Long Paroled Poems
Long Paroled Poems. Below are the most popular long Paroled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paroled poems by poem length and keyword.
His past finally caught up with him...
The killer waited silently in the man's room.
His gun cocked as footsteps approached.
The key jiggled in the lock of the door.
The man stepped inside, unaware of his fate.
Three shots rang out, dropping him to the floor.
The shooter ran from the room towards the exit.
A car awaited on the corner of the street.
It slowly pulled up as he came out.
Nobody saw them as they drove away.
Back inside, the man lay in a pool of blood.
His life flashed before him in the final seconds.
Where did it all go wrong?
Six years ago...
The job was supposed to be simple.
Three men on the inside, two on lookout.
He was the sixth man, the getaway driver.
The jewelry store had been cased weeks before.
Every detail was planned in advance.
The target was the cache of diamonds in the safe.
The four Hasidic merchants were elderly and frail.
It seemed like easy pickings for the gang.
The driver waited nervously as they went in.
Moments later, several shots were fired.
There was the sound of shattering glass.
In what seemed like an eternity, one man exited.
He was covered in blood and staggering towards the street.
The two lookouts ran over to assist him.
One of them waved frantically to the man in the car.
The sound of the alarm sent the driver into a panic.
He saw police cars rapidly approaching in the distance,
then did a U-Turn and fled the scene.
He could see one of his partners in the rear view mirror.
He was standing in the middle of the street, gun raised.
Two shots were fired in his direction.
The lookout spun around to confront the cops.
The last thing the driver saw was his body being riddled.
The two survivors of the robbery had their day in court.
The judge sentenced them to fifteen years hard labor.
The driver headed out of state and went north.
After searching for days, he found a quiet town to live in.
He acquired a job as a janitor at the high school.
He spent most of the time in his small apartment.
Anonymity seemed to be his best protection.
Little did he know, his partners were paroled early.
Serving only five years due to good behavior.
They only had one thing on their minds...Revenge!
A year later, they got it.
When we learned our elderly, kind granddad had died,
All paternal cousins traveled, gathered and cried.
Later, the ‘reception drive’ offered varied rides;
In Rachel’s auto, they shared a liquor-filled flask
And in Rob’s ancient van, a joint or two was passed.
If any cousin did not seek a high that day,
Terry drove sober now that she was freely gay.
At the reception, we all loved, giggled and shared.
Funny, that the sober car was the last one there!
In time, we caught up using our familiar flair.
Rob, Rachel and Rita’s Father had been paroled.
Rob still refused to pay taxes or live controlled.
Rachel lost her job when her flask fell out and rolled.
Rita found Jesus after holding marigolds
And walking naked down a long suburban road.
Mark was racing fast cars, playing music in bars
And had built a planetarium to view stars.
His maternal grandmother supplied the dollars
So why not avoid wearing a working collar?
Terry shared the same dollars-aplenty, flow-jar.
She had just graduated college with honor,
Moved in with Sue (who then quit work as a mauler),
And now barely left their home built near water.
I shared my struggle to work a forty hour week,
Make sure my special needs child never feels defeat
And bear my third spouse, who keeps a petulant heat.
When a toast or a toke to Granddad was complete,
Mark grabbed his guitar and set a steady, good beat.
Each cuz, in turn, sang their made up line which was neat:
“We’re from the family tree of true dysfunction.
What others call stupid, we see as brave gumption.
We do not take kindly to outside instruction
Stalling our families’ chaotic production.
If we pass loud gas, we won’t care if others laugh.
Now, just like real life, our song has gone off track.”
Hung: I woke up this morning,brushed my teeth and thought about me and you
I thought about your last visit when you said "I only want you"
You touched my heart,opened my mind and gave me a reason to live
Then promised me that,when I was paroled,your belly would hold my kid
But like seasons change,so do people and now i'm so confused
i can accept you moving on but I need to hear it from you.
Cecily: Yes seasons change and people do too
But the only thing that's changed is my love for you
As time has progressed, it's only gotten deeper
You've shown me another part of life,you're my heart's keeper
You've given me back my self-esteem
Of you I love every little thing
Our souls are linked together,now and forever through
Who else would I want on this lonely earth,
Who else but you?
Hung: Yea, but,talk is cheap,it gives no peace,I need a guarantee
That says to me,that you and me,will forever and always be
I need a sign,to show my eyes,what both of us already know
How real is your love for me and how deep does it go?
Cecily:Baby I know the pain of passion and i'm willing to except it
But, with love comes doubt and that's only to be expected
Rest assured and peacefully sleep
Knowing that this love you'll always keep
Cause i'm your chick,I'll shout it to the world
You'll never see me ashamed to be your girl
I'll hold us down,protect your name
Lie to the feds,ain't got no shame
It's us against the world,they can't hold us down
Don't worry bout it love,I'll always be around
If they want me,gotta take me in blood
Boy my love is like a flood
Strong and hard to resist,incredible to see
Baby,that love is me
Hung:Damn,now that's what I call "MY SICK LOVE"
Form:
In the winter of 1873, Alfred Packer was hired to guide a prospectin' trek.
