Long Shoved Poems
Long Shoved Poems. Below are the most popular long Shoved by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shoved poems by poem length and keyword.
Autumn is fallen leaves,
the shoots push out from a gap of rocks that still covered
with yester-year’s snow, by a brook runs carrying melting ice;
it grows to a tree struggling though long and wearisome summer days
beaten by fierce heat all the day and the night.
And in that way, when the summer’s long days move to west
shoved by the west wind and dye a corner of the sky to red,
the leaves also become red and move to the west following
the waning sun.
And when the tree becomes not able
holding the weight of the west wind that comes hurriedly
pushing the weakening sun rays aside and violently shakes
the limbs the leaves fall to the ground and men, because
the leaves fall, I suppose, call it autumn.
The leaves breaking to pieces under feet,
rolling on the ground pushed by the wind
and drifting along on the water are dead leaves
and humming with the decaying season watching
those autumn leaves is a touching requiem.
what birds might think about planes
They obviously shave everywhere
Ehh you can see into it’s stomach
His farts stick the smell is everywhere
I talk to him not a peep from him
I might do one what sheep think of clouds
Are they scared to jump in case the never come down
Where the is it’s nest-sorry back to the bird one
His wings are on fire
She broke her nose
Pulling the cord on this con
That er nearly flew into me
He’s a noisy er when he takes off
You should see him trying to stop man I laughed so hard
He’s got family he meets regularly
I kinda like the word regularly it makes me roll it
like regurallly
Honest left wing up to bird God
it face planted after suddenly exploding my cousin Gus was there
Man this is gonna rub
Do German conspiracy
(see I wanted to be freaks after conspiracy but I consider all humanity freaks) there was nein eleven
They think they own the skies
It’s kink is to get boxes shoved in it’s rear I just don’t get it
This was fun
Let’s do it
It
Sum 01:35 A.D. 00:00 Best off
You know what I have never done?
A scandal!
Never have I twirled in another man's arms
Never have I kissed the handsome stranger
Never have I let myself go to the rich man.
Isn't it wondrous,
The curves of a woman are like clandestine valleys
Each discovered by a new wanderer
Like carvings on a sturdy rock
Chiseled, memory by memory.
Am I allowed to tremble?
Or shudder in an induced fear?
The sins of a brazen woman
Are to be purged by the Amazon,
It is but the common man
Who shreds his commonness
And enslaves the Goddesses.
The pieces of you which you have quietly shoved up the closet
Are rattling like the strong breeze has hit them
The storm of a new day.
Certain she’s sleeping he slides out of bed
collecting his discarded clothing
quietly donning them
slipping away silently like a specter
cautiously opening and closing the door
hoping the hinges don’t squeak
the floorboards don’t creak
Slowly sauntering down the stairs
conscious of where his feet fall
for he dare not switch on the light
listening for the bell on the collar of the cat
she introduced him to
after inviting him inside like a vampire
who must be granted permission
to pass over one's threshold
Exiting out the back into the night
every word he’d said rendered a lie
each gesture of affection fake
a carefully crafted illusion
though for a few fleeting moments
he thought he might mean them this time
In the end she was only another shoe
he shoved his foot into trying it on for size
to see how it would feel
Arriving home before sunrise
he has a bourbon and soda from the bar
before retiring to his own empty bed
celebrating another successful escape
from anything real
We've been having a "Bash Santa" week, but I wrote limericks this morning about Putin breaking his tailbone. So, Tom suggested we have a "Bash Putin" week. Here are three more from me. Please join in bashing that dastardly demon if you wish.
That Evil Putin fell down and hurt his tushy
He swore, "It was one of my bodyguards pushed me!"
Not wanting to be blamed
For he was so ashamed
That he had to change his pants cuz they were gooshy
It was on his darn keister that Putin landed
I'm going to be honest and very candid
He was chasing a skirt
When the scumbag got hurt
While being frisky with her, he was caught red-handed
Now he can't sit in a chair on his derriere
Cuz that lowlife tried to ruin the innocent, Claire
It's his tailbone he broke
His neck I'd like to choke
He's worse than Hitler, the annihilator Herr
Written by Jenna Logan
V. Putin has fallen on his tush
Pity was not in a thorny bush
Put him on a chain gang
Better yet, let him hang
Then let us have in Russia a putsch!
Arrogant Putin's butt is sore
Love this special news, tell us more
The ass is hurtin'
The world is certain
Putin needs to be shown the door.
Written by L. Milton Hankins
Putin is a fascist like Hitler, no doubt
That's what he really is all about
He fell on his a.r.s.e
Emitting methane garse
And learned it's three Reichs you're out!
Putin to his guards was accusatory
So let us embellish on that story
Shoved down from his thrown
Cracked his smug coccyx bone
This tail-ends his self-proclaimed glory
Written by Robert Gorelick
Vlad Putin was dealing with state affairs
On his way back he skidded down the stairs
You could smell the foul gas
Cos' he ruptured his a.s.s
No get well wishes because nobody cares.
He'd fallen over and broke his a.s.s. bone
A guard rushed over when he heard a moan
Hard luck you commie jerk
Cos' it's karma at work
Start praying now for your sins and atone
Written by Tom Cunningham
1
Sugar no longer belongs in tea,
only sugar-free,
and the sound of the spoon stirring.
2
The lady of the house,
the lady's kitchen,
gas, mixer, microwave,
the battle of the wok and the spatula.
