Long In the lead Poems

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


Premium Member Tails Up

Commercial season in its full swing
boats afloat dot foggy harbor scene
	we're off like a prom dress
	let's catch a mega-mess
barbs a'flyin', some even obscene

Wish 'em up! Catch 'em up! Bend the rod!
tease with the herring, but not the cod.
	weekend revolution
	curse the thoughtless googans
less than seventy-three inch outlawed

find the school of herring, find the whale
there we'll drop anchor and chum the trail
	drop the bait, throw the chum
	if we chum, they might come
pull the hook, hear our woebegone wail

youngsters have chum methodology
squid-haddock mix no apology
	chumbalaya soup
	up goes the loud whoop
they sing a joyful doxology!

they cut the chum and then throw it in
expecting to catch a big blue fin
	they hook the herring
	the beeps a'blaring
land the fat cow that was in a spin! 

It’s a big, fat, slob – a screamer!
if it’s a shark, you’re a dreamer
	come on baby, bite me 
	on the hook, excite me
it’s a blue fin clever schemer

tails up! it’s safely on the deck
all this work is for a paycheck
	pink, fat, and greasy
	some make it easy
who’s in the lead, they’re neck ‘n neck

over the rail and into the pail
back to the dock to make a big sell
	dollars, six to 28,
	900 pounder is great
turn and burn, we're off to find the whale

at end-of-day when season is done
competition end, who's number one
	some were lost, some were gained
	tuna species sustained
next year, another season will run
Form: Limerick


John Stark's Glory, Part Ii

...Baum’s men were caught in a hot cross-fire,
many quickly were sent to the grave,
their Indian allies wisely pulled out,
seeing no victory to be had that day.

The militia just kept pushing closer,
and destroyed the Hessian powder cart,
they charged their positions, muskets as clubs,
the mercenaries began to loose heart.

Then Colonel Baum, in his desperation,
ordered his men out on a sabre charge,
they bulled straight ahead at the militia,
but were cut down before they got that far.

Baum himself was wounded mortally,
the attack being his final stand,
and all the remaining British forces
dropped their guns, quickly threw up their hands.

The Americans had taken the hill,
and went about looting the Hessians’ supplies,
they were busy securing their prisoners
when a new shock came before their eyes.

Six-hundred-fifty more Hessian soldiers,
with Heinrich von Breymann in the lead,
fell upon the tired, disordered rebels,
pressing the fight with surprising speed.

Now Stark and his men were driven on back,
struggling hard to restore formation,
but at that moment the Green Mountain Boys
arrived to fight for the young nation.

Three-hundred-fifty threw in with John Stark,
the shock British advance quickly stalled,
they battled Breymann until twilight’s gloom,
the Americans let him have it all.

By nightfall Breymann had lost a quarter
of his force, was outnumbered and mired,
he’d lost all his cannons, and deduced that
the only choice left was to retire.

He retreated west, back to Burgoyne’s force,
no attempt at a pursuit was made,
Burgoyne’s mighty raid had found only blood,
nine hundred casualties he had paid.

Those men would’ve been useful in weeks to come,
when the British went against General Gates,
at Saratoga, Burgoyne faced a rout,
his surrender still recalled to his day.

Stark was hailed a hero for his actions,
for facing down the foe eye-to-eye,
what else could be expected from the great man
who would declare we should ‘Live Free or Die.’

He and the militia had changed the fight,
and covered themselves in great glory,
by striking a blow for liberty’s cause,
so a new nation might begin its story…
Form: Epic

Ballad of Ghost and Tex - Part I

There’s many a tale that spreads across the night
when the sun o’er the plains yields to campfire light. 
Tales about cowboys, who once roamed the plains, 
scratching a living using their rope and reins

A few were happy when it came time to tell, 
but many of them were just sadder than hell
Cause most of them ended with some poor old soul 
lying all alone in a forgotten hole

There's a story I recall about a man, 
that made his way north from the wide Rio Grande
Arlie he was called by those that new him best 
folks round the Rockin Bar J just called him Tex

When the punchin’ all played out Tex left his home
in search of somewhere with enough space to roam
He found Montana where mountains scraped the sky
with enough space where he could live right or die

Tex knew a few summers and could feel his age 
whenever Montana snows covered the sage
He felt time too quickly closing in on him
his hearing was fading, and his sight was dim

Round the bunks they told of a stallion named Ghost
catchin’ him would give a man the right to boast
They said that horse can’t be caught by any man
so all through the winter Tex worked on a plan
 
