Long Rangy Poems
Long Rangy Poems. Below are the most popular long Rangy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rangy poems by poem length and keyword.
Retrieved Passage 6:
From The Book of Days - The Cellar
Don't send me down to the cellar
I swear I won't do it again
lest my sanity goes inter-stellar
and I beat myself senseless in vain
Don't send me down to the cellar
there are things there that scuttle and crawl
there are gnomes there that sing a capella
and an evil old troll in a shawl
There are heebies and jeebies aplenty
who leave trails of slime on the stairs
and their brains are undoubtedly empty
and their long arms have unsightly hairs
So leave me my cape and umbrella
and my half-eaten poems of woe
don't send me down to the cellar
nurse, not again, let me go!
Retrieved Passage 7:
Overboard
"Potato Overboard!"
Came the loud mid-shipman's cry
the Potato King had fallen in
we hung him out to dry
dangling from the mainsail mast
festooned with swaying weeds
it cured his hangover quite fast
it usually succeeds
"Oh Your Majesty"
said his fair queen, in dismay
the gulls had eaten both his socks
and took his wig away
he was a spud of rangy height
wall-eyed, with lantern jaw
but now he was a sorry sight
as many times before.
"Potato Overboard"
was a common cry, those days
We never cured His Majesty
of rabid dipso ways
he would fall into bouillabaise
cow troughs, and out of ships
and always buy up hard liquor
on foreign shopping trips.
Retrieved Passage 8:
The Hour of Cool is Nigh
I came to chill
I came to mellow down
I came to groove about in a yellow gown
hey man, I want to shimmy like a yak
this is the hour I have my cool attack
I came to chill
I came to croon for lurrve
I came to give coolness a helping shove
hey maestro, hit the bass and timpany
this is the funk hour, in the Name of Me
Dressed to thrill
I came to chill this town
to say "one has to get up to get down"
I came to watch the bumble bees go by
hey give it up, the Hour of Cool is nigh.
you got a brain in there you're reading this
when's the last time you found yourself using it
to continue assembling the puzzle pieces
in the proximity of an existential grievance
minus the usual cheap suit wonderment
in agitated defense of your cosmic rights
with a recognition that truth is a good buzz
for all you approval junkies out there
chronically frightened in the absence of threat
evil continues lurking beneath the bed
given certain necessity preconceptions
about life and fate and disinhibition
shouting up periscope blindness is so passe
the actual eventual bearing down on your position
across eons of engineered and directed darkness
Little Jimmy Nickjean flicked his Bic against the fuse
simply tired of the the chronic trickery
delivered doggedly right between the ribs
by the nearest Projectionist Union gangster
right on schedule a pretext of need in tow
Jimmy's rangy accomplices in distracted liberation
hoisted high the jolly skull and crossed swords
First Mate Nutmeg Lieberman's hips were heaving
like a flat bottom skiff in a Santa Anna swell
oars pumping biting into the foam
swamped by her peculiar passions
screaming with abandon in concluding fruition
splintering windows in a large radius
causing dogs to break their chains
and hump their masters' legs
or any errant pedestrian caught in the open
tails wagging tongues flapping
filling gaps in logic with fantasy
and absent minded indifference
our parched and pale poet
questioning the infinite minutiae
the typewriter in his head going clackety clack
until the cows come home
and goats and pigs and ducks and parrots
an unwished list of the persistently dismissed
Yours truly dug deep with bony strength
in tandem with fantasy notions know
king around in figurative heady
toboggan noggin like cranial carapace
to muster every ounce of strength
in an effort to escape chronic confrontation
with endless streak of bleakness.
Although cursed with brutish,
nasty, and short nefarious fate
as a measly looking human
varmint, this grimy,
grungy, mangy, rangy, et cetera
looking besotted being
clung with all the might
within his five foot ten inch
or so tall and one hundred
and sixty five pound body
to transcend sigh grimly
twerking terrestrial travesty
that tweeted n tweaked laugh-in
fickle finger of fate in my favor.
