Long Patted Poems
Long Patted Poems. Below are the most popular long Patted by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Patted poems by poem length and keyword.
And this picture on the wall of my heart told a story of men giving birth among themselves in the north promiscuously...
Sipping memories from the lungs of the girl child.
They were not ashamed of the little ones watching their nakedness which howled at them mannerlessly.
We bathed the oceans again and again,
We made the sand shone like the moon,
We washed the sky daily to see clearly of what the earth has in stock for us.
We painted the earth and added more colours to the chirping rainbow.
Life became wet in our palms because we saw images and figurines of women whose shinning womb were made abnormal by men of yesterday.
And mother told of an innocent girl that killed her father, mother and brothers,
She was patted by the king for doing so,
As she told this ear breaking tale,
we saw the rain emerged from the ground instead of the lonely idle cloud that watched us through different mirrors.
They said we'll live forever on paradise,
They said there is heaven and hell,
They said evil people will be punished on the last day,
They said we will burn for thousand years,
But how could a father punish his children with fire and brimstone?
How could spirit burn in a fire?
How could we tell lie to ourselves and expect the sun not against us?
We have seen cock making love to a duck and, dog to a cat, and grandma told us it was normal.
And Father told of the miseries of the black spirit in our village streams,
How pouring of libation on the family shrine brings good wife and good harvest,
how rubbing oil and wearing palmfrond on your lips wad away demons.
he said there is a third heaven above us,
He told us why the He goat smells,
He said white ghosts do fly day time; he has seen the flashes of one of them at Benin.
After Christopher, I creed,
After Achebe I loved again
After Seghor
After Wole and Niyi' folklores,
After Habila Helon,
After Chimamanda's truths,
We'll retrace this fables with a knitted thought towards strings of our voices.
How does the patient dog eat the fattest bone now?
Does the silent cock still live for a lifetime?
Mother lied to us
Father lied to us
Grandma lied to us
Grandpa lied also
A mirage formed
Teachers lied to us
An illusion created
We are not who we are through those illusion told to us through their lips.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent.
Dad lying on the bed; when he saw me, his eyes glinted.
He tried to rise and sit; I extended help and lifted.
He patted on my hand convincingly with affection
Gestured me to sit beside him and showed the direction.
On my way out, half turned and impulsively looked at him.
And I observed his frail hand waving at me through the scrim.
Our eyes met together at once and it was the last sight.
I could never predict that it would be a bitter night.
***
I was helpless; an irrecoverable loss; despair and dungeon filled.
My deep attachment with him made me restless.
I was listening to the slokas of the Gita.
It was from the temple gramophone
One particular sloka echoed in my mind.
It tells that the body is perishable;
The soul can never be destroyed by the elements of the earth.
So it is mere ignorance to lament for which is not eternal.
Yes, death is inevitable.
Regained my spirits and started looking for the better ways
For paying my tribute to him.
My father was the Hero of our family.
During the toughest times, he was the one who showed his exuberance.
Eternal love showered on us that could never be paid off
He was stern and responsible at crucial and decisive times.
He was the man who surrendered his bliss
and tried to trace it out in our fulfilments.
He was always a dependable iconic figure in the team of his co- officials.
I realized that grieving and lamenting won’t make his soul happy.
His ideals are to be observed.
We have to carry them to the generations next to go.
Nothing else can be found better for paying my tributes
The ideal legacy is to be carried out, isn’t it?
Death of a loved one Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Date: 05-04-2023
Brutus was always bad
But what can you expect from a liasion
When Molly the mare, met the Jackass
Brutus's dad?
Well here is the story about Brutus
Its a Mule, son of Molly and Rufus
Molly was a comely mare you see
Rufus looked like a Jackass in every degree
They didn't share any love or hate
But what brought them together was a twist of fate
My uncle wanted a worker you see
Something relentless, strong and mighty
To climb the valley, hills and the glen
In this capacity ,the mule was man's best friend
So a date was set for Rufus and Molly to meet
Out of the prying eyes of children to accomplish the feat
After Brutus trysts and dirty deed
Molly grew fat from Brutus's seed
Nine months later at the break of dawn
We had Brutus, Molly's craggy spawn
Now just after about a year had gone
Brutus grew sturdy and also strong
He looked more like a horse you see
An equine specimen we'll all agree
It was time for Brutus's schooling
In simple stages was the plan
Uncle Poppy, to be the leading Hand
The plan was hatched and the scene was staged
To gradually induce Brutus to his trade
We decided when Brutus was watered and fed
Uncle Poppy would mount his back and straddle his leg
Brutus didn't flinch nor did he complain
Haughtily Uncle Poppy patted Brutus's mane
Time after time he would sit on his back
Brutus stood still, but never moved a jot.
