Long Knobby Poems
Long Knobby Poems. Below are the most popular long Knobby by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knobby poems by poem length and keyword.
Pitifully, he calls her again and again
Brando yelling, "STELLA" from his knees.
Like he ever meant something to her...
Stop groveling like a fool. She was a tease.
She doesn't come from Kansas or Oz
and Sunnybrook Farm is make believe.
Stop shouting her name. For crying out loud.
Shed your tears somewhere else if you grieve.
She left long ago on a streetcar to get away.
It's your fault she's gone. You and your drama.
You killed her desire. That's what she said.
The conflicts you created left her in trauma.
You were the spider who sat down beside her,
the tiny creature that was much too hairy.
You brazenly acted as if you were a king,
but there's nothing about you that's scary.
After all this time, still blubbering for Stella?
You're a weeping wimp and it's pathetic
how you demean yourself time after time.
No one cares because you're not empathetic.
She waved farewell and made your life hell.
So, get off your knobby knees, Marlon.
Alice doesn't live here anymore. She left
and no longer wants to call you, 'Darlin.'
It must have been made
and rejected
in times grinding gears –
a knobby irregularity,
a leftover of smelt and dross.
This is all there is
a gobbet of oven clinker,
but behind it I sense cracked teeth,
soot seared across burnt eyeglasses,
blackened bones,
for after the gas came the flames.
Here it is,
a fragment long convulsed
from its own incineration,
an irregular rake-off, smithereens
dragged across a blind stone floor.
This tittle of slag once had to fit something
the rough rim of an iron door perhaps
behind which an old furnace
still cools in faraway minds.
A ferrous chip chiseled from a gulag,
or a souvenir from an SS campfire meet.
There is always something left
after the unthinkable,
always some spicule of irregularity,
detritus to explain or confound
as we toss it back into the fire again.
Imagine waiting for something or maybe it’s someone. Someone you look for in everyone you pass by but not someone that is easy to find. Everytime you pass by these people you look at their feet first, see what kind of shoes they have on. Destroyed black sneakers that are stained darker with red. Then you move up to their ankles, boney and sticking out like balls of compressed dirt, filled with worms and insects on the inside. Your gaze moves up to their knobby bruised knees that look like perhaps they’ve been painted on with watercolors. Next your eyes follow upwards to their thighs. You already know that they say it’s just their cat. Past their skirt you get up to their short-cut top, their ribs sticking out from their skin, looking like they’re trying to rip through to be free. You move your eyes up to their scarf wrapped around their neck hiding the bruises from their so-called lovers. Finally you reach up to their face. So sweet yet such a saddened look going across it. Pale white skin with tints of blue from the veins trying to shine through. Yellow and brown eyelids like dying sunflowers in a sad vase left behind and forgotten in a dark room with the blinds shut tight. Eyes that look like drops of golden honey or maybe even sap from a maple tree dripped into them, giving them the somewhat ‘life’ that they long to have. Their nose, glazed with hints of red around the openings from being wiped so many times to get away the excess ‘powders’ that make them feel again what they believe to be called joy and happiness. Lips redder than a blood moon that occurs only twice a year, peeling apart from the hours upon hours of picking and ripping apart with their teeth. Lastly your eyes wander up to their thinning hair which was once before very lucious and thick. Your eyes return to theirs as the passing is almost finished. You can see the worry in their eyes slowly go away a little bit as they find comfort in a stranger's eyes, yours. You smile and they return the expression back. You look back down at their mouth when they smile, their decaying teeth slightly showing right before their mouth goes right back shut to its distressed resting position. After you two pass all the way you start to wonder, do other people do the same? Do other people observe others as you do with everyone, looking for that person in someone else that you forever will long to be with?
I never have enough apples.
Apple pie, which I will only eat
alamode.
Apples, to keep the dentist at bay;
apples, to keep a nagging teacher away.
Apples, cored and filled with peanut butter
and raisins,
finds balance somewhere between a raindrop
and the symmetry of snowflakes,
where balance cannot be found.
Like old age and youth
the man in the mirror always wins.
No matter how long it takes
to see him, he's always there.
Old ladies lose muscular tone
and daily search to balance sag and arrest,
another dirty smudge where balance
cannot be found.
I take pride in the old woman's knobby fingers,
I 've earned every lump you see.
It brings me joy to look at them...
I have my grandmother's hands..
and that balances everything.
There's this nasty lady living right
by ours
A cranky old mare holed up next to our house
Her garden is minging and her blinds
are a lot worse
She acts dead weird, I reckon she's proper mental
Her knees are knobby and her walk is
a bit wonky
The foreign woman next door has no right to be here
She doesn't fit in so she stays out of sight
She has no mates, always mutters to herself
We want her out, she's not one of us
Let's egg her house for a laugh and scare the pants off her
So they pelted my door with rotten eggs then posted dog poo through the mail slot
While I remained quiet as a dormouse
and prayed they would just let me be
The natives glozed over their mean deeds
And claimed they meant no offense
My hands were tied, what with being odd man out
So I chose to feign indifference, and passed the baton to the Gods of karma
While I laid back to feast on a larger slice
Of this local brand of hospitality
Form:
Dreams On The High Seas
I dare reach my dreams on the high seas
Calm sea sweet is the night air
High tide with the heightening of the full moon
Wearing its payne’s gray watercolor skies
Laced with glimmering constellation stars
On this vast universe that lie before me like a land of dreams
~
I dare reach my dreams on the high seas
With sails that ensnares sea sweet night air
As I stand on the bow with cold shivers running up my spine staring at the horizon
Waves crashing against the slowly drifting ship
I hear the sounds and catch a glimpse of a spout of water
From a knobby head of the humpback whale
Breaching the surface to breathe and sing its songs
~
I dare reach my dreams on the high seas
To command my own ship, the Black Pearl and ride the Seven Seas
From sun rising at dawn until the twilight of the seductive night
As the sea beckons me on to a life journey
With cannons blasts splintering ships apart and my cutlass swinging
While I hunt for my fortune of sparkling gold and rainbow diamonds in the sand
~
I dare reach my dreams on the high seas
9/20/2015
All aboard the Fantasy M/S of Carnival
for half a week’s vacation time of fun and falderal.
