Long Lugs Poems
Long Lugs Poems. Below are the most popular long Lugs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lugs poems by poem length and keyword.
Vibram lugs 2 inches thick
for edge work back when
I was so young
with mountains to climb
the leather uppers
with mink oil spread
in the oven baked
again and again
Mountains I climbed
and dusty trails walked
like friends of old
they still remain
in dark of night
as I do cry
in fear I tremble
and wonder why
dreams of youth
in spring of years
golden sunshine
that could never and
a orange back pack
on aluminum frame
4000 cubes
that so much held
Baseball mitts
and skiing wax
holstered canteens
and hammocks of string
wonder I now
just what it will hold
if the long road
my feet will find
when does come
new dawn breaks
life begins again
and death flees away
a sleeping bag filled
with hollofil II
will it then replace
my King size bed
nightmares were then
a distant unfelt thing
words on the news
unknown to me
if healthy lived
kept active mind
dreams then could grow
keep nightmares at bay
yet dreams now do end
golden sun does set
dark of night will fall
cannot be held at bay
again take up my staff
and the backpack fill
sturdy boots again to wear
and on the road go away
Come pray in this shady, serene location,
A place of sheer bliss and candid delight,
This scenic mead has a form and motion,
Bear me dip in calm; God bore me insight.
A place of sheer bliss and candid delight,
While bowing below trees, nectar will overflow,
Bear me dip in calm; God bore me insight,
Hear the spells while gazing at the show.
While bowing below trees, nectar will overflow,
Nature's lure lugs me, its veins keen light,
Hear the spells while gazing at the show,
Noble kites rise as the lilts on the height.
Nature's lure lugs me, its veins keen light,
I am ogling at the sky, and love swells deep,
Noble kites rise as the lilts on the height,
Our joy fuels ardor as we cheer and leap.
I am ogling at the sky, and love swells deep,
This scenic mead has a form and motion,
Our joy fuels ardor as we cheer and leap,
Come pray in this shady, serene location.
Written: May 23, 2022
BELOW AND ABOVE THE SEAS SURF FACE
Gone are the fishers pulling Lugs; the Gull its gizzard rusty hooked;
and barbed, limit its shelled Limpet supply as blown sand creeps;
smart gulls dunk and dip, clean away dry sand grit, clear their voices;
some gulls with salted eyes sing in the briny choir, in the sea salted air.
Cackle is not birdsong ! Choked thirst, on this new digital barren beach.
Crabs below do not sleep, scuttle quickly to pincer cuttle fish inside out.
Lurking above swirls a leaden sky, pressing heavy on a mirage horizon line;
Its distantly trapped! Sunk in long lost rigging, discarded twine tangled nets,
buoyant on the flotsam and jetsam of a weeded bed, stalked by big Congers.
The tide rattled brittle bleached bones, of well anchored nameless smugglers;
who had the timeless tide current wrong, unsaved by oilskin clothed priests.
Breathing smugglers, long shipwrecked in the “ale house” of sin staggering;
his mind baptises their lifeless sinning smiles; many bound drowned.
While plying their trade, in a tirade coined and jewelled, greedy and needy;
there are many hemp baskets, nets twisted around boney blooded fingers,
torn sails billow caught in brackets, and pulleys, long ropes snake about.
Chains with stains of rust, crush filleted bones eaten by black cats and rats;
old Teachers wander the shore of wave words, they fall over, their own hands.
Long gone are the fishers families; they are food now, for long stretched lugs,
Bubbling below !
Adversity rarely enters a life with a Trumpet
It doesn't come loud
It doesn't come bold
It doesn't come systemically
With brass horns ablaze
Like some headlines twinkling.
Nah- Adversity is crafty
It slides in sideways, quiet as a hum
With the nerve to reposition your peace
Without clearance.
It tests your patience, lugs at the rim of
Your faith, tries to see if your backbone is
Made of loaned strength. Or the kind you
Bootleg in the dark.
When nobody was clapping
But you-
You rise like your spirit has muscle hindsight.
You rise like the storm forgot who it was
Rustling with.
Adversity comes unannounced, but you answer
The door with a steady glare, a steady breath,
A steady validity.
You are not easily moved
You are not easily shattered
You are not easily incomplete
And every quiet clash becomes another loud
Achievement in the story you're still writing
Penmanship
There are women who feel a strong need
To nag men until their ears bleed
In a war of attrition
With relentless petition
Is a cruel way to make men concede
Men wish for a life of peace
But get nagged by a tongue that won't cease
Men will just say
It's the female DNA
That must out in its need for release
We can’t help it; we just HAVE to nag
Guess some folks would call us 'an old hag'
But men get on our nerves
When you paw at our curves
Men should give up and wave the white flag
We can suffer from bad PMT,
Become ogres that men want to flee
We scream and we shout
Say we’ll throw you out
But for some reason you wont let us be
Better by far, we should try this next time
It's effective and will prove sublime
By wearing earplugs
In each of our lugs
We'll be laughing whilst nagging - in mime
Laughing together will lighten our day
It's a tonic to chase our problems away
For a really big smile
Can last a long while
And we'll both get along better that way
24th January 2016-01-24
Collaboration by Jan Allison and Rob Bettridge
This world is full of noise,enough to burst,
your mind and destroy well being lust,
noise from traffic on ground and air,
from telly,s ,radios and everywhere.
