Long Glared Poems

Long Glared Poems. Below are the most popular long Glared by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glared poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Bacon Balls - risque

When I was only ten years old, I yelled at my TV
For I could not believe the filth they played to kids like me
Right there upon my TV screen, a frog with skin of green
Was lusted after by a pig whose plans were quite obscene

That frog would always act like he was playing hard to get
But that there pig would have her way… it was a certain bet
Well, some years on I met that frog and frankly I saw red
I glared right at that dirty frog and this is what I said…

Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time

Amphibians ain’t meant to speak, but he’d been on TV
He stood there with an attitude and tried to make me see
I glared at him and said there’s nothing here to be discussed 
A frog that sleeps with piggies is a frog I’ll never trust

Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time

See, I’d just seen my dentist and he told me you’d been in
He said he had to throw you out or land one on your chin
He wouldn’t see you then, nor would he polish up the gnashers
Of any frog whose teeth and breath smelled much like bacon rashers

Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time

That frog has really messed me up. My nightmares feature girls 
They all have snouts, four trotters and a little tail that curls
My given name is Herman so my friends all call me Hermie
But in my nightmare all those pigs squeal, “Come to Mumma, Kermie!”

Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time

I only hope that, one day, on him, law enforcement calls
And at the gallows they will hang him by his bacon balls
Be sure that I shall be right there to watch him as he falls
And as they pull the lever, I’ll cry, “Up yours, Bacon Balls!”
Form: Lyric


Premium Member I Reach For Pink Mask

Open up the Mask Drawer Please

I cackled delight as I opened up my mask drawer.
Naughty Wednesday mask was on top. It had a permanent stamp on it that said “Call in sick.”
Wednesday is the longest day at work, an extra hour every Wednesday.
In the back of my mind, I felt Purple.  Purple I kept thinking. I know Sunday’s mask is purple.
I glared at yellow-green mask; distorted, ugly, hideously angry. I tried never to wear my
Angry mask. Nothing shuts children down faster or harder than Angry mask.
Being a school counselor, I know that it’d be better for me to stay home than wear Angry mask.
On a whim I throw it on the floor and began stamping it into the carpet. 
My husband comes around the corner and says “Boo.”
So glad I had that can of vegetable soup in my hand. I am in such a rare form mood when I’m 
Anywhere near Angry mask. Husband yelps, and wisely retreats,
In a small scared voice I hear him ask, “Where is pink mask?”
“Probably in the washer, because I’ll bet you forgot to DRY it TODAY!” Angry mask and I yell, angrily.
I can hear the pitter patter of a husband’s feet. Hear the dryer open. Happy mask is flung inside the room with us. 
Angry mask and I glower at it. 
“Come on,” My muse says. “You could try to change your mood.”
You’d think me being a school counselor and teaching children they are in charge of their own moods – changes, swings, etc. I could do this. I struggle to think of my best lesson for changing attitude. Aha!
Now I remember. I pull out stop sign. Hold it up to the mirror where a mean angry woman is glaring at me. God, she’s old! Much older than I ever think I am.
“STOP!” the reflection and I yell. “STOP! Your mood is up to you. You can be mad for a week, a day, an hour, or….”  A buzzer goes off. Time to get up. I run over and slam the alarm clock into the floor hard, 
Breaking off every piece I can. 
“STOP!” the stop sign in my  head yells. “STOP! STOP! STOP!”
I am taking a hammer to it now.
I really have to get off the steroids.
Too bad my choice is between breathing or sleeping.
And yes, Mom, I have NOT slept in 5 days, and do you want to fight me, really?
You are 84 years old, and I know you can take me out as well as you put me in….
Damn steroids.
I’d best go back to the doctor today.
I love my job, and I certainly
Don’t want medication to 
Make me lose it.
I reach for Pink Mask.

Family Remembers, Part I

I-Robby

Robby had been married going on eight years,
2hen his Marie demanded a divorce,
whe had been planning, lawyering up,
and instantly dragged it into the court.

Poor Robby had not seen it coming,
he thought things had been going quite well,
he could barely deal with loosing his love,
much less navigating Family Court hell.

