Long Ker Poems
Long Ker Poems. Below are the most popular long Ker by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ker poems by poem length and keyword.
A veil of mist blankets the river, slowly drifting over its banks as the moon ghosts silently
behind thin dark clouds. A frog croaks and after awhile a cricket answers. A soft ker-plunk
echoes across the water as something breaks the surface for a split second, than vanishes
into its murky depths. And far away a mid night bird cries out to the darkness. Than all is
still. High above the river I sit naked in a hot tub, a disembodied head floating silently on
top of black steaming waters. My head is leaned back. My eyes closed as beads of sweat
run down my face. My ears are open though, as sound fills them, mixes with thought and
takes me to far away places. Places that perhaps only exist in dreams. The pool,
illuminated by dark blue lights, reflect off the steam rising up, casting an eerie glow and
dancing shadows about the night. It is a Saturday night and I’m alone trapped in paradises
prison. Alone in a town that is known for its elderly. A town buried amidst the lagoons of
Florida. But for awhile my mind is free to wonder. And it does, over forests and endless
deserts , over oceans and mountains, rivers and canyons. Drifting through time like a H. G.
Wells machine. From past to present to future and back again, in a blink. Through
cultures and civilizations. Hovering over cities with names so ancient and alive they stir up
your very being. Cities like Shanghai, Bombay, Casablanca, Istanbul, Athens, and Paris.
Cities with so much history locked into one name. Then there are cities that are myths that
may or may not have been alive yet the name is a wonder to behold, like Alantis and El
Dorado. But time wears them away to nothing. A rock wiped away by wind. Cities that had
once been so alive now empty shells of their former glory. Slowly my mind is pulled back
into reality. The time is late, and the new day awaits. Dripping I regretfully clamber out of
the hot tub swirl a towel around my bare skin and head for the bed where unimaginable
worlds and stories will play out as I sleep.
A is for Ant (and for ass, your dad is an example of an ass)
B is for Bee (and for b*stard, your dad is a bast*rd - first class)
C is for Chicken (and for a word I don’t want to say - but see K)
D is for Dog (and also for Dynamite - which I’d like to shove up your dad’s... see A)
E is for Eagle (and for egotistical effing... see K... and C)
F is for Frog (and for Fu*ker, which your dad’s been doing with someone who isn’t me)
G is for Giraffe (and for Git - your dad is a Git... and he has two faces)
H is for Horse (and for Hard Up - which your dad was... in too many places)
I is for Insect (and for Insolvent, which thanks to me, he’ll soon be, with just one legal shove)
J is for Jellyfish (and Judas. Your Dad’s a Judas... with a rash from his illicit love)
K is for Kitten (and for making some words sound worse - see C)
L is for Lion (and Lobster, a creature with claws that belongs at the bottom of the sea - hmmm...)
M is for Mouse (and for machete and for manhood... which gives me an idea)
N is for Newt (and Nymphomaniac - neither should work at IKEA)
O is for Owl (and Optimistic, well, he thought that he left me fulfilled)
P is for Penguin (and for Philandering, at which your daddy is skilled)
Q is for Quail (and for Quickie, the best that your daddy could do)
R is for Rabbit (and Rampant - and once I got that, how did we get you?)
S is for Snail (and for Slug, which describes both your dad and his di*k)
T is for Tiger (and Torrid, your dad was this with some Randy chick)
U is for Unicorn (and Underhand, your dad was this night and day)
V is for Vole (and also VD, hence the rash that was listed in J)
W is for Worm (and for Merchant Banker, thats rhyming slang for your father)
X is for Xerus (and X-rated gel, I bet he’ll work up quite a lather)
Y is for Yak (and for Yesterday’s News, which is all your dad turns out to be
Z is for Zebra (and for Zeees, that his Nympho is catching, asleep next to me)
*
[Xerus is a genus of African ground squirrel]
Awake, ye sleepy, coop-bound souls!
Unbutton your boredom, unfasten your goals!
For glory’s not found in the stiff upper sash—
It lives in the squelch of the Chicken Splash.
