Long No go Poems
Long No go Poems. Below are the most popular long No go by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long No go poems by poem length and keyword.
Occifer, occifer what did I do
I no go fast and dat is de truth
I good citizen I try to be good
I have 3 kids and live in bad neighborhood
Place your hands on the wheel sir where I can see them
I know your kind and I know my reason
License and registration please and do it real slow
You were doing 55 in a 54
Yes sir I give you de papers you ask
but I want no trouble thats not too much to ask
I pay my taxes and I obey the law
If it was 54 then de sign I must not have saw
Just hand me the papers and don't you move
I will be back and we'll see what we'll do
If you claim to be what you say you are
You should have no problems so let me go back to my car
De minutes tick by and sweat fill my face
I remember de movies of police filled with hate
for people like me then bad things happen
I remember one movie when they beat him then shot him
I say quick prayer as I think of my kids
my wife and de dreams of dem going to college
Tears start flowing and now I am scared
de man has been gone too long I can see him stare
Oh my God another car pull up
then two then three now even a truck
they all around me and watching me close
then a voice in my head screams, YOU ARE TOAST!!!
then all of a sudden the man says step out de car
I ask him what for he says GET OUT OF THE CAR!!!
I say to myself I will not die here
and step out de car trying to hide my fear
De other police jump out and aim their guns
My hands in the air, guns have I none
De police come to me with gun pulled out
UP AGAINST THE CAR he screams and he shouts
I tense my body as I turn around
my ears cry out at the sound of the round
immediately I fall to the ground gasping and wheezing
de police come over to see if I'm breathing
they hit me with sticks and then start to kick me
they tie my hands up and continue with beating
they take off my clothes in de cold night air
then de tie me to de truck cause I don't belong here
They hop in de truck and start to drive
my back on de ground they skin me alive
then they stop and take one last look
they untie me and take me off the hook
I'm thrown in de bushes while de rest of them laugh
I just thank God de torture did not last
I look at de police as he lights up his cush
and ask why he beat me and he said...
...
..
JUST THANK BUSH.
Form:
Toasty mornings with teakettles whistling bring to mind Danish days on Marata’s
horse farm, ponies prancing in the unusually warm sunlight, and new fangled
sparkling silver water fountains. Mirada, Karen and Laura’s Mom hosted Bob, Jamie
and I for a summer vacation. We had just settled into the whitewashed kitchen
when the problem was presented to us. For years the housed herd of guest horses
had been watered by filling lovely old white porcelain cast iron tubs which had been
scattered all over the rolling green fields of the farm in Faum.
Mirada had the forward thinking idea of saving farm hand time [and her the hourly
wage] of piping water to these beautiful horses with new fountains! Yes, my
lovelies, all you have to do is push your nose right here. Out bubbles crisp cool clean
water, minus the dead flies, which often drowned in the old tub! Seems horses are
very suspicious. Nope the herd was having none of it. Soon, if not cajoled, they
would be passing out from lack of water in the Danish summer’s heat. What foreign
creature had replaced their friendly old white tub of water? Where was their water?
They saw no water. Sure there was a scent of it from that pole but “What the
heck?” snorted the black stallion shaking his head at the girls.
We were told there would be no breakfast, lunch or dinner for us until we helped
get those horses watered. So off we went, shuffling our feet to a meet and greet
with the herd. Marata and the girls knew the horses. We almost knew a horse from
a cow. I went right up to this large black beauty, pet his nose and rubbed my cheek
on his face, love at first sight! Blackie started following me and we walked toward
the fountain. Then the sun glanced off the dreaded thing and he shied. I pushed the
control, filled my hands with water and brought him some. Lordy, lordy he drank
from my hands! The herd behind him whinnied. I tried to get him nearer the fountain
but it was a no, go. He’d drink from my hands but not the fountain. It just goes to
show you, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink, is really
TRUE!
*The next morning Laura begged her own pony AGAIN to drink. He finally did the rest did too then ;)
Now I don’t know if I really learned about love
Or if I got to explore what it’s made of
Is it a warm feeling when you hold hands?
And kiss and laugh at each other’s stance
Are there the troubles that seem to last forever?
Because if it works out, you get to live together?
Get married and have babies while still in your teens
You have the rest of the world to explore your means
Is it pain, is it awful? Is it something you want to end?
You’d do it yourself but you don’t want to lose another friend?
Why does it eat at you inside, why it makes you hate yourself?
Why does it make you think there’s something wrong with you?
Why would it make you want to kill yourself?
Is it that sad, is it really that true?
Why do some people say it’s happy times and some say it’s just ****
Why do some people think it’s who they are, and some say it doesn't exist?
