Long Missouri Poems
Long Missouri Poems. Below are the most popular long Missouri by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Missouri poems by poem length and keyword.
The morning sun’s oppressive; a nasty b*tch in heat on Rizal Avenue,
Where vendors hawk their cigarettes, baloot, and dog meat barbecue.
The jeepneys buzz the intersection like a hornet’s nest,
But it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
Olongapo is waking. Magsaysay Drive gives up its dreams.
It’s six AM in Subic Bay, Republic of the Philippines.
A sailor slouches back to base, hung over and depressed,
But it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
His head is stuffed with sawdust. His mouth’s as dry as peanut shells.
Last night he guzzled mojo on top of all those San Miguels.
At midnight he responded to the curfew’s harsh request,
But it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
Been a year since he’s been stateside, a year since he’s been home.
Just another duty station, and another port to roam.
When he hears a stand-up comic, he reacts indifferently;
He lost his sense of humor on the South China Sea.
He’d picked a girl named Cora, and booked an air-conditioned room.
He’d paid her fifty pesos to revel in her raw perfume.
He spoke a few Tagalog words, but she was not impressed,
And it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
He held her like he knew her; embraced her warm skin tenderly.
His dreams were of Missouri; his nightmares, of the open sea.
He’d found a lonely refuge with his hand upon her breast,
And it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
A new day brings its promise of beauty and of poverty;
Of cockfights in the province, and monkeys in the mango tree,
But Subic is a working port, and work must be addressed.
Still, it’s quiet down the mountain once the stone has come to rest.
Been a year since she divorced him; a year since she’s been gone,
Just another disappointment, and another West Pac dawn.
If he laughs, it’s nothing funny; it’s the sound of irony.
He lost his sense of humor on the South China Sea.
And that chip upon his shoulder’s like that ancient, fabled boulder;
He’s a victim of his own mythology.
I’ll whimper, cower and tremble
under this chair I shall reside
Because the storm’s angry rumble
will make me quiver, shake and hide
I will bury my head and whine
at each thunderous sound it makes
That causes the floor to vibrate
and every windowpane to shake
Bright flashes streak across the sky
and they do freeze my very heart
I will hide behind your legs while
they try to rip the sky apart
I hear the wind howl through the trees
as nature bows down to your will
The rain pounds down in torrents
that rattle against the windowsill
Now that the rumble has moved on
and all that’s left is a soft blow
As rains soothingly taps against
the glass of the bedroom window
I will stretch and give a big yawn
scrunch up this pillow for my head
Lay down and get some needed rest
in my comfy and warm dog bed
He surveys his kingdom each day,
from Iron Gate to Wooden Wall.
Each leaf that falls and blade that sways,
his loyal subjects one and all.
The cattle grazing in the field,
the kittens nestled in the shed.
He knows each puddle and haystack,
where he can drink or make a bed.
With Snowball, the grand Pyrenees,
Seargeant, his faithful Shephard knight.
His trusty human on his leash,
he will sniff everything in sight.
Squirrels that frolic in the oaks,
rabbits that scurry through the grass.
Each know King George is at the helm,
and would stop to stare as he’d pass.
When to his castle he returns,
knowing all’s well within his land.
He’ll settle beside his master,
getting pets from his caring hand.
There’s tons of fun things you can do on the farm,
like bucking bales of hay or cleaning the barn.
Or milking the cows and feeding the chickens,
working the garden where the beans need picking.
Or on top of the roof replacing the tin,
trying to find where the water’s getting in.
Maybe out on the tractor mowing the hay,
with the hot sun’s beating down on you all day.
When the sun finally sets down in the west,
you can start to slow down and take a short rest.
Now all winded and burned and hungry as hell,
wash off the cow dung before the dinner bell.
Sitting on the front porch beneath the moonlight,
with lightning bugs flashing like stars in the night.
A cool gentle breeze flowing over the land,
while you sit in your chair holding your wife's hand.
The scent of wildflowers filling up your head,
drifting in through the window beside your bed.
You lay your head down but before you can sleep,
you pray that this is the life you'll always keep.
Apache, the Ndee, "the people" of Arizona and other States
Blackfoot, the Siksika, whose painted red faces we can relate
Cheyenne, the Tsitsistas, meaning relatives of the Cree
Dakota Sioux, the Dakota, meaning little snakes in Ojibwe
Euchee, or Yuchi, are the "children of the sun"
Fox, the Meskwaki, eventually native to Wisconsin
Gros Ventre, strangely named "big belly" by the French
Huron, with their above allies left many a tribe wrenched
Inuit, the Eskimo, this tribe with the snow
Juaneño, from the Sunshine State around Orange and San Diego
Kickapoo, with their linguistic code, unique called "whistle speech"
Lakota, like the Dakota, speak with similar tongues they teach
Mohawk, "People of the Flint" from upstate New York
Navajo, is now the most spoken, where extinction has not gone berserk
Ottawa, "the traders" their name lives on in their City
Potawatomi, "fire keepers" one hundred speakers, my hearts in pity
Qwulhhwaipum, "the prairie people from beyond the mountain range"
Ryawas, by the Missouri River where they no longer reign
Shawnee, meaning "southerner" were a far ranging tribe
Tonkawa, "they keep together" but only a few still reside
Ute, of Colorado and Salt Lake valley fame
Victorious the ones who remain to this day, whilst the V has no name
Wiyot, and its last native speaker, died in 1962
X, xenophobic they would be, to the ancestors of me and you
Yavapai, from Arizona, are the "people of the sun"
Zuni, like all the tribes above, fell victim to the white mans gun.
