Long Honking Poems

Long Honking Poems. Below are the most popular long Honking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Honking poems by poem length and keyword.


Equivocal

It is just a little past noon and I expect to see you soon
I have been waiting at the gate but you did not come and it’s getting late. A peculiar feeling is boiling in my gut and it leave a terrible feeling at the exterior of my stomach, it is the type of feeling I cannot describe but I can only imagine it when we are walking side by side and horns are honking in the slow-moving traffic on the autobahn.
 
 I have never driven on a federal motorway but a sudden jolt from a fast moving truck has increased the pace and I started to press the gas,
And the next thing I know  I was flying like an airplane overtaking traffic upon traffic until I reach the round about that had me going round and around before I could slow down and a large crowd  out of nowhere assemble in the square.
 
It is like they were waiting for me to deliver some form of speech at a special ceremony, and at the blink of an eye the crowd began to swell and people start moving to the square from all direction singing to the rhythm of a familiar  song and suddenly the action begins,.
 
The anxious and jubilant crowd starts climbing on trees and light pole erected at the roundabout while other were sitting on top of walls and the space around me got tight. The feeling in my gut became stronger and I struggled to keep my composure and I felt as if the globe was caving in on me so I reach out for a hand to hold but nobody was there except me standing in an open space on the stage with light illuminating all around me and words starts pouring from my lips.
 
Upon this rock I stand and I have traveled from afar just to hold your hand but you were not there. How much longer must I wait for you, shall I continue to bear this pain just for our dream to come true, you came and find me in hell and it looks like you are leaving me in hell, I want to get out of this place and join the human race.
 
Hope is riding on the autobahn and upon this rock the miracle stands, please come and take my hand and lead me away from this place and breathe  new life in my soul.
 
Come and walk with me before my body gets cold.
Form: Narrative


Aah How Great the Taste of Water

Aah... how great the taste of water...

After lounging in bed until
late morning/early afternoon
we (the missus and I) felt restless
as garden variety buffoon
or think chrysalis itching

to escape encased within cocoon
nevertheless, she mustered hubby
long since retired dragoon
late morning/early after light
clothing he must post haste festoon
he protested against testing

comfort zone merely donning galloon
his self conscious morphology
declaimed repeating honeymoon
embarrassing circumstance,
when caricature artist accentuated

pitiful spindle shanks published
front page see national lampoon
most recent issue or possibly
toothpick legs ought be printed June
a boot six days hence excluding

counting Memorial Day 2020
whereby barenaked ladies
(spouse included) unwittingly ironically,
farcically, and comically forced
skinny dipping under full moon

after newly bride & groom
pledged troth unwittingly nudist beach
entered momentarily devoid
of swimmers, who suddenly at noon
witnessed madding crowd
momentarily oblivious to laughingstock,

one after another burst out guffawing
(at my expense) at picayune
sorry/lame excuse for male
adult *****sapiens peculiar physique
courtesy anorexia nervosa

(when thirteen years old), I caused ruin
permanently stunting psychological
and physical characteristics,
for better part of existence
(mein kampf) uttered lamentable tune.

Absolute zero self worth (the
big goose egg) matter of fact will
state being earnest and frank
going on walk thru Schwenksville
thought person in every
passing vehicle (quite brisk traffic) rill

lee mocked appearance when
espying long haired pencil neck
geek fortunately blessed with
few gray strands deliberately colored via quill
to ad some convincing heft
to boyish good looks, though mill
stone metaphor linkedin with

living little approaching over hill
soon petering into becoming old
and senile, nope never got fill
of teenage romance, I started
dating during early twenties
deterrents to integrate among

including sounding think duckbill
nasal honking, and even hot spell
temps spiking high eighties/
low nineties dressed head
to foot ready for big chill,
especially cuz dehydration less likely.

