Long Gunshot Poems
Long Gunshot Poems. Below are the most popular long Gunshot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Gunshot poems by poem length and keyword.
We were busy working in the fields as Jack roamed the area as his kind usually did. Then, all of a sudden, a gunshot rang out and we heard the cry of our dog as he managed to return to us. Returning to the arms of those who loved him, Jack quickly succumbed to his deadly wound. This was more than 50 years ago; but my eyes are drawing water as I write. A wealthy farmer shot and killed my dog for walking across his cotton field.
When I was a boy, I never heard of animal rights or of anyone making a fuss about cruelty to animals. So my dog Jack was shot and nothing was ever done about it. His days of loving and being loved were over, and no longer was he seen on the back of daddy's light blue Chevy pickup. We buried him under a big tree in our front yard.
Daddy once built a big swing set for his children and all the kids in the neighborhood. It was a source of real joy until a neighbor accidentally ran into it and knocked it down. That swing meant the world to us. We didn't have a lot of things, but we found other ways to create our own fun.
There was a night club not far from where we lived, and teenagers were not allowed, or at least, good parents did not allow their kids to go there. So daddy decided to open a teenage place just for the youth. It was great!
With a dog named Jack and a dad who cared, I learned early on that a heart filled with hate will never enter the pearly gates. I refused to allow my loss to spring a leak and allow anything less than love to capture my
heart.
10122017PoSpCtest, Let The Pens Flow, Jenish Somadas
"Mother’s Milk"
I don’t know -
what would you have me say?
Life is a gourmand perfume
rolling along on the notes of air
intoxicating musk a jubilee
music you breathe and reign in
words lactonic heaven scent
stimulating the beginning and the end
in synaesthesia the let-down presents
succulent life, a moment brief and swift
a hint of warm peppered cinnamon
with gunshot sparks recalcitrant pink
a straight shot from the heady accord first off
hard points from mother’s breast rouge the plot
we drink it all in
life is the sweetest illusion
bittersweet and burnt bent
we are all drunk to it;
before we begin,
we begin again,
we are swallowed large
into this small life
like an unknown mystery
karmic charms chime in
fragrant and in fragrant notes
recalcitrant journeys
roads less taken
sweet and bitter almonds
we hear the distant bells chime
we sign off reluctantly
to only begin it all again
Candide Diderot. ‘25
“Why do I always try and fly Puddin’?
Still somethin’ feels like it’s pullin’.
Weapons, poison, I’ll go grab my mallet
dangerous bombshell come and get it!”
“I love you, Pumpkin Pie, get me out of jail,
I’ll send them a calling card in the mail.”
They went over such a flawless scam,
Joker and his protege’ the Harley Quinn;
Every idea a bit more convoluted,
they just want the guards executed;
Surrounded by doctors and locked doors,
eyes on destruction and a stolen car;
“I’ll just go make a couple of pipe bombs
Not to worry Mr. J soon we will be gone.“
“If we get separated just get kiting,
There won’t be a need for classless fighting.
All the pandemonium in the halls,
they won’t be able to watch us all.”
‘A simple goal for her.’ Joker thought,
Harley has been so perfectly taught;
The dance of the Arkham Asylum,
the condemnation of a dirty slum;
Psycho with a woman on her knees,
Bent psychiatrist she can steal the keys;
“Puddin’ can you imagine the frenzy?
They always seem to underestimate me.”
Joker looked at her “It will be fine,
they won’t see it coming this time.”
As they sat in closed session,
they fleshed out the coming deception;
Parted ways with smiles so bright,
saw freedom and fell asleep that night;
Delusions rose with the morning Sun,
they can’t stop until their mission is done;
Harley and the patient right on time,
handed Joker the keys turned on a dime;
Quietly he sat regarding their plot,
waiting to hear Harley’s first gunshot;
Hopped up with a laugh began to sprint,
monitoring the halls ever vigilant;
Found Harley heard the sound of the alarm,
Headed to the car running arm and arm;
Berserk Harley and Joker fit like a glove,
Happily ever after in psychotic love.
In a war torn land
Out in the desert sand
Lies a soldier in wait
Not knowing his fate
He thinks about his home
About this desert land he'd roam
About his life and the freedom he's had
This war and the fighting which makes him sad
It was a job he chose you see
A soldier is what he wanted to be
Until he got to this desert land
Now waiting for the enemy, the other man
Destruction and chaos all around
Gunshot and explosions do resound
He wondered what he got himself in
His nerves seem to be shedding thin
But who would fight if he did not
Who would be posted in this hot spot
His only dream is to survive
Until another brigade arrives
Out in this barren land
Lying in the desert sand
Whether this war is right or wrong
Lying here, this soldier must stay strong
Greek George Allen
1828-1913
Seegh no mee.
Ah, I see we have not been introduced.
Please, if you will, call me George, George Allen.
In life, I was a greek from Smyrna,
Hired by the United States Army,
Long ago when Buchanan was president,
Employed because of my tenacious skill,
Riding atop a grunting dromedary,
Riding and gliding over the great American landscape,
Bringing the supplies for the Butterfield Overland,
Riding day and night most of the time,
From St. Louis to my final home, Los Angeles;
The American Camel Corps we were!
The eight of us: Me, Mico, Long Tom, Short Tom,
And the others, all hard as quartz;
To the virgin western wilderness we went,
Never slowing down our momentous movements,
Or ever looking back in timid fear.
And so, with sweaty craft, and
A satchel full of lucky days,
We completed the route in a year!
