Long Go figure Poems
Long Go figure Poems. Below are the most popular long Go figure by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Go figure poems by poem length and keyword.
The human body was built with a stretching ability. Skin and muscles are very elastic and prepared for adversities. Bones can be fractured and broken, but mends back in time. Ache me; bend me; mend me; brake me; mane me; pain me; I bounce back. Everything within me connects, communicates, and confers with each other. But I am wondering about 'the goings on' of a can of corn, if dented. If a dent is made in a can of corn, does it force the kernels to draw closer together? It's like this. While cleaning our food closet one day, I overheard a most interesting dialogue between designated speakers for the corn and the water.
"What just happened here?" said the whole kernel can of corn to the water in the can. "I felt a deep stump that shook us as you moved like a high tidal wave." "I know! said the water, it was as if someone just threw us into a large tote of other cans". "I don't know what's going on here, but I sure wish it would stop. We have feelings too?" They seem to care more about a dent in their cars than one in a can containing their food supply. Go figure".
After a pause, the corn kernel said, "Anyway, the dent they caused just took away some of our already crowded space. Moreover, I suspect before long someone will come looking to eat us, notwithstanding the dent in the can. Until then we'll just have to deal with the way things are. "On the other hand, said the water, they might decide to eat us as a last resort, like when things are bad and money is tight. In that way we'll last longer. I must say that as a result of our can being dent, not only have we both been stirred, but we have been forced to communicate like humans do. Maybe we'll also learn to bounce back like humans". And the corn kernel said, "Perhaps so, and I guess if you are going to get eaten, later is better for us."
12242017 PS Contest, Dented Cans, John Lawless (Personification)
Gross misconduct bullets falling like rain drops
Mosquitoes kissing marinated children
While in the hood homeless and thugs
Suck on those the things unruly plugs
Crack-cocaine, meth, mary-jane
Elusive while simultaneously being inclusive
Only check me N marching boys to men
Both dying over seas
Are we protecting democracy
So they be so illiterate literally can't pull the trigger
Might have put a fon to his heads go figure
Counterfeit dreams nightmares
So they fought for us they be home now
Lock them up seclude them drug them out checkmate it's a stand still Satan steals and kills
He even tries to bends our wills women mothers crying because their boys and men are out in the war they come back home they're being denied governments denying urban city countries wars going to get you got mine seasons change what it is what it ain't none of that mistreatment and where are the trains on the railroad tracks cell phone tires towers missing children the promises of ups All I see is down mental health rising And I'm on a checkerboard multi-colored squares summer black summer white that's the closest we touch Where is the heaven where God is my witness yet it seems like he dismissed us in Jesus what color is he black or white or is he red yellow Tanner Brown Is he mine Is he yours do we just belong to the burns And how do birds live or more how do they sore in the sky or how I wished and I could fly I know I never die because my true self is energy but I don't want to be consumed and compiled in the colds of raising fires I want to live in a new body and love embrace by the father above the Grossman's conduct of my flesh body deformation my character caught up and pride like Illuminati The only luminess that I want to shine in is the resistance being a child of God about living God I light shines from my heart outward I light I come across the evils of myself first I liked this game in this worldly plain and it's physical vein I light I am of prophetic energies I am like in my father and he might be in every step that I take I go right because if I were to go left it would be checkmate?
4/6/23
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Crazy… can’t begin to describe, some of my Trolls, many ways.
But suddenly it was ninja this, and ninja that, today.
You should see them in black, though; they’re way too big to miss!
Shiny baubles tied all around, jingling with every move, in bliss.
But stealth isn’t their name to fame, for they’re not very small.
And with or without a costume, who would fight a Troll at all?
Stalking little birdies, and each other, was suddenly all the rage.
One startled a skunk… he’ll be staying outside, for a few days…
They tried to climb a downspout and trellis, to the hardwares’ demise.
Thank God, they never made it to the roof, for the results I would despise.
To practice throwing ninja stars, I gave them bubble gum balls, instead.
No one got hurt, and the stars were forgotten, with bubble gum wars, ahead.