Worst still Marie had cleaned out their accounts,
so he had to borrow from his parents,
just to afford a junior lawyer,
in truth, Robby was unable to bear it.

Being separated from his two boys,
being along with no partner if life…
What could he have done to ever have earned
the enmity of his once loving wife?

The proceedings, they just kept dragging on,
and Robby faced insurmountable bills,
then one day Marie claimed that he’d hit her,
that his temper was always set to kill?!

Robby’s family gawked in disbelief,
their boy never even been in a fight,
they all tried to say the Marie had lied,
but she played the judge’s sympathies right.

Men don’t fare well in Family Courts,
in the end Rob lost near sixty percent,
add the that alimony, child support,
and no custody of his two children.

The young men felt his world crashing on down,
but the worst of it was yet to come,
Marie’s claims made their way up to his boss,
and within weeks, Rob’s position was gone.

When he told the judge he was out of work,
and his payments would have to be changed,
she said,”I’ll have to investigate this,
many dead-beats go to lengths to not pay.”

That dragged on for several long months,
and Robby was already long broke,
one morning a cop waited on his front door,
and with a sneer, glared at Robby and spoke:

“We have got a complaint that you have not
paid up on this month’s child support.
A warrant has been issued for your arrest,
I really hate dealing with your sort!”

He tried to explain his words with the judge,
but the officer really didn’t care,
dragged into court, Rob found the same judge,
glowering down at him from her chair.

“Your wife needs those payments to survive,
nut you seem to think this is a joke,
so you’re going to spend a week in jail,
and learn an important lesson, I hope.”

As to the judge’s biased nature,
Robby no longer had any doubts,
and none there knew that when he went away,
never more would he ever come out…

CONTINUES IN PART II.
Form: Narrative

Ballad of Ghost and Tex - Part I

There’s many a tale that spreads across the night
when the sun o’er the plains yields to campfire light. 
Tales about cowboys, who once roamed the plains, 
scratching a living using their rope and reins

A few were happy when it came time to tell, 
but many of them were just sadder than hell
Cause most of them ended with some poor old soul 
lying all alone in a forgotten hole

There's a story I recall about a man, 
that made his way north from the wide Rio Grande
Arlie he was called by those that new him best 
folks round the Rockin Bar J just called him Tex

When the punchin’ all played out Tex left his home
in search of somewhere with enough space to roam
He found Montana where mountains scraped the sky
with enough space where he could live right or die

Tex knew a few summers and could feel his age 
whenever Montana snows covered the sage
He felt time too quickly closing in on him
his hearing was fading, and his sight was dim

Round the bunks they told of a stallion named Ghost
catchin’ him would give a man the right to boast
They said that horse can’t be caught by any man
so all through the winter Tex worked on a plan
 
Tex had studied that hoss and knew he was smart
the cunning of a fox with want in his heart
There wasn’t a horse that could match his pace
Tex knew he won't beat him in a flat out race

Summer had run long, this one hotter than most
Tex laid his plan to get that horse they called Ghost
With hellfire in his eyes and his nostrils flared
Ghost come down from the mountain lookin’ for mares

Now Old Tex was ready to play out his plan
he’d strung out three horses across the grassland
Twenty miles apart those geldings stood ready
for an eighty mile stretch Tex could ride steady

Tex spotted Ghost silhouetted 'gainst the sun
that horse stomped and glared then took off in a run
Ghost was in the lead and Tex brought up the back
but Tex’d studied his foe and knew where he'd track

Towards Rattlesnake Butte that stallion did run
was heading straight into that bright morning sun
'cross dried grass and sage Ghost never skipped a beat
Fast as a Chinook through that Montana heat

Ghost was fast and Tex saw him pulling ahead
but they’d reached the exchange and Tex mounted Red
Red was sure footed and as fast as the breeze
and he started closing up that gap with ease
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Christmas Song Parodies

Let’s Eat Something New This Christmas
(Parody of Have a Holly Jolly Christmas)

I can make some spicy tacos
better than the ones down south.
Please though know to eat them slow
or they may burn your mouth.

