Long Holed Poems
Long Holed Poems. Below are the most popular long Holed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Holed poems by poem length and keyword.
if zee al chemist trump doth win go hide in the bunker
to save your ass
brace yourself as this don holed
confabulates that gold iz brass
and conjures prestidigitation
like spinning false hoods in2 truth - crass
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
a synonym force head fabricator -
will threaten democracy, thus be afraid
as this pompous voice quotes
from hiz playbook, which = a charade
the hard core truths, he
(who i liken to the plague) doth evade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
and dreams up fault of Barack Obama
for extinction of dinosaurs,
crucifixion of Jesus Christ
down fall of the Roman Empire,
or far tethered Fred Flintsone ca fetching an escapade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
yea...this rip pub lick'n presidential contender
evinces a psyche that did brexit n got frayed
building and monopolizing castles in the sky -
nonexistent as a grade
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
school fib - or donning role
as play ground bully teaming with ivan
the terrible to dominate the greensward
in the above fiction, but...man
that loose canon dressing his
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
"make america great again" gag line - whar i ran
and mid eastern countries will rise
as one cheering him as star of global hit parade
despite any raging oppositional pandaemonium
birth er ring a conflagration
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
kenya believe the world acquiesces
to thine projected masquerade
blocking im grate shunning crowds -
which number of people rival in size
taller (if stack one atop thee other)
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
than the trump tower casino or high rise
with his signature - hm...mebbe funds provided
by drug lords, the swedish house mafia
or terrorist ties???
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
whom security details silence by tossing a hand grenade
sham on you Potemkin village people for quaffing draughts
from elixir purportedly to transform visage with trademark
swept back, wavy and coiffed hirsute.
Form:
So you think you know just how us cowboys should behave
But listening to your jawing, I hear Chisholm spinning in his grave
A Cowboy who don’t drink or cuss, I’ll tell you that’s not right
Ain’t you heard of Old Whiskey Row, Where two cowboys got tight?
To go to tying knot’s in the Devil’s tail took more than lemonade
There’s been liquor on the bar in every movie John Wayne made
Back when Chisholm blazed the trail & cattle claimed the West
It was music round a campfire, as the hands settled for a rest
They’d often talk of home or sing a tune to pass the time
You’ve seen that in the movies, when it only cost a dime
They sang of Laredo, Lil Joe or maybe Annie Laurie
Right then & there you decided what a Cowboy ought to be
There are some things we might share with Hoppy, Roy & Gene
But real cowboys won’t ever be like those on the Disney scene
Any buckaroo can sure clean up sharp for a Saturday night dance
Even be persuaded to use pretty words when sparking a romance
We pick a little guitar and some can make that harmonica wail
But you’re just as apt to hear La Bamba as you are a song of the trail
Those cowboys that you talk of, all slick & squeaky clean
All pressed and starched, with proper speech, they ride a silver screen
You see that feller in the corner, all tattered & dusty, that’s the real McCoy
Battered old Stetson, mud & manure spackled jeans, a bonafide Cowboy
He might be rough around the edges and his language a bit coarse
But when he sets to working cattle, You swear he was born on a horse
We are only human after all; sometimes we just need to cut loose
Shoot out the lights, kiss all the ladies; drink our fair share of the booze
We still love our mommas and say grace with most meals
We just don’t handle being boxed, can’t stand the way it feels
Those who don’t tolerate a lot of rules choose the cowboy way
Much like this cowboy you see here before you today
I can see you are trying to sort this out in your head
For all you know of cowboys is what you’ve seen and read
I surely hope this little talk about cowboys made it all a bit clearer
The only one we answer to is the maker and the face in the mirror
I hate to burst your bubble, still you best here it from me
Cowboys can’t be pigeon holed; they must be wild & free
Catherine Lilbit Devine © September 19, 2005
"MAGIK"
True Power arrives when
Magik is delivered,
felt and seen
in the cracked and lonely,
the lost hearts broken, that believe
true power
two as one
A quill is the first token
Mirror potent conductor
transfers spells through
open windows reflection
Manifestation
Mirrors seen through
Open windows reflection
Only some see true Magik
The others dream
The others dream
Only some see true Magik
Open windows reflection
Seen through Mirrors
Manifestation
Life’s a Harry Heller show
Dark wolves become
soft paws protecting
not suffering
Hermine walks away
from eternal black heart
trapped in forever black-holed sun
Magik
Manifestation
Two reflections
Conquering as One
Only some see true Magik
The others dream
Love is the key
Manifesting
A quill is the first token
Where the quill and verse of spell arrive
through which windows and mirrors
and the hands in which hearts are held survive
Only true Magik
WILL
tell
Only some see true Magik
The others dream
So mote it be.