Premium Member Canada Geese

Visited the lake today with my ever ready walking pal
Saw gatherings of floating geese savoring early morning joy 
With eminent elegant black necks and heads with striking white cheeks
They were dabbling in shallow waters with heads dipped down for a morning feed
Swaying in a long line in a playful manner
I saw many pairs enjoying squawking, honking and flapping with an amusing demeanor 
Light colored breasts and dark brown feathers 
Drawn-out curved necks and webbed feet bottoms 
Socializing with bobbing necks while making spherical breakers
They looked absolutely dazzling frolicking and whirling in the lake waters
I enjoyed the scene while playing fetch with my lab
Was glad to see that her swimming and fetching didn’t disturb them at all
Being compliant, they moved away a little from the shore
Giving the lab some room to carry on the game that she adores
They kept relishing twirling in the lake showing their cooperative communication
Teaching me about important family values of love, care and compassion

Enjoy the Ice Cream.. While It Lasts

Entrapped with Wires

Hands bound behind my back

Enslaved

The wires go on for miles 
 
Covering every inch of our city

Vibrating with electricity. Humming excitement 

Our happy little friend??

NO

WE

Like a dog on a short leash

Tugged by  its master

Controlled

By the flicker of light from the fillament

Are we now but  0's and 1's?

Turn it off 

Live!!

Ceaselessly the wires continue on their path of domination

They have found me here in my safe refuge

The world's  end  and innocence is due to our undoing

I am their prisoner

I shout for someone to rescue me

BUT 

 The noise of Traffic

Blocks 

The sound of my tears dripping


Honking away those little monsters

Gasoline chompers

 leaving their waste 

Which harms us

Oil from the dead

Is what fed them today

Poisoning the air

Like fish gasping on land

The Result: Dead like the oil

We'll be buried in the ground

Where

The wires are waiting to entangle our caskets

 Like it has every inch of the underground

Infrared signals

Dance across the sky

Our invisible enemies

Blistering 

Cooking flesh for human consumption

Ironic

The cancer eats us from the insides

This is a plea of a young girl seeking refuge

for something pure

Smog 

Devil's breath 

Hot 

The stench is unbearable

OH Gaseous Death

You billow from the smoke stacks

Licking  Away layers of the Ozone

Earth

The universe's ice cream

A treat that used to be sweet

But now after years of abuse 

Turned  out to sour

How long will we last?

Lets hope our ice cream won't melt fast
© Laura Hew  Create an image from this poem.

Another Day

I got up to face another day hoping that something positive would come my way but it was the same toxic energy that keeps roaming about the place spitting the heat of aggression into my face.  

Everyone one is doing “this thing” oh how it makes my heart grows dim, I was hoping that today would be different but it is the same old passion that keeps dancing in the street disrupting my heart beat. 

The cars kept strolling down the street honking their horn and throwing rice grain on the law and spreading the spirit of fertility over the land, there are some things that I just cannot understand. 

You can hear the screaming children beating the table and shouting above the morning tenor and the teacher with zero tolerance keep feeding the children with an artificial rhythm that kept shouting in the air.  

And so nature erupts in the town leading me to where destiny is bound, and the rain came pouring down. In seconds the gully was full and ponds and creeks were sealed and water start spiking in the street, and they rhythm gets louder.  

Everyone seems to catch on to the beat and those that could not smile suddenly start to grinning their teeth and the pretentious smile burst into laughter and soon the entire house starts to get warmer. Cold shoulder gets bolder and timid soul gets smarter and those that disagree suddenly agree and when the votes were tallied it was a grand jubilee.   

I have never seen anything so ecstatic in all my life, two sides that were at war joined together just to save one person’s life that was just more than a miraculous sacrifice. 

The cup kept running over and they keep pouring more money into it until there was no more room that it could fit and so the long-awaited miracle was finally here and we have all type of s story to share, the house passes the bill and I can finally keep still.
Form: Narrative


The Night Train

I stepped out at mid-night with a small bag and board the night train, a journey that should have taken an hour lasted for three days, stopping at every interval picking up bags and pans and I watched the frustrated passengers’ drags along. I had an uncomfortable feeling inside as I watched the people scrambling around me, it’s as if they were in some form of urgency to get to a specific place before daybreak, but the frequent stop was slowing them down and adding more misery to their trouble. The night train cruise through village and town, cities and municipalities invading the people’s privacy but I gripped tight in my chair hoping that the moment would pass and I could end my journey at last but destiny would not have it so we had two more days to go before the reached its final stop. The night train parachuting down the tracks honking its horn before the break of dawn,  and  anxious party goers with hangover, stumbles through the train door and sits on the floor, hugging and laughing and rolling on the floor, it’s as if they were insane, they were rubbing their eyes while forcing a smile and the night train continues to barrel down the track with all the energy that it has and daylight breaks out in the sky and all the passengers starts to cry and the train came to a sudden stop between the trees and the edge of the swinging bridge holding on to one single string.
Form: Narrative

