Long Herd Poems
Long Herd Poems. Below are the most popular long Herd by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Herd poems by poem length and keyword.
The Camp Cooky’s singin again outa tune,
about turnin 60 today around noon
"What good is there in it?" I hear him say,
and it got me to thinkin . . . seein it was his birthday
It seems bein 60’s got two spins to that tale,
one frittered and wrinkled, the other covered in shale
The one who’s 60 if truth be told,
is still younger than all those 61—to real old
In the campfire’s crackle of light I can see,
how everyone younger, is likely dumber than me
So if my hands struggle with the knots and riggin fer sure,
the knowin and the tellin to those younger’s worth more
Havin outlived many a cow horse, while lovin them all,
the awnry and skitterish, the short and the tall
The summers ridin drag, and the worst winters mendin fence,
with a slicker full a holes, and that ol dog with no sense
And while the cuttin and the brandin seems boring to some,
it’s the importance of their nature and gettin things done
When the hats and the spurs and even the saddles are all gone,
and the sun sinks over that last mountain, like in Dusty’s ol song
I’ll remember the good times, lettin go of the bad,
and think back on the pards and the ladies I’ve had
Because just like for Cooky, it happened last year to me,
and turnin 60 seemed ranker than any bronc could ever be
But like that new Visalia saddle the boss man said was now mine,
I've found somethin that’s different, somethin gentler and kind
The speed and the strength ain’t been traded for free,
and somethin woke up that I guess was sleepin in me
And as I yell to the wrangler “Cut me one gentle and nice”
without loosin too much pride I ask, “Can you help Ol Jim
cinch his riggin real tight”
Then once more in the dark I ride off in search of the herd,
singin that one favorite cow song every real hand has heard
And as I inch up on the lead steer whisperin mellow and low,
“Yippee ki yay, Ol Fella; you ready to go”
For maybe one last time we push North thru the dark,
the sun still two hours off to the right of our mark
While in the distance a wolf howls, as that lead steer catches my eye,
and in that instant I know I’m still needed—a long ways from g’bye
(Dewey Montana: Circa 1990) Read In Elko Nevada, 1993
Meet my Kangaroo herd in Australian highlands,
The king of the herd is Don, very big and strong,
There are many females with little joeys in the pouch,
With little protection from the king on the mound.
Would I like to ride a male Kangaroo,
The rhythm of their hops, leaps, and bounds,
Will throw me sky high without restraints,
The thrill of ride will resonate with high notes of violin plays.
When cockatoo and ravens start shrieking,
The dingo pack may be ready for hunting nearby,
The eagle may be flying overhead for easy prey,
The chase of kangaroos starts, they run for their lives, high notes of violin play.
When all the danger seems gone away,
The birds sing and the violin plays soothing notes,
Female and joeys play with each other,
Their hugs and kisses are full of passion and love.
In the highland kangaroo habitat,
Grass may be plenty in spring, but scarce in summer, fall and winter,
They dig deep, eat snow, fight swarm of insects, dogs, and dingoes to survive,
Life is tough here compared to the kin in the neat and clean zoo.
Joey – young kangaroo offspring
Bevy of swans in a sea-fowl cloud,
starling mumuration,whispering aloud.
Wray of quail,where teal spring,
tiding of magpie,as larks nesting, cling.
Nightingale watch a hover of crows,
herd of wrens,hosting sparrows.
Flight of doves,lapwing deceit,
charm of finches,swallows sweet.
Kindle of kittens,knot of toads,
a yoke of oxen shed their load.
Den of snakes,skulk with fox,
shires stabled and boxed.
Business of ferrets,labour with moles,
span of mules in a string of foals.
Harrass of horse,husk of hares,
rake of colts with a stud of mares.
Drove of cattle,with a tribe of goats,
downs of sheep,pack of stoats.
Spider cluster in a thatch,
brood of game,hatched,matched
and despatched.
I want conversations
with writers and poets
The wise the wacky
the dark and the stoic
I need to drink your words
I fear my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic
Writers and poets
Dig down to the deep
Some are more honest
Others have secrets to keep
Some can herd cats
or people like sheep
If you tell a good story
I’ll sacrifice my sleep
The complicated mind
Within phrases revealed
Multilayered thinking
Special nuggets concealed
Tongues sharp and precise
master poets do wield
If used like a surgeon
The recipient is healed
So talk to me wordsmiths
all of you clever poets
The wise the wacky
The dark and the stoic
I want to drink your words
Yes my disease is chronic
The name of my affliction
I think it’s wordaholic!
Can you feel the real deal hoodoo or juju hex
One sex tech conquest & manifest wrecks perplex
Flex your cerebral cortex protest against the new Rex
Hullabaloo of voodoo we must contest & vex
Vain inane randy Deejays handy on dandy sandy decks
A bane.. vloggers..joggers & bloggers texts & trend treks
Reign of hooray Henry’s forays with oversized unwise specs
Disdain from plain Jane “ex” glowering while devouring Tex Mex
Train..campaign for brawn not brain.. divulging bulging necks & pecs
The lot have got an absurd follow the word of the herd complex
Flecks of lies flutter & splutter in the utter nutter echo chamber gutter that is “X”
Never ending..mind bending curmudgeon bludgeon chorus of Tyrannosaurus Techs!
Witches, warlocks, ghouls and ghosts.
Vampires, veins, Halloween hosts.
Black cats, broomsticks, magic and more
Trick-or-treating with the witch next door.
