Long Frum Poems
Long Frum Poems. Below are the most popular long Frum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Frum poems by poem length and keyword.
FrUm thE NUMB TuM Of A BuM RuM sPiL
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hE sAyZ RUnUuM kILLZ the LIvEr
BUut LoVe KiLLZ mY HeARt
IvE CoNcluded ThAt thEIR Both
the ReasONZ I bEcAmE A BuM
FrUm ThE sTART
FrUm thE NUMB TuM Of A BuM RuM sPiL
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(BuRp) CaNt wAit tO BEEE rICh aGAIN
AnD NoOo mAtteR hOW BiG hEr aSs is
I woOonT gEt mRried toO a GolD DIGGin
HarLeT AgAin NoO nOT AGaiN mY fRienD
bEcominG 1 WiHT ThE EsSeNce oF HuMbLe
POveRty IZ tHe The BesT wAy To EvaDe tHe
DeViLs traps WiZe & HuMble Are ThOse WHo
SeTtle foR whAt YOu wOuld CaaaLL ScrAPs &
KNowinG ONe DAy JESUS WILL COME B
A
C
A M R A - - - - - K
AnD WhEn He DoeS MY ONLY SIN wILL bE ConsumptioN Of rUM
sO yOU CAN LAuGH At at ummmmmmm
oh yea laugh at us DruKeN BuMMMMmms
BuT iN HeaveN We wIll HaVe morE ThAn a CrumB and A bottlE of rUm
AND wHeN tHe LoRD DenieS YOU at the gate please dont Ask how COME
Because he wiLl say yOU were
SelfisH,GREEDY,And called the
BuMS STInkyy and DuMMMMMM
And pluS aLL You gave Him WaS a CRUMMMM!!!
I SWEar you RicH Folks Are DuMMMMMMMMM!!!!
FrUm thE NUMB TuM Of A BuM RuM sPiL
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with
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The water tower stands above the town and can be seen for miles around. It has a
ladder leading up to the base of the tank. This ladder has been climbed by countless
teenagers, for thrills and mischief and young kids answering a dare.
Over the years, many symbols and words have been painted on the tank. From
Highschool mascots, to hearts of love and proposals. Flowers and Holiday wishes
joined in.
It had always been one mans job to keep the water tank painted and to cover up
any impromptu artwork. He always took his time about it though. Making sure that
each message stayed up at least two weeks before he would paint over it.
One day he received a phone call. On the line was a little boy. This little boy asked
the man to please not paint over his message he had written on the tank, as it was
very important.
The man explained to the boy that it was his job to keep the tank painted and
clean. But, that he would leave his message up there, untouched, for two weeks. The
little boy, with tears in his voice said "Thank you, I hope it will be long enough".
The next day, as the man was driving past the water tank, he looked up. He saw no
message or pictures of any kind on that tank. He shrugged and assumed that the boy
had just been to scared to make the climb all the way to the top.
Three weeks later, the mans phone rings again. It was that same little boy. Very
excited, he proclaimed "Mister, I just wanted to thank you for not painting over my
message...It really worked!"
Intrigued, the man went to the tank with his paint and supplies. He climbed to the
top, set down his paint and brush. He walked around that tank several times and still
did not see a message. But, as he bent to pick up the paint can, there it was.
Towards the bottom of the tank, in crayon with a young child scroll was written:
"Dear God, pleeze let my daddy come home frum war I miss him
Your frend Mike"
The years passed. Many drawings and words were painted over by one man and then
the other, as they took the job over. But never, the one small patch, with that heart
felt prayer.
For the contest: Story Time
Hostess: Carol Brown
Placement: 2nd
Brandin
I's jist gots back frum Y-OM_UN
An wents ta sees ma son un 'is wife
Thay war waitin fur a call ta goes helps a frien
An thays jist throwed me un.
Ut war un tha Kansas plains
Un thay war a brandin that day
I's jist watch-uz frum ma chair
I's uses a cane, taint fair.
I's jist sits un watch-uz
What all's thays done
Un 'long cums a butterfly
Un I's jist hops un.
