Long Shucking Poems
Long Shucking Poems. Below are the most popular long Shucking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shucking poems by poem length and keyword.
A former slender man (lapsed Unitarian anorexic)...
deplores adipose tissue gain
No Holiday music can soothe savage beast
washboard abdomen weight watcher's dream fleeced
skinny bag of lovely bones permanently leased
body snatcher somewhere amidst policed
madding crowd of carolers singing,
where mine sinking spirits ceased
rising today December 18th, 2020
analogous how unleavened bread
(i.e. matzo) lacks yeast.
I loathe shucking clothes,
(no matter eyes severely myopic)
in preparation for here goes
another warm shower quickly
relaxing this senescent
body ready to doze
soon after lathering
this blubbery body
most unwanted fat grows
on me, no matter healthy diet
of worms, or how I stand,
not so easy (Etsy) as add a pose
zing losing battle – Mary Jo's
if and geeze us of bulge ill flattering
particularly quiverly, sans white
"WALL" tire tread fully goes
steely belted around lower
abdominal area like lava floes
siring unsightly expose
yore squishy Jew dish priestly
punchy, plasma paunchy, gristly...
pillow like marshmallows
fittingly, rotundly soundly
identical with other schlep
tin (tin tabulation) grungy hobos,
this lap pissed lard (lord) Who Lee
bemoaning, how ilk readily knows,
where unwanted bulky flab...
most detested - hence Corp Yule Lance
leaves noth thin to noblesse oblige,
know bull eats obese,
anorexia nervosa or chance
barking out orders reminiscent, when he
hapt tubby a caller wannabe at
weekly square and/or contra dance,
now requisitioned to insulate
and excessively enhance
body electric can be mushed
into likeness of fleshy France
or repurposed into expanse
resembling any country,
whose name Kants
be easily pronounced, and historical
events glommed together recognizable
as Ataturk with a lance
bequeathed to rule World advance
sing gluttony as his divine providence,
thus requires deep dish allegiance
(non - fiber - binding contract)
for eats and make decadent
every fleshpot gourmand
stretching consumer cellular
skein to capacitance
bestowing guaranteed deliverance
with their rolling
ballooning massive circumference
into orbit with Earthly moon officiant
eternal fondue irrelevance!
Observing the appearance of the Hale-Bopp Comet
in March 1997, the Heaven’s Gate Cult of San Diego,
California, chose to commit mass suicide.
We eunuchs run a starship enterprise.
These breeders are a cul-de-sac, life-wise –
it’s fatal, this fertility. Our sign
in silent eloquence beckons us, benign,
and distant safety looms. These perfumed petals
warn of replication. Bonny nettles,
acid sacs insistent, brilliantly
express us. The existing tyranny
of sexual torture, stifling status quo,
is not for us. Our star is here. Let’s go.
Our quest? The fattened calf, Finality,
the fertile farrow offered by Fatality.
This tyranny, Existence, has to end –
so says, with brilliantest insistence, our bright friend –
“Leave tortured sexuality behind,
enjoy the eloquent silence of Pure Mind.”
This lethel phiall of phenobarbitone
will free us from the fetid fleshbound zone,
the only way to stay alive and grow.
Let’s shed the skin that's dead. It’s time to go.
Safe distance from the urges that benight us,
a chance to live within this life’s detritus
like hermit crabs, is all we ever wanted,
abandoning the rigid shells we haunted
until our moment came. And now we’re leaving.
We’re shedding, shucking, shifting, shunning, shrieving.
No more of nitro-clover-copulation,
or aimless, shameless, overpopulation,
where carbon concentration camps are rife.
We’re going home. We’re dying into life.
I tied ole paint at the old cowboy’s shack. He’d been in the crib mucking stalls, haying a little and shucking corn.
I observed him at his chores from the porch as the day kept limping on He asks, if I’d stay for dinner sense the morning was pert near gone. “Sure,” I said, “I’d be obliged to set and eat, enjoy some country fare removed my boots, leaned back and took the load off my feet.
He sat the table with a steaming stew, pert near out of heaven’s recipe book but Luke, his old hound dog, seemed to hold a grievance with his eye staring, devious look. The old man seized a piping hot biscuit and buttered it good and rich. He dipped a bowl of stew for himself and cleaned the dipper pert near with a lick.
