Long Panned Poems
Long Panned Poems. Below are the most popular long Panned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Panned poems by poem length and keyword.
The two Cowboys stood at the cliff of a great divide.
Jacob stood, starring across the opening with Bill still
in his saddle, close by his side. The rocky scene was like
A kaleidoscope, every color, ever known.
Is there any other place you would rather be Bill?
Bill said, No Jacob, I don't believe so.
Jacob slowly, climbed back on to his horse and pulled the
reins and headed North. He started whistling a happy note
and Bill listened as he followed Jacob to the valley
slope.
Deadwood City here we come, looking for gold and lots of fun,
Jacob shouted! Yep, Bill shouted back, and we need to keep us
a fully loaded gun. The Cowboys laughed out loud as they rode on.
The Cowboys knew Deadwood could make a man so very rich
and they had contracted the gold fever itch. The day's travel was
so very long and hot, and the sun began to sink below the mountain's
amber, rugged tops.
They found a place to camp before nightfall and how that fire crackled
as they ate beans and corn fritters, and over coffee talked.
You know Bill, said Jacob. One Summer could set us straight and you
could pay off the old farm and fix that crooked gate.
Yeah, Bill responded and then you could marry Jenny. Maybe start
a family and maybe even buy the Ole Mill. Yeah, said Jacob, so surreal.
The Cowboys lay starring at the stars in the sky that clear, crisp night
and dreamed of all the things that gold could buy them, until daylight.
The Cowboys made Deadwood and Oh, the sights they seen.
They panned every river and every stream. Then at summer's end
they cashed it all in and headed back to Tennessee, to live out their lives
and share with their family the story of their Deadwood dreams.
In the forties and fifties wearing a mask was a kind of funny joke.
These movie stars are wearing them over their nose like a yoke.
They can get as close as they want, as long as they don’t get too frisky.
Anything blatant on the grayscale screen back then was deemed risky.
An innocent time, they have no idea about a pandemic in future.
Wearing these surgical masks, pretending they will dice, slice or suture.
Back in the day when we young girls thought doctors were all men.
And she is his faithful, fawning nurse. What a tailored suit she is in!
A simpler time, the forties and fifties. When there was a moral code.
We could all watch TV until nine o’clock, ratings not invented or gold.
The lovers on the screen went to their twin beds every healthy night.
And camera panned to ocean waves when they turned off the light.
There were some blue patches down below, swimming pools,
of course, I should have guessed, where the white man rules;
so dropping into nirvana - someone threw me a banana,
from the South Afirican jungle, that was Jo'burg not Ghana.
They wanted my expertise - how many times disputed,
invasion, theft, but maybe was before bias was rooted;
I know, things have changed but maybe for the worse,
and it might have been better if left with a wet nurse.
Progressed, armed with so-called understanding, landing,
in other 'plastic' places, all races but still misunderstanding;
I settled for usual where the backpackers panned and stand,
or rather bend under their load with invisible grains of sand.
A word of advice - deviate your position from men and mice,
take stock - about your plans because Blackpool may be nice.
Thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool
upon a midnight clear
full moonlight sonata
flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from
whereabouts unknown
wove disenchanting spell
atop me shaded noggin more'n
fifty ruffle lake suns
Dorian Gray pictured here
to fore, awakened
from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper
fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent,
mutilated spindled
various horrid aspects of
myself nine inch
rusty nails impaired
which, aghast at such
creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged,
limned paragon did wear
a grotesque disfigured Joeseph Conrad
lost within heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this
soaked silhouette half bare
from waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing
self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once
bronzed handsome physique
now grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made
for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be
temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth
with **** face on that card!
Glitterin' gold wuz struck along Alder's Gulch in eighteen sixty-three!
Potential prospectors came frum as fer away as Knoxville, Tenn-o-see!
Hordes uv soiled doves and gamblers migrated to the Gulch as well,
Along with platoons uv ruffians and barkeeps, their potent booze to sell!
Fellers labored hard all week pickin' and a-shovelin' at their claim.
But Sundays wuz set aside to raise 'oly 'ell, much uv it to their shame!
Baptist preachers thumped their Bibles tryin' to preach above the din.
There warn't no churches so they preached in saloons aginst the wages uv sin!
Hurdy-gurdy gals roamed about 'neath the steely-eyed gaze uv their 'madam'.
Guns and bowie knives wuz rife and wuz brandished by the dudes that had 'em!
Brawls erupted resultin' in blackened eyes and numerous bloodied noses,
Leavin' heaps uv rowdies sprawled on sawdust floors in grotesque poses!
Pie-aner players added to the din beltin' out their bawdy songs!
Preachers gave up and said to 'ell with it and joined the festive throngs!
Poker games wuz proceedin' in ever' saloon, usually endin' in a ruckus,
Since there seemed to be an excess uv aces held by some cheatin' cuss!
Fallin' down drunks wuz nuisances that bouncers simply booted out the door,
But they somehow meandered to another pub to imbibe a little more!
On Sundays they had their spree - on Mondays though sick and broke,
They panned fer 'dust fer another Sabbath frolic - the aim uv ever' bloke!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Best kitchen utensil, invented by man -
By far favourite, fantastic frying pan!
