Long Risky Poems
Long Risky Poems. Below are the most popular long Risky by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Risky poems by poem length and keyword.
I loved you John Wayne!
I wished you were my father
or maybe an older brother
who’d tutor me to be tough
when manners weren’t enough
and toughness was needed
that civility be heeded
and not to brag or complain.
O I loved you John Wayne!
As soon as I was old enough
to earn the price of admission
I saw your films in succession
at the first run houses down
in the big deal part of town
and enshrined each one on a list
taped to my bedside wall
and read about the ones I’d missed.
Shucks, I loved you most of all!
Fort Apache and Red River
took pride of place on the page;
they’d eaten up my weekly wage.
I missed the Yellow Ribbon;
I hoped I’d be forgiven.
At the Rio and the Broad
(in a dicey neighborhood)
I atoned with films you’d done
before I was even born.
Western after Western
and tales of oil and whiskey
and scheming ladies, O so risky!
I hoped I’d be excused
when I compromised my muse
by adding well-built gals
to Duke and all his pals.
Montez, Russell, and Lake
made my hormones quake.
O I loved you, John Wayne.
I could feel your bashful pain
When the pretty lady roped you
and hat in hand you’d bow,
the furrow deepening on your brow,
and utter monosyllables plus “Ma’am,”
no longer a ram, more like a lamb.
O I shared you pain, John Wayne!
And still I loved you John Wayne,
your true grit and donnybrook,
your menacing brow, the look
that said, “Enough, my friend.
“This bull is going to end!”
You swaggered? (not quite it--
as if your boots didn’t quite fit?)
You took him by the horns and shook;
Plomp! Down went the snook!
How I loved you, John Wayne!
And I love you still when again I see
the doughty Duke on my smart TV
as much as Papa’s lone old man,
with fish chewed down to the bone
loved Joltin’ Joe Dimaggio
when the Clipper’s legs began to go
and he was hobbled by his heel.
John Wayne, you were the real deal.
and in my meditation wanderings
I arrived at an antique door quite unique
it was a tall large carved wood door
with an ornate knob and large keyhole
it was really imposing
there was no chime
oh, where would this portal lead to
was this the threshold to evil
or the entrance to fantasy
or the gateway to my uncertainty
I would only affirm if I turned the knob
and step through its opening
I hesitated for I feared the unknown
was apprehensive and suspicious
in a quandary with qualms of uncertainty
it would be chancy and risky
my doubt was wavering
I talked to myself
you are strong, brave, adventurous
go for it
so, slowly with misgivings I turned to knob
the door opened with a creak
peering through the opening
was the most divine, sublime
tangled garden dripping with hued green
and pretty bright flowers
the smell was inviting
a thousand birds singing come, come, come
so, I stepped through and then back
just to prove for sure that I could return
how long did I spend meandering
well, time stood still so I do not know
but upon my return to reality
I told myself do not hesitate
with the unknown in fear
carefully, thoughtfully always move forward
with the certainty that all will unfold
as it is meant to . . .
Senor's wealth management...
battered pinata like
Yours truly courtesy servitude
tethered existence suffers neck
brunt of yoke
fiscal recklessness got me woke
within cosmic schema,
a mere infinitesimal speck.
Insolvent crisis principally bespoke
interestingly enough
caught me off balance
sudden pennilessness
(dollar short/ day late dada)
analogous to vice grip
stranglehold doth choke
coffers emptied
willy-nilly Okey doke
colorblindness
fundamentally governed me
into zombified state
thus another plaintive plea
I repeatedly, lamely, and feebly evoke
meaning remuneration welcomed
courtesy altruistic generosity, magnanimity
and philanthropy humble
anonymous Lake Woebegone folk
ideally Norwegian bachelor farmers
to alleviate fiasco from fiendish
fraudsters frazzled father.
In plain (Schwenksville speak)
broken English,
I fell prey to hustlers
audacious, ferocious, malicious,
voracious, zealous tricksters,
who stealthily found entry
into my Macbook Pro
and locked computer screen
with threatening implication
security of mine private domain
awash with byte size bits
of valuable information
at risk of being tampered
with or obliterated.
