Long Hobbling Poems
Long Hobbling Poems. Below are the most popular long Hobbling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hobbling poems by poem length and keyword.
the little engine that could, as they say. he's the tortoise that won the race, despite not coming in first, second, or third. he won hearts because he completed the long, grueling race. many naysayers thought he couldn't do it. they scoffed at his advanced age and bad knee. they thought he'd give in mid-race, but he defied insurmountable odds, shushing all doubters. they counted him out before the race even began, yet, here he is, at the other side of the ribbon! it's his first-ever marathon. hobbling at the finish line, yet he's in seventh heaven! take a bow, grandpa. well-earned!
against-all-odds win
never underestimate ~
quite the underdog
Twilight downs the sun as dreams appear on the screen of sleep
Slips into the subconscious realm and trips a few fuses in slumber
Adapts and clears clutter and narrates and alters the story in kind
Strips and clips a mind full of sentience like an ad-blocking app
When dreams slip into a magical edition it proofreads my soul
In magic Morpheus tenders to soft renditions and rehearses
A new dawn for sanity’s sake and rearranges bedlam in silence
Ties new meaning to fake news and spins alignments afresh
Compounds and rearranges while the curtain slowly descends
A dress rehearsal in night gown patiently waits for the curtain
A sacred orange globe dances with ripples dissected by clouds
Ultramarine parades on the fading horizon of tangerine canvas
As the gatekeeper confers with clairvoyants and hobbling goblins
The mermaids charter the voyage with sea gulls and dolphin as they
Tie holy knots onto the tapestry of fabrication and spirited truths
Sometimes my aspirations and recollections call for clean slates
When charcoal rules anthracite waves draped in sombre veils
Or polychrome splashes beg to hold on to the palette forever
Sleep brushes over karma and vagaries and tames with a stroke
Of restful fortune in infinite renditions of what the future might hold
A life line appears on the horizon anchoring a courageous flare
Regardless of whether my journey explores a secret underworld
Or ships critique onto the blatantly obvious faults in the vessel
Poseidon pumps up the raft as tears and regrets rock the boat
Blows caution to the wind and advises to hold on for dear life
Neptune challenges his counterpart and weighs for good measure
Yet Atlantis refuses to sink and Nirvana sweeps the ocean’s floor
Phoenix gathers soaked ashes while jetsam jumps into the current
When the night parades its blessing the sun resets a new dawn
The moon watches over assorted memories baggage and hope
19th April 2020
Spine chilling velocity
Willing feverish ferocity
Pollution spilling atrocity
Pushes our buttons
Top billing forging
Fiendish drilling pomposity
Gluttons gorging in the isles of muttons
Coining the term “purloining”
Plunder even here down under
Cast asunder..can hear the thunder
In the proud land of
The long white cloud
Scold from the fold to heal
But won’t listen..do a deal
Gaudy gems appeal..glisten
History sold for pieces of gold
Cower to phoney crony power
Dour Parasites roll the dice
Show pony baloney hour
Off their heads...now divining
Mining our whining sea beds..
Palaver of scour..devour and sour
Splice our shining slice of paradise
Vice rather than stories of glories told
Voraciously gobbling veracity
Audaciously hobbling precocity
Generosity wobbling even in the home
Of lengthy Cumulus Curiosity…
Not being funny
In this Land of Milk & Honey
Won’t kowtow to the cash cow
Getting out of hand
Because the answer forever
Whatever will never ever
Be just money!
From the brow of the hill
I could clearly see the panorama
Beneath me. Worried I saw
From afar a dark man,
Scythe in hand reaping…..God knew what.
In far off fields full of tall grass.
It was not the man who interested me.
It was my wife, a marriage of forty-seven years.
I saw her hobbling down an uneven path,
Her body bloated with disease.
She never looked back.
Strange I thought,
There were no birds around.
Only profound silence.
Arriving at a crossroad,
Without hesitation
She took the right narrow trail.
My heart thundered in pain.
I knew what was in her mind.
Incautiously she arrived at a bridge.
Thick fog covered the other side
An extension that led to unknown worlds.
Head straight but body limping
She dragged herself over.
Helpless I looked on till she disappeared.
Disconsolate I sat down on a stone.
She had suffered enough. She will now rest forever.
But I? Will I find some salutary rest?
I felt the pain of separation.
From afar a bell chimed an Ave Maria dirge.
