Long Pawned Poems
Long Pawned Poems. Below are the most popular long Pawned by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pawned poems by poem length and keyword.
In brokered spaces hangs a clammy chill
That gawkers with heightened senses distill
With stealth, guile, avarice and pawned skill
Around unsuspecting celebs their viruses congeal
Intimate and carefree moments quarantined in a still
Tendered seconds stolen by each, maverick shill
Plundered with a ravenous, rapacious thrill
Each grainy visage paying the stalker's, truant bill
Malleable fodder placed in the public's, greedy til
Enhanced images on glossy folios to spill
Their frothing rumor mill with innuendo to swill
The public's license with more greed to instill
Anesthetizing emotive strains with wanton zeal
Ooh...this... just an amazing grace note
recalling how I felt like an ass
and wanna toot 'bout me getting steered
(as a heavy metal kid Rocker)
toward befriending a brass
see gutsy, horny,
and MainLine snooty upper class
action button down
(grace fully slick as vaseline), airily glinting
forcibly hawked, laundered, and pawned
by the instrumental
Mister Deangelo O'Donnell, High School
(mud flapping, ornery hearing,
and quid juicing Ska Welch ching)
music teacher oompah crass
tone deaf when aye trumpeted desire
to master the Coronet
analogous to pursing lips
blowing tightly held grass
blade between two abetted,
cinched fastened opposable thumbs,
which tooting a supposed aural aphrodisiac
to attract a zaftig well proportioned lass
(ideally shaped like a miniature Tuba)
with one steel funnel like mouthy mass
that probably explains, how such a gal
could easily emulate
facial pucker earning pass
to illustrious honorable first chair
and blasts gratitude akin
as Gabriel would declare
heavenly expressions conducting
angels thru atmospheric ether
alighting on mortal ushering melody
with rites of harkening
springtime Renaissance Faire
solar rays golden raiment
splays rainbow fragments off
beveled, bellowed, and
bedecked polished flare
audiological sound waves trick
saw toothed reflected
silhouetted orchestral shadows
to dance as conductor's baton gear
musicians horns ensemble
epochal feast to hear.
Someone playing a concrete violin
with a jackhammer
on a midnight sidewalk,
street lights gawk,
flickering fascination,
tuning keys locked,
rosin swipes declined
chalks marks hold hop scotch trinkets
tossed into the numbered squares,
pawned now for a glass of chardonnay
and a plate of cheese
Paneled walls ache
of yesterday’s smoke rings,
scentless air fresheners,
hanging Christmas trees
presumed innocent,
only here for the music
and rear view mirrors
cherry lipstick traces on a folded napkin
crimson half circles
prints on either side
someone will be kissed tonight
I’ll take it with me
I love the flavor
An old wives tale of modern day
Say's do not eat before you swim
So why are cookies compulsory in order
to surf the web ?
A plethora of unwarranted advertising
from funeral cover to bedroom toys
And what i never even clicked
on today redirected me to a virtual
travel agent
And with time on my hands i thought
i'd play along
So where is your dream destination ?
And what is your preferred mode of transportation ?
If you could go anywhere at all where
exactly would you like to holiday?
Where ive always dreamed of going
I'm not sure can be reached by
Plane , Train , Automobile or Ship
As it doesn't reside on any map , ocean ,
continent or desert island
It has yet to be discovered but i have
already been there
Where i'd love and give anything to go ?
Is simply back in time to my past
But alas i fear you are in the business
of time share not time travel
And sadly i have run out of the
will or desire to create new memories
all i want to do is to relive my old one's
Back to a time when i knew who i was
before i pawned my father's watch
Back to before i chose to tread the
trampled path of woe that finds
me in the present
I'm sure at fleeting once i was a child
before i became the man i am
Little boy Pinocchio who wished wanted
and was willing to try anything just not to
he or who he actually was
Despite the fact that everyone who ever
met him really liked him spoke highly of him
and sought him as a friend
But never was it enough nor could
he see what others seen in him
Until the day it finally dawned on him
and it was far to late
Though he thought of himself as an
oyster shell
All along he was in fact the
secret treasured pearl hidden deep
inside within it
Angels fall at your feet ...
- To savor the tang of truth - to kiss Heaven's visage
And sate horrid hearts, they feign you - Immaculate ...
- To tend the scars of id, vacant, fallow and dry
Such sacred sacrilege, they revile you - Torrid ...
- Born of a godly fervor - white flames to ashes
Ashes to tears, entranced, they covet you - Righteous.
Angels fall at your feet ...
- To twist the spine of mercy, to advocate time's curse
Brought forth in floods, they employ you - Banal ...
- To fawn at fear's reprieves, to shred the Eden leaves
Stark and cloistered, coy, they encircle you - Sullen ...
- To pierce the side of virtue, to thrust a spear of verity
And taste its salty tip - they adorn you - Naked.
Angels fall at your feet ...
- To strain a tear in symmetry, pure algebraic forms
Hot breath and whispers, they laud you - Redeemed ...
- To Hell and back, abandon, a sultry paragon's allure
Off the cliff, a fall sublime, they become you - Oblivion ...
- I am broken, replete ... rusting in your yard, seraphic junk
Pawned by Heaven's deceit, to fall rapt at your feet - Rapt ...
And so tenderly ... at your feet.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "My Favorite Junkyard" Poetry Contest,
Craig Cornish, Judge & Sponsor.
This latest theft, stole more than just my money,
It took my soul and left nothing to spare.
With little remains to even fight back with now,
My defeat is final; the white flag is in the air.
Any strength once known has been exhausted;
Chains of despair are left hanging to drag aside.
