Long Kine Poems
Long Kine Poems. Below are the most popular long Kine by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kine poems by poem length and keyword.
I love chocolate soup the best!
Served after a hefty meal.
There’s always room for dessert
When it comes to poetry.
So sickly sweet it can heal
All forms of ailments.
Perhaps it’s not so healthy
But it’s necessary for my sanity.
Without this soup, life would be bland,
Lacking the luster to buster the bored ...
Magically mixing dreams with wonder and amazement.
The world would be quite mundane without its magic.
It gives me peace of mind and satisfaction.
Satiates my tasty buds.
I love to eat your chocolate soup, so much variety
From every corner of the world. Cultural beans.
Not one soup is ever the same, so many different flavors.
To know me is to love me. White chocolate.
Which is not real chocolate, I am told.
But it’s still good, hot, fresh, or cold.
I hope we’re not alone in the Universe.
I hope aliens make poetry soup. And are benevolent.
And don’t come all this way to put us in their soup.
I bet even green, Martian made soup would taste good.
In reality, any and all dessert soups taste yummy.
Satisfying my old childlike tummy.
And sometimes it’s just funny and looks a bit runny.
And even makes me cry with delight.
An art form that never goes out of style.
So, I thank all of you, dessert lovers of this kine.
You’re always welcome into the glimpses of my mind.
Cookie, fire-up yer chuck wagon 'cause th' round-up is begun!
Us cowpokes is gonna cull th' herd frum dawn to th' settin' sun!
We is gonna supply you wid th' cookin's fer our chuck tonight;
Heaps uv good ol' Rocky Mountain oysters broiled fer our delight!
It'll be a hot an' dusty trail as we drive 'em frum th' chaparral,
An' herd them cantankerous kine fer brandin' in th' ol' corral!
It'll take a heap uv sweat an' a lot uv cussin' to git 'em movin', alright,
But it'll be worth it, 'cause we is feedin' on Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Usin' our cuttin' hosses we'll rope an' wrestle th' bulls to th' ground.
There we'll brand an' neuter 'em as they beller an' kick around!
We'll be bruised an' kicked fer little pay but that'll be alright,
'Cause we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters tonight!
Us cowboys works hard wid little pay rollin' 'round in th' manure,
Convertin' bulls into steers; that's more'n them city fellers could endure!
But that's okay, 'cause at round-up time we gits a special treat;
Tonight we is gonna enjoy a feast uv Rocky Mountain oysters to eat!
Inspired by John 3:16 and Luke 11:2-4 from "Da Jesus Book, Hawaii Pidgen, New Testament"
God wen got so plenny an aloha fo da peopo inside da world wood hav dis prayer fo us:
“My chillin
Who hav aloha fo da Great Modda Earth,
treat Her as if She in My Heaven.
Sacred are da souls of evabody who are My creation.
Eat, dance an be merry!
Fo I provide all good kine stuff fo you.
Fo I give you food fo today an evaday.
Let go all da shame an all da bad kine stuff you do to yo brudda.
An Jalike let da odda guy go an no stay hulu at him
fo all da bad kine stuff he do.
No let any chance to do bad kine stuff
Fo Mine is da Kingdom, an da Power
An da Glory fo eva an eva . . .
Aloha!”
*Reserata Carcerem XLV*
Sassy sword ere was bruised blitzkrieg;
tainted torment taunting torn spree -
'n la-de-da lust 'n' rust'c rage was sh' draped;
doleful elysian -sworn swig sh' craved.
E'en adawed sh' grit cum bounty bliss;
athwart threw her lusty limbs flit,
smothering swoon numbed nature leased;
porous Peace's pursuivant 'n gaunt glee.
Anon, rolled b' as Earth's foams a *****;
cunctipotent kine time did spit.
Challenged h' sassy sword t' sewn scrimmage.
"I'm basked 'n ire", his larynx's rage.
Sassy sword smothered b' porous pride
embraced th' call, quotient ***** marred his life.
'20:07:14:14:46
Note:
a) Of sassy sword and powerful pen.
b) Written apace with Middle English lexis:
i) Ere - before
ii) doleful - mournful
iii) Elysian - Happy
iv) Adawed - subdued
v) Grit - courage
vi) Cum - and
vii) Athwart - from here to there
viii) Flit - Fastly
ix) Swoon - infatuation
x) Glee - Joy
xi) Anon - Soon, immediately
xii) ***** - Homosexual
xiii) Cunctipotent - Almighty
xiv) Kine - A hoofed mammal
xv) Scrimmage - battle
xvi) Ire - wrath
c) The following are used with no syllabic consequences:
i) 'n - in
ii) 'n' - and
iii) sh' - she
iv) b' - by
v) h' - he
vi) th' - the
Trial, revile, red reconcile!
Crocodile, vile smile!
Roundabout the rising rile?
Pules? Plop on the pile...
Young at heart, O wildebeest?
Ready to get fleeced?
O for gears as yet ungreased!
Not to say the least!
Ululating frenzied?
O banshee, sing thy song.
Xiphoid, clench! O pens, bleed!
Poison, be ye strong...
Long live the generations?
O nations, rise and fall.
Onward, my creations!
Relations? How they pall.
Sickly sweet in summer heat?
Heather-flower, vine.
If your beat is mossy peat?
Wicked is thy wine.
Kine of sun god, where you fell:
Awful was that spell!
