Long Slap Poems
Long Slap Poems. Below are the most popular long Slap by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slap poems by poem length and keyword.
Across the fields he stands,
rakish hat, straw arms
sticking out of an old jacket,
painted face, pantlegs flapping.
The corn is ripening, and
the tassels blow in the wind.
The scarecrow’s pants make
a snapping noise when
they slap against the pole.
But the crows are oblivious,
not fooled for a minute
by the ersatz man who is
standing there waving his arms,
because crows are smart.
They can identify people by
their faces, while we cannot
tell one crow from another.
They are thieves and tricksters,
and there is no way you can
beat them at their own game.
They land in murders, some
landing on the foolish hat,
and caw in loud, raucous laughter
at the folly of the farmer
Oh, yes, Darling! Please meet me up the street, in fifteen minutes, right past the old tan house with that porch, bamboo.
We need to talk about things, you and me, without your mean relatives, and that includes your cousin Ted Stew.
I’d gladly trade this car for a completely untarnished marriage certificate, cleaned out of the day-old flu.
But, fiance’, dearest, you have yet to show me your love nest, your side honey, or your super-secret tattoo,
So now that you realize I might cost you money, you love me forever, and think you can let go and forget the Queen of Vooody-Voo- Doo?
Sure, Sweet Darling. Being pre reasonable, I would certainly like to review our marriageable status, and begin trusting you anew.
Of course, we had better hurry, so we get this trust thing sorted, and my family decides to re-include you,
I do not think any love-you-forever ceremony, fancy hall, or wedding vows I will seriously pursue.
If you decide to take the challenge, there on the steps wearing their juiciest smiles, are my mother, Grandma Kell and cousin Lou.
Sure, they do all have guns, permits, frying pans, and razors. Confidentially, they’re in a hum dinger of a stew about you too.
What more can I do, Sugar Bear? I’ve led you right to them, right up these pretty blue and white steps, and frankly, honey, it’s the best thing I could ever do.
So saying, I guess all my relatives are ready to talk and slap and pinch and punch, and fight and scrap, and kick, because they’re sort of mad you made me so blue.
Bye, Sweetie. I’m off for the weekend with my new honey, Rick, a gentle, kind, God-fearing man, who doesn’t want to stick around to see what they’re going to do.
my eyeball knocks like a pendulum
against the keyhole socket
too close
too personal
the beating of my breath
against the wooden door
sweat seeps into its pores
as a lovely form in negligee
drifts slowly to the floor
the reflection of a knife
sees more than I was hoping for
but the monster ganders about
paces the floor
laughs in bursts
wipes away tears
as i fear for my life
but i can’t draw the strength
to pluck my eye
out of the midst of danger
the keyhole otherworldly
has a power to hold me
suddenly the light’s extinguished
so i slowly inch from the keyhole’s grip
as a voice hauntingly asks, “are you looking for this?”
the stranger has a key wrapped around his bloody neck
this time my eyeballs scream
and turn to run
as i collapse in my negligee to the floor
and see someone’s watching me
through the keyhole door
1/5/2019
Slap the muse and turn it loose contest
John Lawless - sponsor
I cry, I cry
Why does my skin color frighten you so?
Have I done anything, but, be born?
You judge me, from your own despair
and draw hate from demons you chose to hold,
allowing them to drain your soul,
as they lap with evil tongues your life's blood
leaving it a hollow husk,
that crumbles back into the dirt
My sorrow is not for me,
either is the tears that fall,
upon the same ground, we walk upon
I stretch an open hand, you slap it away in disgust
I reveal my heart, its kindness, you spit on it
I cry for you, for you are injured
and know not what you do
I'll pray for you, in quiet meadows
far from the wickedness of your sins
Where demons gnaw on your soul
I cry for you, I cry for you,
for you have chosen to inhabit the valley of death
I cry for you
8/15/17
A shout is a care; A slap is a care.
A hug is a care; A pat is a care.
Fragile- handle with care.
“X”- DANGER – is a sign of care.
Traffic signals- an act of care
Nursing a plant is a care.
Combing hair is a care.
Cow & calf is a breed of trust.
Eye lids are organs on guard.
Care is an armour; care is a weapon.
Together rain & thunder seems rough.
Flower & thorn is a real stuff.
Love & anger is a mix of tuff.
Care is unique in each species.
An eye on an atom defines millions.
Senses five are benign & groom their brood.
Senses six are rugged & rotten.
Off springs agony reaches peaks& features.
“CARE FOR THE GIRL CHILD” is the
Call of the Lord for the humans.
