Long Hoe Poems
Long Hoe Poems. Below are the most popular long Hoe by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hoe poems by poem length and keyword.
This long awaited date -
a hoedown it’s to be
shy smiles as we head in
we touch hands nervously
We allemande left and do-si-do
Then both head ladies chain
and breathlessly we meet
in each other’s arms again
We swirl in sawdust on the floor
to the tune sweet Bye and Bye
Evocative is the patter
as the gold moon rises high
An anticipated moment
as the fiddle fades away
Your denim and my lace
soon lie buried in the hay
Sweet echoes of the evening
fill passion in the soul
Upon the amber straw
we both have lost control
written October 27, 2014 by Rick Parise and Andrea Dietrich
For Shadow Hamilton's Cowboy Hoe Down Contest
Faster than two ducks
slick on the street or what
Wet on the Street or what
wet tires on a motor
Mothers on a motor
the street or what
up the come up
in up nothing hoe
in all done up
hoe says she wants to be my friend
I love that hoe too.
Help with the difference
help me understand
If there was one
day I remember
more than others
is the day of mothers
and valentines
Battle lines, battles lost
Battles the Boss
Battle Eccentric
I like to interprut
I like to get into it
rubber nuts
burning rubber up the gut
the main street gets smoked up
big thrasher what are they after
the green light
At the Factor
In the Clean Night
The road is wet and Ive
I lost my sight
I cant fight the speed
Its Heavy Baby
two tons of Gravy
Suicidal and homicidal Behavious
Hit the Gas cause
the breaks will save her x2
She aint late she,
Be there Later, riding
street in squat reliefit dont knock its a beast
It just Knocks the street
She is dancing on top of the pole,
Wearing only a pair of shoes.
Lights are turning on and off,
Owning the eyes of Evil's crews.
In the corner a man bowed his head.
Enjoying the pleasure of a vodka drinks.
Waiting for the moment to end,
And plead to a woman for an hour of seat.
He is a typical guy from a downtown...
Everyday visits and watching her afar.
Never aware of love will grow...
Dreaming that someday he take her home.
But who will treat her like a beautiful flower?
The question hanging on her thoughts.
A broken glass that isn't fixable,
Who has the courage to reborn her soul?
She is a woman,dancing on her shoes.
Lights are turning on and off.
His man is sitting,waiting for his turn.
Praying that her woman wear his ring.
On a Sunday in the evening
The old barn becomes a hall
Social place where every weekend
The town folk go for a ball.
The inside is decorated
Lights are lit, the banners sway
By the walls barrels and cartwheels
Wooden stools and bales of hay.
Everybody loves a shindig
Where square dancing is the craze
Violins, guitars and banjos
Loud hillbilly music plays.
There’s a guy who’s always present
He’s the handsome Cowboy Kurt
On his head a leather Stetson
Dressed in jeans and chequered shirt.
Carol comes in golden pigtails
Gorgeous looking in flared skirt
She stands out; her smile is charming
She is hot and likes to flirt.
Cowboy Kurt looks quite appealing
He taps his feet to the beat
As other couples are reeling
Pretty Carol takes a seat.
Kurt decides to mosey on up
And lay his heart on the line
See if Carol would share some grub
Perhaps a swig of moonshine.
Tiny Carol surprises Kurt
Chugging down half a bottle
She eyes him coyly, looking pert
Then starts to jig full throttle.
Stunned Kurt is reeling to and fro
As wee Carol takes the lead
Dance floor clears; they put on a show
Kurt looks like a tumbleweed.
Music wouldn’t stop fast enough
For Kurt who couldn’t square dance
Carol is made of tougher stuff
And has high hopes for romance.
Totally lit and loving it
Carol trots to the outhouse
But when she returns, Kurt has split
“Where’s my man?” Carol does grouse
In his truck Kurt has hit the trail
Head still spinning from the dance
Carol sits upon a hay bale
Hoping he’ll return to prance
After the hoe down was over
Banjos and fiddles tucked away
Cowboy Kurt was still a rover
Out cold on the hay Carol lay.
