Long Gras Poems
Long Gras Poems. Below are the most popular long Gras by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gras poems by poem length and keyword.
I've been doin' time, sittin in this jail cell for too long.
Yea, I made mistakes because I was headstrong
when I killed Isabelle, but it's what she deserved.
She ran off with my coke and money. That was wrong.
I want outta prison. Enough years have been served.
She was sent to New Orleans just to shut me down.
I ruled like I was a king, a legend in my hometown.
But that greedy French chick stole from me and fled
to New York. Did she think I was clowning around?
I knew I'd find her there, and soon she'd end up dead.
That's where Moon Knight found me to make a deal.
He was lookin for my contact, but I wouldn't squeal.
I got the best of him and knocked him into the river
after overpowering him with my muscles of steel.
He wanted my contact information, but I didn't deliver.
I found Isabelle and kept her doped up for five days,
Shot her up with drugs until her mind was in a haze.
She told me what she'd done with my coke and money,
then I stabbed her until she was dead, her eyes agaze.
That was payback, but that woman was smooth as honey.
I dumped her body on the Westside and felt no pity.
I was in a hurry to get back home to Mardi Gras in the city.
The plan was to make raids when people were at parades.
While the cops were busy, I'd get down to the nitty-gritty
then high tail it outta town and hide out in the Everglades.
But Moon Knight and his pal Frenchie, were on my trail.
They wanted to capture me before my tracks got stale,
and found me at the Fair Grounds, betting on a horse.
Tearing up a losing ticket I'd bet on a nag of a bangtail.
I fought them off and got away using strength and force.
I took shelter in a warehouse a block from Jackson Square
but there was no escaping again when they found me there.
I wasn't gonna go down easy and had my ice pick ready.
Moon Knight broke my jaw, throwing a punch with fanfare.
It brought me to my knees when my legs became unsteady.
When I'm outta this hell hole, I swear I'm gonna get even.
Been shut up in jail too long and tired of all the grievin.'
Moon Knight hasn't seen the last of Cajun Creed. Not yet.
Vengeance has kept me sane, because it's what I believe in.
You can put a C note down on that promise. Make that bet!
11/1/2022 ~ Moon Knight Friend or Foe Contest
Sponsored by Robert James Liguori
My friends said C’mon let’s go, let’s head on down to Mexico.’
We’ll drink up all their tequila and we’ll snort up all their blow.
My friends said c’mon let’s go, out to Aspen, Colorado.
We’ll snuggle with some bunnies, and ski ‘til our buzz starts to go.
My friends said c’mon let’s go, it’s cold under this Missouri snow.
Let’s go to Miami and party ‘til we run out of dough.
My friends said c’mon let’s go, those Las Vegas lights are all aglow.
We’ll gamble away all our cash and leave with nothing to show.
My friends said c’mon let’s go, let’s head on down south to New Orleans.
Drink all night at Mardi Gras, get the drunkest we’ve ever been.
My friends said c’mon let’s go, to the sands of California’s beach.
Where the wine flow like water, and all our dreams will be in reach.
Chorus:
Why don’t you pack yourself a bag and let’s get on down the line.
We’ll worry about tomorrow later…but today we’re gonna feel just fine.
I said you guys go on without me, maybe I will make it there someday.
But now I have responsibilities, and life keeps getting in the way.
I can’t pay the rent and the utilities if I don’t go to work today.
Maybe when I’m a little older, then I’ll have time to come out and play.
With my wife, four kids and a dog, my life has turned out just fine.
I don’t worry ‘bout tomorrow ‘cause I always toed the line.
I’m ready to pack my bag and use the money I never spent.
I have the time to go see, all those places I never went.
Tried to get in touch with my friends, so that maybe we could meet.
But Dave lives at Bellevue, Blue sleeps in a box out on some street.
Dan didn’t shake the habit and OD’d a year ago today.
Frankenstein’s in jail somewhere and that’s where he’s going to stay.
Chorus:
I said you guys go on without me, maybe I will make it there someday.
But now I have responsibilities, and life keeps getting in the way.
Glad they went without me, while I stayed and toed the line.