With feathers all fluffed like a powdered wig,
She struts like a duchess who’s learned how to jig.
A dip of the beak, a dramatic small sneeze—
Then ker-splash! She dives in with elegance and ease.
No need for a ballroom or velvet-toned glee,
She’s a duchess of dirt, and she’s waltzing with glee.
Each puddle’s a portal, a glittering gate,
To a world where the serious show up too late.
She twirls through the mud with flippant finesse,
In a gown of good humour and splatter-spun dress.
Each droplet’s a diamond, each slosh is a cheer—
An anthem of nonsense the wise long to hear.
It’s not just a dance, it’s a radical creed,
A declaration of joy over sensible speed.
Why march through your life with a stiff, tidy plan,
When a squishy detour says more than a man?
The cows may look on with a snobbish moo,
But what have they done that was daring or new?
The hens, though—they giggle, they copy, they dash,
They’ve all found their truth in the Chicken Splash.
A duck may protest, “But we’re made for the wet!”
She replies with a wink, “Ah, but we have regret!”
For puddles, you see, aren’t just soggy terrain—
They’re places where boredom is washed down the drain.
She leaps like a question that’s yet to be asked,
With purpose disguised in the goofily masked.
She’s Plato in wellies, she’s Nietzsche in fluff,
She’s telling the cosmos, enough is enough!
So scribble your worries, then crumple the sheet—
Come paddle with passion, get mud on your feet.
For life isn’t tidy, nor meant to be brash—
It’s a puddle of promise, a Chicken Splash!
And when you grow old, with your spectacles tight,
And you tell little stories by soft firelight,
Don’t boast of your trophies or accounts full of cash—
Tell them, “Once, I dared do the Chicken Splash.”
ANYONE GAME---
Alas! the smelly disposition your deceiving heart;
Got me mind-BOGGLE twisted as rotten meat such;
Hearing of those things those rumors in SEQUENCE;
SPEAK OUT!! against them you’ve heard you've confirm in your sleep;
Unfaithful and untrue are you, you reap;
That you’ve been unfaithful people seen and they've heard;
MAD GAB LIFE got you SORRY but I ain't gonna worry about it;
TRIVIAL PURSUIT AGGRAVATION sounds of KER PLUNK;
Moving ever vigorously like you got ANTS IN THE PANTS;
Unfaithful and untrue are you get out of here;
Guess you’ve drop your feelings on the floor;
Unfaithful Ursula, 5 Second Rule pick up them SPOONS;
For licking them lies you stirred, like wise SCRABBLE PASSWORD, BALDERDASH, you can't even look me straight in the eyes...
Unfaithful and untrue are you, sigh;
Ha! All your dotted “I”’s and crossed “T”’s
Don’t mean a thing to me;
GUESS WHO?
You not me at RISK SPOT IT all the TROUBLE ain’t TABOO;
OPERATION TICKET TO RIDE PHASE 10 I’m out, I'm gone boo;
PERFECTION not what I’m looking for but faithfulness is honored by God;
APPLES TO APPLES pears are pears you orange ain’t gonin NO where?
CATCH PHRASE catches a CLUE I’m leaving you;
Unfaithful and untrue are you;
On your Twitter, E mail and Face book page playN unfaithful games;
I see you’ve CONNECT FOUR MAD GAB CODE NAMES;
Girl, I got you like in a MOUSE TRAP;
You must have fallen on your CRANIUM or something;
Running them streets as MONOPOLY you are, two faced, deceitful crooked;
Hand-eye coordination, speed, counting them cell phone digits…
DUTCH BLITZ;
It’s over we’re through this relationship done you’re the fool to play;
Love is real it’s not to be played with you have no shame;
I’m leaving you, because I am not anyone game;
2/16/19
Anyone Game? Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Carol Connell
Yes, I know, I should be alongside.
Age and bad knees
dictate that I am inside the cab
with a long, green leash
so Katie can run close by
every morning,
for the last seven years
in rain, snow and sunshine.
She runs in earnest ( can a dog do that ? )
Her tongue is back against her cheek.
