Long Hard up Poems
Long Hard up Poems. Below are the most popular long Hard up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hard up poems by poem length and keyword.
Before it’s too late
Distant bells clatter on cloud fed weathered skies where
darkness creeps past low light vestibules, faded beams flicker
Short skirts wave in a winter wind, breezy attributes
revealing fishnet thighs calling to the next hidden passenger,
batting lashes and blowing bubbles of stale gum placed under
crushed velvet seats worn in places, stained deliberately
for bragging rights and handkerchief blotting
A ghostly mist lingers as lips are touched up, bright red, crimson,
shades of desire, occupational decisions, advertisements leaking
into sewers and hopscotch squares spread along the avenue
Silhouettes in porch lanterns, whistling…so unladylike, ducking
constables with nightsticks swinging like the clapper in those damn bells
waking the unsuspecting and spooking the transients offering
a few coins for a ten dollar dream
Swine wallows in last week’s gossip, slimy little beings
fat on sausage and biscuits, cursing the rats pushing their way in
below curtains and kitchen windows framing inquisitive eyes,
watching cash change hands and satisfied smirks
on the faces of those wiping feet on mats,
greeting the family in disguise, shirt un-tucked,
long day rewards and dinner on the table
Yesterday’s newspaper tumbles down the walk,
clinging to sign posts, featuring headlines of death, a warning in bold print,
still at large, a menace to society in a grey overcoat,
double breasted and fancy shoeprints in the fresh mud
No further traces except the body, contorted and frozen, smeared faces
littering cobblestone gutters, frightening children and pets,
as passersby look to second floor balconies, oblivious
Midnight calls, staggering drunkards exit Chauncey’s,
hard up and spent, slurred laughter, boisterous to hide worries
and tomorrow’s jobs, time clock lies and penciled in wishes
Iron fence posts rust at the gateway as they glance to the headstones
of friends long past and recent memories, sensing the urge,
seeing the painted nails and low cut blouses, thinking…
before it’s too late
While from a secluded archway…
A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)
C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)
E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)
G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)
I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)
K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)
M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)
O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)
Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)
S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)
U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)
W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)
Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)
*
[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
The Bees Knees
She was the buzz between the feathery blossom
The flutter midst buds and petals in cloak of fur
Rapturously delving the gene laden pollen
To trap the powdery wonder upon her hairy legs
And transfer to elsewhere blooms of Summer
Reveling in its dizzying smells and peaceful hue
Nectar sated in this golden seasonal time
She must return to face the chores and feed her chums
To sweep and clean and oust the dead
Create a pristine nursery for the queen
And build a perfect wax work cell
Where stored supplies of hand maiden honey
And jelly that feeds the nest, creates a queen
Her days are short and action packed
And cannot remain when her energy’s spent
She flees her lair in one final fixed resolve
Relieves the hive from her expended body
To soar the heights and taste the dregs of summer days
And grasp the hazy blooms from better days
Relive their perfumed air and colored leaves
In one final blend of oblivion
Oh Despair, Despair (to tune ke sera)
When I had grown and reached an age
I did a job expected of me
Would I be rich and earn a good wage
This is what I would be
I became a nurse
Not much in my little purse
The teaching was hard as well
Couldn’t wait for the bell
Didn’t feel that well
If I had had my life again
I might have been a car engineer
Do my own service, fix an old van
Save me a bob or three
Oh the car repair
Can be for the women too
With grease and grime in their hair
See the motor improved
Get the car on the move
Now that I am all grown up
no mum to tell me what I should do
I continue as very hard up
That’s no surprise at all
Oh the nurse’s job
The teacher’s as well you see
The money is not a lot
That’s the end of the jot
That’s the lot, the lot.
Am I in control?
Or is this force beyond my grasp?
Things slipped out of my hold
But didn't expect to fall so fast
Wanted to let it go
But the problems fell with me, too
Wanna stay in the sky
If those around me only knew
The clouds and moon and stars, I want it all
But it's hard to catch in the middle of a free fall
Oh
I'm falling free, on my own
Trying to not look down
Prepared to meet what waits below me
Bracing myself for ground
Trying to keep what strength I have
Keep getting told it's not so bad
Yeah it's just me, falling free
But I guess I gotta stick around
Working hard up here
But is my hope just senseless?
Will I laugh in face of fear?
Or am I really defenseless?
I can't grab onto air, but can I make
A pair of wings to fly and escape my fate
Oh
I'm falling free, on my own
Trying to not look down
Prepared to meet what waits below me
Bracing myself for ground
Trying to keep what strength I have
Keep getting told it's not so bad
Yeah it's just me, falling free
But I guess I gotta stick around
Trying to accept my fall
But I still want it all
Can I save myself from slamming to the ground?
Yeah I don't know just where I'm going
But I take comfort in knowing
I'm bound to find some friends on the way down
I'm falling free, on my own
Trying to not look down
Prepared to meet what waits below me
Bracing myself for ground
Trying to keep what strength I have
Keep getting told it's not so bad
Yeah it's just me, falling free
But I guess I gotta stick around
Oh, falling free
Oh, falling free
Another long night ahead, into the creeping dawn.
Consumed with literary prowess screaming expletives behind my eyes,
Lit solely under humming tungsten vibes, worlds collide with brillant violence.
Seeking sweet serenity of all possiblities; lay me asunder in the wake of some distant paradise,
These words I slam through keyboard's futility, breaking this heart shard by shard.