Right next door to halfway hell!
Heaven, who to tell?
Knell, pell-mell! O fate, gel! Full!
Sing in all, brass bull!
Gathering crone, forest, thy wool!
How prophecies pull!
Yellow kings in cities old?
Shades of ancient gold.
Cone, caldera, getting cold?
Enter well the fold...
In honor of our modern-day Messiah,
The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
I share in blood soup with thee.
On this day, 1.20.2025, THE holiday
To remind us, every US Citizen, that life
Is not always an American Dream for everyone.
A Being true to Christian values, The Constitution and sacrifice.
A Peaceful Protester for Human Rights:
All lives Matter! No matter the creed, seed, breed or bleed.
A King for Democracy, if there could be such a thing.
Come, turn the other cheek and sip some soup
at the same table with me.
A welcoming homecoming invite to share in the blood.
The blood of Freedom. The blood of the King!
Be the example that the King has paid out.
Spread the Good News! Dare to bare
A vein when you grip that spoon.
Be it silver, brass, gold, wooden or chopsticks.
A red, white and blue salute to you and you and every Kine *ting.
The red stripes on the flag are next to the whites,
Colorful eyes that burn on in the fight...
You are the Stars, Souper Heroes, the Light of the Mighty
Who continue on ...
to this Day.
*ting means ‘thing’ in Hawaiian Pigeon
The American Revolution describes the process whereby one George was replaced by another
Though Jack has climbed his beanstalk,
Saint George his dragon slain,
Gulch-Mammon lives on happily
And myriad is his train
His belly is enormous,
Yet full it ne'er will be.
The moment luncheon's over,
It's time to start high-tea.
Gulch-Mammon's teeth are millstones
Whose grindings rarely cease.
His slightest indigestion
Is menace to our peace.
And every time he sneezes,
Things worsen, though they're bad,
And every time he belches,
The Richter Scale goes mad.
Perchance he bored with eating,
He starts to smoke and fume.
You'll always know his whereabouts.
Just watch out for his plume.
His home is just palatial,
For gold is everywhere.
His rest-room seat is golden,
A thing most choice and rare.
No one knows for certain,
The income that he draws.
Whatever you are making,
It's vastly more than yours.
There on his vast plantations,
Some kine are thin, some fat,
And many laws and statutes
Did little to change that.
Are Jack and George just sleeping,
Or are they in his pay?
Whoso may know the answer
Seems disinclined to say.
... is wearing his tall white top hat
Where his brains should be
Wearing his rainbow bow tie
Where his vocal cords should be
He fancies his dragon cane in his hand
No surprise his shirt is Hawaiian Kine
Made of silk with coconuts and palm trees
For design
He wore brown khaki pants with suspenders to hold them up
His socks were knee high green with tassels on top
But his shoes were the best, better than the rest
All shiny and pointy
And ready to dance ...
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the night
Dance, Little Bear
Dance away Dance away
Dance through the day
Never stop dancing
Dance away Dance a way Dance away
Dance all ways always all ways
Dancing without a care
As He chops away, chops away chops away time
He sizzles and grills fantastic meals from his mind
For he fancies himself a cook not a chef
Being chef just seems too sublime
When night hands over the baton,
Dawn rushes to the horizon,
To steal shimmer and rose gold,
From the palette of the sun.
He attires her in rays of yellow,
And tangents of white light,
She turns into day, a beauteous bride,
Coy and mellow or radiant and bright.
Mounts with mist and rivers that twist,
Fields with grain waltzing in the rain,
Seas that shine and plains full of kine,
Valleys full of blossom, secure in its bosom.
The minuscule man, in wondrous awe,
Cries in glee, 'O Nature O!'
Rubs his eyes, gawking in reverence,
At this marvelous creation of Providence.
As the day grows old, his machines are rolled,
Over rivers and plains, and mounts are holed,
The organized chaos of his naive methods,
Deepens Natures wounds, and they fester.
His plastic chokes her, his oil is a polluter,
With his foolish acts, he digs his grave deeper,
Years of systemic abuse has done the earth loose,
Acrid air n' deprived tracts, he does little to save.
Men of science gather far and near,
To discuss the matter and ponder in fear,
The wasted path their fellow men have taken,
Will lead them down to a point of no return.
While they only talk and ponder,
The rest proceed to cut and plunder,
With the crown of fury firmly on her head,
Gentle hued Nature, she turns fuming red.
Famine, earthquake, floods follow,
The minuscule man, with his ego hollow,
Reduced to an element of utter pathos,
Pays hard for his wicked ethos,
Laments through his assured destruction,
Yelps and cries, 'O Nature O!'.
In our father's house, you were doing fine,
but you did not want to toe the line.
Father, you said, 'give me what is mine.'
Leaving home sent a jolt of joy up your spine.
No more scenes of servants grazing kine,
or picking grapes off the vine.
Feasting on choice cuts with the chine,
sporting with women, and drinking wine,
living in a ritzy ranch on the banks of the Rhine.
You have many friends who love to dine,
but you are too naive to know that is a bad sign.
Poof-poverty pounces and pierces like a tine,
now broke, homeless, hungry, you start to pine.
To earn money, you take a job feeding swine.
At nights you lie on the streetside and whine,
thinking of the servants and how well they dine.
It is okay, you ragamuffin to regret and repine.
Get up my brother and toward home your feet incline.
The sight of you will make our father’s face shine.