Long Jake Poems
Long Jake Poems. Below are the most popular long Jake by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jake poems by poem length and keyword.
We met during a stormy winter day
When I was vulnerable and in a bad way
I remember being in my car and breaking down
On that desolate country road, no one around
Snow started to fall and the roads were getting icy
My cell was not working as the roads are now dicey
I then saw the headlights approaching through the snow
I hoped they stop, as I had no way, I could call or go
The truck stopped and a gorgeous man came to my car
He asked if I needed help, I told him yes with my door ajar
He smiled as his eyes twinkled, he said his name was Jake
I smiled and thought, I just might be the asylum of your ache
We ended up staying at Where the Orchid’s Dream Inn
I felt a strong physical attraction as we went to check-in
There was one room left, the honeymoon suite
I felt it was fate as his eyes sparkled and his smile so sweet
It was a night to remember but one I also would like to forget
A time to reflect on the lesson and not focus on the regret
It was passionate as I remember, I was trapped in your pulse
The world seemed to stop, and I could think of nothing else
The next day he was gone and it was a sad surprise
I thought I was safe, he was genuine, maybe a disguise
My wallet was emptied and my cell phone was gone
I now felt sad and used like an old country song
The clerk at the Inn said Jake called me a cab
He also left a note and said he paid the tab
And thanked me for the fun night, I felt uncouth
No apology, as I thought, now I can taste your truth
Oh yeah I tried...
Pulling it down,
It was a slip.
I stood up and
Tried dragging it down
But is was a flaw.
I man(ed) up,
Faced it, tried
Giving it a punch,
But it was a miss.
Uppercut,
Yet a miss again.
I thought life
Was all about dragging
Or maybe punching it,
But no no no..,
It owes us nothing!
It is like a sardine,
Reflecting on
Every move we do.
Of course a "baby Jake".
But this time
has to be different.
It brings me joy knowing
All its next Moves.
The way I am gonna trick it,
Put the smile on my face
Oh yeah I've learned it
And I'm gonna live it!
Just fair and Wild
Reindeer herd - heard clattering
Rangifer tarandus kept
this deep sleeper awake
cavorting, deer ring
escapade haint fake
dreamt only a smattering while
Santa did shimmy and shake
with ho...ho...ho...
no worry mate - everything's jake
resonating resembling thus Spake
Zarathustra jollity did quake.
Yours truly (i.e, me)
awoke with rapture
forty hooves with
four "toes" on each foot
surreptitiously, soundlessly, and simply
did invisibly bore
I noiselessly swore
sizable wrapped holiday box
with duct tape to secure
merchandise found thee missus
(Abby) excitedly tore
painstakingly, neatly, and lovingly
my feeble protest she did ignore
(think lame gesticulations)
ah... lo and behold goodies galore
unable to deter impetuous more
or less analogous to child like roar
ring with giddy excitement
December twenty fifth,
could not await opening your
linkedin holiday deliverance
including Trader Joe's gift card
to "fake" Monseigneur
Matthew Scott with dogspeed
to wish thee (Andy, Ansley,
Marley - if by ghost of chance...)
plus other kith and kin) bonjour,
and joyful new year, whence two score
orbitz will find me
newly minted centenarian, argh... your
brother not yet ready to explore
afterlife, which grave kismet unavoidable,
courtesy grim reaper conquistador
though... even now no fear arises,
when permanent sleep shall nevermore
witness generalized (anticipatory)
anxiety cease to perdure,
which bouts of panic
running rampant near winded seen yore
citizen banker (me) disgruntled
as if possessed by maniacal führer
running me rampantly ragged das
exhausting emotional furor
takes (and/or took) toll, I deplore
and decry lifelong psychological struggle
germinating while in utero,
when my nonexistence
no bigger than a spore
biological vagaries manifestation
nine months before
set figurative deoxynucleic acid
blueprint stage permanently
etched to the core
every cell sporting mutation
begetting, coding, dunning ensure
ring subsequent generations
oft times pondering,
whence final breath of relief
will signal time to scatter ashes
buzzfeeding boughs of sycamore.
Waiting, gifted, transitory,
A white crust of bread
Each snowflake the better part of me
Sun rising over snow laden barn;
Owls retire,
Stroked by sunbeam fingers
Much softer than my own.
It is a time of downy mornings calling
Through a chilly air to kiss my breath:
“Wake up Jake, the pump is frozen”
I’m awake.
Sheets are laid across the pond.
Beneath; the water sleeps
As ice breaks on the bow
Of every duck as
They cross in columns
Leaving ice cubes in their wake.
