Long Plow Poems
Long Plow Poems. Below are the most popular long Plow by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Plow poems by poem length and keyword.
There's an old English song called All Jolly Fellows That Follow The PLow. The tune works fine as is for the chorus and with the verses if the tune for the 3rd and 4th lines is repeated for th 5th and 6th. Well, it works for me but my singing has never been much hindered by tunes.
It was after that big game one long gone September,
the score line was one I’d like not to remember,
in a small Richmond pub not too far from the ground,
we all settled down with our sorrows to drown.
We were well on the way, as were most of the crowd,
when in came a young pedlar a shouting out loud.
Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.
Cried the barmaid, “How many do I get to a yard?”
“Madam, four if they’re soft or three if they’re hard”
She felt for the soft ones, she wanted a lot,
but the more that she squeezed em the harder they got.
She found not a sausage was e’en a bit soft
so she told the young pedlar to go get far offed
Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.
Said the pedlar, “Why madam no need to be rude.
And in fact what you told me was verging on crude
But you don’t look so bad for a foul mouthed old sow
so step on outside, if you like, with me now.
If you play your cards right I might squeeze your left breast.
If I find I like that I might squeeze all the rest.”
Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.
Said the barmaid to pedlar, “You are a right jerk,
I’m a barmaid and never do mission’ry work.
But if you're near to the shops and you buy me some eggs,
I might squeeze that there pimple you’ve got ‘tween your legs.”
Then she said something that made the whole crowd guffaw,
“And will you stop off at home and please check the back door?”
“
Sausages, sold by the yard or the pound!
Get a fresh sausage, the best to be found!
It’ll make your wife happy of that there’s no doubt,
with her very own snag she won’t need to dine out.
For Cyndi MacMillan's pub song contest
Hesitation gets you no where, beware dont go there
thats a violation punishments annialiation
plant the seed and watch it grow just to get chopped down
cant be stopped now, welcome ya'll to my pow wow
i make the gun go plow gun powder mouth, automatic, im an addict
and i dont know how to quit firing off rounds
No mission is impossible disregard all obstacles
cold popsicle, sicker than a hospital
wheres the alcohol, cuz im addicted to the bars
your greatest the rapper on earth, thats fine cuz im from mars
damn my covers blown, earthlings you arent alone
I was bluffin, thanks for nothin, thanks for stuffin
my head full of lies and deceat, I guess no reason for me
to go to church no more, im done for
I might as well go shooot up a gun a store
no wait I think instead i'll go fight for iraq,
tell em all the secerets then give bin laden a dap
president bush snorin in his office takin a nap,
reading the newspaper smiling and taking a crap
you might be hating this rap, but im never takin it back
no receipt kapeeshe, you didnt pay for it jack
99 problems and a ***** is one that i got
my girlfriends loose so i tied her up in a knot,
now she go cant go around hoppin from cock to cock,
thinkin shes Hot, spreadin every damn disease that she got
fuhck a G, this chic has an A-Z spot,
things so wide you could park diddy's yacht
when she cum's she sneezes out bugers and snot,
excuse my language im dangerous when im angry alot
picaso couldnt paint this master piece, after me, im happily
crapping on rappers
im so complex in my simple text,
that you almost look forward to what comes next
it could be about any subject or topic just know you cant top it
the way that i say couldnt be said any better, every word every letter
a veteran at only nineteen, its frightneen and might seem unbelievable
but u gotta believe it along as its readable,
and I cant speak so i let ink leak,
onto the paper and into ur mind where its safer
cuz this stuff is lethal, the combo of my tounge and my teeth will
be sure to be heard by all people, its all equal, eminem retired now im the sequel
it'll beheath you to increase breathing and cut down on the speech, you reach a
point where talkin
will get you no where,
i know its your freedom, but pleas dont be dumb
Im a lumber jack leave you stumped like a tree trunk...
Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"?Was it a snitch that the police trusted? We must,and it is a "Duty" of "Justice" to leave no stone unturned!Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"? The Police on that day caused real "Harm",and that is a real true fact,and that is true and perfectly exact!That was a terrible act! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"? Who would do that? We who care must leave no stone unturned!"Justice is not always exact,but "Justice does ,and can see the real facts! Who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"of "The Police"?Who would put their mother,father,sister,brother,grand daddy,grand mother,girl friend,boy friend in "Harms Way"? We who care must not leave any stone unturned.The Lord God Almighty sits on the Throne,and never leaves any stone unturned for any as we all will face him on the day of judgement for the good and the evil that we have done in this life. God leaves no stone unturned! We really want to know who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way" of "The Police"on that terrible day for "Democracy"and The U.S.A.and for Liberty and Justice for us all? "The Police"came and they did cause ""Unjustifiable Harm"!"Justice must act to "Justify" itself or "Justice makes itself unjust"!Once all the stones have been turned then "Justice can be served to all of those who unjustly acted,and to those who put Breonna Taylor in "Harms Way"!Do they still give "The Electric Chair" in "The Great State of Kentucky"for "Unjustifiable Homocide"?Justice is always tendered with mercy in order for Justice to be Just"Motion To Indite by "The Grand Jury of "The Police and "The Boyfriend".Police=Self Defense with unjustifiable Homocide "Boyfriend=The first shot from a gun fired out of "fear". When the boyfriend fired the first shot he enabled "reckless endangerment and unjustifiable homocide .Rectless indangerment is "Being put in "Harms Way"!!!! Who really fired the first shot? Jistice can be served by finding out who fired the first shot to cause "Harms Way" to come into existance!!!Unjustifiable Homocide requires "Justice" to "ACT" ,no matter who fired the first shot so that "Justice Itself" can "Crush,Plow Over,and "Pulverize "Evil Flesh,Evil Spirits,Evil Minds,Evil Bodies,and Evil Souls.Will "The Grand Jury" "Act" to see all of "The Facts"? The "Motion is in Place"!!!!
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
There's a time for loves to be won and lost… At least there was for us.
For 33 Chilean miners, lost below… life was simply stopped.
Alive and well, but buried deep… 2,200 feet below.
They had such a daunting, beautiful dream… to see the sky once more.
Being hot, little water, dark, only bites of food…17 days was asking a lot.
But life was true and held on strong, even when in the bowels of the earth you’re lost.
With each day the hopes began to fade, always bolstered by others to be strong.
Little did they know their prayers were there, were being answered in spades above.
Time went on as governments stopped, to send whomever they could to help.
The world looked on, every eye glued, as prayers they also imbued.
For once in their lives everyone together worked, for a common cause that’s true.
Building, digging, drilling, and planning… together as life below held on.
No one knew the miners were truly alive, as the earth held them in a deathly grip.
But faith held everyone together, for 17 days, on this fateful trip.
Breaking thru a small hole to them in time was a monumental task indeed.
To do it bigger again, was asking God to plow the way and give them back again.
Drill bits broke, and no one slept, as dreams of home, the miners spun.
Several drillings were stopped by fate, as a single one held on.
Many things could have stopped those lives such as slides and after shocks.
Remember the mine was unstable, or it wouldn’t have fallen at all.
Everyone below was tired, hot, worn out, and sick by the time they reached their goal.
One small, flimsy, missile tied from above would have to drag them to the top.
Would it snag? Would the earth crumble? Could it take the buffeting there and back?
The tunnel was finally reinforced. The first people went below, as we held our breath.
One by one, for 24 hours they were brought up from beneath the earth.
Never in the time of man, has a feat been held to so tightly for 69 days and finally won.
Thank the Chilean government, it’s people, the world's and American help, for bringing them back.
Then like the miners did… get on your knees and thank the God above.
Yes… it was one unified, miraculous leap of faith, with God holding every ones hand.
It brought back faith in many things including God and yes, even your fellow man.
It was a summer of indifference
Billionaire Nazis who preach ethnic cleansing
And powerful ladies clad in iron
Play tug of war
With the hearts and souls of the people
While governors deceive the populace and their own parties
And confused men in collars and cassocks
Betray their vows, principles,
And even the people
They are supposed to lead.
It was a summer of blood
Black mothers in black clothes
Attend the funerals
Of their Black sons
Killed by
Their own Black Brothers
Or by Blue Klansmen
With smoking guns and shining shields
While urban brigades
Mourn the loss of true knights
Murdered by
Desperate, exhausted, and enraged men
Who have witnessed more than enough
Of their people being oppressed
By those sworn to protect them
While the suburbanites and gentrifiers
Look the other way
Or applaud the lynchings
While savages plow into school children
Behead Christian babies
Rape Christian women
Slash the throats of priests
And destroy Christian communities
Even though we are supposed to be
People of the Book
While those who peacefully practice Islam
Are being told they are unwelcome.
