Long Skids Poems
Long Skids Poems. Below are the most popular long Skids by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Skids poems by poem length and keyword.
** Apologies for anyone unfamiliar with the metaphors used, they're quite British ***
Most people in life work for someone
as all the statistics have shown
but I thought I'd go out and start up by myself
as an entrepreneur, go it alone.
My radio shop called in the receivers,
someone got in and all the stock stole,
so I switched to creating a unique shampoo
but that all went down the plug hole.
I started a wallpaper business
but that quickly went to the wall
My pet grooming venture has gone to the dogs
And my parachute school took a fall.
My submarine business went under,
my brake shoe shop, that hit the skids,
the paper shop folded, boat builder ran aground
but I wasn't surprised when it did.
The detergent idea is all washed up,
and my driving instructor school crashed,
my water filtration is in liquidation
and dustbin cleaning business got trashed.
My hairdressers, that came a cropper,
I thought that would do well the most,
then my skills as a medium,
nobody did need 'em,
and that has now given up the ghost.
My last chance is growing tobacco,
as that should appeal to some folk,
it does sound quite appealing,
but I have a bad feeling
that the whole thing will go up in smoke.
The sound of baroque fills the air
the lively beats one can hear
as senses reel to music sweet
elves dance upon imaginary leaves .
The orchestra reaches crescendo
shattering crystals of chandeliers on high
staccatto beats .....the doe skids across the icy field
as snow cascade down from cypress trees.
Violins squeak ...Trombones blare
mandolins vibrate the inner ear.
The harp thrills......soft ripples along the narrow stream,
fish jumping into sunbeams.
Cymbals clash , a metallic crash...splintered timbers caught in lightening flash
A silent throb...the music dims... a cool beeze flows over the hills
soothing, drawing all into a warm embrace
calming the spirit , slowing the pace.
The music wanes...... delicate snowflakes stuck to window panes
A Grand finale......twitching nerves that long for solace.
Silence now as the music stops.
Peace follows music sweet.... into dreams.
Baroque music lives on....do not weep.
Sleep now ....sleep.
My birth name is Suzie, some say I’m a floozy
But I can’t be choosey, that’s just how it is
I’ve slept with a teacher and even a preacher
And many a doctor got more than a kiss
Don’t show me derision, you won’t go to prison
Please share me your caring and I shall share mine
Just show me your fondness for blue eyes and blondness
Sir, smile at me kindly and I shall be thine
My mother ignores me, my father deplores me
I can’t comprehend why they ever had kids
They share mutual scorn in a marriage forlorn
I guess I was born, then their love hit the skids
Next week I’ll be sixteen, that’s fifteen years unseen
Did they even once see me as heaven sent
I cook and I clean, they just watch that old screen
They don’t give a damn how I get them their rent
Just want to be flattered, don’t want to be battered
Just want to be noticed through eyes that are fond
On my bedside table, your cash will enable
me to torch this hellhole and then to abscond
So, please don't find mirth in my limited worth
All I have to offer is all that I am
Don’t think me obscene for you could have been
Stood in my shoes were you born to my pram
There is something special about the way
the early morning light is drizzled across the park.
A yawning of softness lingers in the air.
Better pictures are stolen before the light fully awakens;
before it takes notice of our gazing at its nakedness.
It’s only after lunch, in the middle of the day, when it stiffens
into sharp knives stabbing at trees and buildings
while it skids and bounces off the river, bursting pupils
with the pain of its reprisals, darting in every direction
looking for escape as though something were chasing it,
perhaps clouds, or night, or tourists’ cameras.
The drowsiness of evening brings it to a calm.
Surrendering itself to lovemaking with tender strokes
and warm caresses before it takes its leave;
A sailor briefly home, then back to sea.
It loves and leaves us as a brute
while we as harlots cling;
and then we mourn our loss.
I was minding my business, taking my time,
Ridin’ Ol’ Bess from the West Miller Mine
When all of a sudden, (weren’t nothing’ I did)
Bess started buckin’ and she hit the skids!
I was pitched off her back like a sack of no worth
To land near the meanest dang rattler on earth!
His tounge was a-flickin’, tasting the air,
His eyes clouded over, like a blind man’s that pair.