Gies a break we aa bellow,
makin mair noise for fellow,
humans who walk the same path,
work it oot dae the math,
as oor cousins wid sey across the watter,
haud oan a meenit ah heed yer call,
whits wrang wi noise does it really matter.
Aye it does my fairweether freends,
caises pain in yins lugs and heid,
those wi issues hate this aa the time,
produces anxiousness and depressed need.
Get tae the wids trendies cry,
wildlife an trees wull help ye fly,
even in the daurkest realms of root,
tae mony bodies causing mair noise.
Jumpin in secluded pools delighted shouts,
or faaing fae the heevens oan broken sheets,
flapping ,twirling adrenalin urging,
Bikes hurtling alaang secret paths,
get oot the wey comes the noisy cry,
Lets shoot the craw and leave this place,
seek oot the spots tae find yer solace.
Here she comes
Walking down the street
What's she wearing
Looking so neat
Lime green shirt
Really a treat
Black dress pants
The style she tweeks
Pride walking
Through the door
Keeps her stride
Even more
She looks good
She looks fine
Best in the neighborhood
What's that at her feet
A dog on a lease
He looks good
He looks fine
He finest kind
Prancing, dancing
Does many feats
Taunt goes the lease
He's running on those feet
The lease go taunt
Dog snatches
She suffers defeat
She looks daunt
The dog pulls, tugs
The lady lugs
She runs, he looks
Behind
Come on your mine
She looks daunted
She looks haunted
Who is walking who
The lady in lime green
Or the Chihuahua
Who thinks he can
Boss the whole neighborhood
(Saw a woman walking a chihuahua probably weighed 3 lbs. except he was walking her.
Thought of a song from long ago "There she comes walking down the street" don't
remember title or artist but thought I need to give credit here.)
Form:
Awkwardly he made a pass
Bumped his head against the glass
Cheesy lines flew far and wide
Didn’t notice spinach fried
Ego big, but brain quite small
Fumbled trying to make a call
Gave her flowers — they had bugs
Hugged too long and popped her lugs
In his teeth was something green
Joked too much — the vibe turned mean
Kissed her hand, then sneezed real loud
Laughed alone (not in a crowd)
Made a mixtape: wrong girl's name
Narrated dreams that brought her shame
Overdressed in latex pants
Professed love mid worm dance
Quickly tried to do a dip
Ripped his jeans — then broke a hip
Said, “I love you” way too soon
Tripped and mooned her under moon
Unbuckled shoes in sexy pose
Very much stepped on her toes
Winked so hard, his eye got stuck
X-rated dreams but no real luck
Yelled her name but got it wrong
Zero game… but writes her songs
Note: This is an echo to "Poison" by a dear poetic friend. I have read a lot of these ABC poems recently, I'm assuming for a contest, and they are wonderful! I'm not in the contest and I am sure these lines above don't dance as well as others. I wrote this because my muse (the one with all the ideas), Chance Summer (that's the name he goes by).. wanted to dance with Cay Cay's muse. Chance is no dancer. And the kid is "Heartbreak City" as is reflected in his work above and many of our heartbreaking songs. Does that make Chance awkward? Yes, incredibly.. but he don't care. Cause tonight, he is out on the dance floor with an exciting lady muse, and his echo echo to her is a dance that will never get old!
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
The Sea of Galilee aint in Texas
good lord I truly love just walking that sea
nobody else will join us in Texas
and that's why I'm heading to Tennessee
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
I'd be playin' that pie-an-no
in Texarkan-NADA Dry
upside-down that panhandle
Flori-DUH, I know why
Galveston aint New Orleans
it's nigh Corpus Christi Highs
not about the school's teachings
not score floored football guys.
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
Be on the loose with Canadian Goose
in OttawA-LOHA calls
We EarthShake -N- VolcanoBake
surfin' Viagra Falls
We all know Zen our hospital friend
where he says good night as you rest quite awhile
Fished and caught an Elk, shot a rainbow--killed a trout,
for that's, indeed, CHICAGO style!
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
We crack wide open folks were smokin',
golden age just sizzlin' Pan-DUH bear rugs,
I'll-Ask-'um, should-know, south of Catchy-Can-Can
[Translate only] (Alaskans, Juneau...Ketchikan)
I'll heed you Vice ... ere Good-buy, bail those lugs,
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
Map--my, what will they think of next?
All those Ex's down in Texas!
(*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*) (*)v(*)
That man stirs before the sun, dashing hopefulness,
Hopefulness that his son will grow, not just mature,
Mature into a man, who lugs his name,
Name engraved in sweat, not pursuing eminence.
Eminence never suckled the ardor of his soreness,
Soreness from scuffles tussled in quietness and pain,
Pain he credited so his child treasures concord,
Concord cleared through hurricanes, never ephemeral.
Ephemeral is the joy, but enduring is love,
Love that drains through detriment and scabs,
Scabs that murmur, “I bequeathed all I ensured,”
Ensured bravery enough to silhouette the celebrities.
Poem by Mugisho N.