Long Keep off Poems
Long Keep off Poems. Below are the most popular long Keep off by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keep off poems by poem length and keyword.
I look at that old picture hanging stately on the wall
Old Gray-haired Granny’s apon, the glue that stuck it all
It’s faded, almost white, as the years battered the brown
Days are few, indeed, when grandma’s apron wasn’t around
I know that spot on her bosom, where I lay my little head
That apron wiped away many a tear that stained every
thread
It did its duty as a blanket that kept little babies warm
A pad, to hold a coffee pot at breakfast on an early morn
A flag to scatter the chickens from the old weathered door
Carried eggs to the kitchen, lifted tea pitchers, pots, pan galore
It became a grip to open a jar, never seemed to strain
Even doubled as an umbrella to keep off a summer rain
Just an old apron, the fabric stained and rough
It was the tool of all tools, in her world good enough
From a wide square with an ancient marble fountain,
which borrowed its fresh water
from a nearby, pristine river;
I looked far away...to fix my glance on
the Norman fortress rising on the top
of a barren and steep hill,
that the Normans built to keep off
the invaders with fast horses and sharp swords!
And beneath those strong walls,
I lay down tracing them back to medieval times;
and as the noon grew warmer, I fell asleep
drifting into a past ,which made many fret and weep!
I wanted to hear tales of bravery, how the knights
fought their battles to guard against dire;
and their fortress they fiercely defended,
until the verdant grass was saturated with blood!
Galloping on my agile Arabian horse, with glistening
armor and drawn sword...I heard the laments of the wounded,
fearless as a voracious lion catching his prey,
I entered the battlefield that loudly clanked;
and everywhere there were prostate bodies on the morbid ground,
and I, in mortal terror, couldn't turn back and not face the enemy!
It could have taken a fatal moment for me to have died...
not returning to the people I had left behind!
As a true knight: I had to honor my pledge,
and through pain and ordeal I had to kill to stay alive;
when the battle ended, I headed back to the Norman fortress!
Awakening from that vision, brazing out fear...
I realized how real that could have been;
and its brief duration made me much courageous,
but somewhat deeply mournful...
to have seen so much blood and grief!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
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
Black and white motives, it was simple;
The camera rolled before words came,
an adventure played on screen;
Technicolor breathed even more energy
into that delicious cinema magic;
It was all about the best way to tell a tale.
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell..
As it chased what the dollars dictated
slowly the red carpet flames faded;
It didn’t matter who was creative
no chances were going to be taken;
Art locked out of every studio door
exchanged for recycled reboots;
No risk in more of a sure thing;
Now we are left with creativity dying;
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell..
Work places know to keep off of topics
that are known to impede their business;
The film industry is not exempt from this.
Create the most compelling product,
leave out their allegiances keep their art.
Bring back all the ‘Happily ever after.’
Once upon a time Hollywood had a story to tell.
Did you feel my dear poor fate
As you denied me the sweet apple
I would break down under its weight
And at me will laugh the people
Did you feel my dear sweet bird
As you did not whistle as expected
I will no more visit your courtyard
And keep off writing feeling neglected
We don't know if tomorrow we will be alive
Still we do such and such plan with all fervour
All along displaying very positive vibe
This is the hope, our evergreen encourager
Denial is a defense of the psychic self
Acquired from many a childhood trauma
To tackle minor failures it does help
Done excessively it may transfer one to 'luna’
It is best to cast away the needless curtain
Make flowers bloom in a garden friendly
Stay honest and impartial always for certain
Denial we won't have to resort to necessarily
___________________________________________
July 28, 2016
Poetry Contest -DENIAL
Sponsor: Julia Ward
He’s a young old man as he
Shambles down the street
With his thousand yard stare so
His eyes and yours seldom meet.
Some times he’s sober
Sometimes he’s not
Sometimes it depends on
How much money he’s got.
And he tries to keep smart,
Keep a shine on his shoes
And he fights like hell
To keep off the booze.
And his bottomless eyes
Hide the things that he’s seen
In service of his country,
In service of his Queen.
Respected in his regiment
He knows not to expect
Consideration for his rank
Or much civilian respect.
Just an old soldier
Ruined by his trade
Wracked in despair by some
Of the calls that he’s made.
And you walk in freedom
Because of him and his kind
While he’s on the scrap heap,
Guilt and despair on his mind.
Trained to obey and
If necessary to kill,
In civilian life
Not a transferable skill.
Spare him a thought
The next time he walks by:
There but for fortune
Could have walked you or I.
A young old man wracked
By what he’s done and seen
In the service of his country,
In the service of his Queen.
Amongst the buttercups and daisies
Afore the early rising sun
Is where you’ll find wet fairy tears
Glistening on your lawn.
They lay as drips on blades of grass
They soak your shoes and feet
They’re where you’ve trampled once again
Then gone indoors to eat.
Then fairies they come out to play
And dance under the stars
And mischievous elves will prank around
While firefly drive like cars.
But when they see how much that we
Have damaged their small world
The fairy drops to ground and weeps
Their magic’s been unfurled.
The little dew drops gently left
Are fairy tears my friend
For with sun and magic of natures hand
Comes repair to make amend.
Be carful where you put your foot
A fairy might live and care
So be polite when you are asked
Keep off the grass walk there.
I don’t sense that God keeps score --
my guess, believing He already
has enough pollsters and priests for that,
man’s predisposed world of numbers and
profitable confessions,
ballot slips and extra altar sips,
less Jung and more Freudian
myself reasoning that, Lover and
Judge are not compatible, the best
leaving their robes at the courthouse,
their own dwellings Duty Free
For sure, by now, have learned my ideas
often not mainstream, avoiding prescribed
social templates, ducking Bibles, my heart and head
a record of lumps
attempting to understand and follow Christ
not always a Sunday picnic, the devil in
the weather, and “keep off the grass” --
I took a casual stroll through the local cemetery the other day,
Looking for interesting epitaphs and to pay my respects along the way.
Many stones were simply etched with names and dates of death and birth.
Others contained tales of sad demise, yet others of perky mirth.
"Here lies Clyde now expired,
Another man's wife Clyde desired.
The man pierced Clyde's ticker with a knife,
Thereby making a widow of Clyde's wife!"
"I now own this little plot of land,
And as such I make this firm demand:
As nigh my hallowed grave you pass,
Please keep off the cotton pickin' grass!"
"Scuba diver Marty came to grief,
As he was tooling 'round a Bermuda reef.
He was having himself a carefree lark,
'Til he encountered a ravenous shark!"
"Here sleeps Sergeant Major Cooper,
A brave Fifth Cavalry trooper.
It was just his bad luck,
That when arrows flew he failed to duck!"
"Herein lies trucker Don who failed to swerve,
Speeding 'round a mountain curve.
His semi sailed o'er the precipitous edge,
Landing at the foot of a thousand foot ledge!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Falling back in the womb of lone darkness,
Not willing to embrace life's bright spirit...
Whispering from conscious hidden abruptness
While growing claws to hunting like ferret.
One aspect darkness never silent is truth,
And it is the only aspect truth likes of darkness;
That shines bright lies to help light interpret Ruth-
Her selfless sacrifice for love is of willingness. ..
How long will it take to forget such care,
Roaming around sky's silent braod despair:
So grief-stricken cum insult,
Of when will there be result
Off probability what hope don't spare?
How chesty alerts,
Keep off while journeying deserts;
Only care asserts
Of the empty memory she kept of him,
Heartbroken yet never seemed a victim.