Tickets sell wickets follow fell well aplenty
Hard to swallow... feel hollow just empty
Not standing sentry the old school gentry
Real Test cricket no spin the wheel 20/20
Reel vapid vigour no rigour the trigger
Rapid slap dash rabid like the Big Bash
Flash not classy just brash brassy rash
Whinge then cringe maybe just snig*er
The oldest format has now been tinged
Always on the boldest somehow hinged
Singed by cash cow bish bash bosh binged
Just josh..lash & crass slash tosh syringed
Not a twinge blessed Tests fests impinged
Dismay 2 contests descend in just 2 days
The start of the end so let’s build an ark
Offends won’t change their strange-ways
Contend can’t defend the future is stark
Embark on another bore as ersatz fat cats lark
Dystopian myopian encore tour this does hark
Both days how many wickets & snick its a score
Velocity raw ferocity & pomposity hit the mark
Or more animosity at monstrosity on the park
Picket this wham bam glam sham don’t let it nick it
Glory of hall of fame game’s story lost in the dark
The cost of 20/20 shame its bite as bad as its bark
Past came a cropper in franchise shopper cast big topper
Blame those unwise curious sorts who chose fast & furious
Didn't tame rise of lame sports shorts did maim proper cricket
INSPIRATION OF CHILDHOOD
When you look at a child what do you see?
Is it the world of imagination?
Are you willing to see them fly free?
Why do kids dream?
They dream in black and white
They dream in color
They hang on to birds wings
Parents glue their feathers to the earth -
Tether those children,
They might leave birth!
Or alternately pin those feathers together –
Oh they look so cute!
Those wings must eventually slap.
Parent’s faces turn red and angry.
They tell them –
Fine, fly…you’ll be back -
when you make nothing of yourself
Blessed children soar through rambunctious clouds,
touch both sides of a rainbow and forget the gold –
It wasn’t the real prize.
They ride Indian motorcycles and circle the earth,
With pride and windswept faces,
and the gems return to blessed folks,
in emerald and sapphire eyes.
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
Get ready for a challenge. Why?
'cause poetry and dares make me high!
So—you think you’re the best?
I bet you think “I’m a poet and didn’t know it”
will pass my acid test.
I gotta pause right here and yell—
in your face—“L O L”!
Gimme your best sonnet.
I may slap a D-minus on it.
Wait’ll you see mine.
They’re smooth and oh-so-fine.
Toss me a triolet.
Think I’m gonna be wowed with your wit?
I’ll go on and betcha
mine’s gonna be bettah.
Gimme your most rousing rondeau.
I may be your worst foe,
'cause I already know
yours won’t come close
to mine. Think I’m verbose,
don’tcha? Well, I gotta admit
as in my rocker I sit
writin’ this invite to a poetry duel,
never thought I’d have the fuel
to be so crass and cruel
as to dis any fellow poet.
Still, I CHALLENGE YOU. Don’t blow it!
May 16, 2018, entered in Nick Trim's 8 Mile Style Rap Contest
Placed 8th (of 10)
April 8, 2019, entered in Anthony Slausin's Your Amphetamine Contest
Oi Oi ..saveloy…caps do doff..bless Joffy boy…with injury woes and blows…
From the off some did scoff…Joff can no longer bowl for toffee…clearly not really…
Not being coy but some of those press hoi polloi said Ben had chose..
A risky ploy against our Indian foes…but seeing him let rip
For the fans unbridled joy..a trip to our favourite offy..
It must have been hard..his comeback marred..alright scarred
By what the keyboard warriors deposited…despite his trouncer
Bouncer calling card…was abused.. and accused of being coddled..
Even swaddled and cossetted..
While everyone in the stand thought it was grand…
Our corn row mane not dread lock..spearhead…
Gold chain warlock.. with the ball they all dread
After four sore years to once more..
Adore pure pace grace so raw..
Watch the speed gun soar…
A hardcore encore we saw for sure..
You can’t really match it…the Jofra creed…
Watching batters in tatters..can't relax..sow the seed..
The champ axe in our camp does ramp it up to the max…
Trying to face our flying ace hatchet who when he does need
Can just ratchet up his speed..
No faking…Joff did always say he would do his best..
In his quest to play another test…the ultimate contest..
Can’t be forsaken by those mistaken that he would just be taking..
The cash for some crap brash slap and dash bash..
Fleeting greetings from the future..where we will all being well ..
Will be meeting our speedster suitor…us.. amorous
About our glamorous Jofradamus..his blizzards will neuter..
Have willow wizards by the gizzards..our tearaway tutor..
So a quick nod to the bowling God…giving him another
Chance to prance and dance..sod each odd bod..
Getting sniffy or spiffy.. Joff somehow iffy..
Cos it was bloody lubbly jubbly..
To see you back having a crack on the track …
Like the scene of that 2019 tiff between him and piggy Smith…
Us again getting squiffy in a jiffy..with this new riff..
By our corker stalker.. wicket hawker…..the bliss
We did miss due to his injury abyss..
A new era ..finally coming…Joff still strumming …humming..
Nice one my son…so come on let’s open the bubbly…
MEMORY
Being deprived of Mom’s care and affection,
my childhood turned a curse: Shame to mention!
School closed early on recess one day.
I went to a friend’s house to enjoy and play.
Engrossed in games, paid no attention on time gap
I reached home too late. Mom gave me a big slap.
Normal reception on her part but on next moment,
She burst into tears which I didn’t at all expect.
She wept and said ‘Where had you been my child?
I was so scared to lose you, where to find?’
I realized, behind her strong bitter harshness
Motherly love flowing ceaseless in sweetness.
09/07/17
Bitter Sweet Contest by Kevin Shaw