He took a glass from the table, removed his dentures to lay them free, flung the water out the window and handed the glass to me.
He dipped me a bowl of his brew and it smelled so good and all, So, I just run my tongue over the rim, pert near lapped it like a dog.
And though thirst tucked my throat, and the devil’s pleating temped me
and I pert near had a taste for it but I just couldn’t rope that tea.
Old Luke lay at my feet and sniffed his twitching nose
His eyes glued me with that stare, checking me out, I suppose.
So, I slid my hand to his head for a pat or maybe, a scratch
but his gums rolled up and there was a growl and a snap before I could jerk my fingers back.
“Old Luke is pert near touchy,” I declared, “If the truth be all told.”
The cowboy mused with a winking eye “that mutt hates to share his bowl.”
Summertime with grandma and schools out
Greyhound bus riders we are on the way down south
Me and my sisters
Getting away from the city
Early mornings with grandpa
He has us garden picking
Used to be grossed out
Hearing all those hissing sounds
City girl never worried about that on the cemented ground
Summertime in the kitchen
Snapping peas and beans
Shucking corn mason jars stored
This was when food was clean
Sunday was family day
We were always stuck with the dishes
Grandma and our big family
The truly love was our riches
My cousin and I always walking the tracks
To JJJs store just to get snacks
Mt Pleasant center we would skip
We thought we were grown
I can hear my aunt voice saying take your fast tails home
Memories of my childhood
I know some can relate
No worries about the world more love and less hate
Suffocation experienced analogous
to absent echocardiogram
or electroencephalogram blip
(Derek Chauvin - he of
George Floyd infamy) iron maiden grip
linkedin with psyche subjected
to laceration courtesy cruel horse whip
mine inexcusable
(albeit clueless faux pas)
family members living social in Bend, Oregon
and Oakland, California did yip
private information across cyberspace did zip.
Apology (ex post facto)
extended regarding about
mine guilt ridden conscience
programming mental state
think sufferable infinite
jesting Möbius strip
casting dark shadow of doubt
looping along outer limits
of twilight zone
futilely shucking off
emotional tailspin (kamikaze) fallout
impossible mission
unable to muzzle or thwart lout
who poetically blurts out
simian old routine programmed
erroneously heavily incorrectly
peppers entire Hollerith
or IBM punched cards
yielding botched defenseless redoubt,
when Yankee doodles dandy
teapot short and stout
convection currents trigger
whistle Dixie when liquid piping hot
a microcosm concerning plate tectonics
across webbed wide world
yielding necessary oomph
to migrating trout.
Absent awareness
flourished amidst ignorance
sixty plus shades of gray matter
hotly doth smolder and burn
unbeknownst rancor did furiously churn
when yours truly divulged
he made aborted attempt
to couch his genuine
paternal care and concern
lack of discrimination
and judgment I did not
(honest to dog) recognize nor discern.
Understandable blameworthy
grievance against me,
not granted app parent permission
thus culpability I obediently yield
words that sparked hurt
now utilized to wield
heft to communicate authentic love
(cryptically coded)
and hermetically sealed
hopefully in due time
mine discretion well healed.
help me if you can, cuz salutary
hans solo impossible missions
fall short asper this mwm to break free,
thus Siam game for heroic measures to wrest
sill loose, gnome hatter
remaining time on Earth
strong arm gull lancing tactics
aye need to vest
from perverted imps stranglehold
upon healthy existence
will resort to extreme thine body electric
(serves as kool aid base sic acid) test
hosting ocd (analogous to a
suckling leech happy fiend)
disallowing this mwm
(similar to Sir Issac Newton) begs to take a rest
nurses nourishment feeding off host
(thyself) linkedin, sans sybaritic symbiotic,
excising unhealthy sycophantic relationship
long term ultimate quest
shucking loose obsessive pest
compulsive disorder moocher
drilled deep into psyche tub billed a nest
which bred a hardy crop that messed
up with my enjoying life tooth ha max,
viz parasitic, opportunistic,
narcissistic fealty must stop lest
asphyxiation undermines ability to jest
as if deadly poison
this chap (as a kid) accidentally did ingest
hence this attempt at plaintive pleading
for mental health professional
took hum at my be hest
a much more welcome guest
versus nemesis grounded rivaling mount Everest
that tis all i write unloading off my chest
an agile, fertile, and nimble sprite
who already out best
this scrivener, now completed poem
confiding bugaboo aye attest.