Potions, powders, apple bobbing too
Your mask is awesome. Who are you?
Mystic, seer, prophetess, gypsy, guru,
Shaman, pirate, Dracula, Cookie Monster Blue.
October beggars follow the herd.
Is that Grover and happy Big Bird?
Great night for aliens to land in town.
They will fit right in, for miles around.
Just grab a bag as they approach me.
I hand them out, one, two. and three.
They are amazed, fitting in right away.
They learn Trick-or-Treat pretty fast to say.
Three years ago sad night because my best friend drowned.
I feel badly on Halloween because he is not around.
Milky Ways, Babe Ruths, Hershey bars too.
Watch out! My cousin Pete just threw up on my shoe.
The moon is full, yellow, bright, winking at us.
The aliens give it no attention, not a bit of fuss.
The sky has turned into a brilliant orange hue.
I love October thirty—first, how about you?
Trackers follow the animals,
herd them towards the waiting guns.
Big money paid by lazy hunters
who just want some trophies.
Not for them the slog through bush
they want an easy kill.
A bit or two taken to hang on walls
meat left where they fell.
Uncaring if they are endangered
they drink their beers in the hides.
Not wanting to get dirty or sweaty
they picnic on delicacies and wine.
Bodies of the slain beasts pile up
to be dragged away by scavengers.
While the men toast each other
proud of the day's work.
Tomorrow it will all be repeated
who I ask are the real beasts here?
The Great Sahara desert as large as the continental United States
a deadly vast searing wasteland of sand dunes mountain high
The expansive buckle of the world's desert belt void of color
dotted by scarce oases of what once was.
Twenty thousand years ago with just a wobble of the earth's axis
monsoon rains seasonally showered the Sahara plains
Feeding waterways of rivers and mega fresh water lakes
abundance of sea creatures thrive
Green Sahara was alive.
Witness from cave paintings of a world the winds of sands
erased.A world of green savannas full of animals to hunt
and herd. Elephants, giraffes, gazelles, ostriches and lions too.
People in villages fished and swam the mighty lakes.
Beware of hippos , crocodiles and turtles that bite
Fossils of shell fish tell the tales of a lush time long ago.
Cattle and goats domesticated, crops grew and ripen
in fertle soil. Was this the Garden of Eden now guarded
by deadly heat and buried by time and shifting sands.
Swamplands and rainforest stretched through North
Africa. Life was good and plentiful for our ancient
ancestors.
Even whale bones bare witness to a time of a
great sea. Of bays and lagoons and shores
of beaches tropical in air. A different time
blown away by dry winds and buried beneath the sands
Green Sahara will return again
Like clockwork the pendulum of wet to dry
happens every twenty thousand years
We are in the fifth millennium of a dry spell
Within fifteen thousand years a tilt
a wobble of the earth's axis and
Green Sahara begins again.
Controversy
66.3324958071...................................................................................................................................................1708594233.66
Three titles were on the line
neither considered World Championship
but recognized within the community
as legitimate championships.
"Big Yak" Laccain Riggoms defeated
both "Frantic" Fizzer Venton and
"Mr. Gullible" Gavrill Merccap via pinfall.
caputuring the Big Valley Title
and Tropicail Coast Championship
fusing them with his own West Pacific Title.
Combined they called the prize a
"The Worlds Title Championship" Seven
promotions collabaratedd to promoter
this bout. It was refined
and a media darling that didn't
invole any of the larger Americcan Co.
Two offshore
companies did play a part in the promotion.
Days after the title change a defense was issued in
New York. rival promotions put the champion
against another champion, a very popular
"Dizzy" Dill Pepper faced the Big Yak in a best two out of three falls
bout. Dizzy won the first two bouts: they had agreed on nothing
prior to the bout except to have three different ref's.
the first fall was 16;58 seconds a bear hug/ belly to belly
- combo caused the submission.
The second fall a shoulder block and clothesline
caught "Big Yak" off guard and a three count.
Big Yaks foot was on the rope. The outside ref was seen pushing
the foot off the rope. We herd an officail say" what the hell he did that for"
well the title change stood and again the combo of fuse championship titles made a new man World Champion.Two nights later in Essexs Md. a wise cagey veteran who had no belt to offer but put up a large amount of money, Invoked a clause into the agreement, His clause stated if he won the tiltles
would be fused to create a new company called " The America's Wrestling Promotion, with all the titles that comprised the new Worlds Championship
to name him the Worlds Champion.
NonsenseLiterature
In amputation, amputee a nation
Here we come! Here we are so! I woo thee!
In three we count and clutter, and toothless joyous, smiley me!
Giggling and stomping are they! Here they come! Brother keeper brethren herd! Feelings elation, rainbow, cuddly!
None knows why! Even though, they are in the hardest try! As it came along, seemingly!
Once wonder, why are they so? Give them up and clear them all, aside!
Then the second passed, caused me a blast! Succumbed with a second tide!
To see them coming! To see them sharp! To see them with eyes closed, with a vivid gaze!
I and my laughter! We muse each other! We tickle each other throughout the day! See page!
Laughing surmised in moonlight, needle of the cuddly seamstress and the salvation of the angling boat!
The light beaconed high! the platoon of ants and the truth! The train and the brainless pain with oil coat!
Laughter we are in! We see the slates in we are in shine! The very first ones of the letters and slates among, silly!
Carbonated the gas in response! And the laughter enhances! Fanta and fantastic responsive, gluttonous belly!