Long Hunker Poems
Long Hunker Poems. Below are the most popular long Hunker by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hunker poems by poem length and keyword.
Coronavirus Came From China
By Franklin Price
03/27/2020
Coronavirus came from China
At least that's what they say
Matters not, where it came from
It's with us here today
Has spread through human contact
For a cure there's a dearth
There are many dead and dying
In most every place on earth
To slow this deadly virus down
We were told to separate
To quarantine in our own homes
Until some future, unknown date
Businesses must shut their doors
Where people tend to gather
It's difficult, to say the least
But you could die, if you would rather
There is no cure, now, that's known
Scientists have joined the fray
To research and discover
What will take this threat away
Meanwhile there's no pay check
For the low and middle class
They did not bring the virus here
Staying home will break their ass
Many live from week to week
There are many cupboards bare
No savings to rely on
Nothing to eat while they are there
The high and mighty, on the hill
Yes, the Senate and the House
Too busy with their politics
And the things that they espouse
Supposed to be there for the people
Whose money has run out
Must pass a Bill to help them
That's what their job now is about
Bills begin with Representatives
They're the closest to the crowd
They beat their chests and posture
But they seldom make us proud
To get money to the people
Who were told to hunker down
Was the plan when they got started
Their results should make us frown
It was their time to put in pork
Add at least a thousand pages
Lost sight of We the People
Made a Bill that now enrages
Congress gets more money
Abortion has some say
The Center honoring Kennedy
Will get some extra pay
Student loans will be forgiven
Wind and solar power in
With people out there dying
Such acts of Congress are a sin
By the time you read this tirade
The House may have had their vote
Whether it has passed or not
Is not the thing of note
We the People may get money
Then again, well, maybe not
The fighting is not over
For the pork that's in the pot
That the people of the U.S.A.
Always get this run around
Special interest pork is always there
Easier to chew, if it were ground
The Hurricane was Harvey
By Franklin Price
8/31/2017
The hurricane was Harvey, what an unassuming name
Left the western Yucatan. across the Gulf he came
Building up his power to a category four
Slammed into the Texas coast with wind, and rain, and more
Coming into Rockport with winds one thirty some
Evacuate or hunker down, to damage he has come
He leveled many buildings, and shut the power down
He sent his rains to Houston, to sit there and to pound
Houston, a large city, fourth largest in the land
Rained so hard, in hours, was no dry place to stand
Rained a record fifty inches, that's the Roman numeral L
Overflowed the bayous, made life a living hell
Few had evacuated, of six million people plus
Would have been impossible, a traffic jamming fuss
Bumper to bumper everywhere with auto, truck and bus
Would even make the best of us, wring our hands and cuss
The water rose, it did not stop, covered roads from fork to fork
More area than the cities of Chicago and New York
No one quite expected Harvey to sit and pour
Until the first floors flooded and headed for the second floor
Water, many places, flowing fast and overhead
Rescue workers needed or thousands would be dead
Boats and trucks and copters came to do the work
Reminiscent of the rescue, of the soldiers, at Dunkirk
The heroes came from everywhere, left their families and friends
To risk their lives for others, and the rescuing begins
Hour after hour, from rooftops, trees and cars
Stranded ones were rescued by strangers from afar
The Cajun Navy from Louisian, the governor called the guard
Florida sent their Fish and Game, rescuing long and hard
Soon more than thirty thousand were brought to drier land
Rescuers so exhausted that they could hardly stand
Still they kept on going on helping all of those in need
And took them to the shelters where they could sleep and feed
Some died in the effort, not all in need were found
Some rescuers gave their all, and no longer are around
This is what life is all about, the way that it should fall
We should respond to others' needs, for the better good of all
Think about your fellow man, in all you do and say,
Don't be the Harvey victim, be the rescuer today.
the world descends into chaos
as our world leaders
led by the chaos president
are overwhelmed
by the smallest enemy of all
a simple virus
blows through the crumbling public health infrastructure
and no one is prepared
and panic ensures
with every Presidential tweet
as people don’t believe
a word he says
conspiracy rumors spread
everyone believes their own reality
as the world spins out of control
the chaos king is in his element
convince that only he knows
the deal
and everyone else
is iust a bit player
in the reality show
that he presides over
and so the rest of us
hunker down
just hoping for the best
as the panic and chaos
spreads faster
than the virus
are we doomed
can we survive
will God save us?
he is silent
as always
To predict the weather do we need a meteorologist?
