Long Rubs Poems
Long Rubs Poems. Below are the most popular long Rubs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rubs poems by poem length and keyword.
Wherever peaches grow I go and pick 'em.
When they get ripe I try and swipe 'em.
The farmer runs out with a shotgun and wonders where's the varmint gone?
I'm hiding by the railroad tracks stacking the peaches I've found.
Then a freight train about a mile long rolls by hauling a bucket of rain.
I hop aboard while beautiful clouds gather to the north.
I put my peaches in the bucket and lug it to a hidden part of the train.
The rain begins, the night looms in, it's summer and it's thoughts and warm.
To the clacking rumble and the patter I close my eyes and dream.
An earthquake swallows up the people who wear horrible masks of fright as
their daily tasks are trampled.
In a favorite movie theater an illumined lady puts her hand in mine, warm
mouths, breath, skin, hair wing-soft, whole bodies, wind, bare.
I open my eyes at sunrise there's a steady glow of light around.
If you can believe in God, you can believe the mountains go from purple to
green.
While the last partier meanders home to bed the first farmer is up to milk his
bread.
Fruit of the world ripens audibly and cities make a silent, distant sound.
Lonely guy stretches, rubs his eyes, pees out a passing train, has a
breakfast of peaches and rainwater.
Did you know, cats are smart. Black cats are extra smart, with a sixth sense. We know to stay off the streets, black cats on the streets mean trouble for people. Black cats need extra love and rubs, we are very independent. Don't disturb us while napping or sleeping, you will get a huge hiss. We love play time, we need plenty of toys and catnip for us to enjoy. Make sure our litter box is changed each day, we like nice smells around us. Remember black cats need extra rubs, it's time for some of those extra rubs.
Date Written:3/22/2022
1 Place
Black Cat Contest Judged: 4/3/2022
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
what sort of a man decides to brag about
so called success his life has found
to better a mate he knows is down
stuck lost and confused on the ground
brags which suggest his wife is fine
yet unaware she was declined
as he was casting hook and line
when she refused him everytime
bragging that he's successful
through one job he's had since school
which could be done by any fool
repeat repeat repeat some more
bragging as a mature adult
and thus someone never at fault
calls it banter when he insults
sees a wound and rubs in salt
a man like this needs others down
to feel accomplished and feel proud
a better breather than those drowned
oh to be a fickle clown
Why Men Quilt
by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2015
My wife wants me to start to quilt, said a lot of men do now
I would not have the talent nor the patience to learn how
imagine me, with all these words, for poems in my head
to add colours, forms and shapes, and quality of thread
Quilt comes from the Greek “culcita” meaning a stuffed sack
that’s probably how I would feel, but with an aching back
my eyes would fall out of my head, to sit there all day long
the needle going up and down, the tension going wrong
Not just the tension in the thread, but the tension in my neck
then all the threads would go real slack, and I’d think, what the heck
I’d yell out and she would come to see what I had done
she would pat me on the head, and I wished I could run
I say this quilting’s not for me, but she just doesn’t listen
you have to keep the tension tight, or stitches will be missin’
she fixes up the sewing machine, rubs my neck, and shoulders too
and I go back to quilting, tell me, what else can I do.
Dead and bleary eyes stare back at me,
A haunted face, with demons running wild with glee;
The remnants of tears trail a path to the neck,
A ghost of a smile plays on the lips, clearly it was fake.
Unkempt hair clung to her face,
Life had thrown her down a cliff, before she had had a moment to brace.
She rubs her face with her hands, letting out a huge sigh,
How can everything stark, at once, turn out to be an enormous lie?
Anger glitters in her eyes and she clenches her jaw,
Emotions grating her, from confused to painful and raw;
How could life be so unfair? Why isn’t there any peace?
Its darkness seduces away with its poisonous kiss.
She looks at me betrayed, tormented and scared,
My hands touch cool glass as I take her in, emotions bared,
Vulnerability shines through her, like a diamond under the sun,
It breaks my patience and I let my fist fly, believe me it was no fun.
Broken glass and bloodied knuckles fills my view,
Shattered shards, bloody pain, life what else is new?
Tell me life how you gather pleasure, from others’ pain?
Without any conscience or self-refrain;
Like The Devil stealing someone’s soul,
You slash people to pieces, so they’ll never again be whole.
