Long Hawed Poems
Long Hawed Poems. Below are the most popular long Hawed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hawed poems by poem length and keyword.
The Wisemen were summoned to Herod’s palace, a night so fine.
He wanted to know when the star in the east rose, so sublime.
They hemmed and hawed for a while, for they figured out why
He was so keen on learning of the prophetic star in the sky.
Many children up to age two, were slaughtered, due to Herod’s fear,
The wise men did not seek their savior for another year.
The shepherds spoke of the star, but who heard? A few relatives, and sheep.
Baby Jesus was spared, one two-year-old, whose mother did not have to weep.
The manger scene we see today, although beautifully done, shows a bit of drama,
It makes things seem more Christmas like, seeing Jesus in a manger with his mama,
His daddy, Joseph standing by, the blessed family surrounded by angels, and animals galore.
Traditionally the scene is limited to three Magi, whereas, we believe there were many more.
It makes sense that there were maybe a dozen in this story of old.
As they were carrying precious cargo – valuable frankincense, myrrh, and gold.
According to Matthew, Jesus was a young child, of about two when they arrived,
Not a babe who would have fit in a tiny manger, that part of the story was contrived.
No matter what you believe, if you have heard the story, and feel in your soul it is true,
That alone should bestow blessings, faith, and love on a Christian soldier like you.
The Seven Deadly Sins held a conference deep within
my fragile, mortal soul with destruction as their goal.
Pride took the role of lead, but was monopolized by Greed;
Sloth paid no attention; Anger interrupted the convention;
Envy held a jealous hunch; Gluttony moved they break for lunch;
Every member knew they couldn’t trust, any suggestions made by Lust.
As the sins hemmed and hawed, Faith and Hope built a wall
around the deadly caucus, among all the raucous;
Love put a lock on the door, holding the sins in evermore
as Empathy and Charity, planted seeds inside of me.
Even though I know that they’re there, and I carry them everywhere,
As long as I remember lessons I’ve been taught, their discussions will come to naught.
Written and posted on 1/23/2016 for the Deadly Seven contest.
i remember
first when i sat
i saw blue turn to
red but instead thought
this is where
the get has got
so i as a bird needn't
pee a pissing trail to tell
hey this is
me simply sitting
on a branch thinking
this or that but can't seem
to see yet
suddenly i find
i've found a place
a waste of nesting space
she knew she
had a space to give
for me to begat where
it was always at so i sat
and hemmed and
hawed and in her
afro saw a place to
place my nesting space
she willingly
gave to my give
and i went and did
what did and less then
suddenly
loving eggs
turned to chirps
what it was worth
someday
they needed
to fly away and
find what kind of world
would be
waiting for to
see bringing love
upon her and her hair
Form:
Did you hear about the moose, who thought he was a goose? He swam and he honked and even waddled when he walked. But it would make you cry, if you had seen it with your own eyes, the morning when that moose tried to fly.
Once there was a hog, who thought he was a dog. He barked then he sniffed and even chased after sticks. But oh, how that hog did moan and groan, when all he got for dinner was just an old soup bone.
Grandma had a rat, that thought it was a cat. It meowed then it scratched and even purred when she patted it. But when it wouldn’t chase a mouse, she threw it out of her house.
Did you hear the story of an ox that wanted to be a fox? Each day the ox pulled a cart, as around the farm the fox would dart. Then one morning fair, the ox on a dare, ran away to play all day with his friend the fox. As evening came and hungry from his play, the ox asked the fox “Have you any hay?” “Nay!” exclaimed the fox. So right there and then, the ox headed for his pen and ran away never again.
My Uncle had a monkey who thought he was a donkey. That monkey hee-hawed and walked around on all fours. That monkey even changed his name to Eeyore. But when we put the sacks, heavy upon his back, to haul them into town. The monkey fell flat against the ground and claimed he was no donkey; he was simply monkeying around.
Then there is the sorry tale of a whale trying to be a snail. The whale moved about so slow she got carried away in the under tow. When her friends wanted her to flip about and shout, all she did was pout and lay about. But the saddest part to tell, is when that whale thought she had a shell.
Have you heard the story of the hare who wanted to be a bear? They rollicked about all spring, summer and fall. But when winter came and the bear went to hibernate, that hare decided he didn’t want to be a bear after all.
Now here’s the moral of this whole mixed up tale. When you try to be someone else, you think is very cool, you will always end up, looking like a fool.
For you are you and that should do!
Our newest principal will arrive, ready to change all of our existing programs.
I heard this two weeks before her report date.
Her small non-listening ears will be closed as tightly as her heart.
I was emailed this on a Sunday night, but did not see it until Monday.
While eating my yogurt I overheard my co-workers getting up a little petition
and none of us had actually met her yet!
Whisper. Whisper. Giggle. Whisper.
I could feel my eyes rolling.
Incredulous that anyone over twelve
messed with petitions; let alone more than one of them.
