Long Lounged Poems
Long Lounged Poems. Below are the most popular long Lounged by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lounged poems by poem length and keyword.
Continued From:
15. A Short And Violent Life Ends. A Legend Begins
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195837
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She slowly approached the lifeless form on the floor.
She knelt down, turned him over and gasped in horror at who she saw.
"Is he dead?" Garrett asked. "Is it The Kid?" He asked again.
Deluvina rose to her feet and lounged out at him.
She violently pounded her fists on Garrett's chest
as she screamed the vilest curses she could bestow upon his head.
She wanted to scratch his eyes out of his skull.
She wanted him suffering. She wanted him dead.
Garrett's deputies and her friends tried to pull her away from him
but even with their combined strength it was a task difficult to employ.
Interspersed between her tears, Deluvina Maxwell cried out to all who could hear,
"They've killed my little boy!"
Billy's body was then carried to the carpenter shop
and carefully laid down on top of a table.
Lit candles were placed surrounding The Kid.
The village then held an all night long candle lit vigil.
Women and children, the old and the poor,
even manly men were seen openly weeping,
as they all walked by giving their final good bye
to their fallen young friend now eternally sleeping.
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To Continue Go To:
17. A Short And Violent Life Ends. A Legend Begins, Conclusion
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=195835
Theme for collaboration suggested by Tim Smith
Two enormous old toads crossed the road
On Tom’s back lounged Thomasina toad
Both are ugly and warty
Thomasina’s so naughty
As her bowels on his back she’d download
06-16-17
WRITTEN BY JAN ALLISON
When Thomasina toad dumped on old Tom
He thought her poop explosion was a bomb
He hopped in the air
gave her a mean stare
shouting, "I'm not taking you home to Mom!"
WRITTEN BY LIN LANE
Ribbit rubbit robbit 'n ro
this crazy toad has got to go
She's turning quite mean -
Fifty shades of green
No time to chat but still does crow
WRITTEN BY TIM SMITH
"Why don't we do it in the road?"
Said Thomas, the old horny toad
Thomasina hissed,
"Get a load of this!"
and a "blessing" on him bestowed
WRITTEN BY LIM'RIK FLATS
Thomasina was on a road trip
Her taxi was Tom's back she'd grip
But she strained as she held
And her bottom expelled
So she said "I've just left you a tip"
WRITTEN BY RAY GRIDLEY
Tom and Thomasina were the perfect pair
They were ancient toads without a care
He had a huge wart
She gives a mean fart
Anyone in her vicinity better beware!
WRITTEN BY ALEXIS Y
Now Tom was an over achiever
He wanted the lady, not leave her
He sprayed his back with Scotch-Guard
and rubbed down with lots of lard
the dumper was now the receiver
WRITTEN BY DALE GREGORY COZART
Tom gave Thomasina the boot
Got sick from the smell of her poot
told her to get lost
right after he tossed
She gave him the one finger salute
WRITTEN BY DANIEL TURNER
Thomas and Thomasina loved to hear
the waterboatmen rubbing their gear
Thomas tried and started to croak
causing Thomasina to choke
you two will never get it right I fear
WRITTEN BY SEREN ROBERTS
When T'sina hopped on for a ride
Old Thomas reminded his bride,
"Though you're my sweet dish,
on the road we'll get squished",
"Just do it!" was her terse reply.
WRITTEN BY CRAIG CORNISH
Thomasina and Tom a heavy load
Lingered a little too long on the road
He could have kissed her all night
shocked at the oncoming lights
Croak and ribbit was heard; two flattened toads
WRITTEN BY EVE ROPER
PLEASE SOUP MAIL ME ANY SUBMISSIONS FOR THE COLLABORATION
06-16-17
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
Spending an entire weekend
with one of your best friends
is a treat onto itself,
but spending an extended weekend
with the same friend
is even better...
******************************************************
Drew had come over, with his parents,
to get a haircut and enjoy some conversation.
Before they had a chance to leave,
he was talked into staying the night.
We spent it lounged on basement couches
enjoying our viewing of Spartacus.
******************************************************
The next morning,
we reenacted historical skirmishes,
with a bit of artistic license,
until it was time to accompany my mom
to a friend's cookout.
We enjoyed the usual fare of burgers & hotdogs
as we quizzed one another on random movie trivia.
Although we weren't all too athletic,
Drew and I played a few games of pickup football
with a group of kids we'd never met before,
before retiring to my place for the night.
*****************************************************
Sunday was set aside for camping,
the original reason Drew and I were
supposed to hang out.
My parents took us to one of my favorite spots,
Kennerdell,
where we delighted in swimming in the creek,
hiking the trails,
and watching Return of the King.
*****************************************************
A copy of Wedding Crashers
kept us entertained on the drive back home.
After dropping Drew off at his house;
back to his temporarily estranged family,
it was time for me to finish,
and begin,
work on my D.A.R.E. project.
I finished pretty quickly
& spent the evening thinking about
how wonderful of a Memorial Day Weekend
it had been
in the company of one of my best friends.
We lounged on the back deck as twilight fell
and gazed as tiny fireflies cast a spell.
As Nature placed her glory on display,
we sipped red wine, reflecting on our day.
We’d had a scrumptious meal my love prepared,
and then a soothing bubble bath, we shared.
On cool silk sheets, we’d shared . . . oh, so much more
till both of were sated to the core.
We’d watched a Lifetime romance on TV
and swayed to tunes we love by Kenny G.
We didn’t wash one dish or make the bed.
“The maid will do those things!” my lover said.
“Of course, she will. We’ve better things to do.”
