Long Kinfolk Poems
Long Kinfolk Poems. Below are the most popular long Kinfolk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kinfolk poems by poem length and keyword.
Come and listen to my story 'bout a man named Ted
A poor fisherman, barely kept his family fed
Then one day he was fishing for some bass
When he slipped in his boat and fell on his ass
Then a big wave came, overturned his boat
Old Ted thought that was all she wrote
Well the next thing you know Ted almost drowned
The kinfolk thought he was heaven bound
They said "Ted you should leave the sea"
But old Ted just didn't agree
So he went out next day, just after dark
And that's when Old Ted was eaten by a shark!
The next morning the kinfolk gathered by the sea
They said "He shoulda moved with cousin Jed down in Beverly" (Hills)
~~
3 -6- 2014
Inheritance
We are guardians of the future are trustees for
posterity though wars galore are our legacy
We leave to our children the genocide in shining armour
destruction that we vowed not to happen again
Its all in the mind and however we feel not involved we
soak up the human condition promote it in our thoughts
At the airport I picked up two of my triplets 23 now and
with one staying behind 23 plus 23 plus 1 = 47
It should have been easy to remember my parking lot number
2 K 47 two kind children and one loved one missing
My age when I met my lover 47 the writers ‘group 47’ maybe
the white death hunger winter in Europe that time
47 days until Christmas and 2 Kinfolk to arrive yet I however
instead chose 2 AK 47’s as my mnemonic automatically
As in 2 angry Kalashnikov guns blazing me back to that dark
gloomy place where my car had been rested for later
What kind of light what remembrance and outlook on life has
been planted like a bomb in my destructive perception
Do I accept when words convoluted connotations sinister
aberrations seep and creep the into the percipience of what I call home
Or must I refuse not to become guilty of killing by proxy
of destroying the heirloom in mind and in spirit
By not standing up to that covert insidious manipulation and
domination taking place in my head I suppose I am guilty as charged
14th November 2016
Ive seen the past in the back of my eyes
Ive lived mylife reaching toward the skies
Memories flash by and make me smile
Im looking atthe end that coming in a short while
Ive suffered pain and grief enough for two life times
So I welcome the angels songs and harp chimes
Ill be traveling to heaven here I know I belong
For now Ill be brave and sing you my death song
Ive tasted the finish but now I fear not
God is on my side and I love him alot
I have laughed with the reaper as he told me his grim joke
Were not old friends but strangely now Im his kinfolk
Ive suffered pain and grief enough for two life times
So I welcome the angels songs and harp chimes
Ill be traveling to heaven here I know I belong
For now Ill be brave and sing you my death song
I know fullwell that I cannot escape my demise
Just acceptmy fate is what everyone has cometo advise
For now I exist on the tears of those who weep
They give me love and hope that I can forever in my soul keep
Ive suffered pain and grief enough for two life times
So I welcome the angels songs and harp chimes
Ill be traveling to heaven here I know I belong
For now Ill be brave and sing you my death song
This is for all the people who Ive known and who I dont know that have stared at death and been strong.
Flowers blossomed as times travel through low level hums. Time turned water into ice and my lovely daughter into earth; naturally so grateful for such time.
Busy bees, pollinators of the year; eighty-five billion consecutive times in a row; both honey and bumble bees celebrate, together... No kind of man has discovered a better way to pollinate crops than the reigning pollinators of the year.
Deep inside what limited jungle remains, some kind of man ties a white feather to hornet, so to seek. A long, dark, skinny finger points at the nest as the hives form a defense; the hornets quickly break the feather free, just moments too late—the hive has been made.
A bamboo shoot is rigged with a clothe, bathed in ignition agent; true organic pesticide. Set ablaze, once steadily smoldering, a bamboo catapult is raised into perfect position to kill the queen and run off; the swarm—remnants left behind this tactical slaughter—tasty larvae delicacy for these kind of people.
But these kind of people are rare; honorable kinfolk, kinds of people that civilized kind of people degradingly refer to as wild, third world beings.
As man continues his rampage against time and earth—third world civilization would appear the more civilized life for all kinds of people; bees too.
