Long Round up Poems
Long Round up Poems. Below are the most popular long Round up by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Round up poems by poem length and keyword.
We crossed the streams where the fool's gold gleams as we joked and told our stories
And each man spoke of his love and home when work's all done this Fall
When the work's all done this Fall
We hadn’t made it halfway up with Bill still trailing badly
When Johnny said to Pete and Joe let’s stop here and eat dinner
We'd be home in time for supper
Slide Whistle Ike said a plan I like presents itself most handy
So I went back down to round up Bill my beans and biscuits waiting
My beans and biscuits waiting
I turned my mount back down the hill an eye peeled for Bill’s pony
When it caught my eye upslope in the bye near a shaking quakie standing
A shakey quakie standing
That’s where my knees like the trembling trees moved in the breeze a whisperin’
But it wasn’t the wind left the bone and skin above my boots a'shakin’
Surely, I was mistaken
Young Bill had tied his horse to a sapling down where the trail was bending
And climbed up high framed in the sky behind him dark as midnight
What happened to the daylight?
A ghastly glow surrounds him so like embers from the Devil’s campfire
His eyes and face had greatly aged and he smiled like the rage of the Talon River
The raging Talon River
For there stood Bill on that cursed hill his eyes ablaze like lightning
Astride a stream that'd turned to steam under where Mad Bill was standing
Right where that Bill was standing
It hissed and moaned and turned the stones I swear to molten metal
And swept more stones that broke like bones as they tumbled down the mountain
That wretched cursed mountain
He was on a ridge above the boys still laughin' with their dinner
They couldn't see for a line of trees hid their eyes from doom impending
All Hades was descending
I shouted up, "Joe grab the boys and ride to where I'm standing!"
But he couldn't hear me and my desperate plea was lost on that black mountain
That black and burning mountain
Then Ike first heard that sound not found this side of the river Styx
And he barely had time to shout the names of his saddle mates and home
"Home boys! Head for home!"
But there was no time to clear their mind and comprehend what's coming
For who could know what terrible blow upon them was descending
All Hades was descending
________________________________________
Hillary is cooked Bills time not overlooked
Their crimes way overbooked
Democrats and Republicans alike
Caught on a barbed hook
Americans don't need another look
The Clinton Foundation indicted like crooks
We didn't hire any of them to cook the books
I'm sure they all shook when they took a look
Through all of their lies
They have worked up like spies
America so wise
You’re all guilty in her eyes
We are not willing to compromise
All along they were planning our demise
While the big bad wolf hides in disguise
Mueller playing both sides of the fence
If I was Obama
I would be looking for a good defense
He left so much corruption in his wake
Most Americans knew he was a fake
The collusion and election tampering
Heating up like a red hot injection
Looks like Trump is taking this country
In a whole new direction
America's complexion is clearing up
Like he promised
With plenty of protection
From these kinds of infections
Pedophilia from Washington to Hollywood
Running scared up to no good
Across the board, America is floored
Trump screaming it will not be ignored
He will cut through it like a mighty sword
Oh Lord I pray each and every day
You clean up our government
Who would act this way
So much has been left to decay
While all of it on display
Tried to do it the Bush's way
But they let our towers fall that day
Just like Bush Sr. before to start another war
To line their pockets even more
Uranium One has come undone
The evil that has been spun
The democratic party on the run
It would appear that many have much to fear
Because the end is very near
They have bet it all on their careers
It's clear that politics in Washington
Have been nothing but a big smear
Set to ignite and just disappear
Pay to play the shadow governments way
Should be dealt with in a very public display
Taking all of Satan's power away
From those who would betray
Americans by lying about why they want '
To round up our guns
Wake up America
They're not playing for fun
While they spun their awful run
This is to let them know crimes against America
That won't come undone
It's we the people that will have won
Shadow government is all done
April 7—Figure something out in a poem
Why Trump?
For the last six years
I have been trying
To figure out
Why 40 percent
Of my fellow Americans
Still support Trump.
Still believe he was
The greatest President ever.
I just don’t understand it
Trump is a racist, misogynist
Sexual predator rapist, narcissistic
Fraudster, con artist, grifter.
Who has lost billions
Of dollars over the years
Never pay his contractors
Or his lawyers.