They Did protect me from my swing set, may it rest in peace, this day.
But the smoke bombs, they thought they needed, definitely went astray.
It seems all the wood, that for my fireplace stood, has now gone up in smoke.
But they had lots of fun with marshmallows and a great weenie roast.
The firemen then came, and I explained as I met them in the front yard.
I warned of the ninjas, but they knew the ropes... they’d been here before.
So the firemen declared themselves ninja masters, that everyone must obey…
The ninjas immediately bowed down to their sensei. Thank God, is all I can say!
You can bet, I wish I’d thought of that, before a stanza or two, back… sooo true!
The firemen declared a safety violation for the trolls, and declared a big toll, too.
The toll would be to clean up the mess, and to practice at the local dojo.
Go figure…Apparently, one of the firemen owns that darn thing, you know!
He loaded up the ninja Trolls, for the fire truck ride of their life…
Winking... he said he’d have them and their jinglely suits… home safe, by night.
Got to love those firemen, they sure know their stuff… With just one look…
They told me: I could now relax and get some much-needed rest…
But first, I'll be hiding all those ninja movies… it’ll be for the best.
Wagon John's Campsite
Bald Hill, Okla
By: Tom Wright
9/98
It was a typical Oklahoma August and the temperature had been soaring above 100, for several days. John was camped about 15 miles from our home and we,
(we being my wife and I), had driven to John's campsite to deliver his mail, and to share his wit and philosophy. He, his two wagons, five mules, two horses, and three dogs were on their way to New Mexico. We were delivering medicine that he would need. (My wife is Postmaster) His campsite had all the prerequisites of a good campsite as it had huge Oak trees for shade, green grass, and water in a nearby creek for the animals. He had been mending harness and it was strewn about the camp. Like John, being well weathered, it surely had a story to tell. During our conversation, we discussed his dogs, the price of horseshoe nails, and the intelligence of his mule Mollie, who I saw eating Poison Ivy from a tree while standing knee deep in green grass. Go figure. While noticing that he wasn't cooking, nor making what he called "Cowboy Coffee", my wife mentioned the heat and the campfire. Wagon John asked if we knew why he had the fire? Having been blessed with an analytical mind I shot back, ambiance or atmosphere. For the same reason people burn fireplaces in homes when other than for heat. That it makes your camp seem "Homey". He replied that was true but only a part of it. (There are no incorrect answers with John). That it was really for company. That the crackling of the embers were actually talking to us. In his solitude, he has learned to feel and appreciate those little things that most of us never notice or that we take for granted. While I looked at his fire and saw heat, he looked at the same fire and saw companionship. The first time I shared John's camp, I arrived a stranger, having no preconceived notions. I departed as a life long friend having been made much wiser for the experience. I thank you'll find Wagon John to be just "Folks".
Form:
Have an Alm in Palm of Hand
?So how about this poem in your hand's palm,
While some poor person had sought an alm;
For poor pegging
While begging,
Hoping that weather continued to be calm.
Does anyone actually laugh
at any of my various poems
that are hilarious even though
precarious?
When the wine was fresh from vine,
Would it be yours or might be mine;
When we set sail,
God's wind did prevail,
We always knew that it was Thine.
Thought of Trump joining the service;
Would make me worry and nervous,
And while we waited,
Should be annihilated;
Back ground poor which is previous.
Jim Horn
What if it had been a cinder,
She should return to sender,
Where she did go,
We would not know;
Might became a mind bender.
Jim Horn
Had been a bright big leaguer
Who would always beleaguer
Was rotund,
Yet moribund;
Became deep digger go figure.
They said there was a star struck swami,
Saw bright moon being made over Miami;
Had played fiddle,
Not giving a didle;
Could be a scam between you and me
.
Laughing yet when you get,
poems that you will regret?
So ten poems I may not exceed,
Poetry entries will always impede;
Took a chance;
Did enhance;
Later more of them tried to feed.
Jim Horn
Part of priest's proven plan
Was not part of priest's proven plan;
He did refrain from needing bed pan;
Might grow,
And overflow;
From entire church were sure to ban.
