Long Neighed Poems
Long Neighed Poems. Below are the most popular long Neighed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Neighed poems by poem length and keyword.
who knew?
firstoff, i wish to say, but not overdo,
that i never knew, what the new gnu knew
he never really said very much, and i knew
he wouldn't as such, since, being a new gnu
he hadn't much clue 'bout what to do
the previous gnu had a more worldly view
from Kalamazoo journeyed east to Timbuktu
beyond Katmandu south, down to old Peru
been many places, wore out many a shoe
but always believed that he'd come through
he got entangled with a bit of a shrew
a South American sheep, a hot-blooded ewe
that took every opportunity to scold and spew
venomous accusations that were mostly untrue
she really raised a big hullabaloo
he, being the good gnu we all knew
tried to smooth her feathers, to gently subdue
her wild angers towards that wildebeest
but, to little avail to say the least
yet it was the best the old gnu knew to do
he bleated that his love for her was true
she neighed loudly that no, they were through
she saw him now, from a whole different view
said she was leaving, that he should not pursue
for all she cared, he could turn into glue
she knew now she wanted the new gnu to woo
the new gnu knew amorously what would quickly ensue
but couldn't overcome with analytical review
certainty of grief from passions point of view
love's cliff came careening into abysmal view
"Ewe are what I want" the new gnu cried anew
in turn the ewe replied "i will always love you"
we'll build a life we always wanted, long overdue
have many children, a whole herd, a gnu ewe crew
we'll be happy ever after, in our own petting zoo
the new gnu thought he'd just follow through
but things went awry, let's say, far askew
the new gnu knew he'd met his own Waterloo
it wasn't long, you know, 'fore the ewe went skidoo
without even so much as a fond adieu
then the new gnu and the old gnu began to renew
a friendship, from which they both, had withdrew
i don't wish to insinuate, and not misconstrue
the bond of companionship the gnus lovingly grew
when old bonds are severed another comes on cue
now the gnus know what all beings should too
happiness and contentment depends on your view
you never know what the turn of your screw
in pursuit of a felicity, unknown hitherto
gets new gnu possibilities coming out of the blue
...thank you...
© Goode Guy 2013-05-31
Child lying
In a deep pallor
Looking out of a balcony
The last greeting
To island nature
Sunset is preparing
To surrender to the darkness
The gloomy and regal laurel
And the flight of the swifts
In the gulf and the plain
Sitting with a hat
On the bald head
Without the blond hair
The white little legs
Reflecting the rays
Of a summer sun
Your gaze is laying
Now on the surf
Of the waves that come
To their end
Now on the olive trees
And on the vines
That from the high cliff
Leap in the infinite blue
Your silent mother
From behind sees you
And sigh to the sky
To make you a miracle
Her hand reposing
On your heart
To have you still there
With her in everlasting love
But you're flying now
With your mind
On white steeds
To places that are
Forelocked to us
You already turn
Between the marine phalanges
With whitish helmets
And the deafening clang
A castle of solar flames
Is the fortress
From which you raise
Leader of your dreamlike armies
Now there is the oblivion
Of the mortal enemy
Who is sieging you
You that your body
To it g-r-a-d-u-a-l-l-y abandon
And the mirage persists
And it lays thee
Upon the wings of the sea-hawk
Then to the gallop of the stallion
That always neighed
When you came back from school
The last farewell with your mind
To your little house of red and warm bricks
With the roof of dark beams
To the vases with fragrant oregano
To the geraniums and to the oleander bush
"Goodbye friends
Yellow ginestra that whistles
Solitary pine
Scent of green algae!”
"The pain calls me
But the feeling of an Infinite
Fills me with joy
And gives me oblivion.”
“For a moment I shiver for my fever
But then I am heartened
By the grassy cliffs
The reddish vines
And the voice of mum
Whispering to me ‘My love!’”
One morning he focused his sight on a range
where a column of smoke caught his eye.
The scrub was alight and engulfing the trees
and the wild winds forced flames t’wards the sky.
The old man sought shelter away from its wrath
in the bowels of a cave and gave prayer.
Though thick choking smoke and the blistering heat
had him gasping and choking for air.
The danger now gone he walked out from the cave
and the vision he met at its mouth
was one of stark contrast, the landscape lay bare,
and the fire front raced further south.
The old man now ragged and wilting in strength
knew the fire had dealt him a blow,
but urged his grey down the steep slope of the ridge
where the ironbarks grew down below.
His pathway lay blocked by a large fallen limb
and beneath it there laid a charred frame,
not human in structure, but that of a horse,
though it caused him to stop all the same.
The singed hide was chestnut and that of a mare.
Yes, the quarry he’d sought for so long.
Then anger gave way and tears welled in his eyes
and a magpie burst forth into song.