Has been involved
In over 3,000 lawsuits
And lost most of them.
Who lied over 30,000 times
When he was President
And at least 10,000 times
Since then.
Including the big lie
That he won the last election
Both in the popular vote
And in the Electoral College vote.
Over 90 courts concluded
That there was not there there
And that he lost the election.
There was no widespread fraud
The election was fair and square
And he lost.
Trump is the poster child
For the seven deadly sins
And is not a Christian
Far from it.
Yet to his deluded followers
God anoints him
To destroy the enemies
Of the Christian faith.
Now a court has declared
That he defrauded the State
Of New York
To the tune of 450 million dollars.
He stole top-secret documents
Denied he had them
Refused to give them back
And openly talked about them.
With people not cleared
For secret and top-secret
Documents.
He plotted to overturn
The election
And stay in power.
He openly promises
He will be a dictator
And round up millions
Of illegals, and political dissidents
When he is re-elected,
Why he is polling at 40 percent
And not 4 percent
Is beyond me.
The best I can conclude
Is he appeals to those who believe
The whole system is corrupt.
And is rigged against
Lower-middle-class
Christian white Americans.
They feel that they have been
Royalty screwed over by
The masters of the universe.
Who see workers
As nothing but
Disposable labor units
Of production.
And they are right
And Trump for his faults
Speaks to the forgotten men
And women in fly-over country,
That is why he is still popular
And could be re-elected
And if he is re-elected
Can American Christian fascism
Be coming?
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my old friend Dane,
who spends his days riding
across the Texas plains,
working for a big ranch,
he cuts, lassos, and herds,
brings them in at round-up,
brands them all in turn.
Works out in the sunshine,
rides hard for his pay,
heads on down to Randy’s
for a drink at close of day.
the bartender there always
shows his picture to cowgirls,
Dane’s a local legend,
on raging bulls he’s twirled.
Some women try to tame him,
one day one might succeed,
but right now he’s just happy
giving them what they need.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask my buddy Bill,
he grew up loving westerns,
I guess he always will.
He loves the boots and hats,
even owns a bolo tie,
if it weren’t for those old movies
he’d have never learned to ride.
Takes trail-rides with his children
out in the country air,
keeps them from their cell-phones,
builds memories to spare.
Takes them to wild west shows,
where old time ballads ring,
doesn’t take much prodding
before the kids start to sing.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask our sheriff Max,
even when out on the job
he still wears a white hate.
Some say that his dark skin
makes the cowboy-look strange,
forgetting all those freed slaves
that once rode the range.
But Max doesn’t give a whit,
he’s an honest, weathered soul,
and every year he dresses up
for the town police festival.
He puts on all his cowboy duds,
plays the old west lawman,
the kids all run up to him
making finger-guns with hand,
But those buckaroos are quick,
he’s never outdrawn a one,
but it’s enough for the sheriff
to see the tykes having fun.
It’s good to be a cowboy,
just ask ol’ Jimmy-Ray,
living down in sunny Georgia,
his feet in the red clay.
he’s never even rode a horse,
but the don't bothered him,
the cowboy code is his bible,
you can see it in his grin.
He’s quite the man of honor,
and will always treat your fair
in his hometown barbecue
if you ever do eat there.
He’s polite to the ladies,
looks each man in the eye,
on days off in his straw hat
his ATV he rides.
He stays loyal to one woman,
his great pride and his joy,
to her he’ll always tip his hat,
it’s good to be a cowboy.
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
Dedicated to a fine poet on soup, Lin Lane
-------------------------------------------------
I shook hands with my brother and bade him farewell
Then set off on my journey away from this hell
Mexico I’d head for and buy a small farm
Meanwhile back in town the guards raised the alarm.
A posse they assembled to help track me down
But saw some Apaches and hightailed it back to town
It was far from over, the Pinkertons were brought in
Determined they were, to carry out the hanging.
After three days riding my horse became lame
It slowed down my escape that made me fair game
Sold my horse at Santa Fe and boarded a train
Vowed I’d never come back to America again.
Two whole years went by and I was living free
Thought they’ve given up now, they’ll never find me
Bought a farm, met a girl, a beautiful senorita
Had two children both girls, Anna and Conchita.