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
“BELIEVE”
"No Light, No Light"/Florence and the Machine
https://youtu.be/HGH-4jQZRcc
“The new is always at our doorstep when we feel most lost.”
“While the Dark Night of the Soul is a process of death, the Spiritual Awakening Process is the rebirth.”
“It is only when we are truly alone, without someone else to lean on, left with our own inner solitude that we can undergo a process of change. The introspection that is needed to bring out the light that has dwindled down to ash and reignite the fire of our being. So let the darkness shape you, let it reform you, let it cradle you and birth you into a new life. Let the spark flame again, in the darkness is where you will find it.”
"Big God"/Florence and the Machine
https://youtu.be/_kIrRooQwuk
“You necessarily have to be lost, before you’re found.”
"Moderation"/Florence and the Machine
https://youtu.be/ScxZwXH09Ws
“Enlightenment arrives like a thief in the middle of the dark night of the soul.”
Groundhog day 2021 - Tuesday, February 2nd
Coincides with astronomy's cross-quarter day,
marking the midpoint between
winter solstice and spring equinox,
which will occur at 5:37 AM on
in Northern Hemisphere
Saturday, March 20.
Small consolation old man winter
spans fewest days
of all four seasons,
especially when massive nor'easter
predicted today January 31st, 2021
including within neck of woods
named Perkiomen Valley Pennsylvania.
Yours truly remembers
when spry Jack (hoar) Frost
(just yea high -
both arms stretched to sky)
came early, left late and bossed
vernal equinox
rattling barenaked branches
obviously inapropos
to budding friendship.
Now (courtesy global warming/ climate change)
mother nature experiences feeling strange
within valleys and atop many mountain range,
wherein goods traded away on stock exchange.
Fortunate concerning yours truly
versus daring to brave
inclement weather
getting stranded in the process
(possibly becoming gratefully dead)
risking life and limb venturing forth
amidst near whiteout conditions
creating debacle perilous and grave
shoveling snow lest he get buried
he can remain holed up
(in tandem with the missus)
snug as a bug in his mancave.
While nestled inside warm abode for awhile
(at least until temperature upwards doth dial
safely ensconced against elements (of style),
I stopped at metaphoric woods edge
trekking until... for no rhyme nor reason
the poetic metered equivalent,
viz another mile
then stopped for coffee break
burst of energy gave me cause to smile
fording imponderable stream of consciousness
impossible (airy) mission to dodge regarding
aforesaid daunting task to craft worthwhile
poetic endeavor to entertain anonymous readers
gleaning how one bard (with his shaky spear)
evokes fiction being snowbound
as if cast adrift within Siberian exile.
Straightaway I continue writing askew
aware how literary trademark modality
characteristic of Matthew
unwittingly indelibly embedded
analous to mine Caucasian
versus swarthy melanin hue
man automatically confers eligibility granting
innumerable known mighty opportunities
(privileged skin color - how unfair)
bigoted prejudices shade those,
either hashtagged as black, brown
naturally copper toned gentile and/or Jew.