Be it onion, French toast or eggs and bacon,
My fancy taste buds, drooling unmistaken.
With a light and magic touch of oil drizzle
Lamb loin is seared to savoury sizzle.
Veggies' blend roasted on a pan, to die for,
Never boil them in water, plain wilted bore!
Ah, pancakes, my goodness, grandma's homey treat,
Made with love and care - will knock you off your feet.
And last, not least, ultimate joy of French fries,
With extra depth - all times blessing in disguise!
I know with healthy eating habits I'm screwed,
In regards to fried carcinogenic food.
I should have dumped my pan pal long time ago,
But in denial, I just can't let go.
Way too late to contemplate of what I should,
It’s panned into my identity for good!
February 22, 2023
From a loud-mouth, world’s cease-fire arranger
To desperate man as if in manger,
Who when naught was rendered,
Panned, having surrendered,
And what is worse than that,
For a rival to bat,
Dubbed as salesman and Putin’s messenger!
_____________________________
Happenings | 37.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: Meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska. Boasts galore and no more boats to reach the coast across! Putin conceded little, trump ceded his boasts, reduced from being a realtor president to a salesman and messenger to relay Russian terms to EU and Ukraine. But the deal maker that he is, Trump might still get Russian oil to flow in the world easing prices, access rare earths from Ukraine, and his coveted Nobel peace prize.
I open my eyes, no time to react
The bottle glass flies, my father's face cracked
Sirens at the window,my father's goin' to jail
It's not the end though, my lonely face so pale
Just six years old, ripped from my home
But it had to unfold, drugged cuz of my syndrome
I start a new life, I go to a new school
My mind is full of strife, but I'm a fool
Thinkin' they'll come for me, depressed and suicidal
Nobody to save me, and a monster is my idol
At six years I'm in a psycho ward, all around me white walls
So drugged a thought I can't afford, it's life set on pause
And when I finally get out, I can't shed any tears
My mind is clouded with doubt, just a six year old's fears
They don't love me anymore, I'll never see them again
And my existence I abhor, my heart a prison of pain
Too young to understand, but old enough to be scarred
This life I've panned, It's just way too hard
And when I see them, echoes of how they beat me
Chance of hating them is slim, I wonder how they see me
A child abandoned in foster care, and nobody told me it'd be okay
So all I do is sit and stare, I'm plotting to runaway
Having fallen asleep I open my eyes, no time to react
I hear my grandmother's cries, her love is a fact
My heart is still broken, but my resolve is shaken
When tender words spoken, I see hope awaken
Within pockets of morning coats a treasure trove is found
useful bit of verse like panned for pebbles of gold abound
For months it seems they've not seen the light of fluff unwound
but on this day, the laundry fey have blithely come to town.
The pockets turned all inside out the scraps of poetry hound
for clean white sheets of pristine paper where they can be put down.
One garbled thought fought in scrawl "Would you ask me to change for you?"
"Like a inconstant moon that quarters, is that what I should do?"
"Should I change for you like the seasons, let all my being go?"
"Give the fall of my life no meaning hide from the Winter's snow?"
I'll not change dear for I've fought and found all of me's aglow.
Winds of change
are fanning the flames
are fanned by the deranged.
The flames of misdirection,
the winds giving chase
(orchestrated by instruments to enrage.
Horned cheering section.)
Drones of the BlackRock, riders in holdings
park their game pieces in place,
holding and withholding payment Ace.
Get out of jail free blowhards,
influencerned by the currency,
jeering and cheering till blue in the face,
screaming Climate
Emergent Divergent Hunger Games Emergency.
Media trumpet producing endearings,
(lipstick on a Pig) for their Rat King,
(as on a White Horse)
as we grow too Sheepish to speak out, too pale
and timid to spell out their obvious course,
to vomit our rejection as diseased
as we are enslaved
under cells and convections and
tales intertwined, sanctioned throughout,
Stormgate's, leak, its Codex toothed, overreaching security breach.
Never again will we be as we were,
neVer to take flight,
or steer our own course again in our own
atmosphere.
The Mandate is clear, the Score
is reported by message board monitors
of the process, onboard,
onboarding for the Beast System processors,
riding People, herding, coral carolling
to Lucifer, sacrificial Sheeple in a transitional
Rat Race, vermen looking through peepholes.
The Piper's progress is polaroided in twain,
kodachrome rolls back the esteem, smiles of the insane, back of the head, peace sign.
Shut wide eyes rolling white for dead retina scan mouth foamed enrapture
Signature erasure brain panned for fools gold,
sold out, captured souls,(devout).
Recorders in tow, changing how the wikiwind blows,
how counts voted by Moderator,
gestapo teams, Bon Appetit, Virtual Travel, Vogue, Akinator, Mad Magazine.
(Needle in the Aperture bobbin tattoo
BuckarooBonzai glass saddles and shoes.)
Laser id suture chip sewn in diodes
of TripleBeam Barley, Wheat, Triplesec, meat...
Meta threads to breadcrumb gumshoe private dick heads, treads of
sleuth your every thought and intent, move.
Passenger monitoring, the acceptable temperature, moderate beautiful soup lukewarm chum
to taste an ode to the pasts vernacular
naked lunch humble pie shoots
in the face gruel,
heckler
of riding the storm out without Jesus, fools-Spectacular.