One day I went to town to buy some supplies
The Pinkertons were there, I couldn’t believe my eyes
They arrested me at gunpoint and they took me to jail
I strongly protested my innocence but to no avail.
Spent a week in the jail while they sorted deportation
Paperwork completed, headed for the railroad station
After a long journey we arrived back in Colorado
They had the noose ready, they were raring to go.
All over the state the news was all about me
The Pinkertons just loved their new found glory
The night before the hanging I heard guns blazing
What happened after that was truly amazing.
About a hundred desperado's invaded the town
Burst into the jail and told me to lie down
The sound was deafening as they shot at the lock
The Pinkertons stood speechless, they were in shock.
I went out into the street and a voice said to me
“We only found out because of the publicity”
Then out of the shadows came a face I knew well
My twin brother once more had rescued me from hell.
He said “join our gang and we’ll ride far away”
I said “crimes not for me and one day you’ll pay”
Rode back to Mexico to round up my family
Then headed to Brazil where I now live and I’m free.
Lin suggested a part deux so I was inspired to write a sequel, thanks Lin.
He was a sort of a king, a man at the top of King Hill. He had the most food, and the most guns. He had servants at first, but they were too hard to feed after a bit, so he let them go. When he was younger he used to come out of his glass castle and look down the hill at the common people, but that got depressing as he aged.
All around him was famine. The common people were starving and fighting over food rations. He watched in curiosity as they fought over ham steaks and bags of grain. One day the almost-king watched the Theys round up the Bittles. First they rounded the Bittles up, then they tied them to trees, and let them starve and die of thirst. He could have helped save them, but he did not want to get involved.
They came for the Zygons next. The Zygons did not go as peacefully. They fought and clawed, kicked, hissed and spit. But They rounded them up anyway and locked them into stocks where the almost-King could see them, but he did not know anything about Zygons. Why should he help them?
The almost king was looking from his balcony one day, when something treacherous was happening to the Lillies. The Lillies had always been kind to him, and he felt badly about it, but he was afraid to speak because his castle was made of glass, and he was rapidly becoming afraid of the Theys.
So he hid inside, and did not open the door to anyone. The Theys were surprised when they came up the hill to round up the Polk Noses. The Polka Noses had weapons. They fought bravely, hurting some of the Theys. But in the end, they got the Polka Noses under control.
The Theys were becoming a formidable group. There were thousands of them now and more Theys were joining them every day. Joining is better than being targeted by the Theys, right? Ask my cousin, who used to be a We.
The almost king disapproved of the Theys now, but fear kept him silent. He was hoping they would not notice him or his glass castle. He hid inside, not protesting, not making any noise at all, fearfully silent until they started chanting as they came up the hill.
Moral of this Story: Speak up before they come and get you.
Where there is a petty imitation
There'll be pests, posters of sensation
Grouping of hesitations
Complaints to order, servings of hallucinations
There'll be soap-box amatory slander
About walking coat-hangers slender
It ain't working girl, it's a waling green guile
By his friend in business uptown a mile
By his wife who paints her mirror image
Shades against her daughter's non-marriage
Her tea drained in company of photo albums
Of good old days of bottomless bums
And motherly mums and wives' tales true
But the fashionable unreasonable is turning blue
All the codified glory of yesterday's innocent shame
Now he's not got a gamut of trust in a game
He calls out to his dog, his faith, his fellow
"Round up the gambits and youths in yellow,
'cause I can't move from my comfortable stump."
But his companion is old, stands to wearily slump
Back to the ground to emphasize to his master
That's four legs or two there'll be no muster
Just a dusty breeze of his wooden-coat happening
As diamonds were coal, the rough is hardening
Like a baby can't talk, but it knows what it wants
No you can't understand it, you guess as it taunts
Your patience and moral, your air of knowledge
That you've blown so big you need no tutelage
So you sit and you moan, you grumble and point
You don't dance no more as it'll gnaw each joint
Like you grind your teeth as the heartily speak
As the laughing weak working each day of the week
It's hard but they know it won't last forever
'cause cursing your bread will put you in the gutter
Now that's something you could never understand
Just as your father's father both bit and fed the hand
Now you sit pious in a dynasty out of your control
You had to spread it thin to bank each and every toll
So rest you ill and tainted soul, the blind see more
The deaf hear more, as the mute speak ancient lore
Rewritten as it were to be - a changing people's democracy
An evolution from your pollution and non-decency
A smile for a smile not an eye for an eye
And you'll cry and you'll cry when death strolls in to buy
Your soul at less then half you thought it worth
And bury you down inside the cold, cold earth.