Bonanza of shamrocks will soon blanket Green Acres...
where Lassie free to run across petco junction
All across the webbed
wide esse Scott's landed wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge pot of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,
thence tread softly beneath subthreshold
of audibility, cuz unseen universe
hapts tubby microscopically rolled
with subterranean inhabited by Lilliputian
mischievous impish beings
(about bajillion holed
up could fill the Taj Mahal) even donned with
heavy coat protecting them
(usually men) against cold
yet frolic with reel delight jiggling
with inborn instinct exhibit twofold
talent to dance with modesty
downplaying (while fiddling)
analogous to some roof fiend
averse tubby extolled,
nonetheless, their popular
doth soar, and grievously scold
persistent myth anchored with toehold,
and thus do not indulge
pruriently with pixies considerably dulled,
since libido practically nonexistent told
me (under oath of
confidentiality), one Grunwald
trusted yours truly, the secrete
will not leak out,
nor spread like slime mold,
this descendant of Lemuel Gulliver
who schleps across the webbed wide wold.
Yours truly (an average
height and weight size ways)
nondescript grown
male munching kin
stands a little less than threefold
larger than full grown homunculi.
Rumor monger kickstarter
Matthew Scott Harris
posits nontrue tidbit
regarding rock 'n' roll star
who (name unmentioned)
became the most influential
musicians across the universe,
with estimated record sales
of around 600 million
as of two thousand twenty blank.
Imp possible mission
to see non elfish (pressed) lee
160 years after his Irish ancestor
crossed the Atlantic
curling his left lip,
whereby convalescing, peep ping auld
timers cavorting wax nostalgic with
itty bitty whippersnappers,
averse to any outliers,
whether hirsute or bald
an honest to goodness painstaking effort
initially stymied friendship proffered, a cold
reception eventually bedecked
hall of the mountain king
(while sharing diet of worms)
deep under verdantly
festooned knolls of Eire land.
Start
The other day I heard my friend was sad.
I met him to ask him about the reason
but, he was upset and his mood was very bad.
So I had to confine my conversation to the season
and the possibility of the advent of early spring.
I had to leave him in the existing state of his mind.
Why are we concerned about the state of somebody’s mind?
I wondered. Perhaps, we do not wish to see him appear sad.
Inherently, we want him to appear like the flowers that blossom in spring
to attract the bees and honey birds. This is the reason
why we relate all happiness to this auspicious season.
In our happiness we remember what is good and forget everything bad.
The mind, in its own way, reacts to the events, good and bad.
The behavioral pattern is a reflection of the state of the mind,
which is influenced, amongst other things, by the season.
During dull, rainy season, the mind tends to be sad
and one becomes irritated at the least pretext. The reason
why we feel happy again is the enchanting environment in spring.
Poets have written adorable verses eulogizing spring
There is happiness all around and nothing can be bad.
But, are we that blessed that there can be no reason
for any news or events to upset the state of the mind?
In a short span of time a happy person can become sad
irrespective of whatever might be the season.
If it is an icy cold, stormy night in the winter season
in stark contrast to the warm and colorful spring
and I’m holed alone in my log hut, I cannot help but feel sad.
I ruminate on my fate and wonder why my luck is so bad
I think of happy times and drive evil thoughts out of my mind,
only to increase my resistance to cold and not for any other reason.
If one is determined not to be happy, there are many reasons
to find fault with everyone and also the seasons
He sees only the negative side of things and trains the mind
to color the world in black and dampen the spirit of spring.
He fails to smell the fragrance, but smells only the odors that are bad
Thus giving him enough cause to feel very sad.
In the crevices of the mind there is some reason
For sadness to relate to the aura of the season
The spirit of spring brings happiness, while cold winter is bad.
End
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
The Selfish Knight and His Lady
Sixteen pieces for me
Allotted the same for you
But, it always begins with Me first
Unless the 'me' is you...
Whereupon, like Alice in her checkerboard world,
It's up to me to find our way.
It's up to you
To find my way...
I have been both pawn and knight
(never bishop nor king)
And our Queen moves so many ways
She never fails to make me spin.
"Capture the Queen,
Capture the Queen..."
I hear the forever cry
Emanating from the bishops
Holed up in their towers...