------------------------------------------------------------
Written 6th October, 2014
A collaboration by Paul Callus and Carolyn Devonshire
The dancing pardners, dressed in dungarees,
With checkered shirts, and Stetsons, boots and spurs,
Are at a wedding. Joy the bride now asks
The band to play a tune that she prefers.
The fiddle music made ’em tap their toes,
But what she wants just brings the place to life:
The hoe down wedding is the place to be -
And Billy-Bob’s so glad that Joy’s his wife.
I shake my head and smile at what I see
And hear the whoops and cries, as couples leap;
The fiddlers play so fast I can’t resist
But soon become a laughing, sweating heap.
I step upon my pardner's boot clad toes,
And pull her down when I fall to the floor.
I laugh so hard I cannot get my breath,
But she is angry, branding me a bore.
Some stop their dancing just to help me up
And wait there as I stumble to a chair.
The newlyweds wrapped in each other's arms
Dance on as though the rest of us aren't there.
This is their day, hope I haven't spoiled it
Even a little bit, that would be sad.
Most of the guests are crowding to dance floor,
But as for me, I'll rest here for a tad.
Before too long, I have to shout, “Yee-haa!”
I clap my hands and then I stamp my feet.
The youngsters feign fatigue and clear the floor
And, giggling, watch me leap up from my seat...
Written by Jack Horne and Joyce Johnson for Shadow's contest
My garden plots my demise
Haunts me like a living soul
The care I give is appreciated, yet expected
Each time I weed takes a toll
When it's time to prune
All hell breaks loose
The clods grow stones to throw and wound
The ears of corn hear all that I say
They stalk me, following every which way
The sly potatoes sprout eyes to spy
And the others sharpen their spears to slay.
As I sweat with tools through the rows and rows
I hear the whispered names they call
I know the slang they use , ( crying, "hoe!")
Meaning a loose woman and I'm appalled !
Crack that whip, jerk the line,
Let's start dancing it's no time to dine.
First you holler, then you sing
All join hands and make a ring.
Now if you please circle wide,
spread right out like an old cow hide.
Feed the Hogs, brand the calf,
Swing your honey once and a half
Now you switch on the heel and toe
Come gals and cowboys, don't be slow.
Allemande left with the corner maid,
Meet your own and promenade.
Everybody swing and whirl
Swing 'round and 'round with your pretty little girl.
Do si do don't you know,
You can't grab a rabbit until there's a snow.
Bow to you partner and the corner miss,
To the opposite lady just blow a kiss.
Chicken in the bread pan scratching out gravel,
get your maid & away you travel.
Lassies to your seats and gents you foller
Thank the fiddler and kiss the caller
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: HOE DOWN
Collaboration By
Seren Roberts/ Maurice Yvonne
11~10~2014
TISSLER, TISSLER
SHELAYLA SPOKE TO
ASK HER SISTER.
TISSLER IS THE FOOD
STOWBOUGHT?
TISSLER REPLIED, WITH A SPARKLE
IN HER EYE, NO SISTER
IT ISN'T STOWBOUGHT.
SHELAYLA SAID, SCRATCHING HER HEAD
WHERE DID THESE PRODUCTS COME FROM.
TISSLER REPLIED WITH THAT LOOK IN HER EYES
AND TOLD SHELAYLA WHERE THEY WERE FROM.
THE GARDEN, HONEY.
THAT'S WERE THEIR FROM.
THESE FOODS AREN'T STOWBOUGHT.
I SOWED THE SEEDS,
AND PICKED THE LEAVES.
KNOW OF THESE ITEMS ARE STOWBOUGHT.
PICCO, COOKS FOR SHELAYLA,
AND SHELAYLA LIKE IT.
BUT SHELAYLA THOUGHT THE ITEMS WERE STOWBOUGHT.
TISSLER HAS A GARDEN. A BEAUTIFUL BIG GARDEN.
AND KNOWN OF HER ITEMS ARE STOWBOUGHT!