Long Peopleold Poems

Long Peopleold Poems. Below are the most popular long Peopleold by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peopleold poems by poem length and keyword.


The Widow's Mite ~ Weston

Weston worked and worried
from sun up till sundown
for the freed-man knew the reason
that Pap had gone to town.

Pap had loved his family
but now that Ma was gone
Pap had said to Weston
"I can't do this alone."

Pap had hitched the wagon
and said "I've got to ride"
" But I'll be back this evening
with Leatha by my side.."

The young uns worried Weston
as they picked and teased all day
No matter how they nagged him
not a word did Weston say..

Pappy loved his Leatha
She worked right by his side
she proved herself a help-mate
not just an Old Man's bride.

Weston held each baby
As if they were his own
and all too soon for Leatha
God called Pappy home

The Young uns said to Leatha
we will give you land
some lumber for a two room shack
a mule and Pappy's Hand.

the Child bride was a widow
she had no will to fight
Weston was a freed-man
who became the widow's mite.

Weston spoke to Leatha
as the sun rose on the day
"Get yo babies Mammy
and lets be on our way"

Side by side they worked the land
a forty acre sprawl
they watched the sons grow in to men
straight and strong and Tall.

They called him Uncle Weston
their  Pap had set him free
But he stayed to help their mammy
and hold them on his knee.

Crony; Benson; Dorris
and baby Elloree
all loved their uncle Weston
and now we come to me..

Weston died one Sunday
I  now live on the land
where Mammy came with babies
and one old wrinkled hand.

They say Old Weston walks here
Him and his Mule Belle
They plow and plant the acres
and see that we are well..

I never saw a spirit
but sometimes late at night
I here the mules bell jingle
I see a lanterns Light..

Uncle Weston was a freed man
His skin as black as Night
But  Mammy was a widow
and he was mammy's Might!


Cold Case

Fingerprints, used to track them down and a clue or two
Now they have all this fancy technology, some stuff called DNA
"No Sir", them old crooks don't have much of a chance anymore
"And the old worried critter, you can't tell what those suckers will do"
"Then you have witness that up and pass away"
That just makes a conviction a harder chore"

I knew a gal here while back, years ago said that she was on the wild side
Used to tend bar, but that is not how she made her tips
Said that she got to running with witches down Nogales way
Married an old man, until final day she took him on that ride
She was younger then, had a lot more wiggle in her hips
Then took to running, running from Judgment Day

Said that she got him drunk one night, gave him a knock out pill
Locked the garage breathing the fumes, he died in the car
Next thing you know, she is out of town with the kid
Thirty years later she is back in town, wonder if it was for the thrill
I was sitting outside the other day, she pulled up in her car
Acted like she wanted "a roll in the hay", wonder who she was trying to kid

I did not have a happy smile on my face, knew I had to deflate her ego
I told her that she was looking old and all wrinkled up
In the next breath I said, "They say old Joe. damn he was a fine man"
"Damn that is a Helluva a way To have to go, Poor Old Joe"
"Be right back, need to get me another cup"
Had a hunch that would bring her to the front of the line

In seconds her blood was boiling and hair standing on end
Fire in her eyes and with a growl she said, " You have not got a thing on me"
"Believe me Mister, you will pay"
"And in you, I thought I had a friend"
I said, "That is what all of them criminals say"
"You know this cold case just heated up a degree"
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

The Wind Called, "dolores"

"Hide all the babies and board up the windows"
"I am telling you, grab everything and run"
"You can feel her, like a storm that you have never seen before""
"Like a hurricane, that is how she blows"
"The Devil's right hand, meaner than anything under the Sun"
"Watch all the side and nail up the back door"

"A tornado, a cyclone, you have been warned not to cross her path"
"She is the leader, all the demons in Hell are on her side"
"Thicker than soup, She is like the fog"
"She is blowing evil and spreading her wrath"
"They say to mess with her, well now we are talking suicide"
"Why, she is growling and clawing, like a old mad dog"

"A  gentle breeze at first. when all is calm"
"But then you can feel her coming threw the walls slow"
"Slithering like an old snake cross the floor and down the hall"
"Not knowing what will happen next, you wait for the bomb"
"Like the wind, you cannot see her, you know she will show"
"When she strikes, she looking to take all"

"She will cripple you, before she tears you down"
"She will torment you, like an evil cat, you are her toy"
"She is a coward and only can prey on the weak""
"I have been tracking this old heifer for twenty years or more, she is hold
up in El Paso town"
"Yes sir, she has more sin than a eight day week"

"See I kept a diary for twenty years of more of her evil deed"
"Told her that I would make her famous and write a book"
"THE HIDDEN HAND OF DEATH, is her little satanic organization
"Thought that most folks just might like to read"
"She is  THE HEAD WITCH, a lawyer and a crook"
"Reckon THE GOOD LORD, will show her to her final destination"
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
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The "high" Sheriff True Story

In the 1960's, in a small West Texas college town of Alpine
Sul Ross State, was known for cowboys and rodeo teams
Had an above average student there, that wanted to be a cop
With a dream to throw all the crooks in jail, make them walk the line
He always wore a white hat in his dreams
And what he was headed for was, "the cream of the crop"

His name is Rick Thompson, I went to school with the guy
At first a university cop, then to the city police force
But deep down inside, money was his need
With all the energy in the world and a  lot of try
The old western type of lawman, cowboy and horse
Until his down fall, because of his greed

Then went next door, to Marfa another little cow town
Right on the Mexican border, a drug smuggler's paradise
They need a new sheriff, the Marshal Dillon kind
Won every election,hands down
Wore a cowboy hat, but then he rolled the Devil's dice
He liked that cocaine money and what it could do for his mind

Was voted number one sheriff in Texas, everyone liked Old Rick
The Mafioso did too, they needed his protection
"Why he was ranch raised, just an old cowboy"
But all of that dirty money, he fell for the Devil's trick
Lost his fancy star, got him headed in a new direction
Found out just what it cost to be a "Cocaine Cowboy"

Got caught red handed with a TON OF COCAINE
Back of a horse trailer, street value of 43 million
He lost it all and sold his soul
A good cop gone bad and caused a lot of pain
Lost the white hat, the halo and the image of Marshal Dillon
Now in a Federal Pen somewhere...doing life without parole
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Lost

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t born at all.
Wish that this life I live never existed.
Wish that I had never met you!
Sometimes I wish that I lived someone else’s life.
Wish that for once that I was perfect.
Wish for once I was happy.
Then I realize I have it easy,
That I can walk away and leave you in my past,
But you…
You are stuck with yourself forever!
I may not be the prettiest girl you’ve seen,
I may not be the happiest,
But you are the meanest, cruellest, person I’ve ever met,
I can change my looks, 
And I change my view on life,
But you…
You can never change your past! 
You will have to live with what you’ve done,
Until you die.
You’ll have to sit in the misery you have caused yourself,
While you watch everyone you love leave you.
You can change it, 
But you don’t know how anymore.
You lost that part or yourself a long time ago,
You don’t know how to be kind,
You don’t know how to be gentle,
You don’t know how to be nice,
You don’t even know how to love anymore!
You lost that part of yourself a long time ago
I was one of the few people who would actually do anything for you,
But like your old self,
You’ve lost that too!

Sometimes I feel lost,
But then I look into the faces of those who love me,
Of those who I love.
Even of those who I don’t even know,
And I realize I’ve never been more found then now!
I’ve found my true self,
The self that has never met you.
And to tell you the truth,
Not a day goes by,
Where I miss my the old me!
Only the old you!
Form:


Premium Member The Yard Sale Syndrome

Shrunken sweaters, dusty ball caps
Tarnished silver, and hedge clippers
Pointed hat pins, gaudy jewelry
Faded jeans and worn out slippers
Greasy fry pan, wobbly table
Crates of dog-eared musty books
Tattered doilies, ragged Barbies
One brown old crock pot that still cooks

Rusty shovel, dented buckets
Ma's old apron, broken dishes
Dated calendar, crooked lampshade
Chipped glass bowl for all your fishes
Ugly painting, candle holders
One old bike for exercising
Broken TV, toaster oven
Doesn't work....it's not surprising!

What's the point?" our husbands mutter
While we fill the garage with clutter
I explain to him..."She buys mine, and I buy hers"
"What's the point of shopping stores??!"
"Now...don't you know the grass is greener?"
"OH GOOD!"  "She's bought my vacuum cleaner!"

Just then I point across the street!!
Another yard sale.....and we both shriek!!

He points at me and shakes his fist
But I'll just ignore and toss a kiss
And side by side I'm in a race...
Who gets there first will buy that vase!!
Whoopee!!!  I spy a broken chair...well, I can glue it!
Just hope she doesn't beat me to it!
Another point about my purchase
Perhaps I can use it for another purpose

    Oh No!!...he's found old tool collections!!
    And points at them with great affection!!

The point I'm making is simply this
Another's person's trash or junk, may soon become your bliss!
Form: Rhyme

Blind

"Are you alright my dear?" asked the old man...
With a smile the child replied,"I'm fine, thank you."
"Did you hurt your knee?" asked the old man...
Gently she bent her head as her hand raced
towards her knee and said,"I don't think so..."

It was when the lantern held by the man
lightened the child's beautiful face
As it displayed her blue eyes and red cold nose...
But, what caught his attention
was the unsteady look in her eyes...
She seemed to have lost her gaze
and couldn't look straight towards her face...

"Are you blind, my dear?" asked the old man...
"Blind?! I was never blind, for I always had a heart that beats, 
legs that walk, hands that feel, a life to live, and a tongue 
to speak..."

Tears filled the old man's eyes
For he couldn't believe what he has just heard
For a blind child was so thankful for the soul she had,
the mind she owned and the human she is
even if she misses the sense of sight....
Whilst some of those who can see
Always demand more and are never thankful...

Then, his mind whispered:
" Those are the ones who are blind, for they can't see 
the blessing they live in,
the blessing that overwhelms them...."
© Sara Zahed  Create an image from this poem.

Old Tractor Mechanic

Old tin roof, plastered adobe walls that were melting
Two big Cottonwood trees, junk cars in the back
Cracked concrete floor, covered with oil and grease
Mexican kids running in and out, playing and screaming
Couple of water jugs, covered with gunny sack
In all of this was some sort of peace

Joes Montes was the owner, we just called him Joe
Joe spoke good broken English, had a little accent
Talked a lot with his hands, pointing at this and that
Did not advertise, everyone knew Old Joe
Been there for years, did not pay any rent
Always wore a greasy cap, never wore a hat

Farmers up and down the valley swore by Joe
When a tractor was down, they knew who to call
Jump in his old truck and he was there
Been known to use bailing wire, he would make them go
Cotton pickers to a hale bailer, he worked on them all
Never charged much, was always fair

Adobe wall have melted, Joe has passed away
In that old shop where a lot of memories were made
No telling how many tractors Joe made run
Tractors now have computers, not in Joe's day
The Cottonwood trees make no more shade
Joe was a tractor fixing son of a gun
© Danny Nunn  Create an image from this poem.
old
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Premium Member Our Secret

I may not be the greatest lover
Or have the biggest tool in the shed
But over the years I’ve learned a few tricks
And know my way around in bed

She was twenty years my junior
And stuck in this lonely old town
Needing a shoulder to cry on
Her spirits and life were down

Well, one thing led to another
As we drank and talked through the night
We ended up under the covers
Neither of us knowing if this was right

I treated her more tenderly
Than any of her younger lovers ever did
Took the time to discover
Where her sexual g-spots hid

I wasn’t in any hurry
To reach my own climax
As I focused on her pleasures
Teaching her how to relax

She was taken to places she’d never been
By this man she hardly knew
Never expecting to want to see me again
When that night was through

She still lives in this old town
And has gotten on with her life
She teaches in the high school
And is now a mother and wife

But still every now and then
When she feels a little bit low
And wants to experience nirvana again
She visits to have another go
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Almost Home

He had plastic bags wrapped 'round his shoes
He was covered with the evening news
Had a pair of old wool socks on his hands

The bank sign was flashing "5 below
It was freezing rain an' spittin' snow
He was curled up behind some garbage cans

I was afraid that he was dead
I gave him a gentle shake
When he opened up his eyes
I said,"Old man are you ok?"

He said,"I just climbed out of a cottonwood tree
I was runnin' from some honey bees
Drip dryin' in the summer breeze
After jumpin' into Calico creek
I was walkin' down an old dirt road
Past a field of hay that had just been mowed
Man I wish you'd just left me alone
'Cause I was almost home..."

Then he said,"I was just comin' round the barn"
'Bout the time you grabbed my arm
When I heard Momma holler son hurry up
I was close enough for my old nose
To smell fresh cobbler on the stove
And I saw daddy loadin' up the truck
Cane poles on the tailgate
Bobbers blowin' in the wind
Since July of '55
That's as close as I've been to being home

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