dorothy, nice to see yer. See yer nex week”
“Yeh, an it’s my turn for biscuits, I think I’ll mek yer a rhubarb tart dear”
She leaned over me and pecked mi cheek.
I thought after, ‘ee, its bin a long forty year.’
Up here in Canada we have our own words
Everywhere does, some think ours are absurd
Between toques, hosers and rhyming currency
Like loonies and toonies, we do speak uniquely
But narrow it down to one province specific
Our Saskatchewan tongue is fairly prolific
We drive on the blacktop to get to the grid
To get to the cabin you went to as a kid
Past the RM’s to grab a two four o’ Pil
Put on my bunnyhug to ward off a chill
Wearing thongs in the summer to the river and back
But the ones on our feet, not the ones up our crack
Kitty-corner from the LB is the Rider store
For watermelon helmets, jerseys and more
Our die-hard fans, they all bleed green
Filling the stands, not a bush league team
Daylight savings? Not on our clocks or phones
For anyone in Saskabush or Pile’o’Bones
Or Elbow, Eyebrow, Climax and Oxbow
Moosejaw, Moosamin and Findlater also
And if you were in P.A. for any time spent
You’d know poor deadly is a compliment
Swimming at Pike used to give you the itch
But it’s all better now so jump in, in your gitch
Even if you’re in the city you know everyone
Probably from the small town that their cousin is from
Someone always chuckles when they say Speedy Creek
We like eating dainties, drinking Vico and Beep
Land of the living skies on or license plates
With good prairie storm clouds, the view’s kinda great
Take a left by the elevator and a right at the barn
Keep going until you’re 20 clicks past the farm
See the dog with one ear up and one ear down
And those are all the directions to get to that town
Full of colloquialisms you may not know well
If you're not from the easy to draw, hard to spell ;)
OL'E TY COBB OF YESTER YEAR,
WAS A GENIUS IN SPIKES, OR SO I HEAR.
HE RAN THE BASES WITH A BURST OF SPEED.
LIKE ADRENALINE JUNKY IN TIME OF NEED.
STOLE SECOND BASE WITH HIS FOOT HELD HIGH.
A SERIOUS THREAT TO SPIKE ONES EYE.
LIT UP THE CHARTS, WITH ALL HIS STATS.
TRIPLE CROWN WINNER AND THATS A FACT.
NINETEEN-ELEVEN (1911), COBB SET THE PACE.
WITH A FOUR-TWENTY(.420) AVERAGE, HE STOLE EIGHTY-THREE (83) BASE.
LED THE LEAGUE IN TRIPLES FOUR (4)TIMES.
HOMERUN KING NINETEEN-O-NINE (1909).
CHECK HIS STATS, HE LED THEM ALL.
THAT TY COBB COULD PLAY BASEBALL.
THIRTEEN THOUSAND-0- SEVEN-EIGHT(13,078).
NUMBER OF APPEARANCES MADE AT THE PLATE.
DON'T FORGET THE BASE ON BALL.
TWELVE-FORTY-NINE (1,249)AND THAT'S NOT ALL.
FOURTY-ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SIX (4,186)HITS.
THE RESULTS OF THE WAY HE SWUNG THAT STICK.
BATTING CHAMP ELEVEN (11) DIFFERENT TIMES.
WON NINETEEN TWELEVE (1912)WITH A FOUR-O-NINE (409).
LED EIGHT TIMES, IN TOTAL WITH HITS.
LED STOLEN BASES WITH A TOTAL OF SIX.
EIGHT-NINETY-TWO (892)TOTAL STOLEN BASES.
IMAGINE THE LOOK ON THOSE CATCHERS FACES.
TWENTY-TWO-HUNDRED FORTY-SIX RUNS.
AFTER TWENTY-FOUR SEASONS, HIS CAREER WAS DONE.
HE ONLY STRUCK OUT SIX-EIGHTY(680) TIMES.
OVER TWENTY-FOUR SEASONS, THAT BLOWS MY MIND.
HALL OF FAMER, THATS A FACT.
WITH HIS NINETEEN-THIRTY-SIX HALL OF FAME PLAQUE.
GEORGIA PEACH IS DEAD AND DONE.
JULY SEVENTEEN SIXTY-ONE. A
A HUNDRED YEARS HAVE COME AND GONE,
THAT TY COBB LEGEND, STILL LIVES ON.
Meant to be read over this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=dYQ_lse44gQ&feature=related
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i.
[clockwork rage]
goddamn
dried up
everything
even my saliva
is wooden
you don't
know it
how homeless
and strong
I am
unbreakable
and so dry
everything
ii.
[no air]
can't sing
no more
can't form
the words
but I pray
smoke
heavy smoke
thudding against
your window
like a goddamn
pigeon
wrung
dry
all our necks
bared
and strewn about
like dirty socks
this body is
a long
white
stranger
death
can't feel much
different
halfway between
stood up
and fallen
iii.