He was longer than Bess with a full twelve-inch girth,
My mettle dissolved to a pitiful dearth.
His head raised up proud, his tail even prouder
And that buzz just kept getting louder and louder!
His mien was aggressive and I was a wreck
So I pulled out my shooter and aimed for the neck!
Now I hate killing creatures; God’s watchin’ and all,
But he had my number and was dialin’ the call.
His head is still there, by the side of the trail
But I took the rest home, even that tail!
His meat fed me supper, yep, top o’ the line.
His hide and those rattles? A hat-band so fine!
Divorced, and so wanting his kids-
since custody ruling forbids
togetherness much,
an idea he'd clutch-
get rescued from fatherhood skids.
A Nanny, mom wanted for them;
he thought of a plan, such a gem!
He would play the role
of Nanny control
'her' actions they could not condemn!
He then put his feet to the fire-
convinced, his ex-wife, to him hire!
They had not a clue
this Nanny- so true,
was everything they would admire.
He dressed up so fine for the part
and shared the deep love in his heart.
The ex-wife found out
did a turnabout!
Half custody, granted, would start!
My son looked through the board games
And he chose the Game of Life,
Where people-pegs must navigate
Through times of joy and strife.
My grandkids bought insurance,
Found a spouse and had some kids,
Took a job and earned enough to
Be quite rich or on the skids.
It was fun to watch their styles,
Taking risks or laying low
And they loved to sue each other,
Though the tears would sometimes flow.
Yet the 9 year old did question
Why the winner at the end
Was the one who had the biggest
Pile of money he could spend.
He insisted that in life
Mere money shouldn’t be the judge
Of what really is important
As through ups and downs we trudge.
I was thrilled at that conclusion
But I laughed when, in a flash,
He declared himself the winner
After counting out his cash.
GROWING UP
At the beginning, I was a baby
No mind to speak of, just need
Growing quickly into a toddler
Ancestral genes the modeller
Too young to follow a creed
Destined for greatness - maybe
A tall young boy, learning fast
Changes in both body and brain
Things one can do, stuff one can’t
Life suggesting a different slant
Examinations come round again
Until it’s leaving school at last
The world of work offers surety
Self-sufficient, now living alone
Many new challenging decisions
Interviews for better positions
Conducted on a mobile phone
Balancing interests with security
After decades of payslips and tax
Marriage, and even having kids
Retirement looms in a few years
More free time and no more tears
Hoping health is not on the skids
Faced with a different set of facts
Less about future, more of the past
One’s life was a million adventures
Now everything is at a slower pace
Often caught staring up into space
Getting used to wearing dentures
And accepting that the die is cast
Dorothy Lee dresses like a street urchin from London town
She is not a frilly frothy girl, you’ll never see her in a gown
Her brother’s oversized boots are good enough for Dorothy Lee
Does she wear socks inside them? No this you’ll never see.
She is the youngest daughter of a family with eighteen kids.
Seventeen older brothers, one of them on the skids.
She dresses like she’s homeless, though they have lots of money.
Her mama left a long time ago, which truly was not funny.
She wanted to take Dorothy Lee, but she refused to go.
She loves her older brothers Terry, Tom, Timmy, Dick and Danny so.
Her daddy never had a girl, so is raising her like a boy.
This, says Dorothy Lee, is my biggest joy.
A man drives a truck and his wife's a nurse
He knows it won't be long 'til he's in that hearse
He's middle age now but he's pickin' up speed
He wonders when and how will he be freed
Thinks he's lived his life playin' by the rules
Doin' what he learned in his churches and schools
Pays his mortgage and feeds his kids
But he's feelin' lately things have hit the skids
Lost his insurance and his wife moved out
Stepdaughter tried to kill herself
Chronic back pain and now he can't pay
For meds he needs to get through his day
Feels like his world has gone insane
Looks around for who to blame
Maybe it's the blacks or the Mexicans
Maybe it's Wall Street or the corporations
He knows in his heart that it 'aint them
They're all tryin' to make it just like him
He can't shake the thought of a bad faith deal
But hate don't seem to him the way to feel
He tries to think of how to get unstuck
Get back to where he could give a (EDIT)
So he sits on his porch and smokes a little weed
And wonders when and how will he be freed
March 4, 2017