Movement About Things That Matter
There are movements about things that matter,
And many records are sure will start to shatter,
When they met,
Happily set,
As up and down streets shall start to scatter.
Jim Horn
Women's marches taking place.
Sad and Somber Moment
Sure was such a sad and somber moment
Caskets were carried wherever they went;
Were those brave,
Buried in a grave,
And later to heaven they would be sent.
Jim Horn
Written as I watched the caskets being disembarked
form the plane.
(a spontaneous raw trip through my brain)
Come along and please bring just your open mind,
My thoughts sitting on so many fences I can't count.
Sharpening my wit on white picket points never forgotten;
Boundaries holding sickness of home within its grasp.
Kicking a can down only road I ever knew at that time;
Highways now rushing me to unknown welcome destinations,
Promising a way to free paths laid out before me.
This trip through my psyche only beginning.
Ever wonder what's just beyond the sparkle in one's eye?
Introducing yourself to twinkle can surely end in darkness;
Tatoo pain memories only I could truly see,
Still looking close enough skin may not appear so clear.
I've seen things standing behind me while eyes were shut,
Some even slithered and crawled up spine without knocking.
Knowing for sometime animals can think maybe better than I;
Could it be all that bull**** really has some substance?
A one-eyed dwarf might see more than all brilliant minds;
So isn't that a concept that millions might relate to?
Of course lit tubes filled with boobs can blind reality.
Napoleon dancing naked in vision waking human vulnerability.
My God any critic reading this poem must be losing it,
How could one critique uncontrolled intelligent insanity?
Any thought worth anything should never be killed,
Now that is only my opinion so please don't hold me to it.
If you think I've finished it's not by a long thought;
Short bursts of fame usually end in final uncaring glances.
I haven't even seen my own brain so where is the knowledge?
Usually winds up in my mouth or on quill so go figure.
Yes I've been known to write more than two stanzas,
My vagabond wandering essence seems to breathe before me.
Who needs lungs when gray matter never seems to sleep?
Even it might be dead if spirit blood didn't flow there.
© Copyright 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved
(my friends i wrote the piece below in one long exhale. i did not change a word but
rather let it sit as it fell. could the writing be improved. yes it could but why try to
create a masterpiece when finger painting is so much fun. you have greeted me with
wide open arms. you have been a great support at a stressful time in my life. so here
it is from my heart to yours.)
they are those who ride us on their backs
send us on journeys to places they built
one chess piece at a time
they put into words
what we knew
but could not say
why am I telling you this
there are wonderful poets here
choose a dish
visit their buffets
taste more than one feel
give it a whirl
experience worlds you'll never find on a mac
visit their vivid dreams
drive one of their soap bubbles
ski on the end of a needle and thread
discover the barely open doors
the naked flesh between the creases
displays lined in scrap paper
that one can absorb eyes closed
crawl under and over the sea
tunnel the milky way to a brand new galaxy
witness a sky that like curtains part
peak at what is on the other side
life is short play nude
spend a bitty bit of time
with bitty bits of folksy folks
on a striped colored blur
they are special the poets who live here
so do yourself a flavor
put on your roller blades
and go for the tricycle ride of your life
here is the best part and get this
(i hope your holding your breath
and turning red white and blue)
some of their poems rhyme
some of them even use styles
here comes the huge reveal
( unlike me who is not really a poet
and doesn't actually know it)
they use good grammar
extensive vocabularies
and here's the kicker
capital letters
and proper punctuation
go figure
which they also use
well that figures
there are great poets here
you do yourself a disfavor
if you're only here to write
and not here to read
at last he knows what
has been kicking his ass all these years
living a slow trauma smelling of empire
guardians of civilization on strike or asleep
concluding that non-conformists are all alike
but wait I am harsh this is all from memory
must have been the Kristalnacht last night
the simple concept fire is hot
does not have a subjective alternative
I tell you this with both lips
eyes watering from the smoke and prayers
in an instructive grand demonstration
of just the right amount
at just the right time
fortunately the farm subsidies
kept his garden of delight
in full Amsterdam trim
until Dr. Schnitt opened his skull
in a state sanctioned inquiry
involving all manner of pageantry
gave me a jolly good boot up the spizzerinctum
I'll tell you that right here right there
tweetering bluebirds now circle my head
the hum of life in there somewhere
most thoughts are unoriginal anyhow
you don't need a text balloon to survive
but it's a lot more contemporary
makes the aerodynamics a little smoother
my geneticist says I must be careful
several members of my family
have perished from documented cases
of spontaneous human combustion
must have fallen off the chameleon ride
but no matter they love you one day
hate your ashes the next go figure
not all internal signal input is valid
for this reason scalpels have been handed out
a National Dissection Day special
Nurse Lefty in her lightning bug suit
was just trying to get the job done
after the renunciation of befuddlement
and the realization she had fingers
that were much different from her toes
oh boy we're on another subject already
rhyming crocodile and Nile somehow
fighting fire with smoke see above
partially eaten in spite of the effort
even the effort was eaten
cough cough
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
My conscious mind was
Shocked when
I realized I was slamming on my brakes.