Winter’s breadcrumbs;
Marking trails for their return,
Spilling the ice
From mother nature’s trays.
A crunching sound of footsteps
Travels miles to be near.
Deer will twitch and flick a favored ear.
Icy needles, spiky columns
Ice glistening
On each winter’s retina
As cold invades
Every winter bone.
April 28,
It is God’s will they say
this poem was published in Tiferet journal's 2018 Poem-a-Thon. Please see their webpage or facebook page for all the great poetry. Also, check out my my poetry blog, Https://theworldaccordingtocosmos.com for these and other poems. Thanks, Jake
It is God’s will they say
The neo-fascists and their ilk
It is the white man’s burden
To rule the unruly masses
To this I say
Never again
Will we let them
Take over the world
And lead us back to the dark dangerous days
Of the Holocaust
Or the 19th-century colonial era
Never again
Never again
Until hell freezes over
And the world ends
Billy Ray Cyrus sings of a state of mind
Donovan of periwinkle shells
The Bionaut's of streams aquamarine
Paul McCarty rocked about those bells
Carole King about a royal hue
Frank Sinatra croons of sapphire skies
Fleetwood Mac has album Cerulean
Brian Wilson cries of shades of eyes
Blu Cantrell of cobalt powder
Big Moe has lyrics about teal green
Double Trouble turquoise teardrops
Jake Bugg beautiful indigo horizons
July 15, 2016
Brevity in Blue Contest by Dale Gregory Cozart
Fifth Place
What kind of car is that? I yell, looking out the window.
Just an ordinary car, my husband says.
With a star on it and a cherry on top?
A police car? He guesses.
What on earth has he done?
Has he killed somebody?
Is he a mass murderer?
Is he getting served divorce papers?
I glare at him, wondering if he is a bigamist.
He goes to the door to open it.
Steps outside.
Sure. He does not want me to know what it’s about.
I run over and rip open the door.
It’s his buddy Jake, dressed as a police officer.
What are you supposed to be? I demand.
Jake and Joe both stare at me.
“I think I’ll be the sheriff,” Jake says.
I had forgotten he was running.
Because we live in a different county.
I congratulate him and go back in the house, much meeker now.
While Cataloguing Catacombs
in ancient Kathmandu
he chanced upon a Catamaran
from nineteen sixty-two.
He Categorized Caterpillars
in an old Catalpa tree
he grabbed a limb that wasn't there
it was a real Catastrophe.
At night his Cat would Caterwaul
out back behind the house
but he Categorically denied
that he smoked Catnip with the mouse.
He had Cattle on his acreage
and Catfish in the lake
he knew a mighty Catamount
who went by the name of Jake.
He retired to Catalonia
where he grew Catawba grapes
but Cataplexy did him in
from which there's no escape.
With a Catafalque for his coffin
inside the Cathedral tall
they Catered in a dinner
and mourned him one and all.
I find myself
In a dark room
Strapped to a bed
The light turns on
The large TV comes on
A smiling image
Of Satan fills the TV
He is dressed
In a conservative business suit
Looks like he came
Out of a corporate
board meeting
surrounded by demonic aides
who constantly shove papers
at him
He looks up from his lap top
And smiles
A deadly so insincere smile
His voice booms out
Welcome to Hell
My satanic slaves
I am Satan
Your new master
Each of you
Has been sentenced
To an eternity of torture
And the punishment
Must fit the crime
So, for you
Mr. Jake Cosmos Aller
Failed aspiring poet
And novelist
Your torture
Is to be strapped
To that bed
Unable to move
As you are filled
With the need
To piss and
But you cannot move
And your skin
Is crawling with bugs
And itchy
as Hell so to speak
and you are so sleepy
but you cannot sleep
the TV will play
endless repeats
Of some of the worst TV
and movie shows
ever produced
Starting with my favorite
A Series of Unfortunate Events
Featuring your favor annoying little girl
Carmetta! Singing for you forever
As you are the ultimate cake sniffer
Welcome to Hell
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
“Sorry Aunt, I made a mistake,
It wasn’t you it was uncle Jake.
I must admit I’m a little high,
I cannot walk but I can fly.
I’m with my ganja friends, we’re all blotto.
Here’s Bob Marley, he says “Hello”.
They’re in a rush coz they are late
Any time now they’ll close the Pearly Gate.”
Collaboration poem: last two stanzas are mine.
(2nd Place in Charles Messina's The Stoner Collaboration Poetry Contest)