3
A bottle-gourd vine creeps
through the kitchen roof,
white flowers blooming,
while frogs call out,
ghyangor-ghyang...
4
A harsh, ringing afternoon in Bhadra,
the street hawker
wearing himself hoarse,
calling out his wares.
5
A harsh, ringing afternoon in Bhadra,
ripe hog plums crushed to pulp,
gram-flour fritters and mustard paste
shoved down the throat
by a sharp, puckering sourness,
the taste of our boyhood.
6
Water flowing through the drain,
a fig tree beside it,
and a little farther away,
a plate of rice,
a lump of rice and mashed potato.
7
Darkness descends
over the tops of the bamboo grove.
A sky crowded with stars,
the sound of a fox's footsteps
crunching through fallen leaves.
8
Water hyacinths drift
across the middle of the pond,
and upon their leaves
a spider has woven
its delicate web.
9
Sour curry of ripe shol fish
cooked with green mango,
its more formal name:
amshol.
10
A Hemanta twilight,
a ring of smoke,
and on the electric wire
rows and rows of birds
holding their evening council.
11
I converse with the steps
in the afternoon,
and in their moss-covered bricks
find the memory
of my grandfather.
12
Heavy curtains hang
across doors and windows.
Life, too, has grown heavy.
I find myself remembering
my mother's sari-end,
her anchal.
13
A wall built
to hide nature,
and upon that wall,
a landscape
of nature.
Spring sneaks through our path in the wake of
hints still left from winter. Snow white pillows have been shoved
and scattered. Timeless treasures of floral engagement blooms,
earthy perfume plants still entering into our world.
Twill nightfall's and an ocean of abstract wildlife
settle for the night or feed under the moonlight.
The early starlet sun rises with hints of scarlet blush
and the pop warmth of tangerine glowing gloss.
I crawled out of my warm sleeping bag and small tent
reborn from a good night's sleep; into a picturesque
cool, and crisp morning on the craters rim
to a view of the cobalt blue lake and hot spring.
12/26/2018
Jeremy's Girls.
Jeremy loses each girl that he gets
Because they all take second place to his pets
Keeping this one around meant he had to get rid
of all of his pets, so here's what he did...
He buried his worm and drowned his pet fish
He threw his cockatoo over a cliff
He shoved his python high up in a tree
And he dropped his pet dolphin into the sea
His rock lizard got a small hole in a wall
While his cat had to live somewhere terribly tall
His Horses were left in a field with some hay
While his Tortoise would get just a lettuce a day
His Penguin was dumped in a pond full of fish
And his dog just got biscuits and meat in his dish
His newt he placed under a very wet stone
While his sly old pet fox had to eat all alone
His pet cow was left to eat nothing but grass
While his favourite tapeworm he tucked somewhere dark
Someone once told him to just trust his mother
And one day his lady ran off with another
And so we get close to where this story ends
A life with no lady, a life with no friends
Everyday was such a miserable day
Now that his pets had all gone away
But one day he heard a noise outside his door
His pets were all there, perhaps a few more
*Image of Seashell On Beach Sand by Pixabay.
"A seashell should be the crest of England, not only because it represents a power built on the waves, but also the hard finish of the men."
by Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sally Sells Seashells, Rethinks Career
A shell lies ashore by the sea
freely moves about as waves drift in
the seawater playfully tumbles its plaything
the glistening sun reflects on it by the cresting sea
Seagulls filled, fed by the sea
wafting uplifted o'er the sea current
it hovers down suddenly, wings opened out
initially stares then prod the shell needlessly about
Bird prints traipsed the beach
shoved shell safe by pushing waves
like an army by divisions thrusting a seawall
as a prying feathered friend, surrenders to the sea
Lil' Sally sports run next wade
notes the shell immersed in the sea
her eager digits cradled it upward with care
she poured out sand and seawater from its spirals
Abrupts, those forces of habit
the same that excited the nosy bird
she put the polished part right up to her ear
hoping to catch past the shore and across the sea
Dismayed, looked at the shell
frustrated, release it from her hands
whilst sea reclaimed that seashell uniquely
as tax pays overseas calls, collect-calls unallowed.
2021 August 23
*2nd Place*
Writing Prompt, Oceans or Seas
~~Constance La France: Judged 2021 August 25
#My_Afrikan_Yesterday
Time and again, i heard it being sang, like a reminder, it hang low on my neck, ding! dong! Even at the back of my brain. With every movement i made, reminded again and again, like scabs tht just never wanna dry, this smell of fresh pain like blood on my nostrils...
my Afrikan identity, that whites wrecked with bullets and stains of blood...
my Afrikan true ancestors drowned through my sorrows, crying a loud and painful cry, i could feel their rubble in my veins boiling of detest and aggrivation, that yesterday when they were compromised and persicuted for being Afrikan. I wanted to shout "i'm Afrkan" but the chains on my human rights were way too heavy to lend me an ear. I sighed concurently but my breath couldn't settle well on my chest, distracted by too much anger filled on my chest...
The world outside looked pale and out, children calling on lifeless bodies of the parents, snatched of their presence, not just their souls but their stability in life. Robbed off their happiness and parent figure. Forced and shoved into orphanage, denied a better life, placing chastity belts to their human will. Better dead than declared invalid by reppresion and boxed to live. My Afrikan yesterday
#Poetic_Ink