Long Lopes Poems
Long Lopes Poems. Below are the most popular long Lopes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lopes poems by poem length and keyword.
Juan Marques Lopes
Juan Marques Lopes lives in Spain,
To move one day is his only wish.
Free himself of a poor life with his wife,
For he knows he can do better than this.
One hundred years have come and gone,
since the day that he was born,
To a Shepard’s daughter on a farmers land, he was her only son.
Three decades ago he received a bite to the neck
and thought he would die from the blood loss,
For the pain to stop and to save his own life,
he said he'd sell his soul whatever the cost.
One moment of weakness and his soul was the Devils,
To do as he pleased, just to not die like this.
Freedom from death must come at a price,
For a vampires thirst craves the deadliest kiss.
Juan killed all his friends then he killed his own family,
To feed his thirst for blood and for power.
Three times a day, he must feed on their blood,
For he sold his soul to Satan, this is his last eternal hour.
(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
Warmouth watches to the north, feeling the marauder’s eyes.
Her troops honor her stance with silence, in awe of her abilities.
The gift of prophecy is given to her prior to each battle.
She turns and looks at her lieutenant; he lopes off without a word.
This is the kind of relationship she has with her troops.
One of the newcomers is amazed at the prowess of Warmouth.
She is a force of one; the entire army respects her leadership.
She draws back her head and gives a long loud wolf-howl.
The battle has begun; the enemy is closer than the troop realized.
She draws back her dagger and heads down the hill to the north.
Her raven flies straight into the eyes of the other commander.
Screaming and slashing commence; it is a mighty fight.
The enemy retreats, recognizing the determination in Warmouth’s eyes.
She has backed off her third army in five months.
It is a record, but no one dares speak of it.
She is a leader who expects no praise.
Doing what she can to protect her clan.
An awful aardvark ate anchovies against all advice.
Besides belching beyond belief, he bit bitter banana boats.
Charlie Chimp cackled curiously, convinced
Delicious delectable desserts did damage.
Enormous energy engaged enthusiastic excitement
Frenzied friendly felines, forever forgiving
Greasy giraffes giving grievous gripes
Horsey happiness hiding hurt amongst hilarity.
Ignoring idiocy involved ignorantly,
Jumping jack-a-lopes jiggled
Kangaroo kindness keeping
Leisurely lions laughing
Merriment mesmerized monkey marines
Never notorious, nevertheless, nefarious
Octopus ostracized owls, ostentatiously,
Preventing Porcupines putting prickles precariously in patrons.
Quietly and quickly
Resuscitating rescued rabbits
Savagely sustaining simple seriousness
Totally terrorized
Underneath unique
Verbose velocity
Which worried
‘xtra ‘xtraneous
Zipping, zaggy, zebras.
Above a cloudy jar of brine
That floated greenish hard boiled eggs,
Beside a Schlitz beer waterfall
That told bar time (ten minutes fast),
A taxidermied Jack-A-Lope
With rabbit ears and tiny rack
Stared marble eyed into the dark.
“We don’t have many Jack-A-Lopes
Back home in any city bars,”
I told a man who served us drinks.
“At prices there, that’s no surprise.”
The barman said without a smile
And told us of the Jack-A-Lope:
Time was you looked, you’d find his kind,
But rarely in these mountain slopes.
They only bred in wintertime
And only in electric storms.
It’s rumored round that milk that came
From mother Jack-A-Lopes could cure
Whatever walks on twos or fours
So rare it was most called it myth
As much as Sasquatch ever was.
Until one day a dowser came
Divining where to dig a well.
And gripping his good witching stick
Could swear he saw the front branch twitch.
He scrunched his eyes and looked again.
“No, something’s in that undergrowth.”
Up popped the branchy antlers of
This fearsome critter, Jack-A-Lope.
Now as it was this dowser had
A more than common whiskey thirst.
And had to live his life downwind
From ordinary decent folk.
Like pictures of Napoleon,
He stuck his hand inside his coat,
Produced a flask of sour mash,
And threw it at this portmanteau.