In the San Juans of Colorady they'd heard of gold that they wanted to check.
Alfred claimed that in Colorady minin' camps he'd driven wagons of ore.
He guaranteed he'd show 'em the valuable stuff that they were lookin' for!
They visited sage old Chief Ouray and he warned 'em to wait 'til spring,
To cross those rugged tors, but no, they wanted to press on and do their thing!
So foolish Albert and five of the group decided to trudge on through the snow!
Of the blindin' snow, lack of grub and perilous paths, little did they know!
A few months later Packer appeared at an Indian Agency lookin' fit and well!
He said he'd been left behind due to injuries, one of many tales he was to tell!
His story changed several times sayin' one man went berserk and killed the rest!
There was evidence that cannibalism was involved but old Albert never confessed!
Packer was jailed in Saguache but later made his escape to Wyoming state!
He was nabbed and returned to Salt Lake City for a trial and sentencin' date.
"They was seven Dimmycrats in the county", pronounced the judge from the bench,
"But yah man-eatin' sunuvab**ch, yah et five of 'em, fer that yer neck'll wrench!"
Later the sentence was reduced to manslaughter and he was given forty years,
To be served at the pen in Canon City, Colorady, but no one shed any tears!
He was paroled in 1901 and moved to Denver where he hung around.
Now his molderin' bones rest in peace 'neath a grassy burial mound!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 7 in Carolyn Devonshire's "Legend" Contest - April 2011
I lift and rise to being chased,
pops half-way, till full, beamed round-faced,
a fire host heightened its facade,
casting daylight shadows abroad.
Cool Earth plunged hot by its keeper,
heat courses like the Grim Reaper,
smiles at darkness to wait its turn,
up curve tidied, noon loses yearn.
Orange turns red, claws at purple,
white flagged as dusk makes a hurtle,
a gloaming rhythms the musing sphere,
like one tied to tracks, locked in fear.
Named twilight as some light appears,
though hour triggers those tryst affairs,
calm ruse warmth as limbs fuss about,
caught midnight streams like baited trout.
A night dips mid-Cherub's flirting,
their chariot horses fleeing,
while the golden sentinel rides,
as the solitaire lift comprised.
A new task surround, maneuvers,
seers illume become producers,
hail a whole new year of seasons,
first, until last, filled with reasons.
The lead round about the bodies,
as they spin on stage like follies,
glows revue as savory hams,
marooned its taste just like PB Jams.
Bittersweet, as they realigned,
lead pars best swept the rest, resigned,
equinox and solstice charted,
psyche chose, and rookies parted.
A decisive planet divides,
segregation always collides,
closets partitioned a household,
Edens knowledge, they were paroled.
As a classroom globe builds up dust,
while folks roam about, make a fuss,
intellect cleans a tarnished steel,
greens will entomb them 'ere they kneel.
"over the waters blue the night winds sigh, the breakers roar ... Samual Taylor Coleridge
There lived no better heart to know.
His love was like a light,
Coloring lives in visions of gold,
Softest visions, alive, so bold,
Beautiful rhythms who never grow old.
His name was Oscar, so beloved I am told,
He held secrets that would never be sold,
Offered kisses when the heart was cold,
Gentle whispers of light for love to hold,
He was surely a wonder to behold, a dog so loving…
Even the stars shined brighter when he consoled,
Hearts were better for knowing this canine paroled.
He was a light shining through the skies who rolled…
Beyond the wonderful that only Oscar the pup foretold.
His love stilled the darkness with a beauty untold.
There lived no better heart to know.
His love was like a light,
Coloring lives in visions of gold,
Softest visions, alive, so bold,
Beautiful rhythms who never grow old.
His name was Oscar, so beloved I am told,
He held secrets that would never be sold,
Offered kisses when the heart was cold,
Gentle whispers of light for love to hold,
He was surely a wonder to behold, a dog so loving…
If you never knew him, you missed a heart of gold.
He was the beloved of everyone he met.
This is one dog that I’m sure to never forget.
He was more than just a loving pet.
He was a heart who I loved and will never regret…
Knowing, because, in his eyes, the sun rose and set!
Cold.
It's the only word that seems to fit your mold
But my heart is as young as your heart is bold
I beg to fly, I beg to go-
This land is old.
The shimmering dust, your ice-capped lust
That keeps its hold.
I can't contain the sheets of ice beneath my eyes
I love the chill but never wanted your black ice-
Vice-
It seems the word, the main component of your heart
With just enough of love to tear my own apart,
I’m letting go, this daily dance is getting old
Just let me, once, escape the onset of this cold.
