Long Hide out Poems
Long Hide out Poems. Below are the most popular long Hide out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hide out poems by poem length and keyword.
I choose to live
Not because I want to
But because I have to.
I choose to live,so that one day
When I will be no more,
My memory won't wither away like a flower that leaves no seeds
But like a souvenir plastered on a wall
I choose to live for the broken
For those that still hold the value of friendship
To them that understand that love is worth a thousand miles
I choose to live
Because I have to give it my best shot
I will not run away like a coward in a hide out
I will find FAITH in the battle
I know if I can make it someone in the crowd
Might be inspired to face tomorrow
Though sands of time slip
I choose to live, because I have a mission to pursue
Christ gave up His life to save man kind
All for the sake of LOVE
It's not a thing I want
But it's something I have to do
For those behind me and those not yet born
I live life for a brother
Am choosing to live
Because there are a lot of smiles yet to be recovered.
Form:
To Hellie's credit, she had rightly judged...
for, all told- the young man was quite shady
so from her guard-post she would not be budged
for she was most loyal to her lady
And when he cooed and whined to survey
Bronwyn's hide-out with treasures galore
(and blinded by love, the lady obeyed)
Hellie let out a terrible roar!
Before he could pilfer a single rare item
our Hellie put Beau on the run
snapping and snarling, she'd viciously bite him
her fun had only begun
He squealed sissy screams and kicked out at her
but she got the better of him
he called her a “hideous, scurrilous cur”
she pursued him with vigor and vim
Rapidly round all the high piles of loot
she chased him with eyes bright and shiny
while he scuffled (and occasionally gave her the boot)
and she snapped at his delicate hiney
At length, he shot out of the mouth of the cave
in a desperate dash to break free
but he'd nowhere to go- and wasn't quite brave
so he threw himself into the sea
As Bronwyn looked down with an irritated frown
(she was actually becoming quite peeved)
old Hellion beamed up, and drooled on her gown
her ultimate mission achieved
Her lady turned to face her, and warmly embraced her
while Hellie soaked it up with a smirk
soft fingers stroking and fluffing her fur
for dispatching the devious jerk
They spied the poor devil as he met his sad fate-
and they watched from their perch high above
a bold pirate queen and her canine first mate
the next-best thing to true love!
____
This is the swashbuckling sequel to my "Barefoot Buccaneer" poem... ;D
chieftains trade their loyalty behind the clouds
high mountain king Carrantouhil commanding his Macgillycuddy Reeks
men of begotten rank, scheming skulduggery
secrets hide out of sight, Comeragh mystery shrouds Coumshingaun
flighty earls flee from the Lough Swilly shore
priests conspire, a king, a queen, a lord-protectorate exact revenge
imported evil stalks the land and soul of Ireland
near-on half give way, massacre, starvation, transportation and slavery
annexation by stealth, abomination
exposed Shannon artery, remorseless draining through lakes of tears
solidified karst corpses dissolving
into central mireland, ringed by coastal ramparts and remnant towers
turloughs disappear where the ground is leaking
playboys drink from black frothy pools of humour where the craic is good
where sad refrain gives way to rhythmic distraction
where song, stories, poetry, plays and dance merge in murky island brews
native chiefs are stripped of their Ulster lands
to control, anglicise and civilise a rebellious region
the area most resistant to English rule
official and private plantation, top to bottom colonisation
Gaelic hands across the channel disrupted
Scottish and English incomers, presbyterian and church of England
town and country, protestant domination
Irishmen uniting for briefest moments on higher ground
descent into cold depths of history
the Cliffs of Moher plunging from The Burren's bald barren bleakness
disfigured fingers pointing blame, shame and guilt
like the peninsular lands, Beara to Iveragh, Mizen to Dingle
stretching out to a new land of migrating hope
escaping hunger and abuse of long-robed men and women
the stifling heavy hand of implanted culture
two main layers of tradition now overlaying an unfathomable past
The bats in the steeple were feeding on people
By sucking the blood splattered wood
That came from the coffin a vampire dropped off in
When he’d drunk all the blood that he could
Here in my basement, my permanent placement
I lurk since the day that I died
At rest in my casket, my skull in a basket
My hideous grin gaping wide
Rats and mice squeaking a rusty hinge creaking
A slither of light from outside
My long severed head was rotted and dead
But gasped as the door opened wide
I lifted my lid as some hooded kid
Crept sneakily into my crypt
He soon spun about and he might have run out
If only he hadn’t have slipped
As he hit the deck he shattered his neck
I thought he was bound to be dead
But then as he stood, he lowered his hood
And then he un-swivelled his head
He gave me a wink as a hideous stink
Came gushing with smoke from his ears
He then started hissing through teeth that were missing
He looked like he’d been dead for years
I climbed from my tomb and stood in the room
Where demons would hide out all day
Until in the night they’d screech their delight
And frighten the vicar away
But this little fellow with skin that was yellow
And nails that were long curly claws
Let out a howl, an unholy wail
Then went back and bolted the doors
Like rattles at Wembley, my bones were all trembly
My teeth were all chattering too
My wee wee was dribbling and let’s not be quibbling
I thought I was going to poo
It’s usually nice that we can’t die twice
So people down here dwell forever
I then realised that everyone dies
And now I’m not feeling too clever
For my turn came first, to enter the hearse
My beautiful love left alone
In these years apart she’s been in my heart
But hell’s darkest hole has no phone
So how could it be this thing before me
Could desecrate my sacred rest
I needed it banished, It had to be vanished
Along with the worms in its chest
I watched every worm wriggle and squirm
I jumped at the twelfth hour chime
In life we take knocks through the ticks and the tocks
But we can’t fight the passing of time
So...