For lying beside her obscured by her frame,
lay the bones of his daughter’s lost son.
The old iron bark recompensed him that day,
but the old man sensed no one had won.
He laid the boy’s bones in the packsaddle bags
and the horse showed approval and neighed.
And a calm inner peace now pervaded the man;
he’d fulfilled both the vows he had made.
It has always been in the back of my mind to write a sequel to Banjo Paterson’s poem
Lost. I have always felt that the old man would never have any peace of mind until he
found the boy’s bones and lay them to rest next to his mother. The sequence of events
which led up to fulfilling the vow evolved as I wrote the poem. I hope it does something
for someone.
When bombs rained down a neighborhood
In Shiah, south Beirut one night
A brown haired boy tight clutched his toy,
A cuddly brown-furred bear, in fright.
And sobbing through the roaring din,
He whispered to his cuddly friend:
"Oh, Teddy, Teddy, hold me tight,
And stay until the bombings end."
The cuddly bear then softly spoke:
"My little friend, be not afraid.
Just hold my hand, and never cry,
We'll go to where all toys are made."
"We'll ride a fast, green, chugging train
That goes to Cave of Childhood Joy,
Just hold on tight and walk with me."
He told the brown-haired little boy.
And toddling off, they left in haste
To board the waiting silent train,
That left the station right on time
When all the other kids were in.
It softly chugged through tunnel bright,
Then reached the Cave of Childhood Joy.
All kinds of good things, there they saw,
And everywhere a brand new toy!
There, too, were dancing ice cream cones,
Brown trees with leaves of chocolate,
A bluebird singing on a branch:
"You're welcome all to choose and eat."
They did, and drank sweet soda pop
From spring they saw there flowing by;
They played on swings with silver chains,
While ponies neighed sweet lullaby.
Some drank fresh milk from gleaming cups,
And others picked sweet berries pink,
While others ate cream puffs so soft,
All fears just vanished in a blink.
The bear then told his little friend:
"I'll go to guard the tunnel door,
To stop the ants from getting in."
He left, and couldn't tell him more.
He hurried out that joyous place,
To bravely take his sentry post,
But bombs rained down the tunnel door
The entrance got, with rubble, lost.
And when rescuers came in haste,
To search through rubble for the boy,
They didn't find a trace of him,
But just his brave and cuddly toy.
Even today in Texas
after twelve decades
people are narrating
the story of John,
the courageous little hero
who fought two heartless outlaws;
was he allowed to own a gun
and protect his mom screaming?
One of them resembled Deniro
with a trim beard and green eyes.
The horses frantically neighed
frightened by his fast bullets,
the older outlaw felt a sharp pain
and fell off his white horse and died;
the other tried to shoot John twice,
but he missed and fled...
how could a young boy
have shooter's skills,
was he trained by his dad who killed
a jail-breaker as he attempted to halt a train?
That makes any joker laugh realizing that
surviving in a violent town is the only way
to show others one's acquired vice,
not considering taking a life a disownment!
The outlaw's body was buried the next day
by an ironwood tree with a bright color
and the lushest foliage, but does this outlaw feel anything
going above his graves dug in red clay?
Shade or sunlight matter not to him, only someone praying
and disapproving of his death curses the young rambler!
Even the hot stones remember that fatal shooting
no rainfall could wash the bloodstains from them
and the square was proudly called John's Place,
even a monument was built to commemorate his valor;
kids gather around it and sing a hymn to his brave comrade,
anyone thinking of harming them must remember
who took the fatal shot proved that attacking
a defenseless woman is an act of cowardice that dishonors him.
Young Barred Jeff the hair once heired and was bard
from Barred Bare Camp cause when bear he was hard.
Neigh,said he in the bairn wear the auld stud nayed,
Owe, eye oh fare Merry her fair must bee paid.
Her fair's dew her an' eye'll faint with me stave.
The auld counselor feinted ass Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like ewe just ask Merry's made
oar ask the yew in the dew; she'll bleat what eye said.
Barred Jeff maid a song witch told of his whiles
it went on two long wile marry Merry beguiled.
Know boatman with or, oar blacksmith can boar
wench better, he said, of this eye am sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold bore
butt, barred Jeff beared was the won who scored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Young Bard Jeff the heir once erred and was barred
from Bard Bear Camp cause when bare he was hard.
Nay said he in the barn where the old stud neighed,
Oh, I owe fair Mary her fare must be paid.
Her fare's due her an' I'll feint with me stave
the old counselor fainted as Jeff misbehaved.
My stave is like yew, just ask Mary's maid
or ask the ewe in the dew it'll bleat what I said.
Bard Jeff made a song which told of his wiles
it went on too long while merry Mary beguiled.