And as for the notorious Senor Tiburcio, well,
Do not judge this old skeleton here!
I let him live out back in my stable house;
I minded my own business!
It was either that, or
A single gunshot to my head!
“Eese malaka!”
But I never saw any reward money, I swear,
When the relentless inexorable law
Finally captured and led him to the gallows;
“Pronto.”
This dirt here, senor, belongs to you!
Seegh no mee.
I must leave you now,
And find rest in this calming Mexican dirt,
Here in shady Mt. Olive Cemetery.
The Walk part 1
Tired of it all
The bottle empty did fall
On the third floor
I looked out
Skeptical
Of the distance
Fatal or just painful?
I have had enough pain
Looking out, it began
To rain
For my final walk
I took an umbrella
I was that kinda fella
Strolling down the avenues and streets
The bridge called Freedom nearing my weary feet
I walked up and halfway across
Looking at the darkness swirling in my head
The river I am sure would consume me dead
So I jumped
The Bridge part 2
Over to the side, as a car flashed by
Why that was close, close to die
As I stared down the murky river black
I decided not now
I will walk on back
On the avenue called Destiny
A robber jumped out
Your money or your life! He cried
I had left my wallet at home you see
Not thinking an identity would matter much to me
The robber seemed to disbelieve
As the gunshot rang out
I fell on top of my own irony
So I jumped
As the sunrise cast purple upon pines
A Mockingbird chatters to cricket's tune
Not knowing on the insect he'll soon dine
Now his hunger isn't inclined, just hears croon
And his heart to the music is attune
Insects and animals without a soul
Can devour, without thought, another whole
Has society reverted, fallen
to days when Satan in the garden stole
Man's righteousness; left in shame crestfallen
This came to me this morning as I listened to the news
someone or ones shot a man seventeen times after
demanding of him his wallet and car keys which he
gave to them but the man lived with seventeen
gunshot wounds..What is wrong with our society??
Written: Tuesday, September 06, 2016
Inspired by Laura Loo's contest Dizain Poem II and the above news.
curse be the day that gun was invented
the creation of gun
is like the born date
of the devil
this evil invention
is killing us in a hurry
so sad so many human
are even it best friend
like the gunman
with just a click
a soul is gone
so brief and in
a hurry
what a killer
curse be the day that gone was invented
is obvious we are dieing
in the hands of gunmen
everyday their is a report
of a gunshot
in the cities in the media
we can't escape the
nemesis of this invention
any longer
it lives among us
it is a part of the family
in too many homes
were hatred and ignorance
is never a stranger
it is killing a lot innocent
souls
what an invention of
devaluation
curse be the day that gun was invented
an invention gone too viral
a killer invention gone too deep
in the souls of the devourer
an evil invention in the hands
of criminal is equal to
a genocide of the innocent
victims of peace
I know that day it was invented
was Satan birth day
I realise is was his gift
to humanity
and now it is killing
the souls of mankind
curse be the day that gun was invented
my ancestors was intimidated
by gunmen
my forefather's was force to
slavery by gunmen
my people has lost a lot by
the fear of the hands
of the gunmen
it still never change
the world still got a lot
gunmen ready to devour
another innocent soul
so in my quest for
humanity I realise that
curse was the day that gun was invented
The 10th July 2009
7 soldiers died on the front line
Panthers Claw the op was called
Sangin district is where we toured
2nd battalion the rifles had a few bad days
With many a soldier still in that haze
Sangin DC or Fob Rob to others
Left a lot of grieving mothers
The worst fatalities in all the years
Fighting insurgents bringing with it tears
You can't help but to think why
Another of service men and women should die
Others left with life changing injuries
From gunshot wounds to triple amputees
Swift and bold the motto was
But leaving the gates everyone was anxious
Even today 14 years on.
Soldiers struggling feeling they don't belong
Mentally and physically exhausting it is
The mind playing games taking the piss
Rifleman Simpson and Rfn jo Murphy
Cpl Jon horne and Cpl Scot Lee
James backhouse and Sgt Paul mcaleese
William Aldridge lives taken with ease
I know war is war
And casualties happen
But why should this be
Those who survive get PTSD
Hopkins just fumed, and dove for his iron,
Bud’s gun barked, and he fired right then,
The Pinkerton’s charged at the gunshot,
And stared down on the lifeless corpse of Hopkins.
“Sorry I could not get him for you alive,”
Was all Bud said when they looked on the scene.
“You’ve got your man, you’ll get your reward,
but there is some place else that I have to be.”
The very next morn bud arrived at the ranch,
and found Henry working out in the corral,
he said,”I thought about the things that you said,
there’ll be no more trouble from Hopkins now.”
Henry drew near, stared down the young man,
Said,”Well at least now you might have a chance.
But it doesn’t explain what you’re doing here,
why you dared to come back here again?”
Bud just frowned, said,”With things how they are,
I need to find myself a living, of course.
You gotta big spread and I thought maybe
you could use a man who can break a horse.”
Henry went silent for a very long time,
then rubbed at his chin, deep in thought,
“And were I to hire a man like yourself,
how can I ever be sure what I’ve got?”
Bud swallowed hard, and said to Henry:
“If you doubt that my words are sincere,
Then I’ll work my first year for just room and board,
To prove to you that I want to be here.”
Henry just smirked as he heard the words.
“How ’bout I start you out at half-pay.
You give me six months without a slip up,
then I’ll know the truth in what you say.”
Bud shook on it, could not help but smile,
but then Henry said one more thing:
“Also, you’re not to make eyes at my girl,
until I decide that she’s an age for courting!”