Premium Member Gram's Sunday Dinner

Sitting in church on a warm Sunday morn
we were thinking of food as the service drug on
Instead of the sermon, we could hear tummies rumble
in spite of my Grandpa, who grumbled and yawned

Pews hard, and uncomfortable, and fannies would squirm
waiting to hear the preacher's last word
A prayer and a song, and the very last one
at last it was time we could finally walk home
.....
Once out in the sunlight, and on to the house
In a state of starvation, and patience long gone
Our lips in a quiver our salvation would be
to sit at a table filled with Grandma's reprieve!

Gram had been up quite early, since the first crack of dawn, 
Mashing potatoes, and a bird, golden brown, 
With gravy and dumplings, and tomatoes still warm
straight from her garden, with vinegar, poured
and pies from her baking during yesterday's chores

She would pray to the Lord, reverently asking for peace
Also "Please, Oh My Lord, when they flock here like geese
Hungry and squawking , and honking to eat
may they be always grateful for blessings we keep
and praise all my cooking as they take leave"

Smiles, and full bellies...It's what Sunday was for
Grandpa held hands, bowed his head, then to pray
and was always quite grateful for his blessings that day

But he also would add, to the blessings that day
"Oh Lord", help that preacher have a bit less to say!"

Premium Member sounds of the country

In the far distance I hear freeway noises
there is a jet plane arriving from the east
my dog is chewing something loudly
probably a walnut
he fancies trying to break his teeth
a car has accelerated rapidly on I-70

I hear a tin-like barking sound
try to identify it
sounds like a screaming robot that is being dragged and tagged
a tiny bird tweets to my right
another jet plane

I look up
It looks like a toy up there
makes a sound like distant thunder
train whistle grabs my attention
five or six pulls

Motorcycle revs up
life in the country of Kansas
uh-oh
a siren
police or fire
lots of honking

Premium Member Whistle A Tune

The sunlight doesn't seem as bright as before,
while Autumn's warmth is fast fading away.
And ominous grey clouds bring rains that pour:
sending kids scurrying inside to play.

Fall's exquisite colored leaves fall from sight,
till no trace remains; their beauty is brief.
And day relinquishes its length to Night,
as trees stand naked, not a single leaf.

The honking geese are all migrating south,
along with most of our precious songbirds.
And, daunting rumors, spread by word of mouth,
whisper, winter's near, in so many words.

While wailing winds start to whistle a tune
that warn winter flurries are coming soon.
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member A Penguin Walking

Recently I was blessed to watch a penguin walking…my eyes followed him for a while…and I realized, the more I watched him…the more his walking made me smile.

As he waddled in his tuxedo with his own peculiar style…and grace…I began to wonder how many other simple things in life have brought a smile to my face.

The moment I began to think about it…from my mind examples flew…so I thought I’d catch the ones I could and write them down for you.

When I look at my bald head in the mirror and realize…I don’t need a comb…children praying…a sunrise…a rainbow…welcoming a soldier home.

Anytime I see the ocean…a mountain…or the trees…flowers in bloom that welcome into their petals the butterflies and the bees.

Finding faces in the clouds before they change as they float across the sky…the chicken dance…a baby laughing…watching paper airplanes fly.

Finding money in my pocket…listening to the honking sound of geese…twins…triplets…quadruplets…an old hippie saying…Peace.

The perfect cookie fresh out of the oven with its aroma sweet and strong…wearing silly birthday party hats…my first kiss…my favorite song.

A child’s artwork…you get the picture…but it’s time for me to stop my talking…
and allow you to find your own inspiration…
that begins with…a penguin walking.
© Jim Yerman  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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