Because tomorrow my friends is finally here, and I am feeling just fine.
I’m going to pack my bag so I can get on down the line.
I don’t have to worry about tomorrow , and today I’m feeling just fine.
© Jerry Brotherton
Mardi Gras
Ever since the flames licked
my fair pink burning flesh,
nothing in my life has remained the same.
I had to go back in to
save my little brother Chris.
Life without him would kill me,
besides myself I would forever blame.
Even though it’s been ten years,
my face still feels the pain.
Having to go through high school
with a scarred face is just lame.
I’ve got the body of a goddess;
I must admit I’m beautiful from the neck down,
but the hideous burn scars
on my face have remained.
Months after the accident
weeks before school started,
a knock at my door came.
An anonymous donor sent a box
full of beautifully hand decorated
Mardi Gras masks made for only the fairest lady,
that’s the day I got my new name.
Each month a new box of masks
would arrive and I would wear everyone.
I became known as the royal shapely, disfigured lady.
Mardi Gras was my fame.
One night a mysterious white box appeared,
inside rested the most unique and intricately
adorned mask of all. It was a pure white mask adorned
with a delicate French ivory lace, fluffy pure white
dove feathers and shiny white pearls outlined the mask.
White is normally considered lame
but this was breathtaking, nothing plain.
Inside the box was also an
invitation, asking me to attend
the prom with "Masked Bandit" Lane.
I couldn’t believe it! All along it was
my handsome next door neighbor and
Chris' best friend, who had been sending
the ornate masks to me. He was my hero now,
my enthusiasm could hardly be tamed..
Lane had always adored my brother Chris and seemed
to like me too. I always knew he had
a crush on me, but I never knew to what extent.
I rushed over to his house where he was playing
with my brother Chris a heated basketball game.
I hugged him and told him that
I would love to go with him to the prom.
Just between you and me,
Lane and I will always be the
masked King and Queen of Mardi Gras
and forever in love we will reign.
Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track;
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive -
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.
Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built,
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth
Of every God given hour.
A rich bankers cantilever
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer,
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!
Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.
Through the deepest part of the black
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents
Of irresistible designs!
Smith’s Octopuses Party On Pontoons
Rumor Has It My Dear
Rumor has it my dear something spectacular is near
Bring your batik hats to our grand lavish scene
Wear flowing Kebeya robes
Let them flow in the air
We’re having our party upon the ocean
On pontoons made of bamboo notions
Flown in from Indonesia with crews
Planks will connect all the segments
Chris Christie will help with construction
Bridging rafts with bamboo shoots & roots
(We understand he understands bridges)
Yachts will punctuate the festivities
Covered in purple red flowers with care
Tied to the floating swaying affair
McCartney and Sting will be there
Octopuses Garden is the theme
And Paul will bring Ringo to sing
The Clinton's and Bushes are on the list
Paparazzi will see if they kiss or do tricks
And who can resist our guests of honor
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt
The main menu is set like this;
Foie gras loco moco carne
Matusaka beef
Pheasant/Mallard breast roast
Beluga Sevruga, Osetra caviar
Goût de Diamants, Taste of Diamonds champagne
Haute chocolate ice cream
This all seems like a dream
We pray that the weather holds up
The only waves we wish to see is from us
In the form of greetings and pleasantries
The party has been planned for ages
If storms should gather
It won’t really matter
We’re thankful
The Royals, Mr.& Mrs. Smith are here
To weigh down pontoons and rafts
With billions in sacks of gold trinkets
Door prizes for sure, (sorry no doors), for those who attend
500 guests will arrive at the gala
A date with Mick Jagger and two jaguars
Assured for each person as gifts guaranteed
Compliments of King & Queen Smith
Whose parties should never be missed
A mystery guest, no surprise
A legend in his own mind
Mr. Trump and his hair might arrive
Since the pope is preoccupied
We’ll sway to the music with fine company
All are welcome to our heavenly scene
At the octopuses party on the sea
7/11/14 Rumor Has It contest
When others sleep
I lie awake
Waiting
For night
To become day.
Rubbing
The sun
From my eyes
Everything I
Tried to forget
Comes back
Like an angry wave.