Tell me about betty, what was it about Betty?
You said she was smart and slick but really really pretty
You never got to know her but you said she was the perfect girl
Until you saw her with Army, it changed your view of the world
Doing something illegal I think (Wink wink)
But if you brought it up, she’d say you weren’t her shrink
Was that not love though you said it was alright?
You could let her ago until another night
When you saw her again with an older guy
Well why? She didn’t love him either so why try?
So it wasn’t right and you didn’t win, but what about your fling with Jocelyn?
She likes track and field and feels the burn
And when she got wet you saw through her shirt
But that wasn’t sure, ‘cause you didn’t like sports
So love was a no go until Cindy Snow
Wasn’t as fine, maybe a little portly
But sweet as heck and had a nice little Courtney
She was interested and you played with it
But then she said she was a Santanist
You may not have been the holy man
But you couldn’t have that hanging over your head
You wanted to find someone instead
Now when you found it’s over
Had to find one more with Lola
Was a family friend but still real cool
But it was like incest with bended rules
And that was not something to do
So that couldn’t work but it was okay
Because she said she didn’t feel that way anyway
Aman was his real name, friends called him ‘Zero’,
Helping others was second nature to this little hero,
He had calmness and peace of a Himalayan sage,
It was surprising to see in someone that age!
The arithmetic teacher liked him the most,
Despite his brilliance he would never boast,
He was top in the class, yet remained humble,
He helped anyone who did not find it simple.
He put others first and held himself back,
In sports, in lessons or during the break,
All sailed through school and college
tests,
It was Aman who always helped us do our best!
Years passed, we parted and moved away
Memories of school and that of Aman would stay
We rarely met,time took us through
life,
Children, money, house, holidays and wife.
What became of Aman was not known to any,
Someone rumoured he was poor without a penny,
Someone said he turned selfish and left the country,
To seek fortune and wealth beyond the boundary!
Soon the real truth was beginning to emerge,
‘Zero’ had remained true to his nature and urge,
He abandoned opportunities of great wealth,
And set up a charity on his own in stealth.
All the money he earned with his talent in maths,
He donated to poor children to pave their paths,
He lived in a tiny house of his own by the lake,
His money was only for food and his basic take!
The Charity he created he named after a saint,
No mention of his name,his identity was faint,
No one knew him or talked about his
endeavours,
His efforts created doctors, artists, and leaders!
The world prospered because of this hero,
Like the nicknamed number he remained a true Zero,
His value on his own he diminished to nothing,
But unseen he helped others up their career grading!
There are many who claim to be truly great,
Because of their wealth, power and state,
Their meaning of life is to nurture their ego,
Caring and sharing for them is a big ‘no go’!
In this world we need more like Our man ‘Zero’,!
Who lives his life for others as a true hero,
His legacy is not money, wealth and fame
His legacy is to help and remain without a name!
Sponsor Cecelia Hopkins Drewer
Occasional poetry contest
Merry Christmas
my love
It’s another day we sing God’s blessings
Distance may separate us but
God’s love is the same everyday
Distance memories occupy my mind
Distance thoughts of our first good Friday walk
Our first kiss on that lovely Sunday
All ringers in my mind as I write this
Naive you were if not drunk with love
Foolish I was if not a fool I was
To think I could win a woman like you
First without a job
Second without money
Third without an overflowing wallet
But God made His way felt in us
Not money nor my account won your heart
For despite my failures;
God won me your heart
Yes without a single shilling
Yes without any candle lite dinner
Yes without even a single date
God did the impossible for me possible
You left your rich boyfriends for me
You forgot about class and started low in the society
But slowly pride grew
You forgot where God took us from
Without applying for a job I got one
Without even any experience
You witnessed God raise me up the success ladder
But you became cold and started been distracted
Because you started believing am sleeping around
I didn’t need to for God watched over me
I didn’t have to for you were enough for me
But pride later on destroyed us both
Today am not single because you only cheated
And you defiled our bed
No;am serving for my sins that I committed while you were my wife
Sins i could easily avoid but I didn’t
Regretfully I have suffered family rejection
Regretfully I pity the life our son is living
Regretfully I fear that Christmas at your home
Is just a day of wishful thinking because
You are always scolded for making me your decision
One day God willing you and I shall be called to testify
What sin or error did we do that is not forgivable
What sin did our son commit to know rejection and depression
What error is this that you can’t ask for pardon
What Christians are we that we substitute even what can’t be changed
Divorce or separation of couples is a no go zone
This is just a pile of wishful thinking
But reality is in your heart and mine...