Ut takes me fur north
Ta er ol' rench'
Un we's war busy
Brandin that day.
I's seed ma kids
Wrestlin calves ta tha groun
Stan war a brandin
Whiles I's lens a han.
Thays poks um un prods um
Un than thays brans
Un than ut's time fer tha man
With tha knife un his han.
Un Maw 'er war a cookin'
Ta feeds all a tha folks
A brandin's a big thin
So's we's all jist goes.
We's never runs short a help
Cause that air er breed
It war tha same ez ut war
Back un l850.
Wen we's war done
Un thays begans ta pairs
We's jist op-uns tha gate
Un thays un thays own frum thar.
Ma daughter-un-law
Done slaps me's un tha back
"Wal Pa,"sez 'er
"Air youse with us er un Souse Dakotie?"
I's has ta 'mits
I's war back thar
But I's 'justed
Un I's kin makes er frum 'ere
Thins ain't tha same
Ez war way back than
But I's keeps all a tha mem-or-ies
Un re-lives um a'gin.
Cile Beer
Ah war out a walkin
Ut war a Sunday morn
Mah chores war all did
Warn't no need fer me et home
Ah walks along tha river
What does goes by er place
Hearin tha crickets singin
Un watchin dragonflies un tha chase
Tha rivers a little lively
Fer tha rain done brung er up
Un stead uve a little girgle
Ut souns more like "sup"
Ah war almost ta mah favor ite log
Wen ah does sees a dog
He jist stans un looks et me
N ah's goes walkin up
Then ah' see's uh movement
Un ut war a horse
He sniffs tha air un stares et me
Un never makes a noise
Over thar un mah log
Un much ta mah surprise
War un ol' man sittin
Un never even blinks un eye
Ah jist kinda moz ies over
Un sits down un tha end
Tryin hard not ta bothers um
Cause he war a snorin
Then thar war a little sound
Frum a rock across tha way
We's both looks ovar thar
Ta see's what tha frog has ta say
As he war a sayin his piece
The dog cumed right up
He war gonna catch tha guy
But he has ta swims tha river first
Than tha horse done gived a whinney
Un walks up ta tha man
Nuzzlin tha fellers cheek
An pawin tha white san'
Ah sez "I's sorry
If'n I's buttin un"
Tha ol' man done shakes his head
Tilts his hat un sez "No mam"
"We's jist un a journey
Un sides ta takes a break
Ut war kinda perty here
So we's jist sits here un tha shade"
"Horse youse jist stops ut
Her ain't did nothin wrong
Her jist likes ta listen ta
Tha little feller's song"
"Dog youse cumes back here
Youse don't likes ta swim
If'n youse two don't calms down
We'll be's un er way again
"Well ah's sorry mam
Ut's still perty early un tha morn
But ah guesses Wild Lighten un Duke
Er ready ta goes un with er journey bourne"
Cile Beer
Thanks Bob Hinshaw for the idea
We stopped fer a bite at the Gooseberry Patch, I reckon it wuz a week er so ago.
I wuz slurpin' my usual bowl uv chili - Boys! That stuff'll set yer ears aglow!
My spouse wuz toyin with her salad anticipatin' a slab uv gooseberry pie,
When I noticed a feller settin' next to us a-wearin' a Stetson hat and bolo tie.
He wuz nursin' a Coors Beer - better known in these parts as Colorady Kool Aid.
He wuz wearin' jeans and cowboy boots - it 'peared that his shirt wuz tailor made.
I ain't the most observant feller but I could tell he'd spent years in the saddle.
As he ambled to our table, his bowlegs confirmed that he'd spent years astraddle!
He nodded and said, "Howdy!", and we chatted about the weather and this and that.
He wuz a little hard uv hearin' so we invited him to our table to continue our chat.
I reckoned he wuz about 65 er so and could be taken fer the Marlboro Man.
He wuz a little over six foot tall and frum his ranchin' days sported a handsome tan!
He talked about ownin' a ranch jes' east uv Colorady Springs and the cowpokes life.