… Well, a man told me a Story
That was hard to Believe
I thought he was Lying…
‘til I looked thru some Trees…
There went a thin Alligator
With a Boot on his Head !...
Walking to the River –
Like he’s so Unafraid…
Now, I turned back to the Guy
And asked, “What should I do?...
… but he was limping away
Without any Shoes…
He had a smile on his Face
That turned into Laughter…
He joked, and said…
“The old-boy came and got what he was after!....
… Amen !...
He was just looking for his Skin
He needed somethin’ to walk Around-in
Hold his head upright, and keep on Walking…
… He was just looking for his Skin…
… Now, if we could know the Creature-Language
They would shock us to the Core !
‘Cause they got their Own Legends
And wild-animal ‘Lore’…
They think that we are Lethal
And they just can’t Trust…
“Those Strange Two-Legged Walkers…
Come here looking for Us !...
“ There’s a Silk-Worm Somewhere
Working in a Sweat-Shop
So that little-bitty Woman
Gets a pretty, pink Top
Be it Leather or Pelts
Or Fur or Fleece
Say, Ram, I hate to tell you… but …
… ain’t that your Niece…
… in that Pen?”
“… ‘Cause they’re looking for Our Skin
They need somethin’ to walk Around-in
Better Round-Up all of Your Kin…
‘Cause they’re looking for Our Skin !”…
Well, if you don’t think this is True
Go Back to The Beginning
Where the First Man and Woman
Was caught Red-Handed (Stealing)
They got Leaves from the Trees
But wind Blew, Right-Thru
Man Turned to Woman: said,
“… don’t know what to do !...
So Half-naked and Crying
They had to Leave a Home
Yet, God… Ever Gracious…
Gave ‘em Skins… ‘fore they was Gone !...
… Amen !...
That Snake was looking for Your Skin…
Now, You Need Something to Walk Around-in
He was looking for Your Skin…
That’s what you get for listening…
(Part 1 of 2)
Sara... this one's for you Kiddo and all the
Enjoyment I've gotten from Your Writings...
(and... You were one of the first to Greet Me here
on the Soup... and let me know... it's Ok
You've Landed Upon Kindness... Share... Thank You)
MoonBee
when it happens, when they come for you,
they will do so like the mafia,
showing signs of a long friendship or
what they term a family oriented atmosphere---
you’ll be led to a public place if you were
important,
somewhere outside the actual workplace
so that you will not make a scene,
and when your world comes crashing down
you will be unable to show any emotion
whatsoever,
like so many hollywood scenes of firings on the
big screen,
except,
you are not an actor,
and this is not a movie.
if you are lesser than important,
something of a soldier in the common trench,
then you may not even be fired---
you will be “let go,”
and when you are terminated,
those that worked with you won’t even know it until
monday morning,
because they will rid themselves of you on friday just
before the day ends.
on monday,
management will round up all the surviving
wage slaves
and explain to them that you are
“no longer with the company,”
just like they learned in management 101
when they pledged to whore themselves to corporate
in hopes of getting a bigger pile of scraps than you
from the table.
when it happens, they will take as much as they can from you,
any severance pay or vacation time that is supposed to be yours,
will be wrestled to the death & you’ll be denied a
health care cobra,
if you had health care to begin with.
and know that your story is not special,
no matter how bad you think your own circumstance is
regarding your personal termination,
someone out there has been treated worse
and they are in court,
fighting their place of past employment
just to be able to collect unemployment insurance
until they get back on their feet---
your ex-job will do the same if they can---
many have lawyers in their pockets
waiting,
just to do so.
so until the day that it actually happens,
don’t trust anyone,
keep your mouth shut &
watch your back like your life depends on it,
because
it
does---
you’re just another piece of garbage
ready to be dropped into the acid vat---
it’s only a matter of time.
if you aren’t looking for a better job while you are working your current one,
you are asking to be eliminated.