In spite of the stink, I started to think
Which gave me the fright of my life
I had to make room in a new double tomb
For that hideous thing was my wife!
Entered October 2021 in Your Personal Favorite No 2
Sponsor L Milton Hankins
Nuclear hideout
Deep under the garage in the basement of our building
they are constructing a nuclear, safe bunker, the shelter
is for those with a car and safe tenure, whose duty is to
buy canned food, water and warm blankets.
Those who fully own their apartment will get the best
corner and sit in the committee; those with a mortgage
will be second in line, alas mere renters are not wanted
they will have to find other accommodation.
It goes without saying children and dogs cannot enter.
The construction of the “dugout” has become urgent
due to the war in Ukraine, refugees from that country
have been hired to hasten the work.
After a lengthy meeting among the haves, the decision
was to let in some renters, cooks, cleaners and nurses.
As a top lawyer said: “it is all very well to be deprived
but not so much that we have to do our own laundry.”
As I walk through the graveled paths
When the stinging stones speak to me
Of the pain thrust on trampling feet
I see you in the unlit alleys of my memory
As the wind blows from a covert hide out
Twisting and shaking the branches of trees
Causing them to break and fly off the trunk
I see you in the torn pages of my life’s tome
As I listen to the song of lone birds
And their doleful notes fall in my ears
I am jolted out of my bohemian ways
And feel a plaintive tone floating to me
Wandering along the sprawling beach
As I hear the roar of waves
And when a humdrum of voices fills me
I hear your voice distinct like the beat of my heart
Like the pain at a needle point that shall always be
Like an intruder, nudging to steal the inner space
Like the small tremors after a fateful seismic quake
I now know that in me you stay like sleeping fury
Even when I walked away from you
You stubbornly stuck to me
Like a leech tenaciously clinging to the skin
Oh! How hard I struggle to get you off!
Sept.13.2022
~Placed First~
Re submitted for- Your Second Chance 2nd Submission
Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Sotto Poet
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
My chest feels heavy.
My shoulders are rising up to my ears.
All I did was think about the future.
Even if I had thought of anything else-
The present,
The past,
The only thing left that I can feel is terrified.
Maybe the world can't hurt me from my bedroom.
If I hide out here long enough, maybe you'll leave.
I'll take up residency under these blankets.
I'll form my own city within these four walls.
A democracy of patience for myself,
Of kindness, of treating myself well.
Still the default setting set in my head is to accept this abuse as if it is love.
When I feel terrified or resigned,
I tell myself I want you.
What I really want is love without pain.
I want love without terror and shouting.
Without you making me hyperventilate over things like laundry or vacuuming.
I want the freedom to feel like myself again.
I want to see my friends again.
I don't want to be isolated to only this.
I want to feel love from someone and know it is always there.
I want to feel safe.
I want to listen to the voice that has been screaming inside of me for so long.
I want that voice to scream so loud I finally hear it clearly.
I want that voice to shake this home to the ground,
For it to clear me a path out of this.
I understand its my fault too.
I shouldn't have thought you'd change.
I should never have expected you to.
You are you, and honestly,
I'll always love you for you.
But I cannot accept a love that hurts so much.
I cannot bear witness to this any longer;
I cannot lose myself any more than I already have in this hurricane we called Love.
Its dangerous,
And it'll really, really hurt.
But I'm taking the life raft.
I need to save myself.
The warmth no longer comes
it seems to only leave.
The furry ones, all
caught in hypnotic disbelief:
hardening ground's
taken root
where once
gardening grounds
(forsaken, mute)
were once and again
makin' fruit.