[a whole heart, a whole heart]
but watch this
watch me leer
at the pretty girls
watch me stick
to the sidewalks
unwashed
unrecognizable
I'm dancing with
fingers
and with smoke
laid out
like so
a dead fish
reeling under
the stars
I'm strong
so strong now
I tell you
when you walk by
with another face
another face
another face
but you never
listen
anymore.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This is me reading -> http://vocaroo.com/?media=vbcUNSaOwuB4v7AVl
If only I had seen the love I had for you,
And I perhaps had even tried to love you,
There would not have been the wounds that hurt us now,
Had I only seen the way you loved me.
Had it been so clear your drift away from me,
And I had just remotely tried to stop you,
There would not have been the man that you love now,
Had I only been the man you wanted.
If only I had seen the monster I'd become,
Had I even heard you say ' I'm leaving',
There would not have been the pain that we have now,
Had I only seen the change in me.
When finally I saw the love you had for him,
How I would have turned back the years,
There would not be, the torture I have now,
If only you could love me like you did.
How I wished this could end, the way that we came in,
a magic that we found so long ago,
You would have no need to leave me as you did,
And I would never cry to see you go.
You could not believe, the way a heart could bleed,
If only you had felt how deep the wounds,
You would not have laughed at me the way you did,
And you would even softly soothe the scars
And finally I’ve seen the devil at four o clock,
but you will never hear the tears I cried,
If only you had seen the scars across my eyes,
but you could never know the way I died.
The end.
TIME FOR A VACATION
It is my wife’s lifelong dream, a fairytale place a magic land :
The small village of Rye in Sussex , in southern England.
This is the heart of England, its bosom -
Filled with peaceful smells of blossom :
Like a Dickens scene on christmas cards -
Steep streets with cobblestones - no cars.
Smoking chimneys, bow windows, roofs with thatches,
Hanging baskets of alyssum and lobelia in batches -
Her favorite colours white and dark blue:
I wanted to make her dream come true.
Tea and hot crumpets and warm butter oozing
By the fire in the sitting room with grandad snoozing
At four o’ clock by the chimes of the grandfather
Clock which fascinates - it’s like theatre to her.
Soft beds you sink into deeper and deeper;
Little bedrooms with floral wallpaper
She’s only seen in movies about Sherlock Holmes;
And small windows recalling our childhood homes.
We feel at ease, content like birds flown home to their loft.
View to cherry orchard trees in blossom soft
And to France on the distant sea horizon:
She gazes and thinks and daydreams on and on.
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
I wake up, hearing chirps of birds at four O’ clock;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!
The earth and the heavens celebrate springtime-joy,
Timely changes in weather never my glee block;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
Newborn baby animals race around in cloy,
In ponds around, bullfrogs in chorus gaily croak;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!
Breeze, as though touch me not, feels me and fades in coy,
Within feelings, like salsa, to xylophones, rock;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
Seed drowsing, spring up and shoot up fresh green savoy,
Migratory birds to their homelands fly in flock;
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though, a little boy...!
Sunshine! Shower! Wedding of foxes! Dogs convoy!
Ducks and geese and swans and swamps display their catwalk;
Rays of golden sun, at orange dawn, I enjoy...!
At fifties! Yet, I feel, as though a little boy...!
15 April 2022
Springtime Villanelle Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Sotto Poet
In solitude with eyes
closed, a bell flashes with a
little girl chuckling, chasing it.
In stillness, silence, the bell starts
tolling and the girl intently stares at it,
eyes beaming with glee and a radiant smile
expressing delight. I opened my eyes, shook my
head, thought of the childlike innocence, the display
of honesty, freedom, enthusiasm and suddenly remembered
my own childhood always excited hearing the church bells tolling
for they meant fun, cheers, good times. Hearing the bell at six o’ clock
in the evening for worship or Angelus prayer at our altar, meant having dinner
with my favorite dish or dessert for dinner was served after our prayers. Hearing
the bells after the morning Easter Sunday procession meant fun in the beach
for everybody went there for fun and lunch to celebrate the Resurrection.
Hearing the bells after the four o’ clock morning masses during the
Christmas season, from December sixteen through
twenty four meant eating delicious
rice cakes at the church
kiosk.
Whatever happened
To afternoon tea
Served around four o-clock
It used to be a daily ceremony
Out came a pretty cloth
From an old sideboard drawer
To put on a small table
Used many times before
On to this table
Doylies and napkins placed
Precisely and carefully
There was no need to race
Then came the china
A person's very best
Teapot and cosy
And an antique spoon rest
Fairy cubes of sugar
Along with bowl and tongs
Wireless playing softly
To the now old-fashioned songs
Now to the best part, the spread
Oh! the spread
Everything home-made
Especially the bread
Assorted sandwiches, sometimes ham
Mostly it was scones with cream and jam
Nothing elaborate just wholesome fare
Loving-kindness sprinkled there
Not a Macdonalds to be seen long ago
And preservatives were not so prevalent
So, most grew their own vegetables
And had gardens with fruit trees
Used old-fashioned methods
To nurture these
They grew organic without realising
Healthy, rewarding and very enterprising