Long Grunted Poems
Long Grunted Poems. Below are the most popular long Grunted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grunted poems by poem length and keyword.
during the Eves of festival
a broad shouldered man
came into or near
the Layer were Witches were said to dwell
He came there to challenge
the Goblin who made
pots in the cave
Witches, Witches ask him here
cast your spell and make him appear.
I wish this Goblin to weave my baskets
I ask you witches
to tell him and ask it!
Spear, spear, sword
and arrow.
the becks of hawks, eagles, and sparrows
said the Wicca Witches.
weave your own baskets to
use as bags
to fill with stones
so heavy one must drag.
snails, and worms, and lizards to
if we were married now we're through
mount your horse and be on your way
be gone, be gone
hear what we say!
then suddenly the goblin appeared
and challenged the broad-shouldered man.
the tumbled
and fell on the baskets and pots
the grappled rolling around
non-stop.
the broad-shouldered man
grabbed a bag
and placed on the Goblins head
to calm his mad!
he told him he'd
feed him and cloth him
if he came to
weave his baskets
the Goblin grunted
as the Broad-shouldered man asked it.
he took him off
to make his baskets
a bag over his head
they mounted the horses
and off the fastest.
Weeks later
here again they came
the witches were in any mood
for these foolish games.
they casted a spell
and the broad-shouldered man fell
and became a frog
that with a tail
the Goblin grunted
and returned to the cave
making the Witches pots
like he were there slave!
Sleeping beauty slept for a long time
A hundred years in all and woke up fine
Who’d not with a kiss
From the luscious lips
Of a prince who looked simply divine.
She wondered why everything had changed
All cherished things had been rearranged
Ladies wore strange dresses
Had re-styled tresses
It wasn’t the home she’d known on the range.
* * *
Cinderella’s sisters were both green eyed
Cindy’s a beauty, it can’t be denied
They wished that she was gone
So their hearts would be won
No chance, as they’d both make an ugly bride.
When the prince came by bearing a glass shoe
The sisters thought he’d choose one of the two
But what a big shock
The both of them got
Cinder’s foot fitted and they cried boo-hoo.
* * *
Contrary Mary grew flowers galore
They made her sneeze lots, and her nose sore
Every ah-tissue
Became an issue
When the family couldn’t sleep, for her snore.
They decided to get themselves ear plugs
It didn’t work, as they had no such luck
She grunted and groaned
And loudly she moaned
So they gave up, and slept out in their truck.
* * *
Peppa pig had a taste for liquorice
Ate it all day long, until he felt sick
It ruined his teeth
Till he couldn’t eat
Poor Peppa pig went as thin as a stick.
He went along to see the pig dentist
Who said his teeth had to be cemented
It took all day long
To right the pig’s wrong
No more liquorice, dentist commented.
* * *
When Humpty Dumpty got himself a fix
He promised not to get up to his tricks
Not sit on a wall
Never have a fall
And to always walk with a pair of sticks.
That did not work as the sticks took a slip
Had another big fall and broke a hip
He got patched up fine
Then joined a dance line
And poor old Humpty ended up in bits.
* * *
I’ll take you back, to the old dark times,
To try and paint you a picture.
A tale of a man, just sixteen years old,
Who had a bit too much liquor.
1706, is the year we shall set,
As the young man woke himself up.
He found himself on a sailing ship,
Whilst holding a silver cup.
His clothes were ragged, as was his smell,
As he wearily opened his eyes.
He was lay on some sacks, of wheat and hay,
As he looked up to dark grey skies.
He’d drunk too much rum, the night before,
His head was banging like drums.
He looked down to his feet, then to his hands,
To make sure he had his fingers and toes.
‘Alas, he’s awake!’ He heard someone shout,
As he cradled his banging sore head.
‘Get up my boy, you’ve work to do!’
The voice bellowed as he lay on his bed.
‘Where am I?’ Said the boy, in a shaken whisper,
As he tried to get himself up.
A sailor approached, and grabbed his arm,
In turn, then dropping his cup.
‘Ow! My arm!’ The boy would cry,
As the sailor did drag him along.
‘Captain! He’s here’ the sailor did shout,
As other men started a song.
They bellowed sea shanties, as the ship caught wind,
through a perilous gloomy storm.
“The wind it would cry, with salt in my eye,
As we sailed on till the morn”
‘Get up my lad, you signed for this!’,
The captain grunted his voice.
‘Signed up for what?’ The boy did squeak,
‘Your term of work, You had a choice!’