But composed and agreeable was our take
Then further progress we ought to make.
Pt 1
Dragon polished his nails and admired himself in the mirror once again; a daily ritual getting so old. The one lousy hair on his chin, protruding from a small wart which he called a, “birthmark”; warranted a razor, shaving foam and aftershave or so he insisted.
He blew himself a kiss and turned with a smile; “Do you think my fangs need more whitening?” He asked. “Dr. Raine said the last time that he “Couldn’t get them any whiter, remember?” I responded.
“Humph!” he snorted; “I can’t go around looking like some shoddy, back alley lizard now, can I? Now that I’m a professional flutist, I have a reputation to protect.” With that he patted my cheek and said, “Ciao baby, don’t wait up for me.”
I watched him grab his instrument and walk out the door. “Don’t get that big head get stuck”, I muttered softly. Why couldn’t I have adopted a normal dragon? No, I had to have the cutest one; how could I not have foreseen that ego?
When he said he wanted a flute, I bought him one; he hated it. “That’s a beginner flute,” he remarked. I want a, Master Class instrument!”
I gave in all too easily and a hundred payments later, he was playing Vivaldi, like a pro. Ok, so maybe that was a good investment.
Every contest he’d entered garnered him another golden trophy; but, did he really need a tuxedo to wear when he received those baubles? My credit cards gained weight at lightning speed, as he grew. I passed his room; stuck my tongue out at that, trophy wall and noticed his vanity. Did he really need one hundred and twelve different bottles of cologne?
At two am, he awoke me with an anxious cry. I heard, “Mumsey dear, wake up…the concert was superb and the governor was so impressed, (of course, he would be…) with my playing; he’s invited me, me to play for his inaugural dinner! Can I have your credit card? I need to get a French manicure and have my scales waxed. Oh, and I’m going to need a new Tux.”
“You have twenty three tuxedos in your closet; why can’t you wear one of those?” I asked him.
“Mumsey”, he replied, “I have a reputation to maintain.” He tweaked my cheek; smiled at himself in the mirror and under my breath I muttered back, “I can hardly wait until his, ever-growing ego, gets him stuck in the doorway.”
An enormous pole
made of chrome
A table set
Steve, knew he was home
With a tiny leather thong,
he swung around,
in a world he did belong,
with the rythm of the sound
Around he twirled,
faster and faster
The lights swirled
He was the master!
Stripclub Steve,
a legend of his own making
A master of the pole
There was no faking,
no by your leave
To win!
His only goal!
Word spread...
Far and wide
Stripclub Steve
To see him glide!
Such dazzling skill!
You would not believe!
Now, there were championships to be won
Stripclub Steve...
A man on a mission
A man with a loaded gun!
How he twirled
How he swirled
The chrome gleamed
The contest won?
Or so it seemed
But along came Desperate Annie
A girl with a most beautiful fanny
With her feminine charm,
it filled steve with alarm!
He tightened up his leather thong
Carefully patted it all in place
For this was the serious race!
For this Geordie lad...
The prize was to be had
So with an almighty effort of will,
he grasped the chrome
The crowd was still
With a nod to the judges,
the music commenced
Stripclub Steve was home,
the trophy in the bag
he sensed...
With a twirl here
and a twirl there
The crowd gave an almighty cheer
Stripclub Steve...
Was on air!
That chrome pole,
touched his very soul
It was in the bag
He did his best
Now it was up to the judges,
if he had passed the test
Two hundred hopefuls in town...
One hundred and ninety nine girls
Steve, the only man...
The talent to unfurl...
Could he take away the crown?
Now, Stripclub Steve is a Geordie lad...
There's prizes to be had
He waited with bated breath
Had he done enough to pass the test?
A unanimous decision!
Skill on the chrome!
Our boy Steve,
brought it home!
So there it was...
A legend in his own lifetime!
The trophy raised above his head!
With the crowd roaring,
he ripped off his leather thong
and sent it soaring!
Upwards it flew...
Like a leather bat
Down it came
and hit Desperate Annie,
right in the ****!
So let this be a lesson to all you blokes...
Stripclub Steve,
our man of the chrome
Brought it home!
So spare the jokes,
read this and believe!
