Long Irish setter Poems
Long Irish setter Poems. Below are the most popular long Irish setter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Irish setter poems by poem length and keyword.
5/25/22
Living in the nether
Couldn't keep it together
For a long time wore a fetter
Remaining tethered
Occasionally got tarred and feathered
To your expectations I lost interest if I'll ever measure
Eventually I read a letter
Took off my sweater
Then walked an Irish Setter
With a harness and leash made of leather
I already moved on, but I'm not a forgetter
These days there's a lot of rumor spreaders
Throughout any kind of weather
Instead of settling for lesser
I got to do better at saving cheddar
The same is said for pushing a hard line toward treasure
Felt like I fell into a great rift
Then into a snake pit
Had to escape quick
Before any fangs bit
Instead of staying on the same
I had to change it
Instead of being makeshift
Meanwhile I started to weightlift
Off the leash
To say the least
I sunk in my teeth
And had a feast
Just like a beast
In all directions, even the East
I always wish the best to my nephew and niece
Now I need to accomplish more feats
Until I'm deceased
Became a changed man
Dealt some strange hands
Across a wasteland
Just when it all started to rain bad
Couldn't stay sad
Instead I'll remain glad
If I may add
Regardless of what fate had
I had an adaptable game plan
A new year to begin with a laugh and a grin, effort put in to resolutions and
absolution for sins. Your own and your kin (though sometimes you can't win)
I burst like electrocution on January first full of solutions but without execution
it's the worst, no thirst for follow-through just submersed in feeling blue. Yet when the second comes around I feel bound to what I beckoned on the eve when I reckoned I would change for the better, whatever range that would measure, a change of sweater? Adopt an Irish setter? Be a go-getter, write more letters, arrange an exchange that's a little bit strange. On the third, be absurd, write a book and find the words, have a look at all the birds, clean the crannies and the nooks, see your granny and has she heard? That on the fourth you'll travel north to unravel mysteries of history and hope this year is truly the start of changing gears to face unruly fears of the heart, find the love that grew apart and yearn to learn if you're smart, not of the brain but the spirit that remains and take your turn to reap the gains. (tangible or imaginable)
I guess we'll just have see if 2023 will get the better of me.......
I don’t think she’s ugly, she’s just not pretty.
This girl is one of many I see in this city.
The women around here are so dull and plain.
It’s not hard to treat any of them with disdain.
I’m not prejudiced to those chicks that I find.
It’s just that I don’t like women of that kind.
I think I can wind up with something better.
I don’t want a redhead that looks like an Irish Setter.
If that blonde comes out in the middle of the night,
she can make a blind man run away with fright.
Who wants to get stuck with an ugly brunette?
I don’t smoke, but I will have a cigarette.
I think each one of them looks like a clown.
I don’t want to go. I just want to get out of town.
For Kristen's Oxymoronica contest
When I come back I will be a warhorse
Twenty one hands high
I will ignore my mistress, taking no direction.
I will run toward the valley
Where I will be free with no bridle or saddle
Thundering through, amazing other creatures.
My coat of many colors will dazzle the mares.
I will be a stallion
Well hung, and proud
Unless I choose to be Irish-setter red.
Irish setter red might be the best.
Then I could blend in with autumn and the fire sky.
My name will be Beauty Thunder
I will be followed by magnificent faeries
And sneaky, mean elves will despise me,
Putting raisins in my oat bucket.
Yes, I will return to my mistress's stable in the evening
To have a formidable bucket of oats.
I am not a hillbilly after all.
And I love running water,
I will win the Triple Crown twice,
Showing up all the other horses.
Yet with no training at all.
None can break me.
For I break myself,
Always in charge
Even as a warhorse.
I order a Guinness and a shot of Pappy Van Winkle.
My green paper Leprechaun hat is crushed
and lopsided on my head.
That shot of bourbon cost me more
then I used to earn for a day's work.
“I'm worth it”
I say to the middle-aged female server
with my devastatingly crinkled wink -
she shrugs,
she’s seen daytime drunks before.
“My dog just died”
I tell the bulky reveler at my elbow,
he is shouting to some pal way across the bar.
“His name was Paddy,
and he wasn’t no ing Irish Setter *******,
he was a shaggy Kerry Blue”
The big guy doesn't even hear me.
I swig down from the dark mull and amber slug,
weave my way out of the joint,
looking for another pot of gold to piss on.
Luck of the Irish.