I tapped into atavistic survival skills
summoned willpower to stay alive
drinking butter bear while heavy cross
of dirty poor poverty borne.
No matter a hard-core skeptic at heart,
this cynic plaintively called
for divine intervention
to help one nondescript human piece
of flotsam and jetsam
to cope - living like
doleful junkyard dog.
In essence, this abandoned, ignored
and shunned vagrant frequently
raged against the Deus ex machine
found figurative amidst
literal lovely bones
slim pick hens with demons
that tormented psyche.
While traipsing along litter strewn
condemned boulevard of broken dreams,
torn and well-worn shoe kicked
a couple of long discarded items.
These weather beaten hands
reflexively bent to retrieve accouterments.
One comprised colorful jagged shard,
in a previous lifetime
housed cheap fermented liquor.
Nothing but crud
filled remnant of dog gone
booze hounds’ favorite drink.
A huge Alsatian barks at a passerby stranger
as the pond geese honk sensing grave danger
Trudges back home a rangy lone ranger.
Big and little aubergines cast a purple shade
In the twilight birdsong begins to fade
Night makes navy-blue of the greenery's jade.
Wolves howl in the distance
Panthers prowl near pig pens
Ocelots growl around the dens.
Dolphins perform in the aquatic circus
Kids count on the time-old abacus
All in all the miracle of creation's fabulous
Elsewhere the morn dawns upon wee ladybirds
And shepherds go about grazing their hungry herds.
A rare sight of starfishes settle upon beach pebbles
Pink salmon in a see-through lake breath out bubbles
Bombed by tech; corpses found in debris and rubbles!
Wild species lurk in the murky forest
Stands tall and hovering high mount Everest
A chance to enjoy nature at its very best!
Admit it O' mankind no one can ever be
at par with your and my versatile Creator
The billions of species is far too extraordinary
He single-handedly created all that variety in nature.
For even the clever human who invented the radio
did not as well model the computer.
The one who designed my dresser couldn't design my patio
It'd be rare for a shoemaker to also be a tutor
But God He made both ant and elephant
and there's absolutely nothing that He can't.
My long sleep wasn't disturbed by a Mallard,
no visions of wars but of absolute serenity...
giving this body a vital boost of energy;
flowing was the blood, sound was the mind!
The green-winged Teal seemed too hungry,
and munching on a piece of bread, hurriedly
glanced and drastically feared the rangy vagrant
with a face so pale that even startled a big cat!
Opening my window to the cool breeze of March
takes the whiff of staleness out of the dim room;
observe the yellow begonias cherishing its caress...
'though perturbed by the smell of the forest Larch!
Flowers don't feel pain, neither they show gloom:
tend to them and they will display their loveliness!
I grab my pen and start composing another lyric
to describe this wonderful season that delights;
I'm glad that winter has put an end its snowy days!
Do poets choose their words according to images,
or they pop into their heads and write ditty verses
diverging from the norm of poetry that's too intrinsic?
Opening my window to the cool breeze of March...
oh, sonorous spring has arrived ending my confinement
to a glass desk with a Dell computer to find a replacement!
Does artificial intelligence offer some enlightenment?
Not all cope with loneliness: dramatic was the fate of Lach;
how many of us have used extreme measures to stay afloat?
I waited in one of the cities dark and dangerous alleyways. The vile odors. The Gads
knows what forming puddles around my best leather boots. The ones with the shine to
blind the eye.
There she was. A common strumpet. Drunkenly making her way towards me. Jingling
her purse of meager coins.
Blood money.
Obtained by logging men on the heads whilst they took their fill of her. Only to have
her sell them to sea Captain's that do not ask questions of where their crew came
from. Or whether they were willing.
I could feel the evil in the air about her. I heard her heart beat and felt her blood pulse.
She was delicious.
Not a drop wasted.
As I sit here, the thought comes to me, that I shall
be damned.