Here-
The warmth of summer comes offering gowns of gold
With shadows skitting quickly, struggling towards the cold
Warmth-
Your being crumbles as the light comes dancing o’er
The questions hanging, asking what I’m still here for-
Then you come near, frostbite my ear
And whate’er I’m told
I’ll follow you back to your dark lands of…
Cold.
The silver clouds, they whisper secrets untold.
My fingers frozen- melting? - in your hold
I feel the sleet, the silver snow
But I just want that gold.
(I close my eyes, which you despise,
My dreams unfold),
But dreams can’t live while frozen in your ice-caked arms
No, nothing warm can live when trapped in winter’s charms
It harms
The warm, dark depths of me I try hardest to conceal
But the glacier of your body crushes my ideal
My feet can’t run, my sentence begun
I’ve been paroled.
This land of black (or is it white?) my prison hold.
Cold.
Lord, Lord
Lord, Lord come to me
your love is all I need
You’ve restored my soul and paid the fee
now grace and mercy is my greed
Lord, Lord You’re always on time
to straighten it out and untie the binds
Freeing me from the grim and grind
making all of Yours all of mine
Lord, Lord have mercy on my soul
from the time I was born until I’m old
Now from sin I am paroled
because You are the one in control
Lord, Lord heal my sick
and from temptation I will switch
Near or far You and I will clique
all that is good that You have picked
Lord, Lord me give me peace
and my love for You will never decrease
Through Your love I will increase
uncertainty and doubt I now release
Lord, Lord never leave my side
to You I am open I will not hide
Hold accountable the tongues that lie
with the strength that only You provide
Lord, Lord Your peace is still
across the land and over the hills
this could only be done by Your will
the love cup of beauty that You fill
Lord, Lord I am yours
from all You do I am floored
I am awed and it is You I explore
check in with the Lord I implore
Lord, Lord I can hardly wait
for You to complete the number eight
Lock evil away behind the gate
so that there will be no more hate
Lord, Lord God’s only son
Sun up to sun down all the good He’s done
Hands are tightly gripped and no one is shunned
away from the King, The Powerful One
I love having—
hating the feeling of wanting.
Wanting cuts my guts as consequentially as diarrhea.
I steal casually,
like second breaths after waking,
or proper newborns latched onto Mama’s nipple.
It is inspired vice.
There’s a teaspoonful of buccaneering Barbarossa
sprinkled in my lines.
I commit careless crimes—
not much outside the magpie’s range.
I am the cupbearer at Mass now.
All men are wanting persistently.
Other men’s carelessness is providential,
inviting nosy rats to the quiet catwalk.
I collect on neglect,
underprized nuggets
that poke at my wonder,
scratching curiosities.
I stole wives off petty husbands,
decaying cars banked by roadways,
the overhanging fruit of fat landlords,
words from Webster’s to ennoble intellect,
thoughts from tinkers;
Christ’s reflection—but the mirror stole it back.
Psych docs lower me on leather beds,
wanting to safe-crack my mystery.
I tell them Barbarossa blood ties tarnish, birth bandits.
Shrinkers countdown—
ten, nine, eight...
I am paroled to a fantasy field of rare, clean earth, of no lack.
There is my First mother.
She is a beauty queen.
Me, unseen.
She is careless,
drawn by luster.
I yell, spoiled apples!
Me, unheard.
She tastes.
She calls my First father to probe the coveted yield.
I am bidden too.
I eat.
Theirs is mine.
A primordial gift is constant craving.
For god so loved the world that he gave his one
and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not
perish but have eternal life. John 3:16 NIV
…the great street of the city was of pure gold,
like transparent glass. Revelation 21:21 NIV
DON’T SETTLE FOR FOOL’S GOLD
You wear that blindfold like
it’s fool’s gold. In merriment,
of excessive drink, the age-old
predicament, a curse retold -
‘tis cold within your heart,
unpatrolled by Holy Spirit.
Lift up the golden leaf, unscrolled.
Pages, let words mold to your lips.
Be bold in exaltation lift.
Fold your hands as you hit your knees;
thus God will hand you manifold
blessings. Close that centerfold - its
wage is sevenfold-sin:
the stronghold of pride,
lust, greed, envy, sloth…ice cold
gluttony and wrath. Take hold
the undersold Word, uphold light.
Does God withhold anything good?
To be controlled with patient right,
no need for scold nor scalding fire.
Better to be enrolled - the wise
fight to be paroled…nay…redeemed,
foothold on solid ground with sound
mind. Wait ‘til you behold Christ’s face,
caroled with the saints. I told you
so…heaven’s streets are solid gold.
Take hold of an inheritance
out of slavery…you are sold.
Don’t stay white-washed, stone-cold sinners.
Remold your life - believe the cross.
Behold the resurrected Christ!
5/12/2022