Long Hunkering Poems
Long Hunkering Poems. Below are the most popular long Hunkering by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Hunkering poems by poem length and keyword.
Ready or not here he comes
Best you batten down the hatches
Unless you were one of the smart ones to run
Like a Coon Hound in July chasing rabbits
Alright, alright, alright
As you turn and face the wind
Open the door to a Category 4
And let Matthew come screaming in
Oh me, oh my, oh my, oh me
Is that Grandma in the yard below
Hanging tight with all her might to the clothes line
With her cat Skeeters in tow
This is getting rather exciting
As I see trees by the dozen crack in half
With my Boy scout skills I might need to later build
A sturdy family size raft
But for now we'll all hunker down
Try and stay away from the windows
And all the flying debris that I decided to leave
In the yard scattered between plastic Flamingos
I'm here wondering at this moment
Which of the two could be worse
Being blown away by a hurricane
Or eaten by a gator face first
Still you've got to love Florida
With 20 foot waves crashing to shore
As I step outside to grab that branch floating by
I think I need to start whittling some oars
I live in Jacksonville Florida and thought some humor would be nice before my power goes out and I crawl off into a corner to whimper...
Fight me! Styx wants to say
It comes out as a ‘mew’
They stroke his fur and pet his head
Tickle, fuss and coo
Too soft! He thinks, Where are the claws?
The hard knocks and the teeth?
His friends, the other wampus cats
At least brawl like they have beef
But his clowder mates are holed up too
Hunkering from the hail
What he wouldn’t give right now
To bite another’s tail!
Adrenaline makes his muscles twitch
Pent up frustration writhes
Oh to be outdoors again
Running with his tribe!
Fight me! Styx wants to roar
All six legs set to scrap
He doesn’t want an invitation
To sit purring on a lap
Fight me! Styx insists
And receives a little shove
Yes! Physical contact!
He interprets it as love
Fight me! Fight me! He’s shoved again
He nips, inviting more
He’s rewarded with rough and tumble
And is sent sprawling on the floor
When it comes to good play fighting
The humans don’t quite know how
It’s not the same as wampus wrestling
But it’ll do, for now
There were many ingenious things that helped win World War Two.
Jeeps, Higgins Boats and Victory Ships just to name a few.
Other things were vital such as radar, C-rations and wrenches,
But the ungainly steel helmet won favor with guys in the trenches!
Though the soldier always tried his best to look meticulous,
That "pot" atop his head did make him look somewhat ridiculous!
Designed to protect the head as directed by Army ukases,
The enterprising American soldier found for it many other uses!
It was used as a portable sink in which to wash and shave,
And it came in handy as a bathtub for the occasional lave.
It made a great laundry tub for the scrubbing of his drawers.
(Heretofore, Mom took care of such mundane domestic chores!)
Hunkering in his foxhole to evade the dreaded Grim Reaper,
It became a useful shovel as he strove to dig a little deeper!
On numerous occasions in it he was served his meager chow.
It was used as a milk pail for milking an obliging cow!
To rest his weary bones the helmet became a comfortable seat.
For all-around utility this handy-dandy gadget couldn't be beat!
Oh! And by the way it saved innumerable lives along the way,
Since its sole intended purpose was to keep shot and shell at bay!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS
Hello Santa! The last time I saw you was thirty eight years ago.
I sat on your lap, hugged and kissed you and gave it away.
Our two year old son figured out it was no Santa; but Dad.
Now, I want the real Santa to come and visit me, pretty please.
I have not been naughty lately for I have not been outdoor
dancing for the last four weeks and four weeks is too long.
I have been nice, masking, distancing and mostly hunkering down;
but, I have been going out of my head with the Corona fatigue,
especially this week that I do not have on-line classes anymore.
My children cannot give me what I want for Christmas.
So please, won’t you come, visit and give me what I want.
All I want for Christmas is a ride in your sleigh on Christmas Eve
and let Rudolph drive me to get away and escape from reality.
I’m sure you will still have plenty of time to deliver your
presents in your list so nobody would pout and cry.
Santa's Covid Christmas Poetry Carolyn Devonshire
… is a drunkard
Swilling vintage regret,
Tears falling for undared dreams,
Anger spewing over unrequited love.
… is endless replays of yesterdays
With circular insightful wisdom
As likely to reverse life’s ills
As scrubbing dirt off hills.
… is stolen joy in the gloom
Of memory’s moldy greenhouse
Where fancied success blooms, hiding
Mocking hyenas and nightmare roaches.
… is a pustulated soul
Hunkering in a mental bunker
Sniveling nose dripping a green past,
Dreaming victory will roar as thunder.
… is Salvador Dali droop
From the fringes of reality
Or a joy until truth
Flushes it to a cesspool.
Can You Please Wait A Second...?
In steed of ye
mounting your stock
key high horse,
perhaps named Rock
Key, and head off...lock
stock and barrel,
who knows where,
now lemme seat chew wait
ma self, and quickly knock
out quick mention about
hour (meaning everybody
within the wide world),
and their webbed
warp and woof weave
courtesy of Father Time
analogously to a jock
key hunkering down
aiming tubby first
crossing finish line
at races, afterwards celebrate
with social feted outing, while
scheduling proctologist appointment,
et cetera, sans squeezing
late radio talk ad hoc
meeting, an
extemporaneous yet timely
lesson indirectly related
to bird dogging, i.e. migrating
fast as Glock
pistol can shoot, essentially
sound (garden) resembling
joyus honking flock
of seagulls heading
Southside Johnny
and Asbury Jukes,
and on Tortoise -
to sea dock
side of the moon
Pink Floyd attired as Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtle,
whose schedule Nsync
with YES men hosting
showtime merely minutes away...
remember ring that char existence
enslaved to thee a bomb
been nibble atomic clock,
which device uses an electron
transition frequency went
sallying forth in
the microwave tent,
experiencing optical radiation pent
up ether, or ultra
violet region meant
for electromagnetic fervent
active spectrum, or Palestra event
of atoms comprising
Adam and the Ants
(as well all other matter)
linkedin to frequency standard for
timekeeping Strunk and White
element of style.