Someone relatively new who had never responded to two weeks of "hi"came in at 9
to ask for my signature.
I hee-hawed her out of my space.
Mrs. Will Change Everything started work at 10:30.
She was offensively decisive, assertive, confident, smart.
I could see what they were afraid of.
She cared nothing about social cues, or getting along.
She was here to do her job.
We became
Instant
Lifelong
Friends.
An emperor spoke in poetic verse
Which led to fame for him at first
But after some time, it became a curse
For the Emperor had no prose.
Poetic measure determined his fate
The body politic could not relate
Leaving people in a befuddled state
Yes, the Emperor had no prose.
Seeking solutions from all his wise men
Beseeching them each, again and again
"When will poetic proclivity end?
For I'm the Emperor and have no prose!"
Long and hard, the wise men thought
With no answers to the solutions sought
So they hemmed and hawed, yelled, argued and fought,
Still, the Emperor had no prose.
The Emperor ended his quest in time
No cure for his affliction could he find
Relinquished the throne and became a mime
At least he was able to pose!
My new striped sneakers might be cool
Or creepy, I can’t tell.
The price was right and socks or not,
They fit me very well.
With rounded toe and laces black
And soles both thick and white,
They make my feet resemble boats
Yet still, they look all right.
I hemmed and hawed inside the store
And then made my decision,
Expecting that my spouse would look
At them with some derision.
But he was undecided, too,
So this was his reply:
“Pharrell* could wear those and on him,
You know they’d look real fly**.”
They’re on my feet right now and there
They will reside a spell;
But still, they might be creepy -
After all, I’m no Pharrell!
*Pharrell Williams
**cool (not my husband’s exact words, I must admit!)
Saw some funky glasses
But I couldn’t quite decide.
I liked two styles, but should I let
The salesclerk be my guide?
I hemmed and hawed and tried them on
Again and then once more.
I needed someone else’s eyes
To really know the score.
I’d planned to meet my husband
So at last when he did show,
I alternately tried each pair
To see which way he’d go.
Turns out the clerk was right as rain
And even I agreed;
At last from all my indecision
I was finally freed.
But here’s a little postscript
With a cool ironic twist.
Those specs were really special
And not easy to resist.
And so the other glasses
Never made it to the shelf.
My husband tried them on and yes,
He bought them for himself!
Two guys at the corner of Fifth and Grant,
were looking pretty far down on their luck.
Because their beat-up old station wagon,
just got T-boned by a Ford pickup truck.
The light was green for that station wagon,
but that truck just slammed right into their car.
After they all got out and walked about,
looked like that truck driver came from the bar.
That station wagon was a mangled mess,
one guy had some blood oozing from his head.
I said to myself, it could have been worse,
thank Heaven nobody’s bad hurt, or dead.
The cop showed up a few minutes later,
asked them what the heck was going on here.
The truck driver said, Billy Bob old friend,
those boys there smell like they was drinking beer.
The cop hemmed and hawed then cleared his throat,
he said you know it looks perfectly clear.
I see what you’re saying is true, Judge Brown,
these boys will be locked up for fifty years.
So, they hauled those guys to the county jail,
told them that they don’t need any phone call.
Cause if they want to get out of this mess,
the best thing was to confess to it all.
The sheriff wrote it all out on paper,
said that it was going to be all right.
He told them, sign your name here on this line,
then you might be out by tomorrow night.
The next morning, they went to the courtroom,
their lawyer was the judge’s son-in-law.
Billy Bob showed the judge their confession,
the biggest case this county ever saw.
There was murder, rape, theft, and robbery,
with a whole lot of other crimes thrown in.
Every unsolved case the sheriff had faced,
was listed in the charges against them.
The judge slammed his gavel on the desktop,
said haul these boys off to the calaboose.
What say we go down and have a few rounds,
cause this one calls for a couple of brews.
Now ain’t that just the way life seems to go,
some days it don’t pay to get out of bed.
You’ll be cruising along, singing your song,
with the warm sun shining down on your head.
Then the day starts to turn cold and dreary,
though that is not what the weatherman said.
Some dirty bird flies by and drops his pie,
now your day has turned all nasty instead.
If I hear one more word about that turquoise monster I will turn blue.
Like the monster, Daddy? Asked his observant daughter, little Sue.
Her mother smiled, knowing who would win this battle round.
Monsters are not real, Daddy said. Sue replied “They live underground.”
They are fabrications, fakes, fantasies, faerie tales, Daddy said sternly.
Little Sue clamored up and sat on her Daddy’s favorite left knee.
But you can save me from them, because you’re my hero, right Dad?
Mommy knew this would be the best conversation they would ever have.
Daddy hemmed and hawed and finally asked “Where do they live?”
Downstairs in the storage room, with that ugly lock from Aunt Viv.
Okay, Daddy said to her. We will march down there and see.
I would rather stay here, Sue said. I like your favorite knee.