Long Lawless Poems
Long Lawless Poems. Below are the most popular long Lawless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lawless poems by poem length and keyword.
Let's race out, where the riverbanks surround
The grasses flitting upon ladders of pine:
Kick your loafers, my soles not leather-bound
Carefree as toes grind through a hillside climb.
Leave those pairs while tender moments begin,
For sunset rises till gazes behold
Our summers of youth, our love deep within
To recall theme songs, and never grow old.
Come dance me barefoot, ignoring night’s hours
That we waltz along , down through sand’s floor
Igniting fire- glow amidst wildflowers;
Shoeless into dawn...this pleasure I adore.
Two Pair Of Shoes Contest
Sponsored by john lawless 8/4/2017
Tuesday started out amazing; everything was going well.
I did not trip over the dog and the toilet flushed.
So better than Monday’s fiasco.
I got online and saw two classmates sleeping.
One of their noses was right next to the video, snoring.
At first I thought it was the crack of their petootsie beddootsie.
I was disappointed when I saw it was just his nose.
The teacher tried hard to get them to wake up
Or turn off their cameras.
I was gloating about it, being on time for once and awake.
A giant shadow overhead grabbed my attention.
She was a flaming pterodactyl, and she snatched up my science homework.
I was so angry! I chased her all over the house and down the street.
She flew high, and disappeared.
I ran back to class and said “You saw that right?”
They had missed it.
It seems like the gargoyle who was with her
Shut off my video the second she swooped down.
I knew then it might be the same kind of day
as Monday. Only worse, as this was an open book test
And I had no desire to do it over.
I took my zero.
And Then a Flaming Pterodactyl Ate My Homework
Written 2-3-2021
Contest: John Lawless
Sometimes, opportunities are given for people to vent,
and sometimes, doors are opened for people to confess.
Venting is helpful and releasing, but confessing is best.
This time, the door opens, not for others, but for me.
Sometimes, I find myself watching a movie or TV episode;
and seeing something artistically disappointing, I will make a comment like, "Why did they do that? That is soooo
mediocre; soooo over done. One would think that they would
have........" In a sense, I am verbally critiquing the script and usurping the Director's chair, never questioning if I intellectually fail to see something and unwisely grew judgmental conclusions.
My wife will then call me on it, indicating my fill of negativity, and
questioning why I cannot simply enjoy the movie. I tell you,
I never cease to be amazed that she does not see what I see.
Although they are the experts and professionals who know
what they are attempting to portray and project, sometimes,
to me, the level of disapproval is so pronounced, I will either suggest
changing channels or exiting the room. This attitude of mine in this
regard has nothing to do with morality or bad taste, but 'the art of it all'.
But where did I attend Art School? Or who hired me to make a movie?
I tell you, it might sound trivial, but I think this reaches the level of 'being judgmental'.
I therefore pause this moment, and with regards to this practice of mine, make confession. May I 'judge myself, lest I should be judged by others".
051821PSCtest, Judge Not Lest Ye Be, John Lawless
Strap on your six shooters or reach for the sky.
The police in Minneapolis are going bye bye.
The powers that be want the police department gone.
Be careful of what you wish for and the line that you’ve drawn.
Maybe we should stop paying taxes and see where that leads.
Defund our government and start wearing beads.
The summer of love in two thousand twenty.
A redo of the wild west in the land of good and plenty.
At least we are still armed and able to buy lead.
Our safety and security are quickly being put to bed.
Remember to lock your windows and both of your doors.
The criminals now rule in this political war.
Will we die from a virus or get shot in the street?
More lawless communities, now wouldn’t that be neat.
I’m disappointed and sick when I think of what’s next.
Our leaders are failing and need a reality check.
JANKY HANKY PANKY
If I had an experience JANKY
would I need a bib or a hanky
would I have to say “Oh, Thank ye”
to a lady I paid just to spank me
or would I be regaled
with mutton and ales
as crusty old goats
told seagoing tales
perhaps I would weep
in a tall castle keep
awaiting a knight
to wake me from my sleep
Or, maybe, if I’m a bit JANKY
I’m just a little bit cranky
and don’t have time for the nonsense
of the slap, tickle, and pinch
But then, if the meaning is sated
I’ll be undressed and elated
but after service for four
I’ll be locking the door
for age as it passes
leaves memory flashes
a time without such “Hanky Panky”
just give me my “bobba and blanky”
John G. Lawless
9/14/2016
I had placed Reeses cups in a bowl
There to snack anytime- with control
The large family size-
Hubby eyed with surprise
Said restraint was to be his new goal!
But each morning I saw there was less
And I felt that he had to confess
That he snuck some away-
To munch on through the day!
He said NO, and like me, felt some stress!
This went on- and so soon bowl was bare!