Try my sauciest lasagna 
better than a Christmas ham.
Cheese galore – I like that more
than even roasted lamb.

Some get hung up on foods
so traditional.
My foods you cannot call
repetitional.

For dessert, there’s tiramisu.
I’m so sick of pumpkin pie.
Cookies crumble
so I grumble: why not new foods to try?

Christmas Balls,
(Parody of Jingle Bells)

Christmas balls, Christmas balls on my Christmas tree.
I’ve got a cat that’s such a rat beneath the tree he’ll pee -ee.

Christmas balls, Christmas balls, flying through the air.
When both cats get hold of them, they scatter everywhere.

One night I took a pause because I’d heard a crash.
Hoped it might be Claus bringing me some cash.
I saw my big dog’s face. She looked up guiltily.
To those darn cats she’d given chase destroying our tree! Oh!

Repeat refrain: 
Christmas balls, Christmas balls on my Christmas tree.
I’ve got a cat that’s such a rat beneath the tree he’ll pee -ee.

Christmas balls, Christmas balls, flying through the air.
When both cats get hold of them, they scatter everywhere.

Two oldies:

I Heard Mother (to tune of "I Saw Mother Kissing Santa Clause") 

 I heard Mother scolding Santa's elf
 As I prowled the house on Christmas Eve.
 He'd hid in St. Nick's sleigh And then sneaked out to play 
After having waited for his boss to fly away. 
Mother caught him gobbling all our snacks 
After he tore open every gift. 
Oh, when she glared down at his face, 
He went scrambling from our place 
Screaming, "Santa, stop the sleigh-
 I need a lift!"

New Body
Parody of the Xmas Song: White Christmas 

 I'm dreaming of a new body 
with every chocolate I unwrap. 
But I can't stop eating, I can't stop cheating. 
 There's just too many Christmas snacks. 
My nightmare is a pot belly -with every Christmas treat I take.
 But I can't stop feasting, my size increasing; 
when I stand on the scales they'll break.
 Yes, I'm dreaming of a trim waistline,
so take that Chex mix from my face. 
May my buns be smaller and flat, 
 and may all my body lose its fat!

(I no longer make Chex Mix. It’s just too tempting)
Form: Lyric


Our Political Participation

I've come to say a few things about our political involvement,
Important is this because our future is on the edge of  precipice,
And is dangerously tilting irreversibly towards enslavement,
If urgently not arrested we pay the unholy bitter Price.

How easily a people once astute and meticulous,
Got swerved towards the edge of political escarpment,
Punders sane mind, so absurd and so ridiculous,
Though it be inflicted by  unnegotiated  predicaments.

Then make I bold to interrogate and not to despair,
To investigate, scrutinize and not to speculate,
Prescribing solutions so simple and so straight,
Least I be misjudged and suspiciously at glared.

Despise not that which I say because of its simplicity,
For truths, real truths unadulterated  are always simple,
And need not be subjected to unwarranted duplicity,
But be accepted by souls learned and simple.

Is this predicaments not caused by lack of participation?
Was it not caused by poor political permutations?
Are we not plagued by lack of proper political calculation?
When against action we choose unfounded speculations.

Have we not indulged so much in self aggrandizement?
Have we not taken the destructive path to political oblivion?
Have we not despised the Zikist ideology and movement,
When we choose "sit at home"  in every election?

Refused we not to galvanize 20 million votes for our leaders?
Have we not disdainfully despised our leaders,
And make it practically impossible to organize us?
When we claimed that politics is not for us?

What else on the negotiation table do we bring,
Except the uncalculated threats of secession?
What if on the table 20 Million votes we bring?
That would grant all our interests protection.

Oh! What is he saying? Does it really matter?
All we want is our freedom from this contraption,
Their political system is bedeviled with  corruption,
So we do not want to get involved in their matter.


In the final analysis it does not really matter,
What the political system is - whether it be perfect.
We do not need perfect political systems,
We need political participation that's perfect.

I say this one and I cease to say no more,
I Say not everything for want of time and space,
But that we participate even as we continue to ask for more,
As people of peace who for others set the pace.