Emotions spill through electric oceans of cyberspaced souls, drawn inward to a flame,
And somewhere, I know you feel this thrumming desire burning outta control,
Weary with these old stories, but I cant leave the venom of your long gone touch.
Gotta be honest; I love a good lust now and then, but the sins cut deeper now and my bloods' running thin.
Still, I'll keep those letters close, like a junkie seeks out his fix in some holy, depraved plight.
It'll make a good story for the poetry boards, even though I'm not that hard up for material,
Through life, you're the thorn of pleasure in my side; tired of sowing up the wounds,
This is the stuff that fantasies are made of; Rocketing towards certain oblivion and loving the ride,
Plummeting back to earth full force with requiem for starting over, but the deck is set in stone.
Am I bullshitting myself again, or are we searching for excuses to light the ashes?
One last kiss then babe, and don't f***ing hold out on me.
One for the road of no return......
Close the book.
Life way back then when i was ten,
From wartime days, to peace again.
Few luxuries on ration books,
Not even scraps for feeding ducks.
But more important than our wealth,
To tend our needs the National Health.
As smoking chimneys mixed with fog,
Our lungs were filled with filthy smog.
Always hard up, no cash to spend,
My mum would say, make do and mend.
Bows and arrows, were once scrap wood,
We all took turns being Robin Hood.
Old pram wheels and packing cases,
Now soap box cars, for thrilling races.
In summertime, games in the park,
Promised my mum, home before dark.
Some orange juice with jam and bread,
Those poor little ducks, never got fed.
On sunny days we had picnics,
Saturdays our treat to watch the flicks.
In windy weather, flying our kites.
Our streets at night, lit by gaslights,
We raced pell-mell down helter skelters.
On top of disused air raid shelters.
Chumping wood for the Guy Fawkes fire,
Sundays, i sang descant, in the choir.
Wintertime rugby, for the school team,
Lots of energy, we let off steam.
Exam results were a big surprise,
Top of the class, winning first prize.
Since the day I first saw light
I was so tough and hard up for the fight
I learnt the hard way as my rule
The school of hard knocks made me no-ones fool
But whats a poor boy to do
Up in the morning before the sun
My workin for the man a life with no fun
The sweat on my back and dirt on my brow
Living each day behind the plough
But whats a poor boy to do
I was always my father’s son
Working each day ‘til the work is done
There was never a time just for me
All I wanted was life as free as can be
But what’s a poor boy to do
I vowed to myself I would not be
A dirt poor farmer working the land not free
I ran away from home at my first chance
Away from the struggle and the daily farmer’s dance
But whats a poor boy to do
I ran with a crowd that was just like me
Robbin and killin on a lawless spree
Until one day in a border town the sheriff won
And our bank robbin and murder was done
But whats a poor boy to do
The judge had a reputation so proud
Hanging was my sentence the judge unbowed
So here I am standing with a noose around my neck
My last day has come so what the heck
But what’s a poor boy to do.
© Paul Warren Poetry
In pastures of green hue and lavender
We breath in the rich aroma of fresh mountain air
What do we really care about the matter or decision
Through bullwark torn rhetoric circumstance intact
Our claim to fame
A hero within us all
With the framework of light fashioned
By such an adorable call
Through a timeless merger in reaction
We wait for the quiet moment in which to react
The mind in ruthless if not used
Through the after shock of some closed knit yet whimesome chime
In this life its a hard up hill climb
Bent in inner torment fixed on viscious fangs that bite
A plight of sullen yet sudden remorse in flight
The gift within is a choice
To stay humble amidst the given plotted exploits
The sudden chance at which to reinvent
A time well spent in thought by which to ponder
Silenced in the inner portion of one's brain
Await the new coming day
A given chance by which to pray..
There is so much more I need to say !
There is a hero in us all,
A challenge to be free is a question in time ?
I wonder if she really feels the passion in my hand
When I touch her, and in my lips when I kiss her
I wonder if she notices the pride in my voice when I say that I'm her man
And I wonder if she hear me with I tell her that I'm in love with her
And that I'll do anything to please her
I wonder if she knows that I've been watching her
And that I clearly hear every word that she says
She says that she wants the finer things in life
So I wonder if I give her everything that she dreams of
Will I really become her prince charming, her knight in shining armor?
I wonder if I brought her that rock that she wants to sport on her finger,
Send her on shopping sprees with an unlimited credit card,
Or if I took her on expensive trip across the land
Will I look like some random, desperate, hard up man
That's just trying to win her over to stay close to her
But then, I also wonder if I just simply love her with all of my heart
Without all of the material things
Would she really see me?
I wonder?
They want to reach out through Freedom Of Speech,
contaminated minds reject and preach.
So many only see it their own way,
not on the whole,
individual points of view, they say away,
like detectives with evidence unavoidable,
but they're selective,
forget others have a different directive,
stubborn and narrow,
stick to their own and don't allow all else be known.
When explained they dismiss and moan,
stuck in their own,
minds that won't roam,
and then simplicity is there to see...….
XYNOPHOBIC, BIGOT, RACIST
accusations are thrown,
accusing horrible whilst being horrible,
not a glimpse of LIBERAL,
and this is in us all,
but some let it out like an emergency,
hard up minds let it emerge with ease,
simple minds are these, even those with degrees.
People need to learn we're free,
and free means all think differently,
if you can't accept opinions then just ignore,
because I'm sick of adults behaving like they're four.