Long Randall Poems
Long Randall Poems. Below are the most popular long Randall by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Randall poems by poem length and keyword.
Standing reverent in a dull cast mist
glazing my cheeks while prayers were said
so silent stood at Rand's memorial
My mind dashed to the self-drawn sketch
he staged as "The Youthful Raconteur";
profile, pipe, wavy cinema legend hair -
his final role, being lowered by rope
into a eternal, earthen wall home
Flowers fell like words fall, droplets in air
completing his circle, our circle too
His "Janie" bowed, seated solitary
almost estranged by her own dreams dashed
her beauty gone long ago, buried too
As the "Wedding Cake Couple" sixty years past
right up to the very day of their marriage
which proved a confection in itself
Rand was the one who always got the girl
perky, popular, blonde, "Homecoming Queen"
They spent lifetimes contriving their image
striving for the unattainable ideal
then crashing, having to pick up the pieces,
not content, tortured by delusions
This is how my older brother's life ends
a cacophony of misadventures
He wanted to be called only Rand
not Randall and never Randy, just Rand
So then, I always called him Randy
it's what a younger brother must do
to bring one down to earth, he was up there
Chasing fate, dashing towards his destiny
daring too often, reality hits head on
His good looks, handsome physique were no match
for surging corporate expectations
while sinking, his wake tipped lots of boats
his marriage, his family in a free fall
my piddling attempts to help were futile
Truth was, I never knew his inner mind
I guess I loved him but I don't know -
was he simply the superior image
or the vulnerable suffering reality?
So he flailed through his eighty eight years
disconsolate, in debt and detached,
his affections only came in a knot
Where were Randy's spiritual benefactors?
Are we heirs of our actions, not wishes?
Can we dream but not make dreams our masters?
So what about my own selfish frailties?
I take no pride in this awful life's play
my failures were many and to think now
I lost a life so close, that I watched
for so long devolve and did so little -
will be with me forever, this my fate;
not dashing towards the ones I love most
The land shapes people and people shape lands
Tug River tells tales about feudist stands
'Tween Kentuck and Virginny the river runs
Where the rival families took up their guns
Hatfields 'n McCoys roamed "Murder Land"
Cried 'n died by each other's hand
Details were as much fancy as they were fact
As was this revengeful ongoing hillbilly pact
Newspapers spun this yarn of "Outlaw Class"
Took over a hundred years for this plague to pass
"Devil Anse" 'n "Randall" were the family foes
Long-living cheek and jowl as legend goes
Cost many a life of wife, son and daughter
Through decades of feuding, senseless slaughter
Some say that they were driven out by rail
Others knew enmity should surely prevail
Eastern investors were clearly after coal
In the end, as always, control was the goal
By the start of the twentieth century
Appalachians had lost their dignity
A quote from "90 North" by Randall Jarrell:
"I see at last that all the knowledge
I wrung from darkness -- that the darkness flung me --
is worthless as ignorance: nothing comes from nothing,
The darkness from the darkness. Pain comes from the darkness.
And we call it wisdom. It is pain."
The first bike I ever owned --
when I was ten or eleven --
was a Christmas gift
from a friend. He was receiving a new one
and I was gifted with his old bike.
He had cleaned it up and brush painted it
with a nice coat of red paint.
It was the only gift I got that year,
one of my only gifts as a child.
I loved that bike:
it freed me to pedal around so
I could accompany my friend
as we rode anywhere in our tiny,
sandy, two-paved-road fishing town.
Before the bike, I ran alongside him.
I was quite accustomed to running everywhere,
especially in summer, barefoot, usually shirtless.
Most years from first grade
until we were about twelve,
we spent our time together,
at his house or in imaginary jungles
or on wild, indian-infested wagon train trails.
We defended those trails from apaches
intent on taking our scalps.
Sometimes, on pirate ships, we manned canons
or forced reluctant traitors and mutineers
to walk the plank for failures and misdeeds.
We were never bored, usually outdoors.
On jungle safaris we were frequently attacked
by ferocious lions and tigers and
often captured by cannibal head-hunters
who put us into large pots to cook us
while dancing all around and brandishing
their spears. They sang or chanted
amazing, invented language repetitive
verses overloaded with frequent "ughs'
and tongue-twisting nonsense phrases.
