Long Jugs Poems
Long Jugs Poems. Below are the most popular long Jugs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jugs poems by poem length and keyword.
How many head do you have?
He turns his weathered face toward me. You buy’n?
His hazel eyes are dancing; I am no cowboy.
I'm in the throes of boot stomping country.
Saturday nights are for dancing
And you better be sleeping in church on Sunday.
I take a big whiff of healthy country air.
We're standing next to a pasture full of bluebells.
There are clumps of succulents on either side of this old barn.
She needs paint everywhere except for her brand-new window.
Two antique milk jugs are down here, with yellow and purple petunias.
The missus, he explains noticing my noticing.
A black crow lights on a fence post about twenty feet away.
The most annoying croaking caw sound.
He is not happy you’re here, the old timer tells me. I grin.
There is one lone renegade sunflower to the left of the shed.
I wonder about that, but do not ask.
Want to see the horses or the cows? He asks.
I want to see both, I say.
We’ll start with the horses then.
The cows are mucking around in the mud; you’ll have to put on waders.
I try to look pleased.
I always considered you littered my home,
Small knickknacks adorning overcrowded shelves.
The marble statues you bought from lovely Rome,
I leave them there, a memory of ourselves.
And in gay Paris, you just went mad with joy
Those miniatures saucers, jugs and a vase,
Insisting each was her special lovely toy,
Dainty trivialities, there's no more space.
But without Limoges, can one live a true life?
She packed them carefully thus to take back home.
Porcelain I had to pay for my dear wife,
How tired I was, each elegant shop to roam.
Such charms, rings, bracelets, miniature houses
Lured by magnetic charms, earrings and pendants,
From Upim*, Milan she bought tens of blouses
At Lafayette, I waited in attendance.
She's left me with all these little ornaments
Beautiful up to a point I must admit;
Shall I cherish them for what each represents?
Give to charity or leave them in my writ?
NB Upim is a superstore in Italy.
Nursery Rhymes Poetry Contest
Sponsor-Eve Roper
A Mother Watches Her Daughter Stretch Her Wings
There was no stopping my daughter's quest
Like a baby blue jay leaving the nest
She would take to the neighbors with a zest
With play in her eyes, she would meet her guest
A cat, dog, and garden laying at rest
My little one reached in her Sunday best
As the trio looked on with warm jest
Gently she met her hosts without protest
As she brought water jugs filled to the crest
The water cure left the trio blessed
And for my daughter, she grew from this test
Tears filled my eyes as her flight was all dressed
Dear Becca I’d love to pull up a chair
But I don’t have a moment to spare
I’m exhausted, just look I’m deadbeat
I wish god gave me ten pairs of feet
I slave for you all night and day
For a miserly five dollars of pay
I serve food just as fast as I can
But you really just don’t give a damn!
I slop down bowls of lupin juice soup
Its consistency looks like blue poop
I deposit bowls with a wry smile
Because I know that it tastes really vile!
The customers, oh they can be SO rude
They say hurry up Frank with our food
They’ll order plates of pink slimy frogs
(I have to prise frogs off blue moldy logs)
Pink frogs are a specialty of the house
Served on rice with a head of a mouse
Folks demand jugs of curlique beer
It starts cloudy and then it turns clear
For dessert diners love snail cream pie
It’s served with live snails piled high
The snails crawl all over the table
I retrieve them if customers aren't unable
BUT I’m your husband you treat me like dirt
You stand smiling whilst I do the hard work
So I really don’t have time to sit
In fact stuff your job honey - I QUIT!
Please pull up a chair Contest
sponsored by Jerry Curtis
05~01~17
Explorin' the branches of the family tree can be rather dicey.
Some ancestors could be famous, humdrum er downright spicy!
With bated breath I decided to take the risk and check around.
I wasn't all that enthralled about some of the dudes that I found!
Seems that in the distant past a member of my family strain,
Was a notorious pirate maraudin' the boundless Spanish Main!
Another was a nefarious cattle rustler ever on the vamoose,
'Til a posse tracked him down and left him danglin' from a noose!
One forebear, a scoundrel who specialized in robbin' trains,
Was ensconced fer life in a cozy cell, detained in clankin' chains!
A rowdy ancestor caused a ruckus in a Cripple Creek saloon;
The high sheriff done him in one fateful August afternoon!
My lineage included a business lady of whom I proudly spoke,
'Til it was revealed she was a soiled dove, dismayin' this poor bloke!
My great-grandpa was caught dispensin' jugs of potent 'shine!
Revenooers busted him resultin' in a term in jail and a hefty fine!
A distant uncle was a goon in a notorious gangster mob.
He met his Maker heistin' a bank they were tryin' to rob!
I proffered a prayer as I examined my tragic family tree:
"Lord, may a sturdy twig adorn this tree and let it begin with me!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Judy Konos' "Relatives" Contest
The Lotus Eaters page 1 of 2
(This is an original fiction by Earl based on the fiction by Homer. Part 2 of this is in a 2nd. posting)
Northern unkind gales forced, with no care to man or nature
The cunning, the brave, the great King Odysseus and his crew to draw off course
From Ithica, their home and one true destination
A strange land happened upon them by fate and chance
Appeared from nowhere, but did enchant them one and all
We’ve come to learn this is the Isle Lotophagi.
