Long Hays Poems
Long Hays Poems. Below are the most popular long Hays by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hays poems by poem length and keyword.
Slaughter in Syria by the pound
The rebels take their place under ground
Shell shocked children in a school of fire
Assad revels in his twisted desire.
The armies of the Bear unleash their goods
Assad taking his anger to the neighborhoods.
A world in sorrow a place of death
the people of Syria take their last breath.
The world is a stage in a tyrannical flood
the smell of death the rivers of blood.
The flight from horror is a fanciful dream
for the people of Syria nights filled with screams.
The leaders of tomorrow should now take heed
for the rebel in the streets are a different breed.
They die for their country they die for what's right
they cry out for their freedom to the Heavenly light.
What will be the outcome in a future so bleak ?
for peace and love is all they seek .
By Larry Hays
copyright ©
Even in the dark, your beauty shines brighter than the brightness of days,
Success lives in your home cos while the sun was still shining you made your hays,
You share your bed with great fortunes and on the pillows of prosperity your head lays,
So, your home is the truest testimony of the dictum that being good always pays.
Your enemies cry their tears abundant to form them a massive ocean,
They got drowned in the pool of their sorrows cos they took no caution,
Their bitterness confiscated their happiness for you to have God's favours in larger portions,
So, rejoicing with your success is now their only available option.
The wake of days gives the pleasure of your beauty for each mirror to savour,
Gorgeousness sculptured allurement into your shape adding sexiness as its extra flavour,
As you toil up and down, God the almighty is always there as your saviour,
So, prosperity is now the testament that your labours are enjoying God's favours.
Bring then, many friends from far and near to dine on your tables,
Show 'em that all year round God's favours in your life have been very stable,
Groove happily with your family and friends cos your bones aren't feeble,
Paint the town red with your success and leave your enemies to rumble with the rubbles.
Elder sister initiated the process always,
I could see her, like a finch or sparrow, restless for days;
Hay she collected; prepared pretty painted paper rocks,
To cover up the cattle shed made brick-like hard-board blocks;
Handpicked grass and plants she had to shape valleys and mountains,
She had not forgotten, in her plan, feigned flawless fountains...!
Splendid evergreen fir has been planted in our courtyard,
She adorned it with bells, baubles, tinsel, and candy-shard;
Cotton, in the form of snow-balls she skillfully bedecked,
She saw to it that each thing, like the cosmos, looked perfect;
Having arranged the entire scene like very Bethlehem,
She pondered on vivacious ways to place the baby gem...!
Lights she could not connect, since scared of electricity,
It was for this she needed my friendly felicity;
She admired, like a creative artist, my little ways,
Of stooping and scooping betwixt her elegant knit hays;
“Slowly”, she used to shout; “mildly” she used to nock; “gently!”
She could not bear damage though happened incidentally...!
She, in a mishap, had broken her wrist this Christmas time,
Like a dove wings-clipped, she heard in her a seasonal chime;
She looked at me; I looked at her; we smiled; I’ll do - I said,
I'll make, for your sake, my manger-masterpiece (Jesus-bed);
She watched and found everything went so beautifully well,
In fondness of grand sibling love, her heart she could not tell...!!!
28 November 2022
Writing Challenge - Write A Christmas Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
His skin like the patina of worn out leather,
burnt and cracked from many hours in the sun.
Across the wide plains in the hot Texas weather,
he rode tall in the saddle to get the job done.
North to Kansas City on this last cattle drive;
then back down to Fort Worth he hoped to survive.
Weary and tired from his night spent under the stars,
as he pushes the dogies along the Chisolm Trail;
across the dusty open range, pristine with no scars,
unlike the plains today, fenced and crowded and frail.
On his last cattle drive for the Goodnight Ranch,
heading up north across the Red River branch.
This proud crusty cowboy, way back in the day,
rode with Jack Hays at the Battle of Plum Creek,
when Buffalo Hump’s Comanches went down in dismay,
now just an old timer, tired and grey and weak.
This last cattle drive before his spurs are hung,
this cowboy’s patina, the legend of which songs are sung.
June 29, 2018
Eating bowls of dying meat
sucking poison which taste sweet.
Gas filled bodies that retain their juice
a dead little dog that took abuse.
The death song plays for a mutilated boy
insane parents who receive no joy.
Black dogs bark at the funeral fires
death looks down and picks his desires.
The decapitated body of an unknown man
no one cried which was part of the plan.
A shot in the dark took the poor man down
crazy children laugh as they hear the sound.
'Blood in the gutter' whispered the man
slay your neighbor as fast as you can
No one hears this , no one understands
'Blood in the gutter' whispered the man.
A slash of the knife brought grandma down
the young boys laughed at the blood on the ground.
The blood stained clothes of a forgotten child
the man with the knife is running wild.
The meat in the gutter might be your own
for you are left for dead
and to the dogs you were thrown !
© By Larry Hays
BIRDS
Bird couple is too busy to collect
Twigs, dry leaves, soft sticks, grass and hays
Cozy nest will be framed perfect and set
Mother bird settles to lay her eggs
Featherless birdies appeared through shell
with closed eyes nestling rest day- night.