Unsolicited feedback
across rock of ages woke
beguiling ghostly busty spectre
courtesy Marie-Antoinette,
(i.e. bride of France's arty choke
King Louis XVI) bespoke
let him eat cake, and (sic)
send back the bloody bloke,
aye suddenly begot idea rye
Jack Corner of zee desk
didst impale and provoke
moderately painful injury
right side rib cage
analogous to intriguing
unfortunate circumstance
mysterious secret shrouded
as dagger and cloak
(think Alfred E. Neuman,
viz MAD Magazine), yes no joke
lovely bones of me body electric,
(particularly right side rib cage)
severely traumatized, nailed, injured...
crucified oft told umteen times,
yet omitting key mirrors and smoke,
significant Dorian Gray parallel,
when former antique,
viz secrétaire looking glass reflection,
spider hairline fractures radiated
resembled bay of pigs in a poke
ham handedly oinked,
quaked, shattered... broke
into bajillion pieces
deafening, exploding,
glowering thunder stroke
jagged shrapnel size shards
unleashed cosmic force
lacerated, gnashed, beribboned...
impeaching flesh with
one engulfed masterstroke,
no rhyme nor reason aiming to choke
off promising poet (ha) of corpse
resembling scrambled egg yolk
posthumous fame besmoke
salvaged mine besmirched reputation
courtesy humble cartoon character
bugs bunny and kinfolk spoke
daffy fully eulogizing humor did evoke.
Lotus lips of lilac shade
planting pink fragrant kisses on my face
Kisses from auntie Jasmine in action today
Her love lives beyond the grave
Kisses from Jasmine in heaven yet here in spirit
Lime is her laughing kinfolk can you hear it?
She was a survivor of many things
Cancer abuse heart ache broken dreams
Now she’s earned her angel wings
She watches us close with teal time winding
What she was too was clairvoyant yet meek
Not at all a fuchsia fool nor of violet vanity
She told me once of a visitor in green
Who soothed her soul from beyond all dreams
Her kiss is a wish that I live life well
Take care of her plants be sure to tell
Her kids to dance to smell the smells
Make dreams true not just wish at a white well
Her kiss in the wind is delivered love
We can wrap in like a green glove
We can find still her yellow mellow ways
When the warmest wind blows across brown face.
In spring rains, I’d find my shoes a ‘leaking.
I'd feel that leak until pay-check weekend
because “Wait and see, son,” is what I’d hear.
It seems money is tight right now ‘round here.
I'd want to go see kinfolk, but mom'd say,
“Wait and see, son, we are broke now, but Hey,
Hasn't our God has always seen us by?
Some wants not met; yet most needs we can buy.
In Vermont, winter winds are icy cold,
blankets cover windows like a stronghold.
The sun's heat is gone when fall greets summer,
It is a sign, we whine, what a bummer!
Mom's special time all through the year is pray'r;
God's faithful, we are safe within His care.
Her motto's always been, "Wait and see, Son"
Fifth season's reason - God's in the long-run.
November 10, 2022
long run - a period of time sufficient for factors to work themselves out.
Our featherless angels have no wings;
Each one- a blessing to us brings.
Heavenly spirits, they are not;
from earthly beings, they are wrought.
A special friend, or maybe more-
the caring neighbor's open door;
a pastor's sermon- soothes, uplifts
with answers wrapped in verbal gifts.
The passerby who breaks a smile
to make a dull day seem worthwhile.
Each grandchild's visit lifts the heart;
an earthly angel from the start.
In families, involved and kind-
unfeathered angels we will find.
A mom and dad, with love so true;
siblings and other kinfolk too.
On our earth angels, wings won't spread-
just open hearts exposed, instead.
Besides those which in Heaven fly-
featherless angels are close by.
Portrait of an Unknown
Written: by Tom Wright
7-18-2016
It was just an outsized oval portrait,
Dusty and washed out by time;
Always featured in the same location
During my life at home years;
Mom couldn’t retrieve his name,
Only that he was kinfolk.
It always looked out of place
On the wallpapered wall it occupied.
Perchance it was the ornate oval frame
That captured my curiosity.
Memory’s snapshot that I recall
Is of a distinguished looking man
With rosy cheeks, fedora, suit coat, and tie;
Was he a Minister, Banker or Mortician?
This face that was unknown to us,
Nonetheless induces wonderment,
Concerning many things about his life,
Primarily how his portrait found a home
On our papered bedroom wall;
I left my state to study afar.
A church college lured me to go west
where it’s so dry and no fireflies are.
But I was young and followed no star
that could lead me to what would be best.
I left with no really firm goal.
A psychology major I’d thought
to pursue. My apathetic soul
got off that bus. A different role
I took when a new bus I caught!
Off this new bus, I found myself flung
onto a path I had never thought of -
to ESL teaching I then swung.
Also I fell into marriage quite young
and always lived far from kinfolk I love.
What if I had never moved away?
Was my aimlessness part of my fate?
Would I be happier living today
where all through my youth I used to play?
One can’t know what one can’t recreate.