Some say it hopped away afraid,
But those that know have winked and said,
“That animal attacked the flask;
Without their bourbon Jack-A-Lopes
Will fade away until they’re gone.”
Outsiders paid some license fees
For hunting season, dates of which
Cannot be found on calendars.
The most were poached as trophies for
Hotels, saloons and brothels where
The mounted heads amazed their guests.
No hunter had had an interest in
An animal that can’t be killed
Because it never ever was.
But now so heavy was the hunt
The Jack-A-Lope was soon extinct,
So every one of them was killed
To prove one time they did exist.
The bar grew quiet just as if
Some meaning might be understood.
I pointed at my empty glass
And asked the barman pouring drinks,
“What’s on that plaque below the head?”
“Some Latin words, a kind of crest.
A family motto more or less.”
On a grassy knoll silhouetted against the rising sun,
Astride his pinto pony sits a Native American son.
A majestic bronzed brave, feathers wafting in the breeze,
Arms uplifted in obeisance, the Great Spirit to appease.
He offers thanks to Him for the grandeur of creation,
For the sun and moon from which he gathers inspiration;
For flowing rivers and the life-nurturing rain,
And for the beasts that roam the vast, verdant plain.
He asks the Great Spirit to bless his arrow and bow,
That with true aim he can fell life-sustaining buffalo,
To contribute to the welfare of his tribal clan,
A feast of roasted meat and many hides to tan.
He prays that among his brothers peace will prevail,
And that he be protected as he lopes along the trail.
He pleads for honor in battle be the outcome victory or defeat,
And that he be brave and not falter against foes he shall meet.
A tear rolls down his cheek thinking of his ravaged, sacred land;
Broken treaties and those who deal with deceitful hand.
With sad heart he lowers his arms and slowly turns away,
Determined that from the paths of his fathers he will never stray.
Entry for Line Gauthier's "Tribute To Native Culture" Contest
The rising sun greets the undulating plains of Elbert County,
Painting the sky in splendid hues, revealing God's rich bounty!
The eternal star exposes the grandeur of Pikes Peak to the west.
A brilliant moon sinks behind the mount, ending its nocturnal quest!
A herd of antelope gambol and graze on a nearby knoll.
A graceful palomino mare trots 'long side her frisky foal.
Herds of sleek Angus cattle are scattered about the plain.
A majestic golden eagle soars above, surveying its vast domain!
A coyote lopes across the road on its morning hunt.
A fleet falcon swoops toward its prey in an aerobatic stunt!
A magnificent herd of elk peer at me from a nearby glade,
And yonder a beautiful vixen and her kits take their promenade!
Canadian geese alight in a shimmering pond just across the way.
Wild turkeys strut in a secluded copse, showy feathers on display!
Ravens preen, greeting the morn perched in a grove of aspen trees.
The gossamer mists on the lea will ere be swept away by the breeze.
That pleasant drive each morn affords time for profound introspection.
The ever-changing panorama exemplifies the Creator's pure perfection!
Ah! The splendor of God's munificent and glorious creation,
Will to me forever be of daily and uplifting inspiration!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
At daybreak,
I approach the beach across a soft hill of clover,
past sleeping Pandanus palms,
and down a small sand dune.
I am enveloped by sea wind.
I look up to a flight of swallows - symbol of returning.
They occupy the airspace of seagulls.
A kookaburra laughs, somewhere to land-ward,
bringing fond memories of far off bushland.
A Malamute passes beside me,
pulling a woman on a long leash.
If she had a small sled she could mush
along this perfect white beach.
Tall lady pines grace the shoreline
their skirts just out of reach of sea water.
Seagulls sit in small conventions pecking free donuts.
They queue up for cups of coffee; I imagine
their grey wings tucked through Aloha shirts.
A German shepherd lopes, wolf-like, scatters them,
they swoop out to sea, laughing.
They'll be telling the folks back home
of their close call.
Now the sun's rays have reached the high rises,
awakening diamond fires from glass windows.
On the horizon, sunbeams reach down in straight lines
like sun-pictures from a child's storybook.
My imagination runs wild but my walk has ended,
as I climb the wooden ramp - back to the street,
alive for what my day holds.