Not here, although this method by some is dismissed
Maybe not so scientific but time tested and long lasting
Welcome to the prairies and pig spleen forecasting
Call your nearest farmer when season nears December
There are a few key things when predicting to remember
Read from the top of the spleen (by read, I mean squish)
That is the next month, now count down sections to six (ish)
If the spleen remains even from top to bottom and through
It looks like a mild mannered winter is in store for you
Now, if the pig spleen in any section tends to thicken
Ready those months for a change or a cold spell to quicken
A very pronounced bulge? I'd recommend to hunker down
That's when a blizzard or nasty storm may come to town
Depending who you talk to there is method more than one
Some say temperature only, some predict rain, wind and sun
Not sure of the origin, seems each farmer learned from dad
Regardless of the history or oddity, the results ain't too bad
Some use weathermen or woolly worm caterpillar stripes
Here it's pig spleens to tell if there is risk of freezing pipes
Whether it is nature or science there is tradition underneath
Some true die hards even check thickness with their teeth
So find a trusted farmer or a copy of the farmer's almanac
And you can know what's coming as they always have your back
You can read their results if the DIY version turns you green
But don't knock it til you try forecasting with a pig spleen!
You keep all things this, and feelings that, placed exact -
frightened that all out of sorts might render life cracked.
Like a turtle, you dip and hide inside your shell
while love and dream possibilities just slide, ignored, on by.
Should air blow slight quivers, you hunker down full force
and request I, too, ponder all courses for air's hurts.
All of good and beauty is by your fear repelled.
All that is truly loving is by your fright censored.
Until a day dawns that you view a blank canvas,
I must quit as Dorothy assuring perfect in your Kansas.
... CayCay Jennings
January 25, 2018
terms and phrases with
wordds that amazes
sparkling and shining bright
what a marvelous site
what a beautiful day
In love is a
joyous way to be
in love
we're in love
I'm in love with you
Everyday is our specail day
everyway is our specail way
the details are never confussed
In love I'm the winner
how many guys come home
and say whats for dinner
I don't feel exploited
or misused
I'm in love with you
Even when folks try to trick us
we stand stong nothing
comes between us
when it's humorous
we say we're amused
but when i's time to stick together
we hunker down
hey we're clever
look around
and I got you
When the battle is won, 'tis the general who claims the laurel wreath.
Seldom is lavish praise bestowed upon the lowly ranks beneath.
But it's the valiant fellow in the trenches with his bayonet and gun,
Who bears the brutal brunt of battle to see the victory won!
In all the countless conflicts since biblical time began,
'Tis the lieutenants and sergeants who execute the battle plan.
Generals concoct grandiose schemes from the comfort of a bunker,
While the fellow in the trenches from bomb and shell must hunker!
His home is a burrow in the ground, dug to comply with regulations.
There he tries to sleep, keep socks dry and eat his meager rations.
His helmet becomes a lavatory to brush his teeth and shave.
It also serves as a dandy tub for taking and occasional lave!
He foregoes the "comfort" of home now and then to take a stroll,
Trudging thro' mud, sleet and snow on a hazardous night patrol,
Gingerly plodding thro' fields of mines, adding tension to his woe.
Returning to his barren hole, how he pines for a steaming cup o' joe!
There's no relief from the constant din of battle or the cannons' roar.
He knows all too well the horrible gore and agony of war.
It takes cooks, artillerymen, "tankies" and all to see the victory won,
But it's the courageous fellow in the trenches who really "gits 'er done".
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
The escape commenced.
The endless drive from middleclass suburbia
ala Levittown; across hill and dale,
packed in a 1947 black beauty
of a Lincoln Continental; to the land of Peyton Place
and Steven King; Maine.
