Long Helluva Poems
Long Helluva Poems. Below are the most popular long Helluva by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Helluva poems by poem length and keyword.
A one legged man from Torbay
Paid cash for a roll in the hay
What he got for his cash
Was an itchy red rash ...
He’s buying a ‘doll’ off e-bay!
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
Ebay sent him a doll, their praises he sang
He turned compressor on and then doorbell rang
He said I can't stop long
Got something going on
He was too late, there was one helluva bang
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
The doll from e bay wasn't right
Parts were missing, an awful sight
Took blue pill for nothing
And he started cussing
He knew it would be a long night
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
His dolly poor thing had a split
So he got a puncture patch kit
He pumped up his doll
Who he has named Moll
Now inflated , he’s like a rabbit
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
The friction caused the doll to get hot
Cos he was giving it all he'd got
It burnt his wee thing
It started to sting
Now a red rash and blisters he's got.
WRITTEN BY TOM CUNNINGHAM
10/28/18
He decided to go to the adult store
Rumored to have many new dolls and more
He ran into his boss Ned
He ran out , his face red
Dropping the doll while stumbling out the door
WRITTEN BY TANIA KITCHIN
11/1/18
The trail along which we now ride
Was made by folks with visions bold,
A westward moving human tide,
Who nurtured dreams of farms or gold.
From the promise of day’s first light,
Through somber sand and sage, they rode
In savage heat and gelid night,
Bound for the distant Mother Lode.
Their deep grooved ruts are now obscure
Along the winding desert track
Where traveled once the pioneers
In some imagined days, way back.
For those who passed, the dreams are done;
And most who failed left tales untold
With wagon wheels and oxen bones
And wood crosses above their own.
In the debris of that vast land
Lay a pink bottle, half in sand,
Which sparkled in the twilight gold.
It held a faded note which told:
“Tis a helluva place where I have died.
I did not make it, but I’m glad I tried.”
4/1/19/ 2019 Poetry Marathon Final Placement / Sponsor: Mark Toney
Give me some skin
(from the sun's point of view)
By Franklin Price
7/26/2017
Give me some skin, this is me the old sun
You may not like it, but you are the one
Chose you when young, to put to the test
Your skin is the kind that I like the best
Long ago when I found you with fair epiderm
I shed my light on you to test for the germ
Made keratoses appear, you were then barely grown
You're now an old man, so much more you have known
Basal cell carcinomas, squamous too I have brought
Dermatologists remove them; they are medically taught
They freeze them and scrape them, put them to the knife
Then I bring on some more; what a wonderful life.
Almost fifty years I have taken your skin
Almost always outside, but one time within
To your left arm pit, a squamous I sent
Was cut out, radiated and to chemo you went
I've tried my best to disrupt your days
You better use sun screen to block out my rays
Better wear long sleeves and a wide brimmed old hat
You know I'll still find you, I know where you're at
I'll keep coming for you, even though you are old
The damage is done, in your youth I was bold
If you want to get older, protect your skin when outside
Continue your treatments, it's been a helluva ride
My reply to the sun:
You've done your best to damage my hide
When young had no sunscreen when going outside
No lotion or potion to stop ultra-V
Didn't know you were searching for little old me
I'll never stop fighting, I hope you had fun
I hope you are pleased with the damage you've done
To live with the scars you have left my old friend
Lets me know I'm still here and will continue to win.
A springtime ritual at my house is to rid my closet of old clothes.
Including outdated suits, shirts, pants, shoes, all to dispose.
Goodwill appreciates my donations in their stores to display.
It warms my soul to see folks buying stuff who have little to pay.
A week or so later my wife and I were at a local cafe sipping our tea.
.
Said she, "That guy over there is wearin' a suit that looks familiar to me;
Ain't them the duds you donated to the Goodwill Store last week?"
That piqued my interest and I discreetly turned my head to peek.