Hearing about the hurricane
And the neglect
I went to New Orleans
Barely knew the place
Only what I heard
Creoles and Mardi Gras
The Big Easy and
Good times
A distant city singing
Its own sad song
From the South.
Long days and
Months later
A fever came round
From damp nights and bad food
A public health doctor
Looked at me
With an innocence
And worry
I haven’t seen
Since childhood.
Restless
One night
I set out
Towards the outskirts
Of the city.
Fires burned everywhere
Violence
Lay waiting
In gaping holes
Of empty houses
And abandoned cars
The spider web of
Death
Hovered above
Waiting for its next victim
I thought I saw the worst
But I hadn’t.
On a garbage strewn road
Was an old woman
Patiently
Stirring some sort of gumbo
In a beat up tin pot
I approached her
In the darkness
We were
Two solitary
Figures on a dirt road
The space between us
No more than a foot
From the fire
The veins on the back of her hands
Stood out
Her face hidden in the flickering shadows
“I’m noticing you
You’re a stranger
You don’t belong here.”
Looking past me
She asked,
“Tell me mister
If they put a man on the moon
Can't they rescue people in a flood?’
I had no answer
Tapping the spoon
Against the side of the pot
She spoke to no one in particular,
“Must be
We got to be people
On the moon
Before anyone can help us”.
Behind us
Shadows moved
Heavy voices were heard.
A sudden downpour came
The rain turning
The dirt road to mud
The old woman shrugged and left
I walked back to camp
Leaving as lost
As I came.
The night
Became a faint memory
I slept forever
Exhausted
I opened my eyes
To see wet clothes
And muddy boots
In the corner
Of my room
Then I knew
The night
Hadn’t been
A dream after all.
The earth was void and without form…
And the voice of the Lord was upon the waters…
In the roll of a tsunami wave across the Pacific
Born of a collapsing mountain deep in the sea
And in the tidal surge bearing down on Mobile
Miles ahead of an approaching storm.
You sweep away people as if they were but a dream.
In the morning they are like the new grass.
It was no dream to those on board an oil platform in the Gulf
Torn from its moorings by a raging sea.
It was no dream to a family huddled in their attic
Watching the flood waters rise.
But the voice of the Lord was not in the whirlwind.
It was not in the flood waters from Lake Pontchartrain.
It was not in the crashing tidal waves or the leaking levees.
It was not in the spinning devastation of the hurricanes.
Or the incessant pounding of torrential rains.
God gave Noah the “rainbow sign”.
Never again will I destroy the world.
Already life returns, bit by bit, to New Orleans.
Trash-filled streets are cleared, tattered storefronts mended.
Flooded homes pumped clear and families reunited.
Alligators return to their normal homes
While the people rebuild theirs along the waterfront.
I will gather the exiles from the four corners of the Earth.
From the Astrodome and Air Force bases,
From Red Cross shelters and tent cities,
And from the homes of strangers.
And they shall rebuild the waste cities and inhabit them.
They shall plant vineyards and drink of their wine.
The tourist hotels on the beaches of Phuket,
Fishing villages on the shores of Indonesia,
And the bars on Bourbon Street.
The sound of music and rejoicing shall be heard once more in the land.
They will celebrate Mardi Gras again on the streets of New Orleans
With the sounds of sweet jazz drifting from the “French Quarter”.
Boats shall sail once more from the port of Jakarta
And sailors will look out upon a tranquil sea.
Some would call me homeless. I call myself a traveler. In this city I traverse the wonder of human art and nature's beauty as if the two have melded together as one. The ornate iron railings seem to grow into the sweet smelling vines and flowers that live upon them. Hanging baskets with pink and purple impatiens and verdant ferns chuckle gently in the moist morning breeze as they adorn each balustrade. Hidden gardens beckon me as I walk past their gates painted with worn layers of lover's hands as they steal away behind secluded walls. They say I'm confused, yet I search to understand. Here, the past calls to me and I listen. Walking the streets and alley ways there is a sense of history, of lives that have loved and lost, of souls that linger in the heart of the buildings. Always searching, the walls can not contain their bewildered wandering. Inflicting confusion and sometimes pain on those they touch, they bath in the fountains and babble longing desires into each mind that seeks the peace of their soothing, gently bubbling water.