June nineteenth one hundred and fifty years ago
Juneteenth hint: three hundred
and sixty six days
after eighteen sixty four.
Major General Gordon Granger
led the Union Soldiers to Galveston, Texas,
to announce the end of the Civil war
and the freedom of all enslaved people.
Jim Crow sat perched
over the event horizon
waiting in the wings,
which brought darkened
(non-sheltering) skies
not only for the hot pocket
of suddenly emancipated
persons of color,
who would subsequently experience
immense prejudice
upon their embarkation
as (no pun intended)
"masters" of their own selves
while attempting to eke out a living
dirt poor, yet resourceful
hunkering down on plantations,
which property eminent domain
of federal government,
(a political entity
characterized by union
of partially self-governing provinces,
states, or other regions),
whereby said body electric
codified, fortified, and indemnified
manifest destiny, a phrase
coined in 1845, the idea
that United States destined—
by God advocates believed—
to expand its dominion
and spread democracy and capitalism
across the entire North American continent.
Though institution of slavery
supposedly rendered null and void
at the stroke of a pen
(courtesy Abraham Lincoln)
well actual legislation
passed by Congress on January 31, 1865,
and ratified on December 6, 1865,
the 13th Amendment abolished slavery
in the United States.
Nevertheless merciless abuse
heaped upon the *****
despite their legal status
being Granted leeway
to persevere life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness.
Recognition as equal brethren
among collective soul of American
fraught with bitter aversion,
condemnation, and ejaculation
of physical and verbal violence
against people of color,
whose melanin enriched complexion
birthrights rendered hidebound
severely limited
inalienable rights as declared
in Declaration of Independence,
now still utter abhorrence
regarding treatment
of those proud enterprising people,
whose once storied
African past left in tatters
leaving sparse threads
woven together by diligent dogged research
nsync with twenty first century technology
to allow, enable and provide opportunity
to stitch together a more complete tapestry
and spiritual fusion with shackled ancestors.
Stark realization, I harbor sacrilegious objection...
Against merry christmas premature blowout,
(or otherwise) ejaculation galore burnout,
hence I feel like the odd man out
neither yours truly, nor the missus
spends money and/or
time at checkout
avoid madding crowds like the plague
elbowing, hustling, jostling,
pushing, racing, shoving...
seconds before blue
light special closeout,
though neither of us
reformed practicing Jews, nor devout
mass consumerism capitalistic fallout,
we steer clear taking refuge within
our underground (arched)
all in the family bunker hideout
remain hermetically sealed
courtesy NASA tested grout
hunkering inside spatially
roomy subterranean getaway
created viz 3d printing
immediately after rollout
ready to take nesty plunge
steeply, perpendicularly, giddily... south
to go down rabbit hole,
where we carouse, cavort,
thermally heated cavernous redoubt
reaping efforts after donning
(MAGA) hardhats constructing roustabout,
whereby protruding innocuous periscope
allows, enables, and provides
mean ways to scout,
since Marshall Mathers Law
declared, mandated trumpeted
courtesy special ops stakeout
regarding our subversive
passive actions hashtagged illegal
if perchance discovered vis a vis,
we Americans express timeout
before changing role as seekers
playing wargames no matter
suddenly Nor'easter creates whiteout
futile search until spring thaw
melting snow exhumes
mister and missus Santa Claus
thank you climate change
regarding attributed drought.
The summer of great outdoors
Has become the winter of discontent.
Families hunkering down indoors,
Tring to find various ways to be content.
Damage of economic uncertainty,
I rather have muddy boots to clean.
And reasons to live and think positively.
Before the cold winter froze my dream.
Tapping into those demons beyond the remit
There is emotional privacy creating space.
Linked family and friend’s intimate closet,
Estate, separate and safe, a kind time waste.
A path less taken to the peak of intent,
The new belief of seeing around corners.
Being heroic in the winter of discontent,
We find ourselves asleep with desires.
What visions mean to change our course
From oceans dragging the world under.
Soughing waves gasp for breathless pause,
Awaken to find darker things in the hour.
We feel the darkness invading our soul.
Fear, anger, and blame, waiting to explode.
Doubt held the reins balancing the world,
All sides of the human condition grow cold.
Millennials are spring breaking
Boomers are hunkering down
Clowns are pointing fingers...again
No vacancy at the coroner's lounge.
Florists and pharma are stacking chips.
The panicked are dusting off prickly prayers.
The media is tossing frantic into the wind.
The government is shutting us down.
Not enough bleach or kits to go around.
The preppers laughing at the newly desperate.
The rich and the guilty have all been tested.
Poor men get no empathy and are laid to rest.
Under champagne glasses of tinsel towns.
Covid-19 is but a long prequel.
For much nastier things to come.
A wise old woman once said to me
"Death always comes in threes".
Somewhere in all this froth
I've lost track of myself
and no longer count the blessings.