Long Keener Poems
Long Keener Poems. Below are the most popular long Keener by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keener poems by poem length and keyword.
UNCLAIMED FREIGHT
I offered myself to you - Rejected many for you, made myself
Exclusively yours - You never understood that I was not here
To endure jealousy, hate or envy –
Only to serve you and teach you how to include instead of excluding...
You looked over and under but never really looked at me.
Patted my head most appeasingly.
I felt like the puppy with eyes waiting for that proverbial bone.
Then, when keener eyes saw what you never saw;
Benefited from my earthly presence;
Suddenly like a spoiled child who never
played with his wind-up toy;
Until someone else wound it up he,
Now wanted to claim that toy to be his favorite.
You should have examined me; and found my key…
loved me, and explore my inner workings up close,
Before it was too late to relate...
Another metaphor would be
They valued what you failed to see.
You were blind to see my worth…
You never claimed me for yourself.
Left me sitting on the warehouse shelf
You seemed surprised, they bided high
Because what’s yours is not yours
“If you don't claim it!”!
Unclaimed freight…
“goes to the highest bidder”.
I was strolling through Evergreen Cemetery the other day,
Glancing at epitaphs etched upon various stones along the way.
Some flowing verse was out of this world but I can only assume,
That the authors were forthcoming in how they met their doom!
"Should an inconsiderate bird upon my stone alight,
Please do me a favor and remove the blight!"
"Here reposes a dude who tried to rob a lady teller,
But she was a keener shot than this unlucky feller!"
"Here sleeps ace pilot Captain Cletus Cole;
His wings were clipped attempting a barrel roll!"
"Here reclines butcher Clyde who cheated on his wife.
Unknown to him she was also adept at wielding a butcher knife!"
"Here lies Hank his mortal shell riddled with lead.
He was nabbed rustlin' steers and the sheriff shot him dead!"
"Here is deposited the corpus of Eddie a top-notch baker.
He is now serving assorted donuts to his beloved Maker!"
"Please relay your regards as by this way you pass,
But for heavens sake, keep off the cottin' pickin' grass!"
"On a banana peel the dear departed slipped and fell.
We pray he landed in paradise and not in hell!"
"He didn't know his Volkswagen had all that power.
He met his doom head-on doing 90 miles per hour!"
"Fer nigh on 40 years old Hank rode this earthly range;
Now he rides in that final roundup on that heavenly grange!"
"Gambler Jim has left very few friends behind to grieve;
He was caught with a couple of aces up his sleeve!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
SHACKLED (edited for The I Of The Storm)
Backing my hips against these painted bricks
While eager young men dance with eager young chicks
They act like Adonis, which isn’t that honest
They’re trying their best ‘pulling’ tricks
And when I see Sally, I just dilly dally
I secretly couldn’t be keener
Then she turned around, I stared at the ground
As though I had not even seen her
The thing is I think, she gave me a wink
Last week as she sauntered on by
But I looked away because maybe that day
She thought I was some other guy
So now my mate, Les, has gone off with Bess
The girl in the skimpy red dress
It’s time to go home, again all alone
And act like I couldn’t care less.
A crippling ailment, a life in curtailment
Its living your life on your knees
No way to stand out when riddled with doubt
Yet no-one calls ‘Shy’ a disease
25 November 2018 (edited from a recent original)
Me ol mucker Rodney is getting some pukka succour...tipple & tucker in Vienna.."prost" mate
Austrian foodie fold can’t break the mould caught in a fraught brasher sort of sport
Fought as thought who bought flasher Sacher torte that gets gold does hold court
Overwrought at seriously stodgy onslaught podgy tort sausages deliriously cavort
Or wish to toast an old dish flattered mattered most plattered crumbed & battered
Viennese tease keener gnashers sold on a leaner schnitzel wiener winning wheeze
Grinning will be a breeze hazy days on skis back slaps lazy naps and dodgy knees
Pleas beer on taps dread steer clear fear sinning head spinning schnapps traps.. please
Sympathy
BY PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR
I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals—
I know what the caged bird feels!
I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting—
I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,—
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings—
I know why the caged bird sings!
Why Do I Write?
You ask me why I sing?
You ask me why I write?
You ask me why I bleed?
What choice have I besides?
I long to fly, to run away
To some safe haven just to play
To see the light of blessed day
And give my longing heart full sway
I want to grasp the star and moon
And live my life; t'will end too soon
And kiss the clouds up in the sky
But here am I, what choice have I?
Why do I sing?
Why do I cry?
Why write of pain
No lullaby?
What choice have I?
I want with zeal to be adored
And I want Fame there at my door
I want IT ALL and so much more
Tell me, is anything for sure?
Why so I beat my wing?
I was born to soar…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Form:
From my mother's womb I yelled into the room,
mattress on the living room floor,
my bro I replaced as the youngest, his face
as he screamed and ran out through the door.