"Yep, sure is" I retorted, "Same suit, tie, shoes and fedora lid!"
"I must say! He looks a helluva lot better in that git up than you did!"
(Written 4/24/2016)
Entry for Laura Loo's "Poem Written In April 2016" Contest
Most folks have experienced torturous problems along life's bourne.
Some brooked it with blissful grace, others with venomous scorn!
'Tis easy to be trapped in a seemingly hopeless situation,
Musing, "Will this agony ever end?" with sinking desperation!
Have you found yourself squirming as the preacher expounds on sin,
And it seems he always points to you, much to your chagrin?
The pew becomes mighty uncomfortable as the reverend dawdles on.
"Will this agony every end?" as you try to conceal a yawn!
Flying tourist class is frightful, knees drawn up nigh your chin.
Your neighbor overflows his seat - you feel like a cojoined twin!
It's five interminable hours until reaching your destination.
"Will this agony ever end?" you sigh, imploring for salvation!
A weary soldier on the march, bearing his eighty-pound pack,
Yearns for the end of the trek to flop upon his sack.
Sarge yells, "Pick it up boys, only ten more miles to go!"
"Will this agony ever end? It's a helluva way to earn my dough!"
Consider the plight of Lindbergh as he soloed across the sea,
Or the quandary of Lincoln as he strove to set the nation free.
I wonder what Custer thought as he faced his final stand?
Did they muse, "Why me Lord! Will this agony ever end?"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
BIG FRANKIE.
A bank robber named Big Frankie Mulqueen
In the bank he walked armed and looking mean
An old dear took him to task
For not wearing a face mask
Embarrassed he quickly ran from the scene...
ROUGH RIDE.
This last year's been one helluva rough ride
Covid has been a pain in the backside
No sneezing or spitting
No hugging or kissing
And it's affecting everyone worldwide...
MAXINE.
There was an old women called Maxine
Last week she had the covid vaccine
But when she woke up in bed
Found she'd grown another head
And her hands and her feet had turned green...
CHINA BEWARE.
If you're travelling to China beware
To test for covid your bottom is bare
You'll sure shed a tear
When they probe your rear
Just ensure your wearing clean underwear...
Written 25th May 2021
Rarely not windy
In the far flung
Squarely unfairly unsung
Seriously deliriously magical
Mystical..mythical Catlins
Rather adept at being
Scarily palaver kept..
Wild & warily windswept
Gusts crept not
Slowing then leapt
Boom & bust thrust lust
Not caring us despairing
Sussed trussed trees cussed
Unruly unjust showing growing
Glaring..nonplussed
Haring..not fussed
Duly well &
Truly cruelly blowing
A helluva Hooley
Mean flurry of almost obscene
Breeze seems in no hurry to ease.
Smashed...whacked...bashed.. smacked
Lashed...by gusting...busting galloping gales
Never fails to leave me blustered and flustered
Lolloping..at the end of my tether
Amazed by crazed walloping weather
Raised & mustered
Brazen Mother Nature dolloping
All turned to custard
Surely they will pass...these fast blasts can't last
No need to be cryptic..it's almost apocalyptic
Have we sinned against the god of wind
Feel the real deal glee of Taw Fee Ree (Maori God of Wind)
Maybe he might hear me...respond to this plea...
Help our plight...let us alight from
The fight against the fright
Flight of breezy bite blight..
Just some respite
But it is quite a sight
Wild fling..Aotearoa spring can bring..
Darkness & light
Centre staging..in the raging...roaring..rampaging forties
No point deploring..knocking..ignoring
Shocking haughty windy warlocks
Soaring..scoring..rocking the joint
Warring.. doing their naughty thing
An old cowpoke throwed his leg over the well-worn saddle horn,
And tilted back his ten-gallon hat that was sweat-stained and worn.
From his shirt pocket he took a Bull Durham tobacco pouch,
And with one hand made a roll-yer-own - at that he was no slouch!