Harrowing shifts placating Palestinian patients
Awkwardly healing bones, injuries war caused
Comfort we gave seemed severely insufficient
Soul mates meeting among pain, implausible
Crutch hobbling boy with copious haphazard grin
Caught both our hearts, we smuggled him chocolate
You took every free chance to sit and joke with him
Your easy demeanor is medicine, patients responded
Images of rubble sifting shadow-faced citizens
Inescapable magnitude replayed, dream tethered
Impact we made upon fractured limbs and spirits
Told us each smile gained was worthy endeavour
I've speculated our distance pronounced our parallels
A far, foreign land artificially grew our new love found
Strongest logic shows me your benevolence plentiful
Desire stunned us, despite draped shapeless gowns
A year improvising in Gaza's limping hospice system
Threatened to take my buoyancy amongst its tragedy
Compassion you dealt exposed a myriad of wisdom
Guardians of burden bandaged turmoil's inched recovery
Excitement of moving in together, calm logic forgotten
Several short weeks after Gaza, shared goals discussed
A jubilant wedding, white gown without tie backed cotton
Box pile totems, future unpacked together, a time for us
17th August 2020
JCB Burl, Sponsor
Contest, 'A Time For Us'
working in the fields, picking cotton, and given food that is mouldy and rotten
Sweating in this heat with nothing to drink clothes ripped and dirty, and they are beginning to stink.
Chains around our ankles so that they cannot run, dropping exhausted in the blazing sun
Women were being raped, abused, and they went through hell
Made to have babies for their masters to sell
locked in at night, in wooden shacks, with welts from the whipping and the blood running down their backs
If they tried escape, hobbling would be done. Our masters would break their ankles so they could not run
So they did what they had to do in order to survive.
Bowing their heads to the masters just to stay alive
And if they were to die there would be an unmarked grave
No one cared who was buried there, just a worthless slave.
Those dark days are gone now; not slaves, they are now free
Able to live as equals, that is how it should always be.
Now go to the grave with no name to see
And say to them thank you for setting us free
An old man takes his daily walk, his old dog limping after
hobbling down the city streets, to where it does not matter
familiar faces they do meet, some nod, some at times greeting.
With heavy footsteps he goes on, gnarled hand on his cane, gripping
near church steps, they walk by at dawn, where homeless men are sprawling
ancient man and ancient dog, by trash cans, ants are crawling.
Through misty morning fog, the pair are viewed by God above
heaven watches them with care, covering man and beast with love
angels know the when and where, and guide their footsteps homeward.
Don't sit down
until I'm done!
I've counted fifty,
if I've counted one
I sew the linings
of ripped hoodies
for my son,
and other shirts,
pillows, and blankets
some for students,
some were over-loved,
some because I wanted
to be young, beyond the cotton
they were tailored from
But in this dream,
I try to reclaim my bedroom
where the towels and comforters
are stored up high and forgotten
and someone filled the garbage
with empty mouthwash bottles
and unused toothbrushes
I was scared of a door that opened
by itself
in a house I lived in twenty years ago
My mom was always comforting
but I wanted to be brave
Wasteful and unnecessary,
as are the needles I never used
to mend the fabrics I never asked for,
the shirts, the books
I never read
'Somewhere Out There'
is a song written the year I was born
by Linda Ronstadt
and James Ingram
This American tale is short
and hobbling forward,
hopefully
"If love can see us through"
I will love you stronger than steel
if you make headway
I'm thinking of the 70's
And how it'd really be a hoot
To bring that one thing back
That we all secretly would love to do
No I'm not talking discotheques
Or the donning of leisure suits
I'm talking about stripping down
To nothing but our tennis shoes
We could start out in the mall
Since that's were most of us hang out
Amid all the teenage screams
Between all the incredulous shouts
With security running here and there
In a tizzy there about
If they have the nerve to catch us
No way are they going to pat us down
We might even get our 15 minutes
As news camera closely chase us
Blurring out our naked bodies
Leaving only happy faces
Spending most the time in edit
As we bend to tie our laces
So grab your canes and grab your walkers
And we'll head off to the races
Of course that is a major problem
Barely spry no longer young
With the drooping of most everything
Being issue number one
And seeing most of you in your birthday suits
Doesn't sound like that much fun
And how in the world can we call it streaking
When it'll be more like hobbling
We gathered for our thirtieth class reunion at Lydia's Smorgasbord.
I'd avoided such past events since in school I was largely ignored!
But my spouse proclaimed we would attend, thus ending that debate!
The dreaded encounter is expressed in verse below that I will now relate!
A social hour preceded the buffet where the booze freely flowed!
I looked about the room to see if I could spot anyone that I knowed.
I hardly recognized the campus queen - she had acquired a heap of weight!
That once haughty snob now tipped the scales, I judged, at one ninety-eight!
I saw the big-man-on-campus who was named most apt to score success.
He had a dearth of hair, an ample gut and an astonishing lack of finesse!
Some gal with purple hair staggered up to me and planted a slobbering kiss!
Must've been one of my old flames as I mused, "Now, who in hell is this!"
Guys gravitated my way boasting about this and that bending my ear.
They bored me with nasty jokes and trivia that I really didn't want to hear!
Of course I told all how great they looked, staring them dead in the eye,
And asking the Lord's forgiveness and crossed my fingers for telling such a lie!
The jocks were trying to impress one and all with their waning capabilities.
Most were hobbling about with canes discreetly masking their disabilities!
'Twas an interesting eve and the grub was great, of that there is no doubt,
But for our fortieth, fiftieth and sixtieth reunions, please include me out!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
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