I moved on like I just didn't care-
And continued to dust-
Clean inside was a must
Of a living room cabinet there.
I yelled WOW!- when I saw there inside
All the Reeses a mouse brought to hide!
Dragged them there one by one
Till his project was done!
That field mouse took us both for a ride!
Now, this story I told you is true-
Shoulda known mice all do what they do.
But this feat was extreme
A lone field mouse's dream-
Gave him credit where credit is due!
February 3, 2023
Contest: Shouda Seen It Coming
Sponsor: John Lawless
Syllable Count: 9 and 6
--/--/--/
--/--/
The clanking sound of spurs, the sun’s glare
off the shiny doppelganger derringers.
Her hat tipped onto her sweating brow.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests!”
Her cowhide boots kick up the prairie dust.
She’s not your quintessential grandmother.
Her torrential windpipe words ready for a fight.
“I will be number one! Like it or not!”
She spits tobacco into the air, daring a challenge,
and it drops at the feet of the biggest contest.
“Chew on that one...for a while!”
A patch over one green eye, the jealous one. She wears it
as a badge of honor. No one messes with Lady Cogburn.
Like showing off pictures of her family, she lets a scroll roll loose.
Her adjectives and verbs, nouns and sounds.
“I dare anyone to steal my verse! Who's brave enough
to roll out one of their own!”
She spits and stares them down, as one courageous chick
steps forward and just as quick she lays her low.
“Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Now the rest of you scram!”
Dodge City, the ghost town, has one occupant. She lights her Virginia Slims, lets her poetic smoke circle the air — like vultures.
7/20/2018
Contests! We don’t need no stinking contests! Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Lawless
Wobbly, these feet… sagging on miles
of dangled reeds: a hike takes me
to an attic of moonlight, bestowing bows
of serenity prayers for wayfarers
unyielding to a precise compass
of direction, reckless as it were,
losing the self to gypsy stones
and nomadic thistles bearing my trails...
for a moment, I release this soul buried
in the belly to a chorale of air's hymns
taking flight unto a trail of obedience
moved by pure lightness: no longer a weight
or content divided, but equaled by
forms of singularly whole reminisces...
)*
*.))
Poetry Unhinged for john lawless
8/29/2016
The waiter asked: “Do you want that here or to go.
I replied: “if I eat it here don’t I get to take it with me?”
((oldies but goodies}}
“Waiter! Waiter! There’s a fly in my soup!”
“Well keep it quiet or everybody’s gonna want one.”
“Waiter, what’s this fly doing in my soup?”
“Hmm, I’m no expert but it appears to be the backstroke.”
“And how did you find your steak sir?”
“I looked under the mashed potatoes!”
The waiter placed the bowl of soup on the table.
“you have your thumb in my soup” chided the diner”
“Sorry Sir, I sprained it last week and the Dr. told me to keep it warm.”
The irate diner replied: “Why don’t you stick it up your a..?”
The waiters retort: “I do sir, when I’m in the kitchen.”
Sign in a diner.
APPLE PIE LIKE GRANDMA USED TO MAKE - $2.50
APPLE PIE LIKE YOU THINK GRANDMA USED TO MAKE - $5.00
And that old favorite outside the roadside rest area….
EAT HERE AND GET GAS
John G. Lawless
11/4/2022
Hand Puppets
Hard, calloused and dirty, it pleaded with me.
It had no eyes, no face, no soul. Or so I thought,
or didn’t. Yellowed fingernails, dirt covered and
trembling faced upward as would a beggar’s
face. A sound, perhaps its voice, startled me. I
heard nothing but the plea from the open, soiled,
begging hand. It seemed to say: “please, sir, please,
I was once like you, one of you. I worked, as you can
tell by the sinewy strength now buried in despair’s dirt.
I touched – the cheeks of loved ones. I held – an infant,
a child, my child, and somehow lost my grip on all.
I have felt tears, my own tears, running through clenched
fingers yet not knowing whose tears they were or for whom
they were shed. I know cold, bone chilling, painful cold
and stiffness borne of pain, yet cannot, or will not,
reach for help and so I beg. Namelessly, facelessly,
but not shamelessly. For if I had eyes, I could not look
you in the face, nor could I smile or frown, or say thank you.
I am but a proffered hand in need, not of help but of
sustenance, not of kindness but of indifference, not of
awakening but of oblivion.”
I listened to the hand, looked not upon the face, and placed
a pittance against the enormity of the lifelines torment
and walked away. I looked at my hands and wondered
what story they told to those who took the time to look
at them, to listen to them. I covered my face with them,
and I too felt tears running through clenched fingers,
not knowing whose tears they were
or for whom they were shed.
John G. Lawless
2013
submitted to – Your best free verse poem –
sponsor – SKAT A