No boatmen with oar, or blacksmith can bore
wench better, he said, of this I'm quite sure.
Perhaps, a black stallion, perhaps a bold boar,
but, Bard Jeff bared was the one who scored.
They planted Hank 'neath a lonesome pine when he came to the end of the trail.
Angels ushered him to the Great Beyond and through that Mysterious Veil.
Saint Peter greeted him, sayin', "I've been a-hankerin' to meet ya, mate!"
Hank noted a sign readin' 'COWBOY SPOKEN HERE' atop the pearly gate!
"I want ya to meet a posse of pards that've been awaitin' yer arrival Hank;
There's Zeke and Tex, Fred and Jack, Moe and Slade and Jed and Frank."
"Ain't no bacon er beans here" said they, "On the choicest grub we dine!
If'n ya hanker to wet yer gullet, there's a Feller who'll turn water into wine!
And then appeared his faithful hoss Old Dan a-sportin' golden shoes!
Old Dan neighed as Hank caressed his pal and they had a genial schmooze!
On Old Dan's back embellished with silver and gold was a western saddle.
Right then and there Hank mounted Old Dan and off they did skedaddle!
As the Lord promised in the Good Book, a bunkhouse was part of the deal.
He dwelt in a room fit for a King with TV and DVD, seeming so surreal!
Hank wore a cowboy suit adorned with diamonds, rubies and jade,
Plus pointy-toed Calvin Klein cowboy boots and a vest of finest suede!
Lastly, Saint Peter placed upon his brow a bejeweled ten-gallon crown,
Sayin', "Welcome to the ranch, pard! Ye've rode the range with great renown!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
A fortified castle with four towers stood mighty
on a barren, grassless hill,
here once helpless horses trampled down
wounded by pointy arrows...
they neighed and slid down
not having the strength to go further
and deluded the soldiers in heavy armor...
who came to conquer; do these places tell
a story mentioned by troubadours in their ballads...
who left their dear home and took endless risks?
Meadows swarmed with dandelions
were blown away by the speed of their stallions,
and they rode until they met the enemy
and clashing they chanted clamorously...
did they wish victory and glory, or die valorously?
On battlefields, there are no streets
paved with grey cobblestones and people thriving,
only untamed wilderness where blood drips profusely
from faces of dying warriors who cursed God constantly
and now supplicate Him for mercy;
they will face death alone and decrying their folly,
nobody can save them from their misery!
Strum your guitar and find places that tell a story,
where a lover left lovely words on crumbling walls,
for that heart seeking love before they were washed away by rain
and there would be nothing to hope for a lost boy
although moonlight was very radiant and shone among clouds...
with the promise of a serenade that had a happy refrain!
A moment long ago
The farmer said he needed sand for the fenced-in chicken run
Off we went, hooking the cart to our tiny female horse that had
been so sweet a foal, she was named Dokka (doll)
The beach was long and empty, the cold water of The North Sea
did not invite bathers
When white-topped waves crashed ashore, the water was
translucent with a hinge of green when the sea retracted
made a world-weary sigh.
When the cart was loaded, it was time for lunch, the farmer’s
wife had made a hamper of bread, boiled eggs and cheese;
After lunch and when the farmer had a dram or two, I walked
around feeling great for just being there.
Then I saw two white stallions riding a wave to shore, magnificent
animals with flying manes, galloping to the tree line and
disappearing yonder.
Time to leave, but the horse was not there had been bored by seagrass
began walking home, I ran to fetch her, where she stood confused by
a crossroad, I rode her back to the strand feeling like a king of the world
Going back to the farm, the farmer fell asleep on top of the load
When arriving, the farmer’s wife was angry, I unharnessed the horse that
quickly ran to the field where it neighed and snorted, jumping before
settling down, I think she had seen the stallions too.
Home at the Ranch
I once had a big ranch in Oregon; technically it is still mine
but I have no way to prove it. One day and far from the ranch
was inspecting fences when a sudden cold storm hit, to
survive I shot my horse cut its stomach open and crept inside
and quickly fell asleep. Woke up when the storm was over
I looked for my horse it was not there perhaps the wolves…?
Trotted home the ranch hands were glad to see me and gave me
carrots, although I neighed they put me in the corral with other
horses that knew who I was and shunned me.
My widow cried, and I stood outside her window that brought
tears in people’s eyes and they gave me apples to eat.
Now that she was the owner and had much responsibility she
used me to get around, it thrilled me to have her on my back
but was careful not to show uncalled for excitement.
Then tragedy struck she got a friend, the foreman on
the ranch a man I didn`t like and was thinking of firing.
my intense jealousy made me furious and one day when they
were making love under an oak by the river, I kicked them both
to death and galloped to the far blue mountain as I know from
experience there is no justice for wild horses.