I’ll fight though, that’s all what I’ve been doing,
I don’t know how treacherous it’ll get, but life? You’ll never be my undoing.
caress of early light birthday wishes posted on facebook waking without a sound soft calling of my love who’s offline an unfinished poem on the nightstand remnants of stars hide above passing clouds a morning’s meditation centered on breath soulful solitude I see her late morning she covers my lunch yet something left unsaid I show her the poem and she smiles yet something left unsaid she rubs her eyes and looks out the window I look for something new to say yet a story told bears telling again I look up on my cell phone the ways to say I love you uncertain skies she says she sings her daughter lullabies a tip left touching of hands while I linger she says see you soon I hear something more than words
Give a man a wife, say goodbye to strip clubs
Wife, give the man a meal = endless foot rubs
If the meal you cook goes to the dog, slap him hard
If the dog also refuses, send it to the yard.
Give a man a car, see him iron his new shirt
If you burn his collar , he’ll be looking for new skirt
That new bit of skirt will be young and wild
That bathroom to be done, will never get tiled!
Give a man a dog and he’s a shared man
Take away the dog, you’ll never be his biggest fan.
The dog he possesses is his second wife.
Unlike you, the dogs no trouble, or strife!
Men are simple beings, easy to please
Pleasing him can be done with ease
To upset a man, can be hard if done with intent
He would be more upset with how much you spent!!
"I am feeling it." He said.
He meant his age. As I watched
I saw a vision…
Out from the cuttlefish bones of his breast
grime coughed up and dribbled.
I saw his heart stutter, the vapid flutter,
watched his lungs belch and utter
like a broken bladder.
A horseman on a creaking steed
raised its hoary head
and pointed an ancient ladle
speaking thus -
"Stir me belly lad," it said,
"spoon me sticky sump,
dole globs of lymph from here to there.
Me grease is dumpy and lumpy.
Me hip-bones crunch
while me dingle wilts and dangles.
Me ears is gummy lad,
I've gone to the bad.”
The specter faded.
The old guy smiles, rubs his thin hair.
"I also see it sometimes," he says,
"that liver-spotted ghost
that chains me to an even older vision
of you."
As the
story
goes...
A
pesky
fly,
came buzzing by
to rest and munch
and eat his lunch
and have some fun
on the hound dog's
nose.
The old dog
snoozed
without a clue
in the noontime heat
of the August
sun.
He
napped
awhile
by piles of leaves
in dappled shade
of the apple tree,
where an apple fell
and the flies said "yum"
and the bees would hum
and the dog would yawn.
That lazy bone
won't fetch a stick,
or scratch his neck
or care a lick
about a neighbor's cat,...
That ornery
brat
will prance around,
will tease and taunt
the weary hound,
who naps so sound
on
this
dog- day
afternoon.
Hound has no pep
to take a step
to chase
or race
that snooty
cat,
who
smugly rubs
against his back,
and sticks her nose
up to his snout,
and
sticks up her tail
sashays about.
He hardly cares
that she is there.
She preens and cleans
her own black spots,
She stares at him
he stares right back,
with one eye open,
one eye shut
He'll stretch a bit
and scratch a lot
but it's too
hot
to
chase
that
cat...
Don't
bat
your
eyes..
it's
not a lie.
So
what
do
you
think
of
that?
_________________________________
I rest my chin upon her , I caress her neck
She responds with the music of the ages
Silky hair rubs across the smoothness of her belly
Her melodious voice Heard soaring in the wind
We are one Together , creating the music of LOVE
I stroke YOU and YOUR voice sings A Cappella
Together we are one and the Symphony continues
Strings tie the universe of mankind to the Heavens
Remember I told my music teacher I want to versify
As Strings of love, become strings of pleasure
Dozy-do, allemande left with a Kiss on the cheek
Its Ho-down party time, with a Stradivarius
Classical, an aria of down home Music, a Legacy
The same instrument singing two different Songs
In quite solitude she whispers the sounds of Love
Spirits lifted, in the Melody of Togetherness
Inspired by the Contest “ Sound Madness “ sponsored by
Nette Onclaud : my Instrument the “ Violin “ (Fiddle)
By HGARVEY DANIEL ESQUIRE