Chanting fealty and Romance
Singing of lady-love and noble favors
As I plod forward, a foot-soldier,
Or jump in frenzied el
The maniacal knight
An endless quest...
For her turn
(Your turn, that is, my Lady)
Comportment and Courtly manners
To match Courtly silks and tresses
Follow you in saffron mornings
All through glades of twayblade and cocksfeet;
Ever gathering, ever in the light
While light be present...
'Til evening's soft glow
Guides you home.
Took long years for one mortal
To build a pointed arch.
Arms extended
Through other arms
And tokens and chivalry pristine,
To your lofty heart.
But you removed the keystone
And that house of worship fell.
Unlike Samson in Gaza
Yours was no righteous strength
But some preternatural power
Summoned forth from within.
Sui generis
An altogether different vacuum-genesis
As lightning came from a dark, deconsecrated space
Not creation, but Her black twin.
As it was, so I deserved.
So here we are
Moveable pieces of glass cliché,
Infidels to the universe of Good
Imprisoned on a board
Within a game
Of skill, a game
within mirrors, a game
Within infinite possibility and paradox
Moved by, after all, an unknown hand.
And still, after all that, it is my fault.
We all learn that
Glass pieces, when struck,
By light, or love, or luck
Make fine parade of color
But cast no shadow.
Well, not
The hollow ones fashioned like you,
The one imprisoned my soul,
Turned prism opaque,
Forced the flight of radiant light...
But, fine pieces they do chip,
Or splinter,
Or break.
That's why they move
When someone shouts,
"Off with her head!"
So it is, after all
This fear which motivates ...
And dispatches all.
just moments ago, a dawning realization
arose within this sol son begat
from ma late mother
and octogenarian widower father,
oh..no nothing cat
tuss strophic, boot merely the revelation,
how fist bumping dee clocks hour hand ahead
remembered by dat
dog gone refrain spring ahead, and fall back,
this unemployed chap doth down play eclat
attests that his quotidian schedule minimally effected
holed up here in Highland Manor named flat
roomy enough for thyself, the Missus,
and buzzfeed ding fruit flies
each approximately the size of a gnat
a minor nuisance, though tolerable
within this appealing habitat
where minor inconvenience experienced
by this Schwenksville, Pennsylvania resident
cuz as a recipient of social security disability
(social anxiety) this psyche didst get rent
which fixed (unearned) income budgeted
and predominantly costs of living money spent
hence no need to arise bright tailed and bushy eyed,
a freedom akin to folks camped out in a tent,
which exemption immunizes
this doodle ling middle aged
muddle brained chap subject ranting
early morning drivers,
who angrily, frenetically,
and splenetically rant and vent
thus, the tendency, piquancy, and lunacy
to twitter (for the Yardbirds),
and keep company with night owls, who went
a hooting for all the world wide web
to hear, whence dawgs Bach
the exact number of hours, yer oblivious
to the tight rigorous mortised schedule
manned by Mister Clock,
essentially foisting on Bread Winners,
an abstract artificial construct spurring
madcap commuters to scurry in the rat race,
lest tardiness could cost
more than paycheck
(to ap pier with permanent dock
hue ment aye shun),
an unwonted blot add hoc
king worry about getting canned -
i.e. on permanent furlough,
perhaps forced into a life of crime,
yet if caught...
wasting away in a jail cell
as warden turns the lock
one redeeming factor,
would offer opportunity to mock
management, and more pertinently
mandate to rock
and roll to the incessant muted,
yet devastatingly loud tick tock.
Gratitude suffuses me today
at prospect to plumb the depths
of a fledgling friendship
(respecting fidelity to wife)
even one bound
within the parameters of cyberspace,
I feel courtesy your amazing grace
figuratively stitching omnipotent binding
with virtual satin and lace
proceeding cautiously to experience
belonging to human rat race.
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail,
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine),
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logical, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than
nine inch rusty nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
Adieu from Matthew Scott Harris
who tapped out this message
while holed up in his mancave
situated within Southeastern Pennsylvania.