Off and On weak beaks are opened to yell
Parents feed, they chirp in delight
Parents do not leave the babies at nest
One parent flies to get worm, seed
Other guards babies, alert to protect
Couple takes care in every need
Parents watch till babies gain strength in wing
Babies when grown up flew away
Empty nest left lone carrying no meaning
Bird couple got free, chose own way.
Written on April 19th 2025 for Sara Jama's The Chaos in my Heart Contest
I am wrapped in darkness, crippled by the chaos in my heart.
Swallowing tangled foxgloves of regret, I spiral.
Into a hays of eerie memories of his lemonade lies
From the distance, the torchbearer calls—
His voice a menacing howl, summoning my soul to surrender.
He entwines my essence into an unforgiving knot,
Threading me tight—I am now but a trembling bead upon his unholy rosary.
My withered heart blackens to the point of no return,
As I sink into the bowels of Dante’s Inferno.
I bartered my soul for the illusion of devotion,
Fled to barren lands where my only neighbours are
Ravenous sandworms.
I am haunted by the person I once was—
She coils herself around me like a burial shroud.
I exist without pulse,
Denied the mercy of rebirth.
Trapped in a loop of hollow memories,
The love I gave now lies in ruin,
Charred and calcified inside the sorrow-filled marrow of me.
I loved him the way he demanded,
But freedom only came after the death of a thousand small cuts,
Etched in the name of us.
Now, I drift—
A shattered mind among broken poets,
All of us bleeding ink in search of solace.
Storms do not last
They happen very fast
But the damages stay
In the trays, in the hays, and lay
With us for a very long time
The memories are worth more than a dime
The souvenirs disappear
The bad judgments reappear
From time to time on the screen
Destroying heart and spleen
The happy times don’t last forever
But the humiliation, the deception
Will remain from generation to generation
God is good, God is fair; God, however,
Chased Adam and Eve
Because they messed-up big time
They committed the wrong crime
Bring me a bottle of Aleve
To erase and obliterate the bad memories
Bring a case of Vodka
For my friends, so we can enjoy the festivities
Play some Reggae, some Konpa,
Some Soukous, some Polka,
Some Calypso, some Samba,
And let forget the bad times,
And the ignorance of a few
Chase the party crashers and the mimes
Evict the audacious freeloaders
So we can enjoy a better life
Ignore the clowns and the actors
Do not bring the knife
Because security is tight
Bring the spotlight
After the nefarious storms
And stay away from the big bosoms
Spring brings flowers and fever
The happy times won’t last forever.
Copyright © April 2015, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poetry.
Truly those days were fun,
Little children playing each,
With a fine decorated toy gun,
Life was serious yet catchy;
And we were easily convinced
‘ Sit back, I will buy you Akara’,
Was enough to pacify and evinced.
I can still peep through the silhouette,
Of throwing stones at Mango fruit,
And playing with a plate of omelette,
Those hid and seek games in the rain,
Truly those days were fun,
We went on errands without gain,
Whether it was under the sun!
And when a person died in the hays,
Goosebumps, fear sits in the air;
I can’t forget those jannock days,
As fear was harbored, decency was the heiress
An old woman could tell her daughters,
“Do not touch or allow a man touch you,
For when you do, you will be in a family way:”
I wish to go back to those days in decipher,
For the imagination of her dream, is not new.
These days;
Even a seer can’t see what a teen talks,
And behold, they are all on Tiktok,
Staring at things our fathers only but imagined,
And when you tell them to face their books,
Oh God! They are on Facebook,
These days, decency is just but a crime,
And when you see it, we call it archaic;
Mothers that should do their job,
Are their, on the sad side of Instagram,
Influencing in their nude paraphernalia!
Majority of these parents will taste,
Eli’s strength, a sad reality disguising,
And truly this age is punctured;
And it is bleeding in black jars,
Where then should I start the tale from,
Truly the beat has changed;
Leaving us naked in the daylight;
Where is our morality forte?
Even the news of these days,
Does not sit well with the mind...
It is either abduction, manslaughter,
Banditry, and all those odd news,
I’m debilitated and would want,
To go back to those days!
My eyes are witness to this insouciant.
Many,many a years ago;
Along the oceans billow
In an admixed susurrance blow
And unraveling the twilight shadow
A lone valiant bard lies-
Been there till the sand dries
And listened by the ocean's cries-
And slept by the shore of ocean's eyes
Many,many a years before;
By the time of tulips hoar
I heard a lutenist lore
To whom he played for
A lady called Anabel-
To whom his heart fell
To a lady named Anabel-
Yet far he couldn't tell
Many,many a bygone days;
On a day of summers haze
And the glistening twilight blaze
A maiden danced upon a rolling hays
Lulls and she lulls with a gilded lyre
O' her eyes of brilliant sapphire
Lo thither a flame or a fire
To be fair and be fairer; her attire
Many,many a time agone;
He sang a dirge all alone
To her,those mournful tone
Wilt the corsage once she own
And he sang a dirge at bleary noon
Smelt the freesia,whitish as moon
Quoth he,'await me I'll come soon
await me I'll come soon'