I said. “I’m ready for the back-lawn view.”
That’s when we got the wine and went outside.
A place like this is such a source of pride--
Out front car doors were slamming, and we knew
to all that splendor we must bid adieu.
The owners of the home returned too soon!
We fled through woods on paths lit by the moon.
August 3, 2021
entered in An Interesting Couplet contest
Sponsor: Funom Makama
Ode to the Madman
It was heaven in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees and I was in hell.
But heaven was in sweltering Palm Springs.
And I tasted nectar and ambrosia, both,
Under the dauntless palms.
I took in the majesty of the gods
As they bowed to each other,
Like kow-towing Chinamen in white robes.
I took in the flames and the feathers, both.
I took in the shadows and the spotlights of the stabbing sun.
The book was Women by Bukowski.
I lounged by the winking, blue-eyed pool,
Eyeing the half-naked women in bikinis,
Reading the drunken madman,
Sipping daiquiris on ice
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.
The way she walked as she brought me my drinks,
Was a Revelation and a turn-on, both.
It seemed, as I discerned from her big-breasted body language,
That she already knew the answers to life’s unasked questions.
That she had already traveled
To the farthest star in the galaxy.
That she had already tasted the wine of eternal wisdom.
Yes, it was the way she walked.
Bukowski would’ve smiled and said:
“Comon honey, let’s dance!”
I was in heaven and in hell, both.
It was 115 degrees, and I sweated.
But I saw paradise under the dauntless palms.
Ode to the madman!
“I sip this daiquiri in your name.”
Brought to me by the big-breasted beautiful girl
From behind the bar.
Bordering the local
football ground, young
mountain ash bend
in the cold wind.
Almost reaching to full height,
their lean, pliable trunks bow
and spring back,
whipping against the air.
Defiant, almost arrogant
they dance and swirl
their leaves like balls
of streamers waved
by frenzied fans.
Boyhood comes charging back
as I walk the boundary,
booted up and wearing
number twenty five.
I inhabited the hero,
rode wild applause
to the consummate ease
of my play and saw
my name bannered
in large print
across Sunday replays.
Imagination flew far above
my skill and as time
chastened dreams,
ambition retreated to a place
in a noisy crowd
carried along on the swells
of boisterous cheer,
or lounged in a chair
watching an ad riddled
game at home by myself
with a beer.
With chips and fries, girl buddy Pam and I
Lounged on a diva for night- time cable,
When Travolta caught our TV- tube eyes
Hips gyrating to Night Fever’s wiggle.
Our feet tapped as we looked at each other
“Let’s hit the town and paint it red”, we said;
In a flash, we dolled up and tossed our hair
Scooting the bar where pop- tunes drowned ahead.
We paced the dance floor wiggling our hands
To the height of beats like ‘ole college days
Then, more late 90s theme songs rocked the band
While starry eyes begged for music ablaze.
The crowd mingled to pass few drinks around
As we jigged along, romping like prom queens,
Till street lights dimmed to imply---‘homeward bound’
No way! It’s Girls’ Friday till morn , supreme!
Daren Watson's A Girls Night Out
by nette onclaud
Our nephew and his lovely wife invited us for an afternoon on their boat
and I immediately thought of The Old Man And The Sea…you know the book that Hemingway wrote.
As I lounged in the softness of my seat and felt the wind blowing through my hair…I wondered about Hemingway’s fisherman…and how he and I would compare.
We learned Santiago was an old and experienced fisherman as his story did unfold…I am not a fisherman…but like Santiago…I am old.
Santiago put in early…it was for the big catch he did wish…our boat left the dock around midday heading to a restaurant where we’d eat fish.
Santiago’s boat was a little skiff…he fished all day and all night under the moon…we were out for a few hours in a bigger boat…with a motor…and pontoons.
Santiago fought an enormous marlin…worried he’d make a mistake…without a worry we gawked at enormous houses on our leisurely ride across the lake.
Santiago fished alone…hoping the bad luck he experienced of late would come to an end…I sat there thinking how lucky I was to be surrounded by family and friends.
Santiago braved the elements…the fish…his own fatigue…the cold…Gee, I guess when I really look at it…all we have in common is that the two of us are old.
Yes, after throughly thinking this through…that’s the only comparison I can see…between my experience yesterday…and the old man and the sea.
And although Hemingway’s novel won him a Pulitzer and is, arguably, one of the finest books he wrote…I think I prefer my version of the old man in a boat.
One moment there was a time
When things had to be done on a dime
I will never decline
A VHS treasure find
If you get over the hypocrite's hatred of the dirty mind
Image beautiful and sweet
Puzzle needing to complete
Displaying a model athlete
Depended on the qualifying heat
When they compete
Not able to afford graduating from state
Revealing the losing scholarship death card, sealing their fate
Every interlocking piece
Police could connect to the recently deceased
An idea from Spain
Who would complain?
The one winning the game?
Achieving fame?
And what about the loser looking for someone to blame?
Back in eighty-two
When LA lounged near the pool
Pieces came out
Reclining couch audiences screamed and shout
Chainsaw dismembered
Vietnam War remains remembered
Finally, asking ‘is this the student’s life?’
Decided by the psycho's knife
While the orchestra plays the fife
And strums
The patriotic drums
Saying everything is all right
Go ahead let’s all fight
When slasher films unspooled, it made us feel
Knowing the body parts were not real
When thinking up a new deal
Bring peace into the mix
That is an answer we could all fix
Killing is not a good plan
Instead write a script my dear great grandson of Sam
It may end up a streaming hit
Especially lurking inside a tool boxers kit