Analogous to eminent domain of yore
mine digital terrain
manifest destiny meant war
virtual flesh and blood
regarding these lovely bones
yours truly gussied up
as chargé d'affaires
sent on risky (business) dutiful tour
to inflict comeuppance on him
who rendered me poor
as a Unitarian Church mouse,
plus I recruited
offspring of one of countless
related German Shepherd dogs
featured in fictional stories
on film, radio and television,
who starred as Rin Tin Tin reincarnate
belonging to elite K9 Korp
receiving unexpected support
courtesy end of gum
(cryptic message for ye
to chew on) sympathizers
voluntarily boosted success
at recouping major financial setback
my morale viz extempore.
The reindeer and Santa proceed at a canter
On a sleigh made of magical wood
They’ve gone to fill shelves with gifts made by elves
For all the kids that have been good
At home in the grotto, the elves are all blotto
They found where the whisky was hid
Then looked for some brandy to drink themselves bandy
And that’s just what most of them did
They had lots of banter about Mr Santa
And the sign that was hung on his door
They started debatin’ and renamed him Satan
And then started drinking some more
Stood in the corner like Little Jack Horner
An elf peed all over the wall
He tried higher squirting, but soaked all the skirting
Cos elves are not terribly tall
The door opened wide and who stepped inside
But Santa with Rudolph in tow
Poor Rudolph looked sad, he clearly felt bad
He’d just eaten bright yellow snow
Behind him poor Cupid stood there feeling stupid
It was she who had peed in the snow
She knew it was risky, but filled up with whisky
She had nowhere else she could go
Then Santa saw bottles all scattered around
The brandy and whisky expired
There’s booze splashed about so he kicked them all out
‘Get lost cos the lot of ya’s fired’
The sleigh without Santa began to meander
It wouldn't fly straight as it should
In Lapland they nicked it, in quicksand they ditched it
So Christmas is done for for good
Put upon a pedestal thin as a razor blade
where you must balance precariously
for the higher it’s raised the longer the fall
It’s simpler to say and do nothing at all
It’s far too risky to care
to put yourself out there
You slipped once before
perhaps you were pushed
It left a nasty scar
which is quite a coincidence
You’ve never been the same since
as when a child’s innocence
has been stolen away
Wisdom is won by such wounds
but much can be lost too
We are all simply people who
eat, drink, piss, sh*t and screw
until we come to our inevitable end
A few are fortunate and do it
in penthouses, mansions
fancy flats in exclusive sections of cities
sleeping on satin sheets
while some must settle for a single room
a shack or the streets
At least in one respect they’re luckier than you
The world doesn’t give a damn what they do
Entering the Dark Side of a Moonbeam
Entering the dark side of a moonbeam is always very risky
since the cold and howling bitterness of the night escapes,
as a moaning, devilish agony of selfishness devours the good.
As the human heart fills with air, a legion of grieving spirits
in the human psyche is at once intoxicated with the sacred
kissed-gift of this hallowed eve as promised by the Devil.
Cain searches now within Life’s Garden that special hiding
place where unsuspecting Zombies of a grief-stricken nature
dwell whilst being seduced by a darkness as fires burn black.
What remains evident is an emotionless being who is tortured
with murderous feelings that are affected when the dark smoke
blows away all pride and one finds there is no remorse at all.
An agonizing pain is cleared now with the Moon’s eclipse as
the ghosts and goblins of the Devil seek “Hate’s Trigger” that
lies under a deep-dark crater where twilight ghosts cry out now.
These demonic ghosts are known as the “Crying Beggars of Despair,”
who haunt the soul of mankind and are born out of the dark ashes of
unhappy wild beasts who speak with tongues of envy and sadness.
These ghosts now set up their invisible barbed-wire boundaries
that they want to burst later as they begin fighting for their true
existence in the Devil’s own “Dark Netherworld of Lost Souls.”
These ghosts begin now to dance gracefully in the dark shadows as
their deceptive tongues make false complaints and poisonous lies
that throw the state of mind of the demonic ghosts into utter turmoil.
With this evil event, their blood rushes rapidly below the skin’s
surface, as a fear now clings to their throat as an eternal burning
battle gains no foothold to the next following step they must take.
Yes, even for the Devil’s own demonic ghosts from the depths of
Hell itself, their life, their very own existence is incredibly fragile
and vulnerable just like a match is to a flame. Mors omnia solvit.
Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
Copyright © All Rights Reserved, December 7, 2021
(Tercet)
He took another gulp of whisky
She walked into the room even though she knew it was risky
The words he said were slurred
He grabbed another bottle and that was his third
He stood upon the floor
His voice was like a roar
Her eyes filled with tears
She knows what she has to fear
She had no clue
What to do
Her heart sank
As he drank
Her eyes stung
As his fist swung
She felt like she drowned
As her head hit the ground
She knew this was it
She took another hit
She never fought back
Everything went black
Shhe wanted to get away
And he was in dismay
She ran as fast as she could
But she knew she never would
She knew it was extreme
But this was just a dream
One Merry Christmas Or Another
Will this Christmastime be the best one you’ve had?
Will it be a joy and Feliz Navidad?
Will it be an endurance of familial hell,
Or peace and goodwill and a Joyeux Noël?
Is visiting kinfolk at Yuletide quite risky,
Or thrilling and Felicem Natalem Christi?
Are you certain that your days will be exciting and full;
An unforgettably happy and festive God Jul?
Are your Christmases dismal or times to remember?
Do you try your utmost for a Krismasi Njema?
Or do you prefer to keep everything low,
Instead letting others have a Maligayang Pasko?
Whatever it means to you when comes the day:
A tedious trial or Giáng Sinh Vui Ve?,
I wish you peace wherever you’re goin’,
Happiness, joy and Nadolig Llawen.
When cowboys sprawl 'round the camp fire after the days work is done,
They strum guitars and tootle harmonicas and sing to have fun.
Real cowboys don't sing Honky-Tonk or She Done Me Wrong stuff.
They leave that to rhinestone cowboys, considerin' it to be so much fluff!
Real wranglers sing about ropin' dogies and fixin' barbed wire fences,
Roundups, brandin' time and the magnificence of God's grand expanses.
They sing of home on the range, rodeos and dinin' on bacon and beans,
Cattle stampedes on stormy nights, the old corral and dance hall queens.
They harmonize about ghost riders in the sky who've met their fates,
Tumblin' tumbleweeds, cool water, tin cups and eatin' from tin plates.
They sing about bein' back in the saddle again and the streets of Laredo,
And belt out songs about horses named Old Paint, Ol' Dan and Tornado.
They yodel the cattle call and sing about when the bloom's on the sages,
And croon about their yellow rose of Texas and their pitiful wages.
Real buckaroos sing about Christmas in the bunk house and rye whiskey,
Cattle drives on the Lone Star and Abilene trails and a life so very risky.
They sing of the grumpy foreman and when the works all done this fall,
And tweedle about ragtime cowboy Joe and many a barroom brawl.
Real cowboys sing about ridin' the range, the chaparral and dusty trail,
And leave Hank Snow to warble about lost love, honky-tonks and landin' in jail!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
often in the grand scheme of God's desires
He will use mankind to do what He requires
His providential purposes God's master plans
will utilize any and all types of man
the Pharoah declared a most horrendous decree
of infanticide on Jewish male babies
to put them to death to keep their numbers down
fearful of having too many Jewish males around
but history has a way of repeating itself again and again
as the young Black male populations today hangs by a fringe
with incarcerations, police brutality and killing each other
we're on the verge of eradicating our young Black brothers
a supposed threat to society that same old racist mentality
yet all it takes is for God to send someone to be bold
one person unafraid to break away from the mold
over 400 years of praying and keeping hope alive
a people once in slavery but today they now thrive
from Moses to Jeremiah to the Rev. Dr. King
to President Barak Obama God can change anything
One Bold Black Soul to say what needs to be said
One Bold Black Soul whose life is spirit-led
don't let the world compromise your moral integrity
let prayer be the tool you use to claim the victory
you need some solitude to simply reflect
on that which God desires of you and what of you He expects
God will be what you want no matter what you need
and He will do whatever is needed to help you succeed
so walk in the spirit and just wait for your time
and be ready to act when God gives you a sign
to be called into place with God's saving grace
Jeremiah told the people of the prophecy
about their demise if they confront their enemy
he was then thrown into a pit full of mud and slime
his death to be a certainty in a very short time
but One Bold Black Soul stepped up to the plate
and told the King to save Jeremiah before it was too late
One Bold Black Soul an Ethiopian man
told of the soldiers diabolical plans
to be bold, to be risky, to be resilient in your resolve
to step out of your comfort zone until the problem is solved
from Rosa Parks to Medgar Evers to Malcolm X
to do what is prevalent and not what society expects
creative in courage, inspired with innovation
by any means necessary to change the situation
One Bold Black Soul willing to step out on a limb
to stop history from repeating itself once again