Tex had studied that hoss and knew he was smart
the cunning of a fox with want in his heart
There wasn’t a horse that could match his pace
Tex knew he won't beat him in a flat out race

Summer had run long, this one hotter than most
Tex laid his plan to get that horse they called Ghost
With hellfire in his eyes and his nostrils flared
Ghost come down from the mountain lookin’ for mares

Now Old Tex was ready to play out his plan
he’d strung out three horses across the grassland
Twenty miles apart those geldings stood ready
for an eighty mile stretch Tex could ride steady

Tex spotted Ghost silhouetted 'gainst the sun
that horse stomped and glared then took off in a run
Ghost was in the lead and Tex brought up the back
but Tex’d studied his foe and knew where he'd track

Towards Rattlesnake Butte that stallion did run
was heading straight into that bright morning sun
'cross dried grass and sage Ghost never skipped a beat
Fast as a Chinook through that Montana heat

Ghost was fast and Tex saw him pulling ahead
but they’d reached the exchange and Tex mounted Red
Red was sure footed and as fast as the breeze
and he started closing up that gap with ease
Form: Rhyme

Walkover

The match was so exciting,
No one clearly in the lead.
Though Rafa won a tiebreak,
Nothing else was guaranteed.

The second set had started,
Rafa sweating in the heat.
While playing on his birthday,
He would not accept defeat.

Approaching six games all,
Another tiebreak on the rise,
His opponent turned his ankle 
And fell down before our eyes.

His pain appeared enormous;
He was helped to leave the court 
In a wheelchair, as he realized
All his hopes had come up short.

So Nadal is in the finals;
He “walked over,” as they say.
Not one soul, including Rafa, 
Wished for it to end that way.

*French Open Semi-Finals
Rafael (Rafa) Nadal vs. Alexander Zverev
Form: Rhyme

Alone in Loving Hut

I want to know what brand of fake beef the cook
Uses for this feef stirfry.
Plant Pioneers -
They’re originally balls.
The feef in the sweet & sour is homemade. 


I’m drinking a diet cola I didn’t buy here.
But to be fair, all that is left in terms of drinks for sale here
Is water.


To try make the stirfry & noodles last,
I’m writing & using chopsticks & writing.
I piled up the large help yourself buffet box as high as I could without food spilling on the counter,
But I am still hungry & have almost finished it -
It’s like cuddling a close friend made out of food
That will fall from my arms back into the Wok
So the food never goes cold.

Only in the lead up to Christmas can a food friend
Cooling into frost
Be friendly.

I’ll buy cold berries from the market for the Shoebox Christmas party.
& Even among soy sauce tossed broccoli,
There’s a place for plain cucumber chunks.


Having finished eating,
Imma sit here for another twenty minutes
& Order another buffet boxful if I’m then still hungry.
I am currently hungrier than when I started.
I should save some cola for the potential second portion.


Premium Member THE GREAT BRITISH PANCAKE DAY TOSS OFF - warning contains Innuendo!

Today is Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
folk are on the starting line with a smile upon their face 
Ted is ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser. 

He paces around anxiously and old Ted can’t resist
Getting in some practice with a quick flick of his wrist 
Fresh pancakes get delivered by Terry who’s the boss
He’ll raise the starting pistol; Ted’s dying to have a toss 

The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Maureen's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay! 
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
He’s had the trophy on his shelf and hopes that’s where it’ll stay
 
Maureen stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy 
The finishing line is in sight, there’s just fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake, his wrist is fast not slow 

Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
tossing their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his mind 
Ted lunges for the white tape, but the race is declared a draw
Bill suggests a ‘toss off’ as there’s never been a draw before 

Both men take a breather and get a fresh pancake to toss
if either drops their pancake then it will be to their loss 
They both stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad 

A crowd gathers, eager to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops and grabs Ted’s pancake for its dinner 
He starts to shout, he’s quite irate when it’s declared Bill's won
Ted takes it all too seriously, but Bill declared the toss off fun!
Form: Rhyme

Ka, the Lost Canadian Goose

for my gentle handsome son, Keith Andrew-

The young Canadian goose was lost in flight,
Not knowing which way to turn-
Now he depended on instinct and sight,
And what he had already learned-

The clouds engulfed all his air space,
And for the skein his heart did yearn-
They were migrating north in springtime,
Towards their nesting grounds to return-

He was sure he could navigate the course,
But he really needed to see-
For now it was against time that he raced,
Hoping that soon with them all he would be-

He flew at an altitude of 3,000 feet, 
the migration height that geese fly-
’but then remembered on some occasions,
they’d go up 27,000 feet in the sky!