It was the summer of chaos
People parade the streets
With signs
Shouting
Black Lives Matter
Blue Lives Don't
Men use toilets
Next to little girls
Six years olds
Are being taught about
The birds and the bees
And the ticks and the fleas
Infanticidal Mengelites
Teach girls
confidence and resourcefulness.
We are no longer people
With free wills and open hearts
We are no more than pawns
In a political chess tournament
Of the Sick Left
Against the Cold Right
What is right is wrong
What is wrong is right
Dear Lord
When will you have enough?
When will the
Fall of Jerusalem
Finally arrive?
Maybe that is the only way
This madness will end.
How many more chances
Do we need?
How much longer will you stand there
While the pigs come to
Spit on Your Countenance
And crush Your pearls?
I sigh for Your
City on the Hill
And long to see its gates
Meanwhile, I tarry to the mountains
Before I am tempted to
Join the sultry, drunken orgy
Of lost souls who hang the decent
And silence the morally outspoken
Whilst chanting
Eat, drink, and indulge
For you only live once
As I view flat prairie with mountain range beyond, morning sunshine warms me
and I know by afternoon, fierce storms may gather without warning.
I envy not the urban dweller rushing to and fro amidst stark cement barriers.
Yes, small town life suits me…
I’ll not trade nights laying head on pillow as moonlight pierces the darkness
and coyotes cry to the far reaches like their ancestors before…No, never!
I could not, would not, give up the freedom found in these open spaces
where peaceful Amish plow behind horses harnessed in leather strap.
I proudly tell inquisitors, I met my husband dancing at the old grange hall,
then settled on the ranch his kin claimed and worked three generations back.
I feel safe, protected here among friends in this quaint little town.
Crime is not a factor—not a priority one deals with on a daily basis.
Trips to market bring no snarled traffic, no changing lights of red, yellow, green.
Welcome is felt, not heard from silent voices behind familiar smiling eyes.
On unpaved roads I return as dust fills nose and eyes, making me sneeze
but it’s joy rather than nuisance as I jog along in our old pickup truck.
Here the family is strong, unified—respect for elders required,
blending generations of those who tamed the land before us.
Sunday church services overflow with scrubbed and shining faces
as preachers spread harmony and warnings from the Good Book.
Camaraderie and sportsmanship are taught in this small town.
Proud parents gather in crowds to support their team at each and every event.
Discipline and morals form traditional characteristics of the region,
and authority is respected on all levels, patriotism honored.
Our children do not stray to the bright lights of the city
vandalizing, joining lost souls seeking acceptance on mean streets.
Early evening sounds of slumber echo thru’ thin walls of this old farmhouse
for morning chores greet our kids, us, in this game of sweet survival.
No, I do not envy city folks or opportunities I may have missed therein,
nor do I allow them to bring me scorn, or take pity on my soul.
I gain my worth from one greater, wiser, more forgiving than mere mortals…
I hear the voice of my Creator, and I follow where He leads.
Did you ever look at empty space and imagine
The brilliance that structured its existence
Did you ever call your best friend by the same
Rotten name he just called you
Did you ever fear for your being, knowing your
Ultimate end could be in a minute, in a snap
Did you ever watch a kid circle under a lazy
Fly ball and glove-block its earthbound path
Did you ever love a puppy so much you couldn’t
Sleep without checking him eleventy-four times at night
Did you ever plow the earth and smell God’s gift to man
And talk the next crop up and growing
Did you ever race your friends and run until your lungs screamed
Falling down laughing at victory or defeat
Did you ever watch a spider slowly spin a perfect web
With his patience uninterrupted by your insistence of contrariety
Did you ever call the night-wind to hush
To stillness and lay sandy-eyed waiting
Did you ever accept or reject the norms
Crammed at you or ignore their existence
Did you ever battle yourself with ideas and judgments
That no man can answer and still seek your solutions
Did you ever simply say hello to a perfect stranger
And realize that you are the strange one
Did you ever sit in the grass yard of the post office
And watch the smothered stares of strangers
Did you ever stop to realize that success to one is failure
To another and your words rattle empty to set minds
Did you ever wish for a chance you’ll never have
Realizing you would have succeeded fully
Did you ever feel the grip loosen in spite of all your
Efforts and wonder about tomorrow
Did you ever thank God for your ability to question
To learn, to be human
Did you ever watch an infant think, the wheels turn
And the language of thought distorted
Did you ever try to express your opinion
To one who will not listen.