Sayin' that cowboyin' ain't all that glamorous and the challenges that are so rife.
He'd done some rodeoin' up in Wyomin' ridin' wild broncs and a-ropin' steers,
And wuz a prominent rodeo jedge travelin' about the west in his younger years.
When I told him I dabbled in western poetry his eyes lit up like the mornin' sun!
He's a writer uv western lore and is retired, now that his cowboyin' days is done.
We were privileged indeed to meet him, perhaps the last uv that stalwart breed.
We made a new friend that day, a real Colorady cowboy by the name of Chuck Reid!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
In the backwoods of Tenn-O-See eerie things is seen on Halloween night!
Stroll with me down a country lane - you'll see things that'll give ya' a fright!
I s'pose ya' could set by the far and read of sech frum an old-timer's lore,
But come 'long, boys and girls, if ya' dare and see them scary things galore!
A headless hossman races by yellin', "I've lost my head, confound it!"
Its disembodied voice keeps repeatin', "I'll have no peace 'til I've found it!"
From a leafless oak a body swings in the wind danglin' frum a double noose!
'Tis said an impromptu posse hung 'im fer filchin' hosses on the loose!
That old house is said to be haunted and mysterious lights is seen inside!
The story goes that hosts of fiendish ghosts and witches therein reside!
Passin' the old cemetery, I'm sure y'all will want to increase yer stride!
Leerin' ghosts and skeletons lurk there and they'll skeer ya' outta yer hide!
A spectral platoon of sojers is seen marchin' 'long that haunted stretch of lane.
A sergeant counts cadence and moans is heard from them that's sufferin' pain!
Spooky lights is seen waftin' to and fro and seem to be headin' our way!
Are they restless spirits with evil intent er lost souls that have gone astray?
A sobbin' wraith with glowin' eyes is seen floatin' jes' beyond the ridge.
With a piercin' scream she waves at us and leaps frum a nearby bridge!
So, my children, if its thrills y'all is lookin' fer and a real Halloween scare,
Come, take a midnight stroll with me 'long that fearsome lane, if you dare!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in PD's "Any Poem You Posted This Week" Contest - Nov 2011
"Howdy to you all from Colorado! This is Cletus Schlunk reporting,
Where gossip is fair and balanced and there is little or no distorting!
It's the home of the Rockies, Broncos, Nuggets and potholes galore,
And old mining towns like Leadville and Cripple Creek, full of western lore!"
"Hordes of gaping tourists from all over come to visit the Centennial State,
So I collared one to get his views and his comments to you I'll relate."
"Sir, could you spare a few minutes of your time for a little chat?
Tell me where you're from and where did you get that silly hat?"
"Ah'm frum th' great state uv Texus an' that's a hunder'd dollar Stetson son.
Now, don'tcha go a-makin' sport uv me - ah've cum here ta have a little fun!"
"Be forewarned that when sipping a cool Coors, respect the altitude here."
"Yup! Ah've figgered out that jes' one uv 'em will set ya' on yer rear!"
"What do you think of our magnificent mountains reaching for the sky?"
"Shucks! We used to have 'em in Texus an' they wuz nearly twice as high!
But ah'm here ta tell ya', they wuz flattened out years an' years ago.
That's why Texus is th' biggest state in the lower 48, I want ya'all ta know!"
"Have you fished our pristine streams, many that are off the beaten track?"
"Yup! Caught a 30-incher - he wuz a Texus minner so I throwed 'im back!"
"Well, folks, he out-bragged me so I brought the interview to a hasty cease!
Till next time, from Colorful Colorado, I wish each of you happiness and peace!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in the "Reporting Live On The Soup" Contest - July 2010
A cowboy ain't got no use fer the trappin's uv a meetin' house affiliation,
In which to commune with the Lord to git his religious inspiration!
He won't be corralled by a staid and sanctimonious congregation.
He's free to wrangle his spiritual grub from God's Grand Creation!
He ain't got no need fer a fancy altar er them hard-backed pews,
And he won't squirm fer hours as the preacher expounds upon his views!