"Son", he drawled, "I'd be much obliged if'n you'd lend me yer ears,
Whilst my hoss old Dan an' me take a break frum brandin' them steers.
You see, I've spent nigh on fifty years ropin' dogies an' fixin' fences,
Ridin' ever' day in rain, snow an' dust over these wild expanses!"
"I ain't never gonna git rich workin' fer fifty bucks a month an' chuck,
But I'm a helluva lot happier than them city fellers a-chasin' th' buck!
They jes' sits at their desks starin' at a computer screen ever' day.
I gits to see them mountains ever' day yonder across th' way!"
"Cowboyin' is hard an' dirty work an' I shore ain't in it fer th' pay!
I live in a rustic bunkhouse with six other fellers when I hits th' hay!
Durin' lightnin' an' thunderstorms I've had to calm th' restless herd,
An' I've drove 'em through ragin' blizzards 'til my eyes wuz blurred!"
"Well, I reckon I'd better git back to work a-fore th' boss gits on my back.
He's a purty square shooter but don't cut me a great deal uv slack!"
With that the weathered cowpoke said, "Giddy up!", gave the reins a jerk,
And the old cowboy and his faithful hoss Dan trotted back to work!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Tirzah Conway's "A Cowboy Is" Contest - March 2011
It don't do much good lookin' back
But maybe if we could
We'd find another way to take
That'd be for a greater good
Maybe it's worth a look
The preacher he thought we should
Nineteen seventy-nine it was
And times was pretty rough
Merle egged the truckers on
And they shot the highways up
They're burnin' Five Points down
Right there in Levittown
Six hours in the gas lines
Then they tell us they run out
Pregnant lady gets up front
Then she's beat up by the crowd
Was a pillow anyways
That's how it was those days
It's been thirty some odd years
Since we really won a war
We left our souls in Vietnam
And still don't know what for
Now Ayatollahs run Iran
Russians in Afghanistan
OPEC's holding back our gas
And we've had enough of that
So the preacher man that tends our flock
Well he goes on TV
He says I been on my mountaintop
Tryin' to see what I could see
Now I'll tell y'all what I heard
I will share with you the Word
If there's anything that's clear to me
It's that we're mired in malaise
Our confidence is mighty low
We ought to change our ways
We're Americans after all
We should be standing tall
We just put a man on the Moon
So we got to fix this soon
Now as your humble pastor
I issue you this call
We must wean ourselves from foreign oil
And do it once and for all
This is gonna take sacrifice
We will pay a heavy price
It'll be one helluva fight
But we'll do it 'cause it's right
Our congregation thought a lot about
What the preacher said that day
But what he asked of us was just too much
So we took the easy way
Maybe that cost us more
Thirty years of Mid East war
With no sign of an end
Could he have been right back then?
We are truly blessed with splendid scenery in this great nation,
Overwhelming our senses with awe and inspiration!
Visitors to such places may view them with a differing perception,
And the spectacular Grand Canyon is certainly no exception!
A preacher, for example, might fall upon his knees in exaltation,
Praising and glorifying The Lord for His magnificent Creation!
He'll be inspired to concoct a sermon for his languid congregation,
That'll bring them leaping from their pews in rousing exultation!
The artist no doubt will view it with a practiced eye and gush,
About the masterpiece he'll create with his paint and brush.
As he critically eyeballs the colorful vista so breathtaking,
He'll exclaim, "'Tis a marvelous canvas in the making!"
The contemplative poet will ponder the scene and then,
Create volumes of flowing verse from his prolific pen!
The musician becomes enthralled standing on that high plateau.
He hears a symphony as the waters flow in the watercourse below!
An old cowpoke marveled at the scene and scratched his brow,
Saying to no one in particular, "One helluva place to lose a cow!"
From the rocky coast of Maine to the San Diego Bay,
Ain't no two people gonna see things in exactly the same way!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)