Lemon up and tangerine down, Dad drives.
We wiggle and whine, Mom scolds.
A leg cramping journey made longer by
one too many pee brakes.
The dirt road pinged rocks of the chrome bumper;
we near the amorphous clapboard dream.
The violet light of the dash shows nine o’clock.
The ramshackle ashen white farmhouse
full of kissin cousins, cows and chickens;
Madonna’s home. Uncle Ken a mere decorative necessity;
Uncle ken who could charm the pants right off ya,
and obviously had, voila; cousins Georgie and Wayne.
Uncle Ken of the sweet smile and Chiclet teeth;
beer bottle in hand with his concrete company hat cocked to the side;
one long, tall, strawberry blonde, drink of water.
He was a God to us, two little girls, Snow White and Rose Red.
His only rival his son, gorgeous George;
Georgie boy, first cousin, first love.
Nights saw us hunker down under patch work.
Kissin cousins in twinned rooms.
Meeting for body heat in the frosted dawn
in a single wrought iron bed, scrawny eight year olds.
Heads under quilts breathing in and out to warm the pocket of air
we were the only heat on the second floor. With a mighty dash;
reminiscent of our favorite mouse [Mighty]
a charge was launched across the unfinished attic
to the backstairs to country kitchen.
Barefeet dodge raised square nails and splinters.
Bark bits impress frozen soles, as the stove's in house woodpile is jumped.
Twin dynamos skate across the linoleum to a copper kettle's whistle.
A white Windsor landing achieved, Aunt Madonna pours
cornflakes in porcelain white china bowls with a laugh.
The Path To Least Resistance -
By: Sue S. Side
Amp pull ease just sparked insight,
I suddenly became aware,
(actually self actualization
came ohm to roost - dare
ring with mighty stir since this
Earthling orbited thru the atmosphere
back in time many a passing,
quickening, and rip snorting year),
how my current psychological,
neurological, and emotional despair,
sans crafted - plane vanilla
existential plight grounded, nixed,
and shorted former spunky,
quirky, and goofy boyish air
snuffed out, hopscotched
(along buttery, bow jangly rocky
unlevel road i.e. skeletal derriere)
extinguished courtesy nihilistic fanfare
with counterproductive antiwelfare
of self, when just a tendershoot, nothing
boot bag of unlovely bones when bare
grim reaper das scythe
did to hunker down
specifically anorexia attired
with trademark black hoodie wear
firmly entrenched, would
not budge, clear
out, nor disappear
matter of fact arrogant behavior
cannibalistic ornery rode
roughshod, and cavalier
dauntless demeanor debonaire
leaving body electric
in utmost disrepair,
lo parents trumpeted
state of emergency
and sought out consigliere
one Doctor Ted Goldberg care
fully applied his deft, heft,
whence nervosa finally left
after quite long stretch of time
not without a fight,
and permanently sear
my esprit de corp
undermining foursquare - buzzfeeding
every epidermal micro hectare
pot tent lee loosed pendulum
within pit of mine being, a nightmare
minimally livingsocial, linkedin
to tomb ma birth family prepare
ring to die just on verge of puberty
analogous to bot sized
wrecking ball lob
bing within me tummy scare
ring the Bejesus
from those who begat me
nonetheless felt immense care
and concern helpless, and lacked app
nowadays accessible within sphere,
viz zitting world wide web,
now holed up in mancave sitting here
reflecting how I sabotaged
vitality, virility and vim stunting
maturation across vast swath of yesteryear!
I’m walking with Missy out here in the woods,
And the muse is right with me and life’s pretty good.
The storm’s rolling in, and the wind’s blowing hard,
The lawn chairs are lying all over the yard.
It’s time to prepare and to close up the shop;
I’m thinking the hammer’s getting ready to drop.
The band on the radar is angry and red;
Warm days in the springtime can get people dead.
For nature’s a force, one to be reckoned with;
Down here in the south, the tornadoes come swift.
So we’ll keep an eye out, won’t drive into town,
And if it goes bad, then we’ll all hunker down.
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just an average Spring day in North Alabama...