Each beast, shaking
like a leaf
(though, truth be told
I've only ever
seen 'em dance)
as if to compel
the sun to
sidle up
'n stay a bit.
The butterflies are all turned
to windblown, drying leaves.
The biting clouds of gnats
are now
the biting cold of early flakes.
All hatched and reared
(the secret thrush, the ungainly, splashtering loon,
the burly snakes)
as evening hurries home
to be home for the night.
It's so early, so late.
The fatted robin's gone
just as the field mice hid
from barn-now-lapcat.
This constellation of crows,
a raucous perch, tried
that hiding ploy: their clotted knotted
silhouetted faux-leaf blackening hide out
where the leaves’d lived but crows are not
meant to blot the low sun as they’d plotted...
And so it was as so its been since Oh, so ever since -
a bird of prey, answered their
plaintive caws with painted claws -
a fracturous startle from above
a crash! a cry! a scattering!
one down, one murder
still.
Nothing softens, nothing greens.
No flowering as Southern urges
force flocks into making V-lines.
Each nest left: all break routines.
Summer is souring, as frost emerges
and last-one-picked, the pines -
lefties left in left field;
icing soon, their needles their shield
and, the coach never intervenes...
The light more slow to show
more tugged and bent to slant.
The sunshafts seem to push
the cold ahead as snow by plows.
And for our part we too as well
well, we turn away, turn indoors.
We turn our dreams to
make-it-through this.
We turn our collars up,
and too, our eyes to floors.
We turn our (each seems to)
thoughts inside this shell
not towards Inner but
rather, of course, truly from-
far and away from the
Cold & Falling, closing crisp.
How unlike the Scholar's Cup!
Our husks indoors,
our thoughts follow
but burrow deeper still.
Don't blame the light
for not keeping company
so deep where hides
a fearful, frigid 'you.'
It's Autumn
all turns on
one point.
It's Autumn
Fall burns on.
It's Autumn
sun burns on
one point
(of light.)
I have never felled so alive
as now.
I could use a quill like shakespeare
to write this down.
Or send it in a old style telegram.
Dictate it straight from my soul
Or get it tattooed on my arm
forever more, and for all to see.
Paint it on a wall 10 feet high.
There's many ways to say we care
and make someones day.
mines frabbit mail , today.
HOPE YOU HAD A FANTASTIC DAY
frabbit mail 2
The sun will always shine
regardless of a clouded mind.
Bee's will pollunate
flowers germinate.
clear away the worries of your day
celebrate this brand new day
by reading frabbit mail.
Somewhere in a foreign land
sits a stranger pen in hand
writing prose, sending wishes
to people who he will never visit.
He truly hopes this little ditty
brings much joy and you smile a little.
as thats what frabbit mail is all about.
I do hope you found this most worth while
and so in closing I would like say
have a super frabbtastic day .
poem 3
Sticky fingers covered in glue
more stamps than dollars
what should Donna do.
Well shes the queen of frabbit mail.
She sends love and wishes
to those in need
plants little seeds
of karma that will grow
into to peace and loves for us all
she asks no thanks
gets no pay
shes the champion of frabbit mail
who else knows how to post a thought
an emotion or a hug
3 big cheers for frabbit mail
poem 4
There’s many stars in the night sky
But you’re star shines so bright
Behind every dark cloud
The sun is always shining bright
In rapids on a river
Boulders hide out of sight
Be a swan not a duckling
And sail smoothly through life
troubles are like waves on an ocean
ride them standing high
If you fall frabbits will save you
So ride the largest waves.
Face your biggest fears
Don’t let phobias give you a fright
Meditate on happy thoughts
And keep fighting the good fight
To be a fly for a day
And exist far away
To land in the past
When pictures were gray
To see life in color
Hues vivid and bold
See my young mother
Before life made her old
Smell her brown hair
Draped as she lay
Then watch her stretch out
Prepare for the day
The light in her eyes
And spring in her step
Before life made her gray
And youthfulness left
Rapid wings blurring
As I’d trail her to school
Watching her giggles
Near by on a stool
Then by the lockers
I’d peek at her notes
Did she doodle in class
Make lots of jokes
Or was she concerned
Only of grades
Not the class clown
But, teacher’s aide
Did she hide out and smoke
Bell bottoms and braids
Then sneak back in class
Receiving all A’s
What were her dreams
Just being a mother
Or other ambitions
Her children would smother
She stayed home to raise kids
Did everything right
It seems we grew up
Just overnight
Her purpose seems gone
Now that we’re grown
She’s fighting depression
And being alone
If I could go back
And steer her away
From marriage and kids
A fly, I would stay