petals blush gently
the patient garden awaits
sweet stolen kisses
"For Sale," reads the sign on the window of the house before me. Delicate filigree rails frame the porch as I approach the old glass pane and peer through it. Inside I see a small room with peeling paint. Worn wooden floors trace the lives that have lived here. The ghost of Christmases past linger in the broken toys strewn across the floor. Brightly colored beaded memories of ages of Mardi Gras dangle from hooks on the wall. Upon the small corner desk I can see papers written in a fine pen like that of a poet's notes waiting an eternity for the completion of a long forgotten refrain. I feel the joy that once lived here and the pain of loss that remains.
stains of memories
the children's laughter lingers
a tear on my cheek
01/15/16
Meth Bomb, Homicide Village,
Diverse Culture Site, Crown Town,
Kendaltucky and Johnny Appleseed's Homestead;
Tremendous and Troubling and Tortured,
Town of the Long Face:
They say you are explosive, and that is valid; I know of the white powdery crystallized bombs being made under children's beds in the deepest hell of a home
They say you are a cemetery on a cold winters' night and that I must justify with the RGS running the funeral mansion
They say you are congested, and I do believe that there is not a lot of field in range to go through the saloons and institutions
While many of the headlines are validated by the sweating asphalt- this town of mine is home and my hometown is just as flawless as its flaws:
Take me to a more sufficiently lead team of law enforcers picking up the crooks of Kendallville off the road.
Taking a lifetime of folklore and continuously celebrating the satisfied existence like Christians on Mardi Gras or Americans on the 4th of July.
Vicious as bears searching for their prey; amiable cubs jointly loving families and families of families
Sensible,
Persistent,
Exuberant,
Courteous,
Inconsiderate, Impassionate, Immoveable,
Covered in crank, devoured in the brain, suffocated by stigma,
Covered in red juice from babies who bleed from bullet holes,
Covered with resentment all around people who are the same the rest,
Encouraged by devotion taking apart all sin within the field like a first-time Christian opening their heart in the fight for heaven
Lost and encouraged that all things happen in the enclosed surface of a town for Him to save.
Encouraged with tremendous, troubled, tortured loss of the populous, diverse in a congested area, represented by Crowns throughout the town in years past. One finds salvation in the explosion of guilt.
Mardi Gras "The Medieval Story"
On a hot, heavy night in Orleans,
Joan and Jane were seen rubbing chest on chest
An inviting, intimate moment, to undress
Two pretty trimmed tops, eating like dames
They touched in ways, that drove those who make war insane
The secret spilled before the sun sprawled across the floor
Medieval England, banging on iron set doors,
All around men and women, wanting to witness the whiplash
Beads and beads of love, thrown at their feet
Joan' and Jane', having fun in front of, yesterdays courtyard
Sweet acts of flagellation were performed to stimulate the crowd
Screaming, and receiving, intense, brutal lacerations
In the eyes of endless nudity, everything wet in between
Left to right, a secluded society, dance in masquerade
Two men rise and ravage Jane, from hip to hip
Join-in, was a Jouster, and Lord Johnsburg,
They came in a little closer to claim, Joan
Closing, and inflicting as much damage as possible
Crestfallen forces of the unknown, -the audience grows
Remain firm and indulge this wet period of the Middle Ages,
The first crusade held stones in each hand,
Applauding to neck the beauty of friends
A noose hanging high held no head on this day
Yelling to feel the pain perils of anguish,
This was in reality the vassal of Jane
The King, ask to see them on their knees
Before he seeded, sending the Spanish tickler,
Fetching for the finest skin
At her end, Joan, watched Jane, spread like never before
Perfumed skin, rising up in smoke, -Joan's final stroke
Left burning at the Stake, In a Medieval World, from hell
The Siege of Joan and Jane did not end well
A lonely Bard, now sits and sings a sadistic tale,
A tale, of dirty deeds, -a dancing bloody masquerade
Joan and Jane, compensating for the Mardi Gras Parade
By: SKAT