He tried to get his bearings,  
by estimating their rate of speed-
Canadian Geese cover 1,500 miles a day,
He’d have to fly faster to succeed- 

KA, with courage geared up,
and charged right through the distant clouds-
He spotted black feathered necks and feet,
and heard lots honking that was loud-

His father was in the lead,
of the “V” formation that geese fly-
His mother was right behind,
Asking, “Where did he go and why?”

The young Canadian goose remained in back,
Until all of them touched the ground-
Mother emerged from the gaggle with glee,
Happy her son was found-

Mom and father were together for life-
In the geese world that’s how it goes-
Now it was KA’s time to find a mate,
He made it just in time to propose!
Form: Rhyme

Games Without Frontiers

First he went into the Ukraine as there he'd remain
This man being so vain grown from a separate grain
Now he's in the Middle East and arguing with the U.S.
Trouble to say the least, for it has become a big mess

Now there have been threats, deals have been broken
And even still Obama lets, barely a word ever spoken
He was out on the golf course while Putin was moving
Setting about his Trojan horse to Obama's disapproving

But now here we are as a hungry Putin seeks to devour
How quickly we've come so far with this shift in power
The U.S. no longer in the lead in so being pushed aside
For the things you now concede many others have died

Not being here anymore but now that spirit's departed
A long unsettled score with a people now disheartened
As there he sits and waits but he won't wait very long
Holding all of our fates, the beginning of what's wrong


Only Prayer is powerful enough to change this World!
For by not praying is how we got in this predicament.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Reindeer Dilemma

Rudolph did not like his bright red nose
And how everyone told him it glows
He then painted it blue
Didn't realize with glue
Washed it with snow, now it's stuck and froze

Dasher wanted to be in the lead
And was the fastest to do the deed
But he couldn't fly, only prance
And his moves were like a dance
knew he could not fly the sleigh with speed

Prancer had a tiny pink sparkly nose
Liked to flirt, keeping the boys on their toes
She loved to just mingle
While singing her jingle
And romancing the herd with her sweet show

Dancer had a big chip on his shoulder
Mad that Dasher had moves that could smolder
Dancer could really dance
If he was given a chance
But Dasher's moves were flashy and bolder

Comet was a foolish and friendly deer
Who loved to have a full belly of beer
But he wasn't very bright
And his nose had no light
He was too sauced to be able to steer

Cupid was young, beautiful and sprite
Had a huge fear of falling and heights
He had to close his eyes
When he was in the skies
He couldn't safely lead the sleigh at night

Vixen's job was to guard the Christmas sleigh
And make sure presents weren't stolen away
Didn't care about the race
Wanted to keep his place
Knew presents were needed to save the day

Blitzen knew he was last in line
And his nose was black with no shine
He made his nostrils flare
And shoved a flashlight there
Now he could lead the sleigh this time
Form: Limerick

Premium Member The Hag Witch and Her Cat

The red devil is leading the hag witch and her cat
Through a laughing jack-o-lantern field so flat.
The wind is howling, the owls are on the move.
Dracula is waiting, in the mood to truly groove.

The red devil is silent, which makes him scary.
Cat’s fur stands up, he is terrified of Sister Mary.
Mary keeps going with determination in her mind.
She needs to ask Dracula to stop being so darned kind.

Dracula gives her excuses which infuriate her so.
She flicks out her peacock wand which gives a mighty glow.
A cauldron appears, and she soon makes up a potion.
To give to Dracula. It is a change-your-mind-up lotion.

Dracula refuses to put the lotion on his skin.
Infuriating the hag, which is truly not a win.
Cat is terrified now not wanting to travel back.
She will take her rage out on somebody; he will probably get the rack.

The red devil tells the hag her time is up, she has to go.
Cat drags his feet in a sorry way, ridiculously slow.
Hag witch is in the lead, marching back across the cornfield bay.
Cat knows he is in for it; there is nothing he can say.

Dracula has followed them. He demands she give him Cat.
She is angry about it, but he takes her to the mat.
Cat becomes Dracula’s familiar, and is allowed to prowl at night.
This union makes him happy; they end up very tight.
Form: Rhyme

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace