Long Pike Poems
Long Pike Poems. Below are the most popular long Pike by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pike poems by poem length and keyword.
In Celtic lore, Lig Na Basate is a dragon that terrorizes Ireland.
Through the rough and rugged bramble
Lig Na Basate was boldly sought,
By a band of hardy hunters
who cared not of the danger t’was fraught.
The Lig Na Basate had killed three hundred men
and wounded two hundred more,
And the only way to stop the beast
was to pierce him at the core.
Turn away ye wee small men
lest the beast come pick your bones,
Return to your loving kin and hearth
and start to rebuild your homes.
Pray then that the Lig Na Basate
has moved on to other hunting grounds,
But wait, too late for now they hear
the burble of the beastie’s sounds.
Then there at the edge of the wooded glade
they saw their quarry sleeping.
And silently the four brave men
drew near as they were creeping.
Then with a snort the terrible head
was lifted into the air.
And sniffed at the scent with dreadful intent
until he found them skulking there.
The four brave men with lance in hand
Stood north, south, east and west.
In hopes that one would find the mark
and send the beast to its final rest.
Ne’er had the beast encountered such men
who showed no concern towards death.
Yet no pity would he ere afford
as they met with the heat of his breath.
With dodge and thrust they went about,
looking for a spot.
To drive home a deadly lance,
before he killed off the lot.
And quick the battle was enjoined,
with blood and spit and sweat.
In hopes that one day their victory,
would outlive their regret.
The beast grabbed one valiant man
and snapped him at his back.
Then ate one more while the other two
continued on with the attack.
The Lig Na Basate swung round
to slice them with his tail.
But a lance pierced his wicked eye,
and he let out a ferocious wail.
He turned his head to gasp the pike
that had nearly left him blind.
Exposing his own naked throat
to the two men from behind
A plunge by one and the next
a gurgle of blood the only sound.
The beast turned to face the men
but with a tilt he hit the ground.
The scales of the mighty dragon
became the armor of the brave.
And the teeth were buried with the dead
inside their hero’s grave.
And still the tale is often told
of the beastie and his demise,
And in the great hall still hangs his head
as the victor’s well earned prize.
Ah Frontiera, here we are at your last, you've thrown a rod, your life lies black
on oily ground - all this snow and you're a mobile no longer; so I must walk.
It's cold, and now I think of it, that cold that exists in enormous reservoirs
at the poles of our world, seemingly to pass back and forth between,
as if through a secret conduit as the seasons are unfurled.
I will relax, I tell myself, "become one with the cold" as if it can't hurt me,
because sometimes you have to tell yourself things in order to survive.
My soliloquy proceeds as I gather thin paper birch branches and fashion them
into snowshoes with rawhide strings from my pack, a woefully empty pack
considering where I must go - the Brooks Range, even in October, is no joke -
and I can make it to a trapper's cabin, south south-west near Lake Chandalar.
Like the Inupiat Eskimos, I will sing my song, make up my tale, and live on.
Garlock, lord of this valley, seven feet of branch-breaking, tree-scarring,
log-rolling, stump-pulling black bear might, looks up, for the wind was behind me
and his nose is ever aware; my prayer - "You've eaten well, for your
winter sleep comes soon, you are not hungry enough for me" - I repeat it with
calm confidence; Praise God - noble king Garlock, this time, gives me a pass.
Two hundred miles, "Can I make it in three weeks, can I stay alive for four,"
I wonder as I walk, as I fish - pike, char; hard-fought with my hook, still the grayling
cooks on my fire - with a few remaining blueberries I find for spice; over mountain pass,
near the gorge's bottom, a rocky ledge, a rare stumbled caribou with broken legs,
my knife finishes it, oh how warm and rich the liver.
Over the blue cold of a nameless glacier - half the planet's glaciers are in Alaska,
that blue in summer melting is half of all water flowing into all the seas; I exist
with the cold, I'm only a part-day's travel from the trapper's cabin now.
Click-thunk! I hear it before my leg is alive with pain; I've stepped on a trap.
The evening's grim descent doubles and redoubles - I laugh or cry.
Will I bleed, will I freeze, or will my life just vanish into shock,
tucked into the ever-colder onset of night.
Trapper, when will you next check your traps?
December 21, 2016
For Shadow Hamilton's contest - 'Epic'
Sausages are meal items that should be avoided at all costs by very small rabbits. Tiny white fish with silver fins carry red flags that denote danger in a tide. So hop jump up a tree then. That should be interesting and safe as solace springs from branches and all wood can be shaped. Mistake not a red dialled mustard cake for a pizza for the wires hidden can explode. Uncharacteristically benevolent to invoke trust then erratically boom to give a red dust to the air. Explosive are the surrounds in many a dusty floor. If a beautiful lady is fishing for pike she must first wear a bonnet shaped like a turtle's shell. For to avoid the many pellets thrown by passing fleas,flues,ants and beetles. Humming a silvery tune to entice the marvellous beast for the summer feast and festivals of the sun are counted on long sticks. Spinning tops can often be made from small plastic piglets whose round shapes assist them to spin many many times. So entertaining for classes. When the mind is silent the caterpillar ghost files open to rearrange and sort the many piles of assorted mind excursions into organised pan and shape. With a slight touch of wisdom from elders and books. Knowledge can be prevalent in a kiss of fresh air or the breezes of a mountain stream. Steaming is not unusual at this time. Temperature raised then cooked to even a once fragmented core. Apples are amazing creatures if placed by a garden gate in a large barrow. It takes a long time for a small five centimetre pig to gather together the fodder. All the differences are displayed in a global pie. Pieces are even, exact and work together harmoniously in a giant whirl. Mélange bien remue bien tra la tra la tra la on. And obviously a seven acre sea horse cannot work a diameter six barrel no a trapezium. When x to y an x to z take a bucket and wear it on one's arm. Trading a tailor for a trademark. Teaching turtles to talk tantrically. Fishing in undergrowth for left unsustainable weapons of old. Goblets of greed gone. Homing a house full of horses. Hemming heifers. Saintly suns and mystical moons. Many hands many ingredients. Many times a foretold faith. Xx lovingly living life lifestyles. Xx denominations. *** calling cards caressing *** evaporation xxxx acrylonitrile *** and now I will have a coffee. ***
Form:
Out of the blue on this summer day
Richie asks me if I want to swim with him across the lake
Sure what the hell and that is that
I will match the older boy’s vim and whim
Two strong boys armored with Nietzsche arrogance and Tolkien muscle
Armada of scarecrows and wrists assemble on Wally’s manmade beach
To accompany us on the two-and-a-half-mile odyssey
Across the cold and chop of wind
Dad hunches over a leaky rowboat
In hand-to-hand combat with splintered creaky oars
Dennis kneels on a music sheet paddle board
Pink baton at his bearded black throat
In we go
A wave and grin goodbye to Wally’s beautiful daughter Wendy
Richie to Wally’s wonderous wife Janet
And to our moms’ arms crossed up on the tennis court hill
For hours little did we know
Dad says Bobby! Sarah’s coming up underneath you ha ha
Richie separates and heads north not east like a slashing madman
Hey Hey yells Dennis his spotter
Imagine myself a turtle with hot sun egg frying on its back in the black water
Begin to feel the razor teeth of pike at my toes
Biting them off one by one
I stop and panic thrash and splash them away give them my toenails
Richie straightens out far behind me
Weight of the bloated world holding me up
Spaceship in orbit bellied against the Earth
Halfway across
I assume
I can only tell by the guess of cumulus clouds
My knees shoulders neck need an oiled wrench to complete each heave and rotation
Rust and barnacles growing on me
Finally I pass over the turquoise drop off of the other side
Pink mustard to my sutured eyelids
Line of shore the trees a quarter mile ahead
I think dad yells good enough good enough
Salvages me in with what chattering bones remain retrievable
Face gone
Snaps my arms and legs to the rowboat’s aluminum bench
Cannot bend this brass statue to a sitting position
Upside down the only way I can fit in
For the long trip back within my dad’s singing voice
Richie crawls hands and knees up on that beach
Holds its sand in his hands lets it sift through as a time glass
Never lets me forget that
I finished and you did not but we won’t tell the shimmering women
When and if
You the brother I never had and I get back
Teeth left like unrecovered treasure at the bottom of Torch Lake.
Just for the sake of saying "hello"
Courtesy garden variety/generic common Joe
who strives to achieve becoming
(even posthumously)
an esteemed writer likened to outstanding poe
whit – perhaps illusions
of grandeur must be reined in
courtesy horse sense and Whoa!
A short time ago today
(the ides of March 2021)
upon returning from nearest LIDL
(located at 1831 E Ridge Pike,
Royersford, Pennsylvania 19468
Latitude: 40.1845 Longitude: -75.5360),
I realized too late the opportunity
to exchange pleasant greetings
with another resident (a young man,
who shares a similar physique
to yours truly).
Preoccupied removing comestibles -
predominantly nine plastic
gallon jugs of distilled water
(tightly packed within large suitcase,
which luggage formerly
belonged to Boyce Harris - papa)
the notion occurred
(ex post facto).
Cursory aforementioned observation,
(viz forfeited interpersonal opportunity)
unexpectedly impetus awoke
regarding said unnamed bloke
(who I've seen scant
number of times before)
friendly exchange thus didst evoke
idea to craft poem,
cuz pleasant demeanor
generates figurative chain reaction
livingsocial among other
(mostly elderly) folk
here at Highland Manor
this credo to befriend others I invoke
(by Dickens) with little
or no great expectations
motivates me to risk
playing game of life no joke,
but good humor a masterstroke,
one generic American notes tis oak
kay for yours truly not to poke
intrusively, (albeit rudely
he thinks) and possibly also stoke
antipathy by ignoring
formalities of pleasantness
in either case saddle and yoke
me with unflattering
nom de plume.
Additionally I will allow
enable, and provide tolerance
if recipient of mine genuine
companionable intent
declines overture as potential
future bosom buddy
and/or sounding board,
plus will defend self
against blistering, excoriating, scathing...
metaphorical nonetheless hurtful assaults
against mine brow
will not figurative undermine
paltry self esteem, but endow
redoubled effort to risk
making acquaintance(s) and consort
with persons who cross my path
their nose in the air
trumpeting arrogance and how
never be deterred toward livingsocial
such personal promise I vow.
A profession that's not the norm.
It borders on the absurd.
In the mountains and down the hollers,
powerful engines could be heard.
I decided to try something new.
Put my driving skills to the test.
Driving from Harlan County to Asheville,
It didn't end well, you might have guessed.
The city fathers got together,
figuring how to make it all work.
Everyone involved in this illegal trade,
from the mayor to the town clerk.
The hillbillies brew the dew.
Most of it safe, some burns red.
Uncle Jessie tried it once.
His eyes rolled back and he dropped dead.
Billie Ray had a hot rod '50 Ford.
Was a race car, lost more than it won.
We popped the trunk, man it was huge.
Perfect for the nightly Asheville run.
In the trunk was a steel tank.
Loaded hooch made the car ride low.
Truck springs took care of the problem.
Now the truck no longer hauls cargo.
Beneath the rear bumper were nozzles.
A switch inside made the oil flow.
When a revenuer was chasing you,
in the rearview, was quite the show.
I always wanted to drive.
Thought this life would be exciting.
Told to keep away from this game.
It's dangerous hauling white lightning.
Blazing out of Harlan County.
At first, it went fairly smooth.
Problems I planned for didn't happen.
I got settled into a groove.
Bo Duke, he would've been proud,
when I jumped the gap at Cumberland.
Crossed the stream at Maynardville.
The engine died, it's not going as planned.
I finally got it restarted.
Pretended I was driving the Grand Prix.
Ahead, I saw the tail lights of the g-man.
Oh, snap! they're supposed to be chasing me!
I pulled off the exit for Knoxville.
Checked the map, found Kingston Pike.
I heard this in a song before.
Outside of Bearden, they were planning to strike.
Kept going in spite of the tune.
There they were, waiting to spring.
Blocking the road, no way to get by,
I lost control, spun into this big electrical thing.
The car quickly caught fire.
The door was jammed, options were few.
It was like an atom bomb going off,
when the flames caught the Mountain Dew.
The next night, my funeral was held.
Played a song about some bird in a tree.
The car lights, they stretched for miles.
This life I guess was not for me.
(which above frolicsome gambit I mastered)
After mine wife
asks for this, that
or something else rife
with intent to provide barrel of laughs,
(likened to barrel of monkeys)
yours truly crafts
description how we share mirth
validating how our respective worth
matters each to the other acting childlike
to stave off altercations
that might come down figurative pike
worst case scenario whereby I strike
mine steadfast fine
(prairie home) companion.
Neither rules nor regulations exist
to our made up silly game
whereby whenever
one of us knowingly reaches out
to latch hold of desired item
specified by name,
the other person feigns to hand over
then pulls back same
alluded to object
held aloft (think
non verbal teasing banter)
said motions sustained
moments before until...
participant/ recipient
(trying in vain to grab
their coveted cherished
jackknifed prized possession)
becomes angry as raging bull.
Ofttimes when I pretend to surrender
that specific something sought after
by her royal highness prefers advanced version,
she doth lapse into her guttural patois,
which scrambled, throttled, and vocalized
(back of the throat utterances)
metrically syncopated
(couching unspoken) unclear clues
her primal wordless request
vaguely analogous
to decipher cryptograms,
whereby, I learned to look for patterns.
Yesteryear selective pastimes
whiling away hours
included many a cognitively
challenging endeavors
comprising decoding enigmatic
intriguing looking English language riddles
located within entertainment section
of The Philadelphia Inquirer
no I could never solve sudoku,
but eldest daughter (Eden Liat -
yea "star student" who matriculated
and graduated summa cum laude
courtesy University of Pennsylvania
breezed thru those logic-based,
combinatorial number-placement puzzle.
How bland a marriage devoid of non
establishmentarian activities, none
of which include physical intimacy,
cuz me libido indeed went deep south
linkedin with half dozen plus medications
yours truly readily swallows
prescribed medication to alleviate
mental health issues such as:
anxiety, obsessive compulsive behavior,
palmar hyperhidrosis,
mild depression et alia.
The spouse betook monthly outing
today May 4th, 2022
to 3938B Ridge Pike,
Collegeville, Pennsylvania 19426.
No more bare cupboards,
fridge, and deep freezer
since returning with more than
our share of daily bread,
plus other sundry provisions
referring to this mister, who
frightfully squawks like an old geezer,
ruler of roost,
plus the missus – ole hen pecker
nevertheless, neither of us
ain't no spring chicken
being locked within crosshairs
constituting elderly stage,
she doth dread
feeling like a charity case
swallows her pride,
cuz ample carload for us,
alleviating this bum searching
for crumbs to tweezer,
thus raw bits of powdermilk biscuits,
I need not scavenge, scrape, scrounge...
substantial commestibles
allows poet taster to breathe easy
inadequately satiates the missus,
(whose Godzilla appetite) defies
(cole) laws of nature to beef fed
predominantly healthy food,
that weighted our automobile like a led
zeppelin choking, intermittently
kickstarting, sputtering... along,
asper in (faux wheel) drive wheezer
putting utmost pressure
borne by taxing groovy tire tread.
Once mission (not so impossible,
but blessed relief) complete, I did aim
upon returning where we live
to acknowledge gratitude and claim
salvation for charitable deeds,
yours truly doth exclaim,
these volunteers, none I know by name,
nonetheless, a hearty poetic L'Chaim
afforded folks, who commandeer,
confidently coordinate quite efficient process
despite minor lament regarding
heavy toll stressing bulwark
quaking chassis, ripsnorting driveshaft,
shimmying entire automobile frame...,
hence no matter
our exhausted 2009 Hyundai Sonata
puttered along somewhat lame,
kudos to dedicated good samaritans,
worth their weight in gold to tame
hungrily growling, noisily rumbling tummies.
Healthy choices allow, enabled,
and provided us to secure provender
eases glum countenance of this clown
gratuity finds me bowing down
paying metrical obeisance
versus depleting meager monies
engendering botox frown
nipping in bud
forestalling need going
to preferred market such as
Aldi, LIDL, Redner's, Target
or Trader Joe's grocery shopping
to the nearest town.
In my New York suburb, I’m mildly fond
Of Helvellyn Road, and Gracemere pond
But the original Helvellyn called...
Ravenglass too, even the name enthralled.
Of Lake poets, I eagerly read
And I found what Alfred Wainright once said:
[chorus]
His words echo across time’s bridge
That always there will be the lonely ridge,
the silent forest, the dancing beck
Though we have fleeting time on a cosmic speck.
Wordsworth thought the loveliest spot ever found
was near Grasmere Lake so I walked it around.
I beat the crowd to the top of Scafell Pike
Saw crags on all sides, what not to like?
Saw the Mourne mountains across the Irish sea
Snowdonia in Wales, steeped in history.
Wordsworth liked walking when mists veiled the sky,
Mists add variety, they distort, they magnify.
Hugging emerald meadows and tarns and becks
The mist lifts, to glorious backdrop effects.
I've often gone to where the grapevine led,
And I remembered what Wordsworth said:
[chorus]
One impulse from a vernal wood
May teach you more of man,
Of moral evil and of good,
than all the sages can.
I'd like to be on an airy ridge, seeing far
It would be cool to climb steps up a limestone scar
then stride to a big-sky panorama
Maybe join a fell runner, in nature's drama.
Follow Wordsworth where the rugged trail led
Recite once more what the poet said:
[chorus]
A deep delight the bosom thrills
Of these fraternal hills:
On top stones like bones the earth left alone,
But on those stones lichen has grown
Colored between the rocks and sky
The Lake District kind of high.
At the foot of Saddleback, while its brow appeared
A sad purple before cloud-shadow cleared
To the left I saw the jaws of Borrowdale
On the pure lake a standing man with a windswept sail.
There’s a confession I should make
The trip to Cumbria I could not take
I could only watch videos on my PC
Experiencing the region vicariously.
I make room in my mental space
For the good times of those who visit the lakes.
I think of sunset on a ridge, a hiker’s face aglow,
And that somewhere this exists is comforting to know.
An imagined eyrie where spirits fly
And fell runners reach that Lake District high.
February fourth nineteen ninety nine...
Signified birth of our second bundle of joy
whereby linkedin chromosomes betwixt
the missus and I intimately expressed ourselves
and me would alloy
courtesy meiosis the miracle
of human reproduction would deploy
distribution of genetic material.
Full term newborn occured
Suburban Mercy Hospital birthplace
(2701 Dekalb Pike, Norristown, PA 19401)
nine months after spermatozoon gave chase
to ovulating ova
(cue all around the mulberry bush...
pop goes the weasel),
the former latter did embrace,
where sonogram revealed inchoate face
courtesy yours truly burst into
singing amazing grace
adoring newborn exquisite
as finely wrought lace
a biological daughter frisson
snap, pop, and crackling within myspace
automatically, immediately, and ultimately
ingratiating special place
within mine heart of darkness.
No greater purposefulness
exists than to behold thee alive
bearing witness regarding thee
exiting thru birth canal ye did dip and dive.
Tethered to umbilical cord
analogous to astronaut
linkedin to mother ship
bobbing and weaving
once forced out the womb
thru metaphorical fjord
inconsolable offspring crying,
no matter papa implored
though nonreligious, nevertheless
ofttimes paradoxically invoking lord.
How quickly orbitz around the sun sped away
crawling and climbing in no time
atop highest ledge utmost goal without delay,
which might help explain
mine premature hairs of gray
and your dare devilish more frightening
than being hunted down courtesy janissary
(or so I imagine) above exaggeration, I may
beg poetic license and pray
ye anonymous reader enjoy
reading about our precocious Shay
(Hebrew for beautiful)
progeny, who though developmentally challenged
frequently ordinarily calm, cool and collected dada
uttering stronger epithet than oy vey.
Now, one score plus two years
astride planet earth ye attest
to mine wide eyed opened amazement
buzzfeeding, snapchatting and livingsocial
(shutterflying a pinteresting life)
more so than me at twenty two,
no matter I did detest
living under same roof as parents,
cuz yours truly felt like
most unwanted guest!