Daddy left Mommy, when I was two
She really didn't know what to do
Four little children under the age of six
Was a situation, she just could not fix
Christmas was coming, she didn't have a dime
The bills were piling up at the same time
She tried to focus on her belief,
Lost the battle and applied for relief
A county program, for the very poor
Barely kept the collectors from our door
So sad she was, by her lack of funds,
She couldn't buy presents, for her little ones
With grandma watching us, she left to go out
She never came home, we were forgot about
I was too young to remember Christmas that year,
It was years, before the whole story, I'd hear
Grandma tried hard to make it right,
She took care of us until Mom returned, one night
Branded in my memory, the day of her return
After nine long months, I would later learn
Mom never mentioned the time she was away
She loved us to the fullest every single day
Twenty-four years quickly flew by
When I think of the day it happened, I cry
God took my mother on the ninth of December
Unexpected, a loss I'll always remember
Going through her belongings, we came across.
A small newspaper article, that intensified the loss
How we found it I will never know
This plea, with a picture, from so long ago
As I read the article, blurred by my tears
I was transported back, through the years
To a little girl on grandma's knee
Looking at a shabby, Christmas Tree
Crying for her mommy, who wasn't there
While grandma patted her silky hair
Grief, it hit me, no time to hesitate
When I saw the significance of the date
December ninth, the paper, said it all
Memory upon memory, I would recall
Two events, so many years apart
Yet, I could feel the child with a broken heart
Holiday Spirit, sad to say, I had none
Decorating that year without the usual fun
Mommies little tree, on a table it sat
Her homemade ornaments, and a tree mat
Going through the motions, I have to admit
All I wanted to do, was quit
Events don't shape us, they make us learn
Even grief, has its turn
Memories of a Christmas, thirty years past
Impressions, they fade, but still last
By Karla Null~Godsgift~
Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever Contest
Sponsored by Constance LaFrance~A Rambling Poet~
One of my Trolls got a toothache, and I suddenly began to realize, so wise…
No one had had a checkup, since they had come to be with us, poor guys!
Now this proposed a question…Where to go, to a Doctor, Dentist, or a Vet?
Yes, for Dragon, definitely a vet! But who’d be crazy enough, to be so beset?
For the Trolls, that didn’t seem quite right, so we continued to look, farther yet.
But even Grandpa Troll, who is so old and wise, didn’t know, whom we should get.
We looked on the worldwide web, where a Doctor said; we could come, right away!
His name was Dr. Frankenstein, ‘Sorry, we can’t make it, exactly, now, ah… today!’
Transylvania is too far to go, we said, as we slowly, and quietly slipped, off line!
We finally went to our neighbor witch, yes, again! Just to see, whom she’d assign.
She said it’d have to be from the magic folk, we were going about this, all wrong.
She found an earth mother witch, dealing in fairy folk and such, where we belong.
Yes, she was a well-known Doctor, but also a powerful practicing witch.
Apparently, she had found her niche, and we had found our Doctor witch!
So we called her up right away, and she promised to see us all, at once.
I said they were my dependants, you see, but money was not, in abundance.
She just waved her hand gently, and my insurance suddenly had, a paying clause.
She used bunnies to keep the Trolls, happy and rather mesmerized, for the cause.
And Dragon got a rolling chair, to keep him busy sliding, across the floor, zoom!
With each check up, came the same routine, as they came into the exam room.
As they looked around, she froze them with her wand, no muss, no fuss, for sure!
None of them remembered a single thing, as she had such, a gentle Touch, I assure!
The tooth was fixed with the snap of her fingers, this was truly amazing stuff…
She said we were doing great, for a brood like this, can be full of, painful mischief.
In fact, I was the first, human she’d known, who could deal with a young Dragon.
And still be alive to tell… I told her it was technology, a fire retardant suit, and fun.
That made her laugh hysterically, as she then smiled, and she patted me on the back.
It made me begin to wonder… Is there some thing I don’t know about… yet?