Her ears scan and sweep
and swivel around
left and right
listening for something ahead
or behind
as she gallops, trots,
saunters, paces
at my side.
Sometimes in the dark,
sometimes, just as the sun is coming up,
but always in the morning,
when the smells
of the deer and elk
are still fresh in the grass
and the berry bushes
along the fence.
I love to see her run. I love to hear her run.
I can hear the jangle jangle of her tags and her collar --
her leathery, black ears flapping against her head.
her breathing and sometimes
a snort or puff as her strong, wide paws hit their mark
ker-plop, ker-plop.
Nails dig into the ground
little wisps of grass and dirt, flying.
Now, her ears are back over her head and
the leathery tips almost touch
as her back legs push
like a rabbits
working in time
driving her faster.
When the snow is here
her feet beat their rhythm
in the icy white stuff.
Crunch, crunch, crunch,
the first marks in the snow,
and maybe -- the
marks, in line with the truck's tracks,
there
the next morning.
When she stretches all the way out
in a full run, her tongue is out --
far out of her mouth,
almost lashing against
her cheek.
Her strong back legs
the rounded, hard muscle under the shiny, black coat,
push her along
and I wonder
how all those legs and feet work
in synchronization
as she concentrates on her task
or has her eye
on something ahead
that she has got to get to
now!
I truly can't believe what I am really seeing.
In the shadow darkness is there a shadowed being.
Open my eyes as wide as can be, to illuminate the night.
Questioning my wavered sanity, which brings up this fight.
Is what I hear from something near, a real like human voice?
I listen in when it begins, I no longer have a choice.
I can clearly hear within my own open ears.
Pushing on my thoughts, consuming intruding fears.
If I ever catch it in the act, this fu*ker shadow that won't move an inch.
When I watch, wait and listen, my jaws they begin to tightly clench.
But deep within my mind, I know the difference of, that in which I question.
Cause in reality and in daylight I realize it's of my own invention.
I need to regain control,
Take the pills that let me know.
That its all in my head.
But it always forms itself when I'm lying in bed.
I know I heard it aloud and clear, exactly what it spoke.
The fact that I am schizo, even without the puddled choke.
It's all so mucked up, these voices sound exactly like someone I heard before.
Almost like a few of my close friends, speaking beyond a closed door.
Talking about things in demeaning words, a conversation that has intention.
But I question the reality of the whole thing, cause I know it's my dementia reflection.
I shouldn't contemplate the silence within my mind.
Cause each time I drift off in a daze, that's when I will find.
That these voices of the internal realm.
Are really just me behind the helm.
Dwell on a spell, I fell in a well, the bell wrung in hell, so I sail with ale, and smell this tale, Then tell this to quell, and as always prevail, prevail, prevail.
My speech was all out of sequence, my catch phrase for it was ‘mad gab’
I kept saying balderdash like apples to apples my brain was a scrabble!
Also I was hearing things in my cranium, it caused so much aggravation
Likewise, I couldn’t remember my computer password of Ants in the Pants
At one time household chores were a trivial pursuit
My kitchen used to be perfection, now it looked like the Dutch blitz!
I kept dropping spoons, I’d hear them go ker plunk on the floor
and was all of a boggle when I put my ticket to ride in the mousetrap
I was so concerned I went to see my physician
Close to tears I took the monopoly of the box of tissues on his desk
I’d googled my symptoms so I did have a clue of the possible diagnosis
He referred me straight to the hospital
A scan revealed a tiny brain tumor, they were lucky to spot it
Guess who was in trouble!
Cancer was a taboo subject so we had code names for the tumor,
The doctor said I should adopt the 5 second rule if I needed to speak out
The surgeon said I needed what could possibly be life changing surgery
He would implement phase 10 as it was a very tricky operation
There was some risk as he needed to connect four wires in my brain
Thankfully the complicated surgery was a success and I’m back to perfection!
NB this is a fictional poem inspired by the contest prompt!