My new companion is known only as poverty,
Rarely sharing much to diminish the pride.
Looking inward, I seek to learn any lessons,
That could prevent this from happening again.
Although my next thought dwells on any value,
Since my recovery is so unlikely to even begin.
Could this be a lasting piece to the puzzle,
Where survival rests upon those who steal and take?
As if this culling would thin out those weakened,
Leaving those strong enough who want to stay awake.
This may be the greatest hardship that's unseen,
When those can steal what they don't even see in the heist.
So while this theft isn't pawned or even brokered,
The damage is often beyond what is normally priced.
How could you do such a terrible thing?
You just pawned your deceased father’s ring.
Think about that ring’s sentimental value.
To get cash, could there have been other things to do?
That guy is a shyster with his business dealings and such.
I’ll bet the amount you got was not much.
I kept telling you to stay out of that casino.
However, with your money, you continued to go.
Who pays for all that ritzy ambience and décor that you see?
The casinos get it from losers like you and me.
It is only normal that gamblers should lose their money.
If there’s a big win, it’s considered an abnormality.
Whatever you get each month you don’t save.
I’ll bet your old man is turning over in his grave.
With this money, go to the pawn shop today.
I want you to get that ring back right away.
The Middle Years
She'd been wooed by dukes and diplomats
From Nome to Nagasaki,
Kept by mobsters, bishops, bureaucrats,
And a movie mogul's lackey.
She'd been plied with jewels, a fancy car,
Designer gowns and furs
By lots and lots of husbands,
Not one of whom was hers.
For fifteen years she lived among the swank,
But at thirty she had nothing in the bank.
She pawned her diamonds, sold her gowns and her furs,
The car was repossessed 'cause just the payments were hers,
Got her picture in the tabloids with some slanders and slurs,
Villonia Beebe was no one's baby anymore.
She took to pandering and cruising in malls.
A john, a judge, would like to help her, but he hadn't the balls.
She learned it's hard to be a call girl when nobody calls,
Villonia Beebe was no one's baby anymore.
Two more years went by in bars and walking the streets.
She'd like to meet a handsome guy who's loaded and sweet,
So she could settle down and turn that trick into a treat,
And then she'd be somebody's baby once more.
At thirty-two she thought she should get out of "the life",
Go back home to Arkansas and be someone's wife.
She'd soon get back an accent you could cut with a knife
And become a real hillbilly once more.
The Toad Suck men were simple and quite easy to please,
Though the way they buzzed around her made their wives ill at ease.
Still, she made a decent living on her back and her knees,
Villonia Beebe'd come full circle for sure.
Then one night she met Homer, at a barn dance, of course,
A cute and awkward guy who said his nickname was "Horse".
One ride and she's not had one single day of remorse,
ViIllonia Beebe was someone's baby once more.
She sometimes contemplates her life,
When she takes the time to bother,
From beauty queen to trampoline,
From doll to moll to mother.
She doesn't miss the jewels or car at all,
And fur just makes her itch,
But if truth be told, a part of her
Sort of misses being rich.
But Villonia is content now with her lot,
Especially when her "Horse" is hot to trot.
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Those clothes you wear
Your grey white hair
And yes you dare to ignore me
Compromise and exploit me
You don’t care
You don’t care
Am I too old to love?
Am I too young to use my pension?
Did I mention?
You have to see all you have to survive
Almost be homeless, destitute just too be alive
What now
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Almost have to tell a lie
Just to be treated human
That home you once own
Mortgaged and sold
The soup you’re having is refurbish bone;
Now your FAM and government want to place you in a nursing home
What’s going on?
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Those rings on your hands
Some of them grand
Grandpa gave you them
Cousin Johnny pawned them off
He even sold your antique wooden cross
And yes, we ignore you
Oh, yes we have disposed you
What have you got left to live for?
Can’t even afford my breathe
That and my heartbeat all I’ve got left
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
We don’t care
We got yours
And now it’s ours
Not it’s fair
You are too old to love
And we have no room for you
You’ll just git in the way
Grey white hair old lady
Did I mention?
All that money from you and grandpa’s pension
Some of it we spent and
Now that you’re destitute, displaced, resting in this nursing home
We no longer visit you
Guess one day the orderly
Gonna open up your door and see you in your bed
But by then you’ll be DEAD
And gone on to glory!!!!!!!
Those clothes you wear
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
yET YOU Will be IN your salvation robe your glory clothes you’ll wear to your new home in heaven?
12/12/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
I took a trembling island by the hand—
Barefoot children, broken streets,
A people shamed by foreign tongues,
Their dignity pawned for crumbs of aid.
I did not wait for the West to love us.
They called me tyrant,
Because I silenced the noise
That kept my people in chains.
They praised democracy—
Yet their own hands were stained
With centuries of empire and greed.
I chose order.
I chose sacrifice.
I chose silence over slogans.
And with it, we built a future
Brick by brick, law by law.
Do not ask me how Singapore rose.
Ask how long we stayed awake
While others slept under the weight
Of imported promises.
O Africa—
Your rivers are rich, your soil divine,
But your minds are colonized still.
They teach you to vote,
But not to think.
To speak,
But not to build.
To borrow,
But never to own.
Each time I see a hungry child in a land of diamonds,
I weep.
Not from pity—
But from rage.
Because I know:
With discipline,
With iron resolve,
You could rise.
But they keep you dancing to their tune—
A symphony of sabotage.
I made my nation clean not with prayers,
But with prison cells and planning tables.
We bled in silence,
So our children could shout in joy.
Let the West call you names—
It is better to be feared with dignity,
Than pitied in poverty.
The West said it was impossible.
But I said: it is possible.
We did it.
Now—will you?