Long Holes Poems
Long Holes Poems. Below are the most popular long Holes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Holes poems by poem length and keyword.
Meet Tweedle Dum and Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
Way high up on the upper most branch
Not afraid of heights but why take a chance
I fail to see why they're living up there
They don't have a bed, they don't have a chair
Must be uncomfortable and hard on the bum
Hope they're not bothered by splinters, by gum
These guys are strange, they're nincompoops
They've never liked living in community groups
Independent old souls most all of their lives
Some call 'em snobby, these guys they deride
Society is made up of all different trolls
Some are hot headed with holes in their souls
Some are real happy, like those guys the best
Sure happy I got that stuff off of my chest
Meet Tweedle Dum and old Tweedle-Dee
Two of a kind they both lived in a tree
If you guys want my opinion and advice
Get the hell down here and I won't tell you twice
© Jack Ellison 2013
Neighborhood
Dawn rises touching the hilltop - new light swelling with the smell of coffee and bacon. Eyes blink away the sandman’s residue, loud yawns like lions, footsteps in pj’s resound on staircases – breakfast - weekly allowance burns holes in jean pockets as neighborhood gang assembles on the first day of the weekend - our gang on Saturday.
the weekend routine
our gang gathers for a quest ~
allowances saved
Our street tries to sleep in on the weekend before raucous voices shatter the stillness at the home base telephone pole. Allowance in pockets, a noisy horde moves like locust swarms towards nirvana – free movies at the museum, sliding down granite lions from a Pharaoh’s Egypt, staring at relics from Amazon jungles.
rare artwork displays
jewels treasures of the past ~
wide eyes wondering
Not done yet! An hour for burger and fries. Race down the hill to the Roycroft event. Tickets a quarter, one box of candy – popcorn shared with a best friend. Booing the villains. Cheering Lone Ranger, Number One Son, stealthy Green Lantern, the Shadow and westerns – sheriff saves the damsel, proceeded by Elmer and Bugs. Can you guess who is on first? Just enough quarters left for a bus ride home!
superman batman
saturday at the movies ~
break for tired parents
9-2-20
Let the Pens Flow - Haibun
Sponsor: Jenish Somades
Konkas draw a blanket over the flats,
but our state live like over fed fat cats
Zuma had another great opinion,
now we must dream of a Rand reunion
People crying, life’s an uncertain fate,
but they are building another toll gate
Nkandla was built for his many wives
"Fire pool" just brings out our angry knives
All the voters wanted; a piece of bread!
Now even the family pet is dead
Zuma laughs and hands his dog some biltong
and sings another ushini kill song
We are done with this sick gravy train gang
The day has come for the biltong to hang
Konka : drum with holes for fire keeping warm makes smoke
flats: slang for cape flats…a area people stay
Rand: South African currency
Nkandla: Zuma’s estate “upgrade” used 270 million rand of taxpayer’s money
fire pool: what he called the swimming pool in upgrade scandal
Ushini: machine gun struggle song used to sweep up support
Biltong: luxury food similar to beef jerky..is hung to dry when made
Zuma : corrupt president of South Africa
#zumamustfall
original I wrote
Biltong en Brood
Konkas trek n kombers oor die vlaktes,
maar die staat luister nie meer na klagtes
Zuma het nou eers weer n opienie,
en nou hou ons vir die Rand ruinie
Ons het geen werk en tot ons honde vrek,
maar die staat beplan net nog n duur toll hek
Nkandla waar hy sy vroue huisves
maar dit bereik net vuur emmers moles
Die kiesers vra net n klien stukkie brood
maar hy se dis n leun die hongersnood!
Zuma lag en gee biltong vir sy hond
Hy smeer botter om die kiesers se mond
Ons staan op en sal ons nie weer laat vang
Die dag het gekom, dat die biltong sal hang
She stepped out in new-faded jeans.
Raindrops streaked through her hair.
Main Street lights kept breaking down,
Like stars that weren't quite there.
Her denim felt like old friends.
Soft where life had once been there.
Some where she wanted to be, over again.
As the night draped over the fire escapes
A young man watched her walking.
His own blues stark as night.
Sharp as Sunday morning shoes.
Not a crease or wrinkle in sight.
He said, "I like your old blue jeans."
She laughed, "Son, take another look"—
Half the fades seen better days;
Half the memories came forelooked."
She touched the fray on one knee.
Ran her hand along the seam.
"You can sand 'em down with pumice now.
Or stone-wash 'em to yesterday;
Fade 'em pale with lemon juice.
It's easier to drink a past,
Than slowly earn your own."
You can fake the faded colour...
You can't fake the miles.
The drunks were preaching heaven.
Like rent was never due.
A saxophone kept wailing.
To a blue cattle dog baying the moon.
The busker missed the heartache.
Someone missed their train.
Everything was wearing out—
Everything else was set on pretend.
In the driving rain.
You can fake the faded colour...
You can't fake a mile.
Nobody falls for brand-new faded denim.
Not from near or far, not for long.
The finest blues are weathered;
The deepest truths are all well-worn songs.
Some scars are stitched for fashion,
Some come one worn thread at a time.
You can fake a faded colour...
You can't fake a faded life.
Old faded blues
Faded lives, faded dreams.
Going at the seams,
Full of holes and stale tears.
Nothing's quite the way it seems—
Some fades take years.
Some hearts wear easy,
Some take years to blue.
You can buy the faded denim...
You can't buy what you've been through.
daughter's college room mate said I hope this is not rude.
But I never eat anything except for hole food.
I assured her it was no problem if that is all she ate.
I made a grocery list immediately,, and it was rather great
donuts in strawberry, chocolate too
They had the best holes, through and through.
