Long Holden Poems
Long Holden Poems. Below are the most popular long Holden by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Holden poems by poem length and keyword.
This autumn morning with the birds waking up
and the leaves changing is Election Day. I meet
Jane Trichter on the downtown train and discuss
Henry's upset. Her skin is soft especially her cheeks
and she is intelligent and sensitive. The subway riders
do not recognize their representative.
All week, at the office, I accomplish nothing substantive
but keep the aides and interns working
and cheerful. On Tuesdays there is always a wave
of constituent complaints, by telephone. One woman's
Volkswagon is towed and the police break in
to get it out of gear. Do they have that right,
can they tow even though no sign said Tow Away Zone?
It is an interesting question but I try to avoid
answering it. The woman persists and succeeds
in committing me.
The people at the office want to bomb Iran. A few Americans
held hostage and therefore many innocent women and children
pay the postage. It may be good classical logic to hold responsible
the whole society for the acts of a few, however, then
I must begin to expect the bomb and the white cloud that waits.
Apocalyptic visions are popular again
but we are more likely to thrash the earth to within an inch of its life
than scorch it to charred rock.
Corner of Church and Chambers,
German tourist's language, accent repels me
although I wasn't alive 45 years ago
and many sweet, great Germans opposed the crazy Nazis
but lately I've read Primo Levi's If Not Now, When?,
seen William Holden in "The Counterfeit Traitor",
have followed the argument started by revisionists
who say the Nazi atrocities never happened.
War brought many shopkeepers, bookkeepers close to their earth,
weather, seasons, death.
I see daily life as low-intensity warfare
as my father, the World War II vet, did.
Off to work we go. What is war?
Population control, mother of invention, diversion
from the work of making life permanent.
Today is Election Day and because it's a day off
for most municipal employees, the City Hall area
has been quiet and easy to work in. Henry and Jane
hold a press conference on teenage alcoholism.
Leslie, the other aide, who I'd like to draw
the stockings and clothes off of and feel her whole body
with mine, goes home with her mother, leaving me
standing by my desk with my briefcase at the end
of Election Day.
A boy and a girl just arrived in this world
To parents they both will share
Now from the house within will echo the cry of twins
As an answer to prayers from everywhere
After passing the test of a month of bed-rest
To ensure that they developed complete
For Mom and for Dad, no more rest to be had
As in tandem twins seldom do sleep
But living this way is a small price to pay
For the privilege of parenting twins
For only a special few have the bond of these two
Sharing the womb in which life did begin
Congratulations to my daughter and the man that they'll call father
For doubling up on our number of grandkids
We are so very proud that our voices shout out loud
With the love we feel for this thing you did
Last night we all might have had something
concerning the marksmanshiping of war.
The waves then might differ
pulsating, cresting, rising and falling both in tides
and others?.
Last night the something was thither:
If I said poetry, might not be alone;
if said naïve things naivety, might holden back the rule.
Now, how many things were like bubbling through
the woods?,
how many things were like swerving flower or swirling
to dell last night?.
I think war was a seasonal tree and was somehow fully
alive or it sometimes shedding it's leaves or recently
has become magical?.
War was sometimes completely dry ,
is not that sometimes a kind of encounter?
how like peace is an love fresh and tender tree?.
Me – Irish catlick working class:
mantillas, martyrs, Maynooth, Mass.
You – a literal Lutheran lass,
all pretzels, prenups, Mama Cass.
It never could have ever worked:
those ambiguities that lurked
were knees that, one day, would have jerked,
and we’d have wound up Douglas Sirked.
Your Nancy Clutter beats my Holden
(less Marlon Brando, more Karl Malden).
The pond we’re on was never golden –
winter white-out wiped out Walden.
I would have wearied of your sermons,
short Sheridans and shallow Shermans,
your Sophie Tuckers, Ethel Mermans,
poe-faced Pennsylvania Germans.
Ignore the stranger on the shore,
by Stan and Stella set no store.
Don’t give a damn what Della wore,
or Mary Tyler any more.
***bawdy
--------
once an Aussie had a Barry Crocker
when he got fined from an angry copper
he smoked up his holden ute
then said it was real beaut
because of this, the fine was made double
and his best mate was nicked named blue
cooked kangaroo and emu stew
gave none to hungry Scott
'cause he gulped down the whole lot
then spent the next day in the loo
his best shiela was from Melbourne
wore little since she was well born
she'd walk around in the buff
except for mittens an' gloves
till the day she fell on a thorn
she had a best friend called Mary
who had a whistling canary
it's tune stuck in Mary's head
from morning to night-time bed
and drove her to reach the sherry
they all knew a bogan from sydney
who was very tall and so skinny
one day while at bondi
meet a young blond called di
their first date was spent in his tinnie
di was a bushie and jillaroo
who squawked louder than a cockatoo
she would waddle like a duck
but he couldn't believe his luck
when she showed him her secret tattoo
one day while out for a ride
he asked her to be his bride
and when she said yes
they relieved his stress
till they both became cross-eyed
---------------------------------------------------
Aussie slang interpretations:
Barry Crocker-shocker
copper-policeman
smoked up-skid
holden-popular australian make of car
ute-utility vehicle [a car & pickup truck combined]
beaut-beautiful
loo-toilet
shiela-girl/woman
buff-naked
bogan-uncouth person
tinnie-small aluminium boat
.....................