Form:
There is a state of mind devoid of thought,
where no one expresses an opinion.
And yet, the thing is, that it is not safe,
to let others do your thinking for you.
Those who live their lives in oblivion,
cower within its anonymity.
And none the wiser, they become shadows;
in a place where only shadows exist.
Choosing not to get involved: they escape
to where reason becomes irrelevant.
And shucking all responsibilities,
ignore truths and dodge the consequences.
Oblivion offers a false escape:
like an ostrich with its head in the sand.
For ignorance is never an excuse
to detach yourself from reality.
My mother went door to door on a daily basis
Collecting money for Mr. Sim’s wife’s funeral flowers
or for a present for Tad and Betty’s newborn baby girl
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother hung her clothes out on a line
Where they turned stiff as a desktop in the wind
The other neighbor ladies ran out at the same time to talk to her
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother baked pies, cakes and cookies in the morning.
In summer she gardened– snapping peas and shucking corn.
In winter she brought out the watermelon jelly she made in summer
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother gave her time to the church on Wednesdays and Sundays
She was one of four ladies in charge of all of the funeral dinners
Because no one else would step up and do it like they would
When I am older, I hope I do this too
My mother was the quintessential volunteer.
She was our room mother every year at school.
Because if I did not volunteer her, my identical twin would.
I hope I will volunteer time and talents like my mother always did.
I, face what most be ducking;
I escape what most be stuck in.
I, roar while they are clucking.!
I stand, no crawling;No Shucking.
Marching forward,no stalling.
Speaking on it, teaching,not preaching.
I grab it,no reaching;
Serving it raw, no preservatives;
Ain't giving Caesar nothing at all.
All the glory goes to “The All”,
God, is my staff and my rod.
He is my pillar and my rock,
He removes the obstacles that block,
keeps my mind open;
And my vulnerable parts blocked.
He opens my heart when needed,
or keeps it protected under lock.
What I lack he's got,he's got my back,
and front for me,
he's always up to bat.
I am standing on his foundation,
I see premonitions with my internal eye;
Sometimes I sit and cry...
Yet, I face the future with bravery;
I carry the DNA of slavery,
from which he did deliver me.
I have a built-in sensory, to repel the unsavory.
Thick with wit, never dense.
Always thankful for my God-given sense.
No boasting, just facts...
Behind this English preposition...
“I know where my God is at".
Barz for God!!
Utter brainless nincompoop
in this poem heretofore addressing
I wanna be forever free
and clear from mortal anguish,
and need more than a blessing -
I need a miracle worker after confessing
behavior causing depressing
wretched state of mind
self incriminating admission expressing
emptying out checking
and savings accounts.
Gross negligence fomented morass
of monetary hemorrhage,
thus yours truly speculating
imagining peaceful easy feeling
after quaffing hemlock beverage
(considerably less expensive
than trained masseuse
administering head to toe effleurage)
the former painless demise
popularized courtesy Socrates
whereby Athenian democracy
charged said philosopher
with impiety and corrupting
the youth of Athens
unlike him I feel mental,
physical, and spiritual states
devastated, jackknifed, and shattered
into a million little pieces,
hence appealing notion shucking off
western civilization equipage,
and concomitant linkedin
corporeal defrauded earthling
and author of these words.
The importance of money
or lack thereof smarts,
especially when series
of unfortunate events
even Lemony Snicket,
would be flabbergasted
at such blatant and flagrant stupidity
exhibited courtesy yours truly.
Herr dummkopf did not function
with one iota of his brain
case in point entire
financial cushion he did drain
anonymous, barbarous, egregious,
ferocious, iniquitous jerks
re: cyber crooks enriched their coffers
in previous poems I did explain
how yours truly got sucker punched
to surrender substantial capital
subsequently severe depression
washes over me like floodplain
after a major hurricane
thus another shout out,
though I feel quite insane
to drum up buffer (in) zone
excedrin also sought
to bring temporary relief
far fetched likelihood in dough main
despite moon shot
to witness philanthropic boost,
I keep praying Meg Found
will pull thru and ordain
(fiasco from fraudster frazzles father)
one ordinarily perspicacious primate
who financially doth strain.