Hear greetings from your captain, his director and the crew.
Ready, set, get going. The Bahamas wait for you.
Bon Voyage! There’s Reggae music playing on the Lido.
Dinner is at 6 or 8. Hold off on that tuxedo!
You could eat a pizza by the Windows On the Sea
or go beneath to dine on shrimp and meet the maitre d’.
Gamble or see comedy; reflect upon the ocean.
Late to bed; relax your head; sense the soothing motion.
Rise and shine in Freeport where the ship will dock all day.
You can disembark to take a tour, or you can stay.
On board the ship, take a dip; lounge or dance Calypso.
Get yourself massaged; work out, shop or play some bingo.
All day long, you can find folks doing funny things
like contests for the men with hairy chests or knobby knees.
Day two when you waken, you will be in Nassau.
There’s stuff for everyone, from your kiddies to your grandma!
Little ones may stay behind. Folks will entertain them,
or the kids can tag along with the adults. No problem!
If you like adventure, visit lovely Blue Lagoon.
For snorkeling with sting rays, the boat leaves right at noon.
You can pet some dolphins, but extra you should pay
if you want to swim with them. That’s one special day.
In town you might be nabbed by a plaza beautician.
Getting braids is all the rage, so people get their hair done.
Get back to the gangway before the ship sets sail.
If you‘re still not having fun, you must be a door nail!
“Day at Sea” arrives as your trip is winding down,
And the biggest night is coming; women wear a gown!
That final evening dining perhaps with a new friend,
you’ll wish instead of ending, it were starting all again.
Gals and guys with braided scalps; everyone looks nice.
Ah, that midnight feast with pretty sculptures carved in ice.
The ultimate for leisure if you’re after more than snoozing’.
In the laid-back natives lingo: “Mon, you best be cruising!”
NOTE: (this describes a vacation I took about 12 years ago, my first
and probably last cruise ever, unless I come into money. haha.
I'd seen Europe in my youth but as vacations go,this truly was
the best one.)
For Carol Brown's Contest: "It's Time for a Vacation"
Alliteration
By Franklin Price
6/26/2105
Alliteration alludes alliance
Defeats deductive daunts defiance
Connects constructive conjugation
Needs a niche nice new libation
Poets possibly pen prime prose
Never neglect nor need to know
Poor people perfectly pronouncing please
Nine nimble ninnies on knobby knees
Fabulous fiction fantastic facts
Anchors altering adjusting acts
Elusive elves eliciting verbs
Babbling bumblers bubbling blurbs
Nonsensical nuance nearly nice
Needs neural knowledge naughty spice
These thoughts try timely to titillate
Greatly gregarious not just gigantically great
Pursuing springtime walking sprees
beside our dog, beneath the trees,
I oft detected some unease
amongst the birds and buzzing bees
as echoed by flat monodies
of clicking, clacking, knocking knees
(forsooth, reversed parentheses)
resounding pained discordant keys,
confusing triplets’ twos and threes
as if the tunes were meant to tease
with awkward stilted harmonies.
I asked a doc with med degrees
if he could, somehow, kindly, please,
suggest intensive therapies
that maybe might perhaps just ease
strange syncopations such as these
(you know, those eerie melodies
that echo from my noisy knees)
before my family finally flees.
At last my doctor said “oh geez,
this is the worst of maladies,
so I’ll replace those knobby knees
(they look like half moons made of cheese)
with stainless steel or manganese
or other metals such as these
as used in all such surgeries.
I’m sure the outcome won’t displease
(you’ll stand on legs, isosceles)
although there are no guarantees”.
Now that I’m fixed, I stretch and squeeze
with exercise my coach decrees
to aid me flex my new born knees;
and should I suffer agonies
he soothes the strains with frozen peas
or cubes of ice that make me freeze
and says “I hope my expertise
has helped to heal your injuries
and if you must, feel free to sneeze”.
With chiseled legs on racing skis,
I now can sail as does a breeze
o’er nearby alpine apogees
(and view those sites that no one sees,
alive in eagles reveries)
and when in Vail, win jamborees
upon my new non-knocking knees.
His knob-shaped knees hang out all over the place
What kind of a dancer would he be in this small space?
Gif was a wall flower for sure, left sitting on Sadie Hawkins Day.
With his gangly feet and knobby knees getting in other sitters’ way.
Some of the uncouth laughed at his large polka dot pants.
None of them knew that this groovy giraffe knew how to dance.
He is wearing converse shoes from 1982, one said with disdain.
And for a sun-glassed giraffe, I think this one looks very plain.
I think I’ll give him a whirl, a young whippersnapper said.
She gave him the eye, and learned that his name is Ed.
He twirled and whirled her and threw her in the air.
He spun her like a top, dancing beyond Fred Astaire.
Now everyone is in line waiting to dance with little old Gif.
I am sorry, he tells them without anger, prissiness or miff.
She is the one who gave me my first and only chance.
I shall continue spinning her until the end of the dance.
They came away with the grand prize of the night.
A huge silver number one cup, which held a spotlight.