Long Slingshot Poems
Long Slingshot Poems. Below are the most popular long Slingshot by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slingshot poems by poem length and keyword.
They came as dawn's fresh light fell upon the land.
With their hard hats and high viz jackets.
Busy men clamour and plot,
Measure and scratch,
Cigarette smoke floats up high.
They never told me.
Bulldozers and diggers,
In splattered yellow overcoats,
Sit patiently for ignition.
Waiting to devour.
They never told me.
Angry Chainsaws roar,
Felling arthritic trees
That tumble silently.
Only homeless jackdaws,
Screech resistance.
But why didn't they tell me?
Maybe they don't know,
That I was once emperor of these woods.
The tycoon of rickety treehouses,
Whose Kingdom stretched for acre and a half.
Are they unaware of our imperialist acorn
Wars,
And slingshot invasions,
That lasted to tea time,
Or until a ice cream van
Rolled down the road,
Where's Clint Eastwood when you need him,
He would ride in on his trusty mare
With guns ablazeing,
And rapidly put an end to this unfurling travesty.
By this time next week my childhood memories,
Will be erased, buried beneath tarmac and
White lines
Terminally extinct, so stressed out shoppers
Can get their trollies
To the shops at least five minutes quicker.
Bat and Gat were reading one day:
just too rainy outside to play.
They had opened a book;
pretty soon they were hooked,
and they both got carried away.
Curiosity sang a sweet tune
‘bout a cat and a cow and a spoon.
The pump got its prime
from a Mother Goose rhyme;
Bat decided he’d jump o’er the moon.
Cautious, Gat was pretty uncertain
when Bat slowly drew back the curtain.
When he told her his plan,
she knew in a brief span
that he and disaster were flirtin’.
So perhaps you recall the nut sling?
How they shot with an elastic string?
He just planned to build bigger,
With more stretch and vigor,
And launch himself out of that thing.
So he built him a giant slingshot
And with Juno, he pulled it back taut.
Gat said, “You’re going to die!”
as he aimed for the sky;
he said, “1, 2, 3 - ready or not!”
Bat got lofted at forty degrees
and he’d nearly cleared all the trees.
But it wasn’t quite autumn;
a leafy branch caught him.
Missed the moon; got a hive full of bees!
Well, that hive is what probably saved him.
For it softened the blow impact gave him.
But it sure rang his bell;
He got stung, and he fell,
and he barely hung onto a tree limb.
Well, Bat missed the moon: Holy cow,
Gat gave him the what for, and how!
Number nine took a dive;
we’re just glad he’s alive.
He's certainly one life down now.
Bat’s sure singing a different tune;
He no longer laments his lost moon.
Although he’s got eight,
and that’s pretty great,
there won’t be a repeat real soon.
It’s just a cabin in the mountains Deborah’s parents built over 30 years ago
It’s seen its share of spring flowers, summer rains, autumn leaves and winter snows.
As we’re about to return to Florida I like to sit for a moment…and recall…what is it I love about this cabin…what’s so special about these walls…
I smile…take a deep breath…then right before my eyes
as I look around this cabin…a host of memories float by…
How fast the memories come…how quickly they arrive
of when our children were still children…when Deborah’s parents were alive…
The games we played at the table…it really isn’t hard
to see our grandchildren playing where our children once played
running up and down the yard…
The hours spent out on our porch…rocking in these rocking chairs…paper airplanes launched from the top deck…beans slingshot into the air..
All the campfires we have gathered around…watching fires roar…
telling stories, roasting marshmallows…building our s’mores.
Friends who visited us while we’ve been here…people sleeping on the floor…the cabin filled with laughter…all these memories I adore…
I know what it is about this cabin…why it keeps us so enthralled…
It’s because of all the memories…we’ve painted on its walls…
Memories have this wonderful duality…once they’ve formed within our mind…to travel with us wherever we go…but also to stay behind.
Reminding us this is more than just a cabin…
reminding us no matter how far from here we roam….
our memories will be waiting….
the next time we come back home.
Pocket-Memories
by Odin Roark
Layers of love are never lost
Even after a good bath
How long had it been?
A mantle of dust
A bit of sand
Some fish oil residue
“gives special character”
He used to say
So many days now past
Magnifying ants
Imagined horror stints
Trimming a yolk branch
For slingshot accuracy
Screwdriving Erector Set connections
Gutting deep-lake spinner catches
Leather punching favorite belts
Ah the looking back