There was a baby boy named timmy
Who didn't come from much
But he had all he needed in his playpen
He had blankets bikes toys and such
But timmy missed the park and time with mom so much
He had not been since daddy left
For reasons timmy didn't know
But war had found the country and mom often wept
It always sounded like thunder
with lightning in the sky
If this is what kept daddy away
All he could do is ask why
Timmy didn't understand war had found his country
And the dark days where death blocked the sun
If he had he would of tried to make a plan
But timmy was still to young to use a gun
Now timmy was not completely lost
his mind like a sponge
He soon started to figure things out
from watching the TV if it was on
He learned the war had soldiers
boats and planes too
Maybe he could talk to the fighters
And maybe he could convince them he needed his dad to
So as timmy drank his bottle down
He came up with a strategy
He would be like a shadow in this town
Something they can understand no matter how radically
They thought
What would he use to be superior not a boat or plane
Cars are to basic guns aren't scary enough
As mother patted his back into dream he sank
Timmy decided right then he would use a tank
Timmy used his tank at every base in the nation
Nothing but white flags his plan was flawless
But just one thing was off he started to loose patience
he couldn't find his daddy or where they might have placed him
Then timmy heard bombs in his dream but open his eyes to learn it was knocking on the door instead
It turns out his planned had worked his dad was coming home
At least thats what those man had said
With their faces as resolve as stone
Timmy was happy when he heard mam he coming home
Here are his things so you will have then here and choose what he want once he here
The he saw his mommas eyes full of tears and little did he know
When moma held him close and his daddys things were near
He couldn't wait to tell his dad bout his tank and his adventures
I bet he will be so proud and know that we have missed him
We laugh and play and take family pictures
But for now I just sit and wait with this flag the army sent him
Rear view mirror
Objects, objectively put, are closer
than they appear. But it doesn’t say it all.
With the fair signs that spewed forth once turning to
a slew of pre-twitter pseudo- tweets since.
I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
In rhyme scheme: aab, bb, ccc .
(“ At the wheel
At night. Uneasy feel.
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.
Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist,
Comforting coolness and sultry night coexist .
Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)
A row of earthy images it failed
rather than showed ,images with eerie
librations and weary nutations .Which
was not Physics, but physiognomy of life.
Like when bashed by kiddy badasses and
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but math a behemoth
all the same, and guided perfunctorily
often, and rarely with the right intent.
In the peccadilloes- round, the Tintern
Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans
creativity , but the three trees on
the low sky made sense , and then on to
T.ds. equations and tedious times
soured by sleep and steep sloth.
Ingenious in fair measure , now turning
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after,
in the space of a couple of cusps of
light and sound mom was no more and we
whimpered and simpered under a dad who cared
but did not seem to, in his straight-faced mode
Then came falsely flashing , faintly fuming ,
slapdash years of machines and mega hertz,
eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.
Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);
preferring palm-frond’s loftiness cum
deprivation to urban up-for-grabs
benefaction; and the mess of docs, deaths
and a mossy crock of living pain since.
And all the dicey way , never patted
but p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed;
banked on , debunked ; short-changed, sort-of-changed ;
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering
and if anything wondering if it’s
not all the mirror’s prim fault
which never once showed my face.
I grew up with Phillip Jones who was our doctor’s son.
We built huts amongst the ti-tree and fired the odd slug gun.
We went through school together and we hung out up the street;
played footy and played cricket, and there’s girls we used to meet.
But that was many years ago when we were in our teens,
when life was free and easy and we were full of beans.
Circumstances ripped our time apart as circumstances can …
I took on the factory life and Phillip followed his old man.
Doctor Jones our family doctor continued in his trade;
he kept our little town alive with choices that he made.
Babes were born and people died, and there were heart attacks.
He tended those who don’t feel pain and hypochondriacs.
But now our doctor is retiring for he’s turning sixty-five,
sending shock waves through the sick on how they will survive,
But Doctor Jones destroyed the rumours that affected everyone,
by reassuring all his patients, their new doctor is his son.
So Phillip Jones is coming home, my good old school day mate,
and he’s going to be our doctor which really should be great.
I’ll make sure we catch up and of course that’s what we did,
to talk about the good old days when we were just a kid.
I tell you I’m excited when invited to Doctor Jones’ place,
he’d put on a dinner party asking me to show me face.
Doctor Jones has put his feet up now since Phillip stole the show,
and is treating all the patients that his father got to know.
But Phillip’s changed an awful lot; he’s inherited a plum.
All he spoke about is college and he made me feel like scum.
He’s turned into a ‘know all’; a pompous haughty cad,
and he even claimed with disregard; he’s smarter than his Dad.
Doctor Jones took on the challenge “Why do you say that Son?”
And Phillip said “My father dear, for example here is one.
Mrs. Wenn the wealthy spinster took heed of my suggestion,
and after all her troubled years, I have rid her indigestion.”
Doctor Jones picked up his napkin and patted both his lips,
“Son, I’m very proud of you but you’re still needing tips.
Sometimes I think it doesn’t pay to overload with knowledge …
indigestion suffered in this case - is what put you through college.”