God protect you always
Chuimunga the poet
26th/12/2021
Grab your gun, check the amo. Lock it back. Take a look out on
the world and fade to black. Go berserk. Lie your
conscience in the dirt. Let the pain and the anger do some
team work. Put your tears up front. Grab your mess list and
do a man hunt. Mercy, no. Pity, no. Go real rude and blunt.
Violate anyone who said love but did not mean it. Annihilate
those who's respect was stated but you have not seen it. Inseminate trust
with rage, so fury can escape from it's cage. Incriminate
hope so that hate gain's control of the stage. Isolate your
wrath and let it marinate on some vengeance. Obliterate faith
and let envy commence. It's common sense, this has to
happen for your self defense. Need some evidence, the price
tag on your state of mind is at who's expense? Don't get tense,
I've been there, and wrote a book. To kill the suspense, I'll
let you take a look. It's a hymnbook, a road map on not getting
shook. Tell me, does life do a how to on how to avoid the fishhook. I'm
tripping, sorry, don't get scared. If I was serious, to say no, are you prepared?
You get one shot to mess me over, then it's done. I'm not
heartless, but I'm not stupid, after one there's none. Make use
of your opportunity, see me run. Come again you stand against
Chester Walker's grandson. Dare to touch a hair on a child
you can see my slug. I'm not a hustler, but for the seeds I
can be a thug. Claiming your a Christian, but really your a decoy.
Let me spark my Newport, then I'll smoke you like a vice
roy. If you pitstop in the path of the young, I'll pop you like I
do a merlot. If you fight for a cameo, I'll re-write the scenario.
You walkabout the future like our concern is in
doubt. Watch the turnout, like Chnese food we'll take
you out. I use the bible like it's an antibiotic. Think
I will let my kin fall, well, you are psychotic. bring
my people despair, give them unrest, show them ridicule.
I'll do you worse than Lara Croft on Princess Toadstool.
Coming against the children is two strikes, and my people is one.
I'm talking to satan, but if the shoe fit's, than our war has begun.
Form:
O! Frankenstein you were lost for a century
Nobody could tell wherever you have been,
But you are here now, a stranger to paradise,
Loneliness has become your friend
Your other name is Friday,
You have no soul, you love Cinderella;
Come, let us stroll to the earth my brother,
Should almighty look you twice
And discover, your heart is a transmitter
And cord of wire lurking inside the belly,
Have managed to peep out around your neck axle;
Come let us go,
I will make you the President of the world
Rule over every nation, every creed and tongue,
Entreat me, I will teach you all the puerile tricks
Tall wisdom and nubile swagger,
Of a new nuance of language.
I no go, I no go!
That globe I no go! I stay, I stay!
Famished out earth is full of fallacies
Terribly diabolical, cheerful envy,
And attractive jealousy like magnet
Infectious back biting, murderous barking
And tearing likes the hounds of hell,
Virus wickedness, witch hunting like wizard of oz
Feverish wagons of greediness uncountable;
I no go! I no go! I stay I no go!
Let me hibernate under the umbrella
Of the omnipotent shield dreaming dreams,
Of my blighted love by and by,
Where has she gone, Cinderella?
I looked afar off in the horizon
And beheld her like a mirage in a paradise,
Cupped right palm over the palm view transforming,
So that focus could discern, now
Striding same position in the stormy desert
In the showering sunlight,
Her figure moon-smooth as marble
Her hair flagging shamelessly in the breeze,
Her jutted hips dance to graceful steps
As she came, her robe turned to cloud
Turned into fading white goose, as she flew away,
Aloud her voice bust in mirth
Beckoning laughter teasing to quench my thirst,
O! I am man made
Forgot to put juice of crimson
To run in my vein,
To burn fire in my heart
My brain have muddle up and jumble up,
All happy wire tying it firm,
O! I murder Doctor, you do no good!
I have no appetite,
So God can have his dinner
But, I will die for her,
Because she is the dearest dream forever.
Thinking of the bay that daily gush
From our ray on this lengthy voyage.
This at first wasn't envisage to be created,
For our calculator has failed us in haste.
Yes in haste it has failed us.
Despite the mountains of conferences and aluta,
Which has taken ocean from our skin.
In smart cerebral, they lay us still in their cave.
Not that warning hasn't been placed on us.
Yet in anticipation for liberation, our drums made close.
Ominira inira, ominira inira.
Was the statement that could have stopped us,
In falling prey of their menace.
October first I hail you and celebrate your wisdom.
Through ages and generations we shall sing your praise.
How have you come to place this yoke on our neck?
You're curse in all the days of the year.
Oh you're bless in realisation of our foolishness.
Thank you for making us to know our doom.
Foetus wey come out with pupu no go be person.
Na blood dem go be for dem no wait for their period.
To hell with those that have made this call for us.