All of a sudden, the memories came back,
What happened the night before.
The frail young lad, had gone to a pub,
With rum, he kept asking for more.
Sailors were nearby, and saw the boy,
Who was now just lay in the street.
‘Sign this my boy, and we’ll take you home’,
The boy soon signed, on their meet.
The rest was history, as the boy closed his eyes,
to find himself on a ship.
He was now a sailor, a working man,
On his way to an 8 month trip.
We’re in the common room, Lisa and I. It’s Friday afternoon, about 2 - It’s partly-sunny and 45°f. outside. We’ve claimed the two squares of temporary rectangular sunlight like the Spanish conquistadors of old once claimed everything.
I’m just drowsing, I had a test this morning, I got up at 3:30am to study for it and although I’m confident I did ok, I find myself rehashing it when I close my eyes. So I’m determinedly not closing my eyes - much. Lisa has a book open and she’s working on a chemistry problem set (called a pset) assigned as homework.
Looking out and up, there’s only one, lonely, cumulonimbus cloud in the sky. It's there, as if placed - a piece of art - the rest of the sky remaining defiantly blank. At first glance, it resembled a man, hanging by his neck, blowing in the wind under a giant mushroom gallows - but he soon detached and floated away like a tattered kite.
Lisa starts asking a question, without looking up from her book. “Ok, so when hydrogen acts as a metal instead of a nonmetal..”
“Please don’t make me think,” I whisper in a tired monotone, “I’m unprepared.”
“Ugh.” Lisa, grunted. She absorbed her disappointment quietly, without taking offense.
We’re like two disparate species coexisting in the same landscape: the chemistry-tested and the soon-to-be-tested - neither diminished the other but we’re separate.
Leong and Anna come in together, breaking off to their rooms to shed bookbags and coats but soon they’re filling the room with restless energy. “Has anyone heard from Sophy?” Leong asks. Sophy failed a rapid test yesterday morning and was hewn from the population like a cancer on the student body - and swooped off to isolation housing. “Yeah, I took her some stuff this morning,” I report, “She seems ok.”
People are dropping to covid like flies. None of us are invincible, we roommates watch each other - as if any one of us could go full-on-zombie at any moment - not unlike I imagine dinner at the Trumps these days - everyone looking around, nonchalantly, wondering who’ll flip first - but here, if you cough, you’ll start a panic.
Before the primate known as “man” became loquacious,
With all his fishnet shenanigans, skylarking monkey shines,
And thermo-nuclear weapons,
There was a time when words among men
Had not yet become discrete utterances
Encoded with agreed upon meanings.
It was a time when disputes were rarely settled
Through diplomatic concordance.
During that long stretch of pre-history,
Our ancestors’ best efforts at verbal communication
Consisted of assorted grunts, howls, squeals, screams, cries,
And presumably laughter.
Conflict negotiation in Paleolithic times
Might have involved all these primitive sound bites,
But would most likely conclude with blood being spilled.
The development of verbal language among humans
Would require the evolution, over many generations,
of various specific anatomical adaptations.
The mechanisms that enable us to fill our lungs with air
And expel it in a gymnastic manner up our throats,
Around our tongues, through our teeth, and past our lips,
Allow us to produce all the recognizable vocalizations
That comprise all the languages of the world
With all their vocabularies and grammars.
For most of pre-history the genus Homo
Merely grunted, howled, squealed, screamed, cried,
And occasionally, it might be hoped, laughed.
The development of verbal language among humans
Would lead to the invention of promises, oaths, and vows,
But also lies, deception, and inhuman oppression.
In the end, we are all just talking monkeys.
Talking monkeys that still grunt, howl, squeal, scream, cry,
And sometimes laugh, whether it’s appropriate or not.
Talking monkeys armed with thermo nuclear weapons.
Human history may be heading to an inevitable conclusion;
Talking monkeys will never be anything other than talking monkeys.