I tell you (no fooling) my years of hard schooling
I'll remember as long as I live
Johnny Cash got it right sometimes you gotta fight
but my name isn't Sue, it is Viv.
My first crush was Joy, she beguiled the boys
with her cool attitude and demeanour,
but in the school yard I didn't try very hard
and lost out to Nigel who was keener.
My senior school was a boy's own affair,
all mortarboards, chalkdust and gowns,
atmosphere never placid, like Hogwarts on acid
at home it took hours to come down.
Exams taken and passed and so onwards at last
out into the big wide world of work,
how well did I do at my first interview
I'm surprised that they'd take on a jerk.
After six years of grammar that felt like the slammer
with no females on a daily basis
this place was Nirvana I tried to keep calmer
in this female infested Oasis.
For a short while I waited then finally dated
the friend of a colleague, named Ruth,
wedding plans from her lips, I took fright and jumped ship
I was too immature, that's the truth.
From there my next job for an extra few bob was in warehousing,
driving fork trucks,
stacks of pallets to lift on horrendous night shifts
but to honest I didn't give a hoot.
I was by then resolving with my problem solving
to find me a niche in I.T,
nine to five, air conditioned, needing no permission
to break for a smoke and a tea.
Nine years flew by me and also my family,
my mother began to be ill
I quit work and stayed home, looked after her alone
watching sadly as she went downhill.
She finally went and as was her intent I care for my youngest today,
these trials we have to bear, no-one said life was fair
but I won't have it any other way.
The good lady's poorly and sometimes I'm sorely
being tested, but I keep good cheer,
the days may seem long but I cannot go wrong-
I've got Poetry, music and beer.
For contest 'where are you from', sponsor Joseph Soper
The skyline merges with the sky.
As I observe kilns and ovens high,
Their smoke rising up to the clouds,
In a heated chamber, pollution enshrouds
The furnace roars with fiery heat.
And I wonder if our planet will ever beat
The effects of industry and its ways
As we continue to burn and blaze.
But as I look closer, I view debris,
Efforts made to clean and free
The air, the water, and the land
As we strive to piddle a keener stand.
From renewable energy to eco-design,
We must collaborate together and align.
To create a sustainable future for all,
Where progress and nature can stand tall.
So let us not withdraw from the fight.
For a world that is clean and bright,
For every action we engage in today,
Will shape the world in a punter way.
Written: June 6, 2023
Nowhere in the wide world
is death so stunning,
so beautiful as in our
wooded lands-- a plethora
of colors and shades
as dying leaves clutch
desperate to their trees
until they can no more.
Here and there
a Japanese Maple
seems to burst over-
night into volcanic flame,
its leaves dripping the
molten red of lava
as the lowering sun
streaks through
its myriad spires.
And we walk like kings
on thick carpets of gold,
feeling keener of life
by the sharp cool air,
a temp somewhere
between the deep,
deep heat of birth
and desolated
frozen death.
For some of us,
autumn is sadness
personified: presage
of one's finality.
For others, it's a
season of glory,
death's door
adorned.
His life was marked by infinite strides,
Breakable down into a chanted psalm;
And a doleful hymn after psalters' word,
Plus a petition to bid the kingdom come.
Keener listeners his recitals yet might hear
In plaintive crescendos in misty auras near;
Are not his footsteps bold in deathless ink,
On dark planes along the latent silvery link?
His ever-pledged faith soared on basis lean:
Choice psalms to check soul's bubbly brims;
Caroled hymns to shut heart's bestial whims;
Tacit prayers for mind and conscience clean.
Opposing these no devilish heads may rise;
No mortal skin more lethal ammunitions kept
In trinity synchrony winning wars against vice;
Blazing witty fires beyond Eden's eternal debt.
With a psalm and a hymn and contrite prayer,
He fought and slew old fogs that trillions dare.
Here from the ledge
looking into the liquid silence
across the abyss of time
the eye for detail is sharply seen
clear from this plateau,
giving new edge
to a life spanning out
flat, as a cord
where the view is worn
but, tautly keen with insight
Spliced are the wires that stretch out below me
according to colors
red joined to red
blue joined to blue
some which have tangled
mixing the hues
changing the views
from where I once stood
wedged deep in the canyons
looking up
Into two directions,
we reached for the sun
flapping our wings
running from truth
swimming with fear
the closer we veered
A view of the ordinary
became the exception
my eyes ever arching
to reach for the stars
by far, without reason
while seasons were passing
and strange as it seems
I learned to stop grasping
for what was unreasonable
I learned to grab on, holding on tight
to that which had meaning
than ever before
Here from the ledge
looking into the dust
across the abyss
of time that has passed
My eye for detail is honed sharp and keen
seen from the years,
giving new edge
to a life spanning out
flat, as a cord
where the view may be worn
but, sought....
perhaps taut........
with new insight
___________________________________________________________
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