Anyone Game Contest
Sponsored by Carol Connell
2/22/19
On a polka-dotted day, at the Plott's house down the block,
Mama Plott was plotting where to place her dandy cuckoo clock
The handy, cuckoo clock,... took a spot right on the shelf
and proudly perched, profoundly, next to candy in a pot!
While Mommy Plott cooked something hot, Daddy Plott raked up the lot
The children playing hop-scotch, were hopping all around
Till supper time, and time to dine, they all sat down....'ker-plop'!
By evening's light, when day turned night, like pennies,...they were spent
Supping lentils, corn and pintos, ...then, up stairs they went
Daddy Plott turned out the lights, and popped right into bed
But bolted up with such a jolt!!...a loud "CUCKOO!!" instead !!
The brand-new clock, made such a noise, his nerves hung by a thread
That cuckoo bird! ... It could be heard, throughout the neighborhood!
It popped out every hour, and the window glass would shake!
They muffled it with pillows...and took it from the room
But the "CUCKOO-CUCKOO-CUCKOO"was worse than sonic booms!
The horrible sound was even heard...from far above the moon!!
They would just doze off, fall fast asleep, and think that it was done....
But when the hands said next O'Clock......it clucked much louder then !
So Daddy Plott removed the tick...........he then took out the tock !
And with a saw, defrocked the bird, .....so it could never talk!
Now propped back up there, on the shelf.....they all went back to bed
So even little cuckoo bird can sleep, .....in peace, just like a rock!
________________________
For Casarah Nance's Contest: Children's Story, Dr. Seuss style
It seems the ring so sparkly, caught the eye
of some observer, stopping in to talk
the time I took to pray, no more a balk
about God's reason, yet I knew the walk!
The ring was gone ~ the visitor's compel
was just to steal my precious place of tell
engagement has a message, not a spell,
the years were growing on ~ the friendship . . knell!
I kept the rock for every venture then
and still had faith, that God would feel my yen
and finally God spoke ~ a "go there" call
the rock and I complied ~ just leave it all!
In kindness, in that interlude's recall
God spoke ~ "Someday, the rock will also go"
He meant, the pain and hardship, reconcile
to serving in whole Faith ~ no regret, well!
My new encounter ~ challenges e'er mount
'til one day, just a rock, I felt a swell
and to the River I now went, walking with pride
and tossed the Rock ~ so lifeless ~ hearing tide!
Ker-plunk ~ and waves that came to meet my eye
God had his reason ~ for my life's comply
in that same spot ~ Missouri River bend
would meet and love, and love ~ again, again!
No more the reckless yearning of the Soul
the sunrise had tomorrow, a new goal
how awesome is the power God gives to Love
and from His giving ~ leadership acquit!
Each term relationship ~ wanting to fit
to that resolving Glory . . . true love's writ!
Note ~ A true story ~ In that same spot, years later, I would write and format
the cover for a book of Poetry ~ "Praying Love" ~ of which many of my poems
are on this Website. Paula (Read)
You greet as you serve
My refreshment and stuff
Sometimes we chat
But your smile is enough
I'm not sure you know
As you dutifully grind
How this moment is special
Even just in my mind
It's not about distance
Or our difference in age
Or your ethical beans
Helping minimal wage
It's not just our chit-chat
As we pass through our day
Or ker-ching of the till
Please don't see it that way
It's deeper and precious
Though this moment is fleeting
Not robotic exchange but
Two human hearts beating
So please take the time..
Your smile lights up this space
You're more than barista
Just employed for your face
So, thank you for all
You don't know that you've done
For brightening days
With our convers-a-shun
So the next smile you give
Never vacant or empty
Will know that it carries
Significance, plenty
In these times it's too easy
To feel we don't matter
But you are carrying heaven
In our thinly veiled chatter
There are people who pass
And you'll never know who
That need more than a latte
With oatmilk and two
To be more than significant;
We all want, and then some.
So thank you, barista
For our human conn-ect-shun.
And my prayer as you settle
In front of the fire
With a well deserved brew
Or a glass of desire..
Is somewhere deep down
Though the moment was fleeting
You'll smile and be glad
For our briefest of meeting.
x
Jinjagoliath
4th February 2021