That 9/11 Day
I was eager that day,
Just as I was
Any other day,
To start my work,
And state the statistics,
Discourage clientelle,
Validate company antics,
Embrace others
When I thought would,
Make a good share price,
Positive returns,
No dice,
But when I reached
The door of my room,
A heard the most horrific
Boom:
No way out,
No hope,
No exceptions,
No dope,
No perceptions,
No scope,
No connections,
To help you cope;
No person,
To assist,
With the problem,
To list
Your objections,
To the phenomenon,
The horrific phenomenon,
Death, war, stench,
Which was never,
Expected,
Predicted,
Asserted,
Affronted,
Depicted,
Contrasted,
Batted,
Punted,
Posited,
Spotted,
Pounded,
Chatted,
Painted,
Lifted,
Forecasted,
Calculated,
Forwarded,
Gaited,
Grunted,
Projected,
Postulated,
Supposed,
Macerated,
Vaginated…
Portended,
Aggravated,
Criminated,
Presented,
Charted,
Founded,
Surfeited,
Attracted,
Prompted,
Forwarded,
Bayonetted,
Fermented,
Antedated,
Refracted,
Stated,
Pronated.
It never resonated,
It just exploded.
It was hell,
Heat, smoke, dust,
‘Cos somebody was angry…
The devil:
ISIS.
High ho Hill Bill is singing the hillbilly blues
It’s not a bad life, yet, not one that I’d choose
He’s wailing like a cat with a pinched big toe
Singing the blues up and down in summer and snow.
They found me under a spoiled apple tree
I was never a good boy, no one wanted me.
My daddy ran off with the housewife next door.
I looked just like him, so my behind was always sore!
My mom took his discretions out of my little hide.
I was never welcome in the house, or anywhere inside.
My bed was in the barn, I slept with a mouse and a cow.
Being grunted at by a gas-passing horse and a worse passing sow.
It’s not a bad life, yet not one that I’d choose.
This is why I am forever singing the hillbilly blues.
I want to get on tv, or at least the afternoon news.
But no one wants me except for liquor and booze.
When morning came: the phone rang.
She anwsered.
Honey he said come get me
someone took the altenator off
my truck, I need
a ride to the store. She acted cool and anwsered well
I will be their in an hour I have a fella here
looking at the dishwasher.
We don't have a dishwasher honey, what are
you talking about!
She told him I bought one
four days ago, I called
you buit you didn't anwser.
He hung up the phone
and walked to the house. She was there in the kitchen
when he walked in.
Why are you lying to me?
Cause you aint been here
and all you care about is
those damn mucktrucks.
You better not had nothing to do with that altenator.
Her evasivness gave her away.
Where is it.
He grunted and went outside
to talk to her
through
the window. Where is my altenato?
It on the bench by the wrenches:
Swain said you can reattach the altenator in less
then 10 minutes
with a socket set.
Who is Swain: aint he an underwear
model. Yeah he likes mine and all.
What are we breaking up or something?
She told him don't leave me, I don't know what to do
being here alone
here with out you
If you don't want me I don't know who will.
I am lying Honey aint know one else,
I need sum time wiff ya!
i think I needz to be pregant.
Why did you take
off the altenator!
Cause Just cause, she said.
Kiss me: I'm his lover
you need to be jeoluos of him
he wishes to be with me.
Who he asked, you I hope.
Aint no body else, I'm lying!
If you here
some say I kissed my lover through
the kitchen window
Tell them it precursed our wedding.
I'll marry you if you'll have me!
He looked at her and said.
What are these symbols? Letters? Ink?
Holding the meaning of what we think?
If I had been born in a different time,
Lines of writing would not fill my time.
I may have grunted with purpose that led
To all the words that have been said.
I may have hummed with feeling that drew
From sentiments I knew as true.
I may have hummed with a sing-songy tune,
Spoke to my children by light of the moon.
Now there is language, helpful and tricky.
Some of the things that we hear become sticky.
Is much of it useful? Much of it nice?
To receive in the morn when we haven’t thought twice?
Cleverly used and in most complex ways,
What is it actually trying to say?
Maybe the grunt and the hum as of yore,
Would help us remember what we knew before.
A man with horn-rimmed glasses
knelt in the sand
thinking: "my office just got a whole lot bigger."
He had just flown from sea to shining sea
to survey the sea lions.
He walked barefoot to a rocky outcrop
to count the creatures (for he was an accountant),
the counting took many days -
he was engaged upon a sea lion census.
The sea lions would dive into the tossing waves
and so deplete the sea lion company or rookery,
other's would arrive with unaccounted-fore friends,
The rest yelled all day long or grunted huffily.
it was a rowdy crowd.
The accountant took off his glasses and wiped his brow.
The sea lions continued to bark at him
while scratching their ears with distaining flippers.
Reluctantly he turned to fly back to New York,
where sea lions are parked carefully
in a funky concrete compound.
Each one of those aquatic New Yorkers
could be counted upon
and they were
as they swam moodily in the small oily pool
generously provided for them.