But wait! I am already damned and I thrive within it. I not only thrive...I revel in it.
Now where is that odious, rangy, mouse burping kitten gotten off to.
GADS! She is up the draperies once again!
I will calmly go get the ladder, which I had to buy just for these occasions. I will place it
up against the drapery staff.
I will climb up. Gently coaxing the little flea bitten darling to me. She will hiss and claw
like the vixen she is.
But, alas. I adore her so.
~Lord Kellington
The rangy longhorns were rounded up and tended to.
Over the Colorado plains a fearsome blizzard blew!
'Twas Christmas Day! The cowpokes paid no mind to the storm,
As they huddled 'round the potbellied stove all snug and warm!
While 'Cooky' stuffed the turkey for their Christmas fare,
Frivolity, fun and comradeship filled the air!
The old bunkhouse was decorated as best they could.
In a corner a tree formed from tumbleweeds stood.
They recalled Christmases past when they were boys,
Sharin' happy family lore and distant Yuletide joys.
One read from Luke the story of Jesus and the manger.
He is their faithful sidekick - to them He is no stranger!
They sang carols accompanied by a harmonica and guitar,
And sipped spicy cider and coffee as black as tar!
With cups of wassail they proposed raucous toasts,
And regaled each other with timely and witty ripostes!
'Cooky' yelled, "Come 'n git it, all's ready 'round the board!"
They doffed their hats for the blessin' and thanked the Lord.
Though the hoi polloi celebrated at the Ritz with gala parties,
That would never do for these range ridin' hearties!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
the light chiffon veneers of winter's face
slow-deliquesce as rangy shadows wane
soft gossamer as whitened Guipure lace
melts running to the rills with April's rain
a dulcet strain of spring tide on the wing
each songbird chants a serenade to woo
the passions that a warmer air can bring
and nature's resurrection thru-and-thru
a world of monochrome now comes alive
so blossoming with promise and with life
the world of bursting color now to thrive
all water, land and air with movement rife
now mystery and romance start their call
for spring is summer's harbinger ... of all.
~ 5th Place ~ in the "April 2019 Premiere 6, Up To A Max Of 14 Lines" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Spring Sonnet" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 4th Place ~ in the "Spring Is In The Air" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.
A tall man waited,
His woman was gone.
She had a travellers itch,
The need to move,
She never settled down.
Working hard,
she was a true cowgirl
Worth the wait he always said.
She hit town after town, lived in her truck
He waited, kept the house at home.
One day she came,
She looked at him,
and then she knew.
He said your traveling days are over,
Your workin time is done.
No matter how many hours you log,
how far you go,
the work is never done.
So come stay with me,
Be my partner
My best freind.
She smiled and said ok.
Her workin days were over,
she missed the time of
Open feilds, and rangy cattle,
The smell of a brandin fire.
But She'd not trade in a single day
With that man she'd loved.
They had a home, a baby,
A couple real good dogs.
She loved him, and he loved her,
And a home they'd finally made.
And he said she was worth the wait,
And she said she'd found what she'd been searching for.
Contemplative bliss communes with the serene,
into the spirit of the placid marine crystalized in my mind.
As the sun’s reflection spreads glitter upon its open sea,
throngs milling to the melodious tunes of the guitar.
Strumming troubadour, slim and rangy toe headed youth
grins modestly as his tip jar fills welcoming spared bills
And to the sounds of the seagulls
gleeful squawk, soaring through the azure.
Beyond the pier the magician plies his trade,
tricks which awe and stun
the enthusiastic crowds gathered about.
And what lovely crowds willing, mellifluous, madrigal,
thoughtful, kind, and respectful.
Smiles abound as though the world conspires for a pleasant mood.
I inhale the familiar primordial sea air’s briny scent.
I take pause to ponder gazing out onto the vast ocean’s expanse.
How much longer can I bare this aching fulfillment
as I anxiously transpose these images and feelings
into meriting words.