There are
Three lanes of solid orange lights,
As far as I can see down the interstate.
A wreck most probably.
We began inching our way uphill, pretending to be socialized.
No one can see anything.
Maybe a trucker, but none of us in cars.
The cars at the top of the next hill are not fighting for lanes yet,
So I wonder how far we are going to inch our way toward our destination.
I call four people.
One is my husband.
Find out what’s happening, I tell him.
My GPS went on the blink this week; it won’t be any help.
Three of the people are co-workers.
I ask them for a favor.
All say yes.
One I have gotten out of bed.
Inch. Inch. Inch. Inch. Inch.
One car pulls out of the right hand lane, and drives like a maniac down the emergency lane.
A Mustang.
Go figure.
We inch our way to the top of the hill
I can now see a non-moving ribbon of orange lights.
My husband calls me.
Nothing on the news yet.
No empathy or patience now, I look for my chance.
Aha! A slow car.
I swerve into the right-hand lane, the one I never use.
We inch forward a few more inches.
Suddenly my car pulls a sharp right.
She and I race down the emergency lane,
Like there are hungry cheetahs after us.
I see flashing red and blue lights to my left
As we exit.
High above on the Interstate bridge
We are at a stoplight, facing an Interstate entrance ramp.
The cars going up this ramp are uninhibited; free to fly,
I watch five cars go up the ramp, ahead of me.
I swear at the light for not changing fast enough.
I marvel at the lack of cars as I re-enter the Interstate.
I am so early, I stop and buy gas.
Amazingly, I am the first car at work,
Beating everyone I called.
I love being an impatient risk taker.
GUESS WHO?
I’m a spit this like a thesis
No one speak everyone just listen
The question put forth is not what but who
How and why
People in this cynical insensitive reality please only one need
Want only one thing, what it is
Is not what it seems
Greed is the topic yet ya’ll like to drop it
Drop it like rotten fruit from an un-healthy tree hidden behind
And disguised by a mountain of lies
Hide! Why? because greed is gluttony a sin
That you commit, that you can’t stand to admit
Admit to yourselves, to your seeds that you plant in this reality in which you create and
always seem to manipulate
Wait, let me guess is this becoming stress
Do you not want to hear the rest?
I guess what they say is true
The truth hurts
But guess what really hurts
The cadaverous countries that fall like that fruit on that hidden tree
That deserves nothing more nothing less then prosperity
Those countries where in reality helped you with your greed your need
Your strive to succeed
Bewildered by the thought of karma
Y’all bring nothing but drama
Nothing but profound profuse and open faced lies
And still you try to deny, hide and multiply
Increasing the number of enemies
You guide them so blindly, yet so knowingly
Your greed, your ruthlessness, the irony
It all will catch up, it will come from behind
Will it be too late?
Time can only tell, time stops for no one
To bad, cause soon you gonna wish you could rewind the time
Undo the brutal and unjust progressions,
Just merely digressions of a high powered manipulating hypocritical giant
Known no better than the U. S. of A.
Go figure.