Not for our good, but for their belly in praise.
We sing their praise, yes we will daily sing.
That no sooner than their Masters left,
That their missions clearly known.
The essence of Reformation was laid to rest.
After the birth of oloibiri our glory slain.
Now like handicaps we depend on our neighbours.
Yes we're handicaps, yet in wealth our loan daily grows.
Greatly dear Divine
On you our hope and the generations to come do lay.
You own the heart of Kings and chiefs
And control same to your satisfaction.
We pray you to touch our hearts and our leaders.
For in this lane we're, our Jesus may come soon.
Make for us leaders that will obey you.
Not as those in 2015 that deceit is their clothes.
Hope we thought they'd give but blames they through.
We've done this, yes we've done it.
Aso ko ba omoye mo, omoye tirin roro woja.
We have done this, yes we know our wrong
Our hope is In for total liberation from this slavery
Before we become Samaria of this generation.
© olorunleke olorode.
The turf is wet.
Tinny rap splashes out, booming and the players are bouncing
Like boxers, ready for the air-balls
That they cleanly tap and set on the ground
With the surfaces of their cleats.
The rap is crashing.
The rain is dripping
From a sky done raining,
Just feeling sorry for itself.
Number 21 runs on the field
With a ball between her feet.
Meeting a teammate she fakes,
Jumps over the ball
Landing, sliding, beside it.
She does this twice,
Bent with elevation,
Her ponytail swinging.
Halftime.
21 has seen every white line on the field up close by now.
If not for the clean turf
Her jersey would be dirty and covered in mud.
Still fighting,
Number 5 scores.
We scream for her.
21 goes down again.
Up again.
She is half-crouched,
So close to her defender she is almost leaning on her as the ball flies
21 jumps incredibly, legs bent, and viciously snaps her head
Sending the ball at a different angle.
And 5 scores again.
21 goes for the goal in the next minute,
One of many runs.
"One rule: Don't hold",
I hear in my mind.
She bolts, bent to it,
Jumping over legs.
Lightning.
Sticky defense,
No go.
And again,
She takes it and runs,
Maradonna,
Spinning, tapping.
So close to a wrong-colored leg,
Split second evasion.
The shot flies down the middle.
Her toe rips a spray of black rubber
From the turf.
Too high.
In exasperation
She bends over,
Head by knees.
And straightens up,
Watching the keeper punt the prize.
She explodes out of the crowded center again,
Leaping but watching
For options.
The ball is sent,
Is slid back to her,
And nothing has taken any heart out of her.
End of the stride,
Slide,
Shot!
Deflected.
Volleyed hopefully.
In.
Top of the net.
I am sent in, full of excitement.
I start to congratulate the replaced player,
But she's singing,
Teasing me encouragingly.
"Yeah 28,
It's your birthday..."
21 is leaving the field also.
High-fives.
(Always high-fives...)
"Hey. Hey. Go score a goal,
Okay?"
Just that simple.
Time’s up
mind’s plucked
watch me cave in
rhymes suck
my luck
hair’s wearing thin
corrupt
destruct
stops me thinking
clocks stuck
bell struck
sound silencing
Now I told you the minds plucked
first line look
write the hook
tip top tin pot I’m all shook up
lips lock can’t talk words in a book
flip flop fell off feet feel the muck
this rhyme of mine now starts to cook
Grapes with stems and apples with pips in
baking tin's hot for mashing cakes in
microwaves hum the smells you’re craving
visual treat the way this laying
succulent senses smells utensils
music playing instrumentals
banana berries you see genitals
banana cock with very berry balls
admittedly imagery imaginary calamity
the title says forced not fabulously
perspective talent I have or haven't
clear to see or transparent
a fight night fight knight fights fight knights
fighting fighters fighting fights
right through the night 'til early light
it's quite a sight when fight knights fighting
fight knights fighting fighters fighting fights fight all night
forced but great
cook or bake
walnuts cakes
waste of space
pick out of place
left on plates
cake fills waist
rhyme overrates
I say it straight
this page you save
bookmark cook shart
favourites hook hearts
great hits honk large
grey bits bonk hard
you think I'm
bonkers
more like plonkers pond cars boats
random words I just float
flash dance
gash glance
entrance
splash pants
drains fast
seepage
expands
stains grand
up set
get set
marks
won’t go
on show
all know
ball bag blow
fool go home
rhyme it like you're mental
do it with pen not pencil
don't rub it out write it again
I know a penguin poet called Gwen
no go again mean this poem's a gem
Time’s up mind’s plucked watch me cave in
rhymes suck my luck hair’s wearing thin
corrupt destruct stops my thinking
and no I haven't been foster drinking