He’s never heard one lesson of this class,
but has to get a grade in history.
So he’s shown up at last, sure he will pass
the test that prior students say is easy!
He feels no need to read the test’s directions.
It uses letter symbols; he can tell
he only needs to trust his recollections
about the fifty states. He should do well!
He feels assured that Md has to be
for Maryland, and Missouri is Mo.
It’s very clear Nebraska is Ne.
But why No? Everyone should know that NO means NO!
Ca, Pa, In; a piece of cake!
Then he sees a few that are an utter
puzzlement or just a huge mistake!
Pb, he’s sure, is only peanut butter!
Sg might be Singapore, or else Saigon.
But how are those in U.S. History?
Fr for France? Just what is going on?
The cocky guy is feeling kind of queasy.
At last he thinks to go back to the start
and read the test’s instructions. . . O M G!
The test was on the periodic chart
of elements! Wrong class. It’s Chemistry!!!
Note:
*The correct answers of the test were really
Md for Mendelevium, Mo for Molybdenum,
Ne for Neon, No for Nobelium, Ca for Calcium,
Pa for Protactinium, In for Indium, pb for Lead,
Sg for Seaborgium and Fr for Francium (he was close on that one!)
As for me, I would stay in the history class!!!
My God, there is no end to the hulking body of these mountains,
I've asked everyone to just leave me alone for awhile as I rest on my knee
stupefied by the enormous, unending expanse of the most gothic terrain imaginable,
I mean, we knew there was a chance the Missouri wouldn't go all the way through the continent,
we anticipated hellish distances, fatigue and brutal portages
but, I never thought that the divide between the Columbia and Missouri
would be a billion years of mega rock rage and 500 miles of pain to cross on foot,
this isn't an obstacle military engineers can rectify
with some explosives and hammers to unite the rivers for a continuous waterway,
the Corps of Discovery has just walked into the light of cruel truth
there is no Northwest Passage, our primary goal was never even possible,
our mission was a bet against geography and we are the losers,
is it any wonder that I weep for a moment in the shadows of heartbreak,
but there is no sympathy in the season or in the sky today, and that's okay,
I'm gonna lead these brave bastards across this savage continent,
we're gonna get to that God damned ocean
complete our other crucial objectives for America
and return to Washington with a story for the ears of Gods and History,
J.A.B.
The Ozarks is filled with barefoot hillbillies,
so it says in all them old books.
We are all just lazy, stupid, and silly,
least that’s how they make us look.
Layin’ on a creek bank chewing on a straw,
with a fishing line tied to our toe.
Or stilling some 'shine' while running from the law,
they say that’s all we’ll ever know.
Marrying our sister, our grandpa's our dad,
is a life that suits us just fine.
A dollar's more money than we've ever had,
at least at any one time.
If we get hungry we’ll just ketch a 'possum,
a roadkill skunk or raccoon.
Gotta make sure our twenty kids all get some,
cause twenty-one’s coming soon.
I’ll tell you friends the Ozarks are more than a place,
where friendly people are raised.
So come on down here and I bet that you’ll fall,
in love with our Ozark ways.
Slim was an old Texas cowboy
had traveled cross this country some
Said he roamed the range all his life
and to 'Montana he had come
Cause down south it's hard to figure
what caused so much stink and shoutin’
Wanted to see for he got old
this big sky, prairies and mountains
He'd heard about Little Bighorn
where Custer fought them Indians
The Great Continental Divide
and secret Gates of the Mountains
There's this here place called Glacier Park
with its Going to the Sun Road
By being that close to heaven
could it really be all that cold
Then there's them three rivers where the
Missouri waters gits her start
And that Russell fella who paints
all them pictures of western art
Sure would like to see Yellowstone
they say that's quite a sight to see
Where water goes a shootin’ out
the ground hotter 'n ole Hades
Not to mention all them critters
like wolves, moose, elk and grizzly bear
Goats that can climb straight up a cliff
perch like a dab blamed eagle there
You folks got this here Chinese wall
a sight that I just gotta see
Thousand foot tall in the center
of a million acres of trees
Got some mountain canyons that are
bigger 'n most cities around
Herds of wild horses runnin’ cross
the land making a thunderous sound
At night they say a trillion stars
Twinkle over where thousands of Buffalo graze
Those critters move along so graceful like
through warm and sunny summer days
I said let me warn ya ole Slim
we got things here you won't believe
But once you lay your eyes on them
you sure ain't gonna want to leave
Pert near twenty winters have gone
since Slim came to Rockin Bar J
I placed bitterroot on his grave
when we laid him to rest today
Slim might have been born in Texas
and that is quite all right by me
He died a Montana cowboy
in this place where he chose to be
Hi ho hi ho it’s off to shot land I go!
I am happier than a pig in mud.
My smile is wide, I fairly glow.
I get the vaccine today. Hi ho hi ho!
There goes my sister, she is against the shot.
Just the sound of it makes her hot. hot. hot.
She thinks the vaccine is a political thing.
She will not get the shot, she will not, not, not.
The vaccine has torn my family apart.
I don’t care about that right now, I certainly do not.
I do not get into arguments or add to anyone’s hot.
Hi ho hi ho! I finally get my vaccine; it was so hard sought!
I am tickled to death to get the Covid-19 vaccine.
Whereas my cousin reports that disguises are seen
In southern Missouri where people are sneaking them
And begging others not to identify them.
The vaccine is a big deal in Missouri and Kansas too.
I imagine we will be wearing masks before we are through
I am getting the vaccine today, and I am tickled pink.
Whereas some are emotional about it, teetering on the brink.