The Sun Is Shining On Me Again

I sat on a giant cemented rock in the river bed
And the sun shines through the trees all over my head
I could feel the warmth and comfort covering me
while I listen to the tranquil water flowing in the river
Nobody was trailing me and nobody was bothering me
I felt energetic and strong that I could lift a gigantic rock  
and crumble it all at once in my powerful hands

A few hours ago I was sailing up and down the river
looking for a quiet place to anchor
but everywhere I steer my boat the water was up to my throat
But today the water has recede and I can finally proceed

Sometimes it is difficult to understand the things in nature
Everything happen so fast  that sometimes you have to wonder
I spread out on the solid rock  gazing at the clear blue sky 
with the trees dodging the sun as it glared into my meticulous eyes
I started thinking about the rocks many things have
transpired  in nature centuries  before I was born.

I started observing all the rocks around the river 
And  I saw something interesting that made me shiver
A flat rock hangs over the river bed
and it runs beneath a twin tree fastened on the river bank
I kept moving from rock to rock as my curiosity grew bigger
I came to this place to relax but I find myself gathering facts

I have  crossed this river more that three times
but I have never seen something so clear and divine
As I was walking on the rock the gods draw my attention
to the road that leads across the river
I rolled up pants and walked  back and forth  on the stones 
The water had dwindled and the rocks were dry on the top

Suddenly a still small voice said count the stones
I start jumping playfully as a child while  counting the stones
Thirteen of them lined up in a row then another voice said look
on top of the stones  and tell me  what you see 

I bend down and examined the stones and there were
Five creases on each of the thirteen stones and
I started to wonder deeply about what I have already known

I continue walking on the stones and deep speaks to deep
Another mystery unfold before my journey was complete
The same road  that runs across the river
had a big  letter W carved on it with water running over it
The answers are plain as day there will be no peace
until history takes it rightful place.
The sun is shining on me again
W.W.W
Form: Narrative

Henpecked

We were drinking in the Eagles Nest; a cozy little pub,
one Friday evening after work completed in the scrub.
Most of us are timber workers, who get paid on Friday night,
so we’re all cashed up and thirsty in a setting that’s just right.

There were six of us who formed a shout and mixed to socialize,
and as the beers were going down, glassy turned our eyes.
Tongues were loosening up a mite and too our rationale,
and hints were being thrown about by master card sharp Karl.

Karl’s the gambler we avoid he’d bet on two flies up a wall,
but when we’ve had a skin full and Karl begs a poker call,
fifty per cent will jump right in and claim themselves a seat,
and the rest are easily convinced, for grog does hide defeat. 

So with Ron and John, plus Bill and Stan, I walk to Karl’s abode.
We’re all carrying two six packs that we surely will unload,
while we shuffle, deal and raise and show, or play a game of bluff,
to find out whom at poker holds the nerves of stronger stuff.

And as the night went deeper and the stubbies emptied out,
some were holding piles of money and one was now without.
Stan had squandered all his pay and now he looked a mite unstable,
but then to top his bad night off - Stan drops dead at the table.

At first we panicked seeing Stan but knew there’s nothing we could do,
and seeing that we’re full of booze we only had a short review.
It was suggested we should show respect now Stan has passed away.
We stood up for the next three hands and thanked Stan for his pay.

And when new dawn began to break, it was time to close the game,
Karl was quick to put his hand on Stan and then he did proclaim,
“One of youse walking home my friends must notify Stan’s wife.
Who will it be?” But no hand rose and Karl felt he’s in strife.

So it came down to drawing straws that Karl held in his hand.
When I plucked me piece of straw I plucked the one I never planned.
Karl stated I must be discreet, be gentle, and not to make things worse.
With me virtue for discretion at Stanley’s door I did converse.  

Ums and Ahs were flowing freely ‘til at last me courage grew,
“Your husband Stan has lost his pay now he’s frightened to face you.”
She glared with eyes that proffered hate - “Tell the mongrel to drop dead!”
So I uttered as I turned away - “I’ll go and tell Stan what you said.”
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member My Daughter and the Birthday Supper

I invited my oldest daughter to dinner for her half birthday.
It was highly embarrassing when she wrestled me to
The ground for the check, and I landed in some guy’s lap.
Sorry, I said. “This is my daughter.”
She glared at me.