Glorious scented lotus fields rolled up, waving against moving vast hills
Winds gave them life over flowing there
With majestic summer’s heated wilds
Holding the world intact
Boulders lined up as giants against the ancient unencumbered breathing skies
Virgins in yellow and pink silk, filled in the silence of morn with vigilance
While gathering sweet cold water in fragile jugs along the foreign stream
Within the golden landscape scene the lotus eaters lived
In tender innocence, no cares in the world, or of their fate awaiting
Hectic red steadfast on earth this day as sun rose stronger than venues of time
But not too late
To mold the landscape in its style in brightness that takes the sight of man to shelter
The cunning Odysseus, and his men are hungry, tired, worn of war and lust for water from that shore
Before they sail to Ithica with furor to their missions end
Determined one and all
They must rest, take in splendors of this world and learn their love and lore
The king and sailors did much more. The lotus eaters, as they’re called
Old man,bending over,
arched like a fallen moon
in a dark lilac November sky.
joy and pain wrestle my heart across the emptiness
and toss it up like a damp rocket
to fall in a hidden corner where mice live.
Would that not be a good ending,to be dust
to these little creatures nesting
in my chewed green twine and my tartan basket?
They have eyes and shiver in my hand when I rescue them
from the cat…
as any heart might.
Now night falls on the newspaper basket
where the damp Times and the Guardian mix into glue
and tomorrow the sun will rise
and it will just be the garbage
with no poetic undertones nor deathly hushes..
Heather and a silver light
you stand on a hill top like a god
looking over his domain.
Strong and now weak
it’s the humane condition
Everlasting life is too dangerous for humans.
Silent,motionless,home of beetles
bit by bit we fall away
into the mother soil
with cracked jugs and dropped coins
for a future academic to dig into.
Transparent hand touches me.
Whose might it be but yours?
crusades are on again the musketeers yelled in a delighted way
They gathered their comrades and fighters from fields and the bay
There was rejoicing in the streets as the throng came together.
They were ready to fight a battle in any kind of unholy weather.
We will kick them, stomp them, punch them in their ugly mugs.
They were chanting their song as they drank from their beer laden jugs.
We will hit them, hurt them, make them cry and run away!
A thrilling excitement went through the mob on this fateful day.
But wait, what about religion? Someone asked. Does it have to apply.
I don’t think it has to, maybe, not sure, now they were wondering why.
Why were they ready to fight? To maim? To kill? To take lives? To slay?
feelings that wore off as they began chanting to each other in a happy way.
Crusades are on! Come join us! They yelled to eager youth in town after town.
They loved being the instigators of a fight that would get their enemies down.
We will hit them, hurt them, make them cry and run away!
Religion does not have to enter into this in any way. Come on. Join our fray!
Cornucopia
Trumpet Sounding – abundance Resounding –
A harvest not Empty – a horn of Plenty –
Season bounty Astounding – safe from snowbound Surroundings
Fall Caressing fair autumn Blessings.
Sweet orbs of Green or burgundy Seen
In arbors that Wait grape clusters to Take
Nectars Serene in fermenting Dreams
Dew mists so Fine like sparkling Wine.
Breath of Autumn whispers soft harvest Hymns
Ruffles ripe Fields of grain’s golden Yield
Blades salute skies Solemn - in straight rows, in Columns
Kernel berries grown for Bread - we bow our Heads.
Apples Reside – sweet juiciness Abides
Orchard boughs Seen in ornaments red, yellow, Green
Thoughts of pie Ride as cinnamon delight Glides
Crisp ciders Arrive in jugs and in Jives!
Frosty fall Dells painted in icy Pastels
Leave a transparent Sheen on rambling vines Green
Pepitas in Shells of bright orange they Dwell
In pumpkins and Squash - festive fields Awash
Such flavor Divine – like honey sweet Wine –
Wide bottomed Orbs - sun sweetness Absorbed -
A taste Refined – bliss, sublime, Intertwine –
Pears Appear at the end of the Year!
From blossom Wings nascent in Spring
Sweet surprise Resting in hard shells Nesting
Squirrels seasonal Fling – winter Investing -
Walnuts and Almonds, pecans by the mill Pond
11-16-20
Contest: In Rhymes Sublime
Sponsor: Joseph May
creepy eyes sparkle
from scary pumpkin faces
halloween is here!
******
At Halloween it’s my birthday
Lots of ghouls come round to play
(They are really children from my street)
Their creepy costumes look really neat
I helped mummy mix and make
A scary spider birthday cake
Our table groans with lots of party food
and creepy decorations set a scary mood
We have so many tasty treats to eat
huge sandwiches cut like monster’s feet,
tubs of popcorn ‘brains’ and boiled egg eyes
and green slime pie and vampire thighs
We made massive jugs of red lemonade
Using colouring for that blood red shade
When the party’s over we will head to the street
And knock on doors to trick and treat
******
Fabulous fun and fancy food with friends and family
Pretty parcels and presents precariously piled
Cornucopia of cookies, candy, chocolate and cards
Trick and treating takes time
Bulging bags bursting with bright bonbons
Cornucopia contest
Sponsored by Kim Rodrigues
11-06-17
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