Did you ever listen when wise men talked
Yet incorporated their wisdom only in painful acceptance
Did you ever wonder what your Mom and Dad
Were like at age twelve
Did you ever wonder what you
Were like at age twelve
Did you ever wish for others to be happy, really happy
But they never are no matter what you do
Did you ever wish for peace but realize
That tranquility is fleeting and temporary
National Panic Wednesday March 9th, 2022 actually... every day
Founded by Tom and Ruth Roy
solely to acknowledge hardship
of A. R. Harris
and her husband M.S. Harris,
who cope poorly
(even courtesy medication)
with anxiety attacks, especially when
violated, probed, interrogated courtesy
Highland Manor inquisition,
which traumatizing event happened
on aforementioned date
included with poem title.
J. G. and P. F.
constitute management team
under jurisdiction of Quoss
(pronounced chhath tt) and Grade,
who espouse principle laissez faire
but whose exhibited heavy handedness
pertaining to the married couple
named in the third line of this poem.
Either one or the other gals
who attend these premises
here at the Schwenksville location
(I won't mention
the state as penile solitude)
alluded to a peculiarly nasty odor
emanating from unit B44,
our man/woman cave.
We received a twenty four hour deadline
to get into shipshape the disarray
messiness even Pigpen
would find abominable,
yet upon receiving both
oral and written admonition,
me and the missus
buckled down and kickstarted
frenzied whirlwind one bedroom
apartment cleaning spree
zoned out like zombies of Sugar Hill
when the clock struck bewitching hour,
more specifically that alluded time
synonymous with midnight.
No matter we felt dead tired
whereat neither option
to acquire additional time,
nor desist existed,
and yet nearly impossible mission
to continue, but appealing
to temptation of sandman
out of the question.
Deep sleep for the weary
appeared oh so heavenly,
on par with plate
of powder milk biscuits,
our mandate (analogous to pilgrims
adults and children -
forced to fight in crusades)
forbid cessation, thus to plod
and plow onward
despite overwhelming urge to plotz,
(not the slang definition)
found yours truly
blissfully in dreamland
when me noggin hit the pillow,
Not for a minute
could yours truly
sit down and take a breather,
despite severe lower
(rightside) back pain.
Said dull throbbing ache
diagnosed as tight muscles
by Doctor (physical therapist)
John R. Mishock,
he would not countenance
(approve, comply, honor...)
I popped one Ibuprofen.
you will do what you are told until the very rights to you are sold
Satan has a grip hold on your thoughts
yet we have come to far not to turn back now
why look behind when your hand's on the plow
the system is rigged and your in on it
some times I feel like I'm a piece of ****
you were born in the gutter & your mother was a whore
we need to put God's armor on that will settle the situation
instead we like to vegetate on a long awaited vacation
Big Brother maybe watching but I'm still not buying
got food to eat like fish for frying
why should I dismiss this earthly bliss
with a time well spent in thought
once this life is over your soul can't ever be bought
have you forgot homeboy does thin a lot
many win the Academy Award but they don't deserve it
the lover in life is not the sinner the less that you give your a taker
there's a dozen of pots in my sink give me time to think
time to soar to reach heaven's door
soar to parts unknown or else you will be stuck at home all alone
many are addicted to vice in *********** but that never stopped me
for pursuing excellence with all of my might so out of sight
got people out in the street with viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off side
they always try to run away & hide from inside
there's the voices inside my head a face filled with lead
the angelic conclaves of blood soaked creatures with hideous features
take a good look inside we have nothing to hide
stand your ground from Satan's call the know it all
someday you will find his people in a ditch with feverish pitch
darkened eyes with tombstones in their brains
zombie creatures from Hell below with tempers of fire
blown in its fullest desire you evoke fear as your leader
we need to start to take are thoughts captive & dismiss what is evil
some are being caught in the middle like a basketbal dribble
no this is real life son many moments may not turn out to be fun
still you play the one last string that you have been dealt
put that other book on high right back on the shelf
he comes to kill, steal & destroy what's my one last chief aim & ploy
keep your head in the sky and never fall prey to ever believe the lie