His mother served us gallons of Kool Aid,
gave us snacks we ate with relish.
With a child’s trusting nature,
I hoped this could never end –
I felt secure in friendship and
apparent acceptance by
my friend’s parents. Of course,
things did change.
But..........I did not.
Not for a long, long time.
COAT OF ARMS
Last night I couldn't sleep,for thinking only you...
As I wrapped in warm embrace, your spirit tinted blue
To oust away thine pangs, in hopes to see thee smile...
I'll yoke ye 'pon my shoulders, to carry through this mile
To trade your tears of sorrow, and see them shed in joy...
I'd jest for thine amusement, and be your favorite toy
For thine malady been expelled, I'd invoke it banished 'way...
Taking it 'pon mine self, so you've strength to seize th' day
Though I'm not an king, nor prince 'pon ivory steed...
Th' possessions I've procured here, are thine if felt th' need
I'll sweep thee off thy feet, if not familiar with th' waltz...
To breathe ye 'cross th' ballroom, as an feather floating 'loft
Mark mine words I state here, and hold me to their true...
I'll prove I 'steem thee precious, as unfeigned I surely do
Just promise me one thing, that next time when your down...
You'll wear these words as armor, 'til I mend thy broken crown
?Randall ('~A~')zaza Martin
a.k.a. "Thunderwolf'69" ??????
I was watching the TV the other day
When a certain Rerun began to play.
It brought me back to one of my brain's stifled bans
Because it was about Lucas McCain...the Rifleman.
All of a sudden I was drenched by a flood
of Western Shows that have been long since dead.
I'll just begin with a few you may remember
Like Marshall Dillon - later Gun Smoke as it came on one September.
But I remember The Cisco Kid
and how Poncho always did what he did
we can't forget the masked stranger
who of course turned out to be The Lone Ranger
Then there was Wyatt Earp, Cimmaron Strip, and Rawhide too,
The Guns of Will Sonnet and a Wagon Train rumbling through.
Will anyone ever forget Paladin in Have Gun - Will Travel
or Trackdown or Wanted Dead or Alive with Josh Randall?
Can we ever forget The Big Valley,
or the Ponderosa's size when Bonanza came on the tele.
There were Tales of Texas Rangers and even an F Troop,
Let's not forget Rin Tin Tin and how down on the bad guys he'd swoop.
I still can see Lash Larue and Hopalong Cassidy with his black hat
There were Three Mesquiters to watch when I sometimes sat.
Do you remember Yancy Derringer and his friend Pahoo
or Johnny Yuma, The Rebel who never yelled "Yahoo"!
Maverick, Sugarfoot, and Cheyenne were favorites of mine
There are too many more here for me to rhyme.
Many a big star began on that little screen
If it hadn't been for the Westerns...What would they have been?
It can be fun thinking about some of those shows
Because they are a part of TV nostalgia as everyone knows.
They have come and gone like the heroes they'd portray
I remember the Westerns...and their horse's neigh.
over the bridge
to 'western street
&parminters for savoury
sausage meat
along by
the slaughterhouse
in silver lane
pop into jones&cocks
out of the rain
pass the fire-house
to aylesbury news
glance the photos
of the weeks who's&who's
to adams tobacco,corner
of the market square
pass mcilroys
hear the traders shout
their wares
my favoured table
at the ancient 'old beams'
tea ,scones &
local churned creams
thru ' bullshead ' alley
to upper high street
&nurricks,for a dental 'date'
then swiftly retreat
window-shop spraggs hermons,
& hepworths selections
into hopcrafts
for enticing confections
on to adkins
for an inner-tube kit
the walk uphill
keeps me fit
shop for groceries
at pearks,greggs&maypole
stopping at the co-op
to order the coal
into to kingsbury
for ashfords linctus
best not delay
in hasberrys ,seventy-eights
to spin and play
collect mum's hat
from the bonnet-box
next,bradfords
for those needed locks
fresh breadrolls
from baker page
&quick back&sides
styling,not yet the rage
box of nails from
ironmonger jowett
calling at sayers
for my lyons cornet
over the railway bridge
to west bros shop
for north&randall tizer
& a lemon lollipop
long lost names
in a memory fading fast
here recollected
from aylesbury's distant past