“Why did you do that?” she asked me.
“Why did you bite my hand?” I asked back. “I have not had a tetanus shot.”
“You had one last February, remember?”
I suddenly remembered who FORCED me in to get one, because she did
not (prissy voice now) “Want her mother to get lock jaw.”
I had screamed and wailed and begged and sniffled and sobbed.
It did me no good. I got the shot that hurt less than my wailing and sobbing had.
“And could I please have my credit card back now?” I asked Miss Aggressive.
The waitress turned and looked when I said that, so I stuck out my tongue.
I had told her up front I would be paying, after all.

“Do you want to go shopping?” my daughter asked.
“I can’t,” I replied. “You have my credit card.”
So we looked at the dessert menu, but everything 
was costly, and we both knew we would end up on the
floor again, maybe in sumo diapers, and we were too full
to wrestle without guaranteed bouts of flatulence the next time.
So we went to her house and watched six TV shows she wanted
me to “see” in about forty-two minutes.
Oh, my, you ask, how does anyone watch six TV shows in less than
an hour?
Easy when your daughter has the remote, and fast forwards through all
the parts she already saw that were “too boring to see” which means you
get to see some of the beginning, maybe a minute in the  middle, 
and if you are very lucky, the ending. Another enjoyable evening 
with an assertive-borderline-aggressive-beyond-belief daughter 
who obviously takes after her daddy’s side of the family.
I took her gift back, and went home.

It might be her birthday, but she did not deserve a gift,
due to blatant arrogance and having to be in charge of me.
No one else EVER tries to be in charge of me!
I dread the bleak dark end-of days when I end up at her mercy, 
days in the future, when I cannot see out, or walk or talk, and she is my jailer.
Maybe she will deserve this birthday gift next year but I doubt it.
I have brought this birthday gift over six years in a row, and as
you can see, the less-aggressive one still has it.

Two Mountains Crumbling In Daylight

Eons ago, near two flowing rivers in old China 
Lived an old, white clothed man ninety-nine years of age 

Who glared at two mountains he knew from his long-dead childhood 
Who glared at the giants he always had dreams of 

The first was a mist covered mountain, where all beasts were blind 
With whispers of meaningless legends and theories 

The second was a fiery mountain singing in passion 
With trees and bushes with golden leaves, but no fruit 

Both these mountains trapped the souls of the damned under the dirt 
Both buried the light in the damp cyclical tomb 

The souls were angels who defended their land from the night 
Horsemen who guarded against the Prince of Darkness 

The inner soul of light within the old man awakened 
The youthful hoopoe bird within chirped for freedom 

He began his work, to dig into the mountains themselves 
He started to craft a path for all to travel 

A wiser old man came up and saw the sweat raining down 
And chuckled at the absurdity raining down 

“Oh friend, you cannot remove one grey hair from the giants 
How in heaven’s name can you crumble these mountains” 

The foolish grey-haired man, singing and young in his caged heart 
Said these words, roaring with his liberated mind 

“My children shall tear the mountains by their blood-covered hand 
My grandchildren shall destroy them with their chisels 

My offspring will fight as unsleeping armies in the night 
My offspring will never surrender their grand fight 

The birds of the blue sky will peck the mountains piece by piece 
The worms of earth will eat the fortress bit by bit” 

These words reached the wise man’s inner heart beating with wonder  
These words reached the sun and moon’s delicate bright souls 

So the ships of light carried the message to the blue sky 
The Infinite Father of Greatness and Lightness 

The blue sky ripped apart the revolving grey clouds of might 
The expanse of azure blue split all into two 

Daylight shone in the highest firmament of dark violet 
Daylight shone in the lowest crannies of Sheol 

These two mountains vanished as if they were nothing at all 
These two watchtowers crumbled in the gentle flames 

Leaving no fortresses between the two flowing rivers 
Leaving only an untouched garden, eons old

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