Onion rings naturally, with extra salt.
I decided also to add a caramel chocolate malt
I know it does not have a hole, but the straw does right?
I planned the best hole foods all day and night.
She did not say the holes had to be round.
So I bought the perkiest pretzels that could be found.
I added a bundt cake and angel food cake too.
I was excited to meet this hole-eating food guru
My new shoes came in today.
After what felt like a hundred months of waiting.
They were just sitting there, anticipating—
looking forward to all the new adventures
and traveling.
I could not wait to put them on.
But first, I had to
stop escaping.
From my past.
From certain people and places.
So I walked barefoot for a bit—
felt the grass and dirt between my toes
while stretching.
I kept going until I saw something.
There were my old pair of shoes
at the side of this bridge.
Never realized how torn and tattered
they had become.
Why did I wear those for so long?
They had holes in the soles,
and the rest was barely staying in place.
I was glad to say farewell
as I tossed them in a nearby trash bin.
I then washed my feet
in the pond underneath the bridge,
then happily ran across
to meet my new pair.
They were so soft and comfortable
as I put them on.
Perfect balance—
I even felt taller.
Amazing what happens
when shoes come in at the right moment.
Like a guide through the journey
of life,
love,
and every transition.
..Nobody in that neighborhood
knew what happened to those three,
but they all scoffed in disgust
when Neal staggered high down the street.
He had been in and out for drugs
two times in the last three years,
so when he fell again to them
nobody was shedding any tears.
Then the trench-coat man appeared,
two bloodless holes in his hands,
there was Holy Fire in his eyes
as he looked down at the stoned man,
He glanced to the disgruntled crowd,
“Did you think I was something malign?
All need, at time, My forgiveness,
do not fear, this one is Mine.”
At that three people left a car
and walked over to where Neal lay,
Andre was ten whole months sober,
at a charity earned his pay.
Luisa wore a nun’s habit,
and raised orphans as her own.
Karzel now worked in an auto shop,
doing bills and answering phones.
They helped Neal up to his feet,
said,”We known where you can get help.
Nothing ahead will be easy,
but we all think you can get well.”
As they drove off the crowd looked back,
but no trench-coat man could they find,
half wondered if he’d ever been there,
half thought he had been the whole time.
A Poetic Time Line…
(Apropos Poetic Faith)
I
At times the mind hangs in silence;
all is stilled—save thoughts lingering
lazily as if in cosmic animation.
Nay, no words drip from the faucet
that once streamed waters of creation.
Now there’s only empty air passing over idle lexis.
How deceiving is the thought: Idle mind.
Like the dormant volcano quietly creating
It inner explosive flow, so does the mind, its own.
No creation is void of time;
itself, the most elusive
of all its creation.
Katydids are tied in metamorphosis; babes
in the womb; black holes—from dept of time’s time.
Indeed in all creation, time is an instant of the eternity of self.
The poem is a creature of time—Creation
in the womb of mind—fertile words.
All birth is a timed delivery.
While time its self does not wait,
we must wait on the timing of time;
and in due time…the poem is born
II
As sharp rays of sunlight slowly sliced
through the tinted blue skies,
I wiped away the web of darkness—
broke off a piece of time; used it
to scrape away corrosive blockage;
released dormant visions.
Today I will open old dusty luggage
of creativity and pull out wrinkled
worn words; etch ebony emotions
on fresh refine pulp of ancient trees.
Today I shall weave soul stirring songs
of peace, love and justice—
the breath of God warming my serene soul—
feathering the nest of my pregnant poetic mind.
November water somber black
Runs under haunted houses down the block
Moving through the shallow aqueducts
Poisoning shadows, contaminated, liquefied
Red bricks cling to deposits rank decay
Waters feed on foundations on limestone rocks
Down there to etch the center of the soul
Sinkholes gobble up the ground
Houses draw their own conclusions, shatter
Take men down as well in fear, in sin with malice
Expire as the lungs fill up with sediment
Only silent water knows the hour
There are no tombstones by the sinkhole graves
Silent meanderings, black water, somber wet
Continue down beneath the street
Gravity of the matter takes on meaning; holds
Sidewalks are known to walk alone
When sink holes take your home
Intensity RIVER AND LAKES—
The lands have a sore throat;
Because of this harsh winter;
Like a trachea a winding way to the mouth;
Also does a river flows it too has water a mouth;
Temperate lows and frigid temperatures- when warmed rising waters;
Freezing of the watered holes
Intensity , Disrupts the natural flooding cycles
Major reduced flowing drains wetlands-when warmed rising waters;
Intensity, But alas this hard torrid winter snow and ice running over lands;
Has treated cuts Rivers off from their floodplains-when warmed rising waters;
Intensity, This isn’t so nice many tributary streams to high now
Flooding the plains and inundates riparian habitats running over lands;
Intensity, Great lakes gives us benefit providing water,
Food for human use water purification for the cities and the nations
So tasty and beautiful pure clean water rivers and nutrients
To support ecosystems importance of rivers carries all around the earth.
They play a very important part in the water floats
Intensity much snowing snowed in winter’s storms;
Intensity now spring has sprung it’s now ever so warm;
Intensity Melting’s of Icy waters and jams;
Intensity Reeking havoc on animals and man;
Intensity S O S for land for earth,-when warmed rising waters
This harsh winder has taken a toll on us-when warmed rising waters
For all the turmoil flooding on the Midwest Rivers and Lakes;
Help us all Lord for heaven’s sake Intensity
Rushing waters on Rivers and Lakes;
3/21/19
Intensity Poetry Contest
Free verse poetry form only..
Sponsored by: Julia Ward