The great outdoors is his cathedral where he can worship ever' day.
He lifts his eyes to the hills whence comes strength frum across the way!
The Lord provides music with the thunder rumblin' across the range,
Along with the tenor uv a ripplin' stream as it meanders through the grange.
The risin' sun warms his soul as his hoss canters across the plains.
The splendid sunsets are more stunnin' than any uv them glass-stained panes!
He ain't worried about enterin' a church to be met by a contemptuous sigh,
Jes' 'cause he ain't dressed proper in a three-hundred dollar suit and tie!
The Lord welcomes him in His cathedral with his scruffy boots and jeans.
With his sweat-stained shirt and old slouch hat, he's considered a man of means!
He ain't impressed with majestic naves, apses, transepts and sech things.
His sanctuary is the splendor uv the universe and the blessin's that it brings!
His pew is his saddle where he bows his head in reverent adoration,
Knowin' that frum the grandest cathedral of all, He'll hear his supplication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Arggh me hearties! We're takin' a long-awaited vacation!
Th' enchantin' isles uv th' Caribbean is ar final destination!
Hoist th' Jolly Roger an' them billowin' sails an' let's git 'er underway!
Th' Spanish Main is ripe fer pillagin' so let's git thar without delay!
Ye signed on fer this here little cruise knowin' I runs a very tight ship.
Ye do yer jobs, don't complain an' don't ye dare give me any lip!
Ye'll git three squars a day an' yer daily tot uv rum as well.
An' I 'spect ye ta stick wit' me tho' we may ketch almighty hell!
Now if'n we happen ta meet a sloop er two upon th' boundin' main,
Ah'll 'spect ye ta wield yer swords an' cause th' scoundrels pain!
Jes' keep in mind that ye'll share in th' booty that we acquire,
An' I promise ye a proper burial at sea if'n ye should expire!
Arggh me maties! Ah'm anxious ta run me fingers thro' them pieces uv eight!
An' git me paws on them thar island beauties! Aye! I kin hardly wait!
Ye! Up thar in th' crow's nest! Keep a sharp lookout fer any ships at sea!
An' ye fellers on th' deck aim them cannons true when ye hear "far!" frum me!
Ah don't reckon that we'll be received as welcome guests in any port,
An' them wily natives will 'ave thar guns aimed at us frum ever' fort!
But if'n ye keep yer swords honed an' yer blunder busses' powder dry,
We'll carry off thar wimmin an' swag as we wave ta them goodbye!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 9 in Paula Swanson's "A Tale o' Pillagin'" Contest - July 2010
A properly equipped cowpoke is bound to impress the boss.
He'll need a mount of course and a silver-studded saddle fer his hoss.
He'll need some chaps to protect his jeans frum them pesky burrs,
And his outfit wouldn't be complete without a fancy pair of spurs!
A wide-brimmed Stetson is needed fer shelter frum the searin' sun.
It's also dandy fer feedin' oats to his hoss when their work is done.
He'll need a pair of Tony Lama boots with high heels and pointy toes,
And a bandana to keep the dust and bugs from a-pluggin' up his nose!
When on night patrol and the restless herd is spooked by lightnin' bright,
A harmonica is a handy gadget to soothe the herd frum takin' flight.
A coiled riata he'll need to corral them stampedin' wild cows.
He'll wear a pair of 44s to shoot rattlesnakes (if'n the boss allows)!
He'll need a couple of blankets fer sleepin' 'neath the canopy of stars,
And bags of Bull Durham fer roll-yer-owns and maybe a few cigars.
He'll need a heap of patience when gallopin' through the chaparral,
Roundin' up them frenzied dogies fer brandin' in the old corral!
He'll be a-chasin' cattle and a-fixin' fences thro' rain, sleet and snow.
He wonders sometimes why he cowboys - it sure ain't fer the dough!
He'll need lots of fortitude to abide "Cooky's" taters, bacon and beans,
But he'll keep at it 'til he's old and gray, 'cause cowboyin' is in his genes!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 10 in Giddy up! Little Dogies! Contest May 2010