Jan 26 is Australia Day-to all Aussies, happy Oz day
I The non-handsome Faithful Man
Are You The Woman That'll Give Me Your Hand
Where is the one;
Where is just the one
Who will hold my hand
To me I'm not a handsome man
But yet I am
A wholesome and faithful man
A sinner saved by grace
And I'll never with intent disrespect
A woman whom would honor me
With Godly matrimony
I will be spiritually, physically only
Connected to you my chosen
Now consider to be holden and also chosen also me
Could you love one such as me
Remember I'm not perfect the only perfect one is God
But I'll be delighted
If you allow me to be your knight in shining
For you are the one
To be my forever darling
Yeah!, I know low self-esteem I'm not that charming
But I'll be ever faithful, and not a adulter but at just lover
Just you and I
Sharing you only with the Father
On loan to each other
Until the spiritual bridegrooms comes
Until then, think you could love a one such as I
For I am alone, but not lonely
Consider me the non-handsome faithful man
Are you the woman that'll give me your hand
10/28/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018
Backyard Mechanic
by Bob Moore © 2019
I’m a guy of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, a Ford man, or a Holden or two
we didn’t bother with garages, if the car broke, we knew what to do
We only needed a spanner, a shifter would fit all the nuts
another one for the sparkplugs, and enough room to get at the guts
Two screwdrivers, a straight and a phillips,
a hammer, in case things were stuck,
a few timely swear words to use on the way,
time to start now, so wish me good luck
We could fix the transmission, or gearbox, change the tail shaft
or even the diff, we didn’t care if the cars in the air,
we’d crawl under, without wondering “if”
Clean out the carby, so the float would now work,
change all the plugs and the points, check the alt, and the dizzy
the air cleaner too, then you can grease all the joints,
Blowing smoke, then change the head gasket,
a squeal in the brakes, check the shoes,
you can change the brake fluid, and hope that will do it,
glad we didn’t end up on the news
we knew that half of the things that we did
a real mechanic would not try to do,
they were smart and they said, those things would not work,
but not knowing, they worked fine for you
Those days are gone now forever, the cars talk with data and files
Just diagnostics, and computerised, and not a mechanic for miles
E'er since slip of a lad
little boy painfully shy
think Holden Caulfield
Catcher in the Rye,
(a teen cult classic penned by
Jerome David Salinger),
now resuming poem
about me, no why
ne'er beseeched, implored,
or pleaded to our Unitarian father
art thou in heaven...
socially withdrawn kid
wherefore I ne'er did ply
risk taking, and rarely did try
to test (dis)comfort zones,
nonetheless did despair
and silently decry
failing with flying colors plus my
lackluster luck concerning
absolute zero friends, I don't deny
abysmal classroom experience
linkedin with comprehension how to try
adding insult to injury teacher's pet
chosen to help, course
I wanted to disappear and die
feeling utterly inferior no lie
hated life (mine) anyone
could easily espy,
non verbal body language
spoke volumes, imagining
Matthew Scott to vanish
into thin air whisked into sky,
and even now envision well nigh
alien abduction, one garden
(hybrid) variety guy
taken as token Earthling, an ally
among nonhuman species, where
unconditional acceptance doth apply
feted as guest of honor trumpeted
profuse gratitude expressed to fortify
genuine appreciation, where the
multitudes of highly
intelligent robot anoint and deify
one humble scribe formerly
residing in Schwenksville,
the above I certify
as true so please don't vilify.
Old Christmas Poem Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Constance La France
.......
"it is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air"-W.T.Ellis
--------------------------------------------------------------------
when santa comes down under-
he would leave behind snow and thunder.
he would cross scenic beaches of golden sand-
instead of crossing an ice and snow covered land.
he`ll would fly over dirt river beds dry-
while constantly swatting away a buzzing fly.
he`ll swap the roaring fire for an air-cooled fan-
and his white skin would become a golden tan.
would he swap his fur lined coat and boots-
for a t-shirt, shorts and thong suit.
would he exchange his sled for a holden ute-
and instead of saying ho-ho-ho would he say real beaut.
would he swap the reindeers for kangaroos-
and play christmas carols on didgeridoos.
would he exchange milk and cookies for beer-
if so, the next day his head wouldnt be so clear.
would he frolic under the warming sun-
or would it be all business, and not one bit of fun.
------------------------------------------------------
interpretations for the aussie words:
.........
beaut-Aussie slang for beautiful
thong-Aussie word for flip flops
holden-Australian make of car [very popular in Australia]
“Some people go through life. Others grow through life.” --- Robert Holden
I felt the loss flow through my veins
Leaving me with heart ache and shame
That I couldn’t make the marriage work
Why wasn’t I good enough?
Strong enough? Wise enough?
I soon learned that nothing I could have done
Be it giving in to always allowing him to win
Or simply letting go of all the lost hopes
Praying for the chance to feel so close and warm
Whatever might have been
Was not enough to make us strong
Sway our hearts to grow more
Loving and alive
Together
I felt like I’d been kicked in the soul
When my friend died and I had to let go
Knowing that I wouldn’t have the fortune
Of showing them the love that I had for them
With gentle revelations that spoke
Of my heart’s bond and amity
The assurance that I could be
The best friend they could
Ever believe in
I learned that death is beyond my control
With the pain and anguish
Grows a heart that assures
The spirit that we can always know
Love like this lives today
In heaven where we
May pray to visit
When the time
Brings our
Conclusion
I felt discouraged when time brought to me
Wrinkles and sorrow, knowing that tomorrow
Would only be filled with more
Pain and disillusionment
Feelings of confusion
Because they are called
The golden years
Yet I was feeling
Black and grim
Like a sting
That throbbed
Unbearably
I learned to count my blessings and have faith
That these present moments
Were a breath of grace
Sent to all who live
With the assurance
That the gift of living
Is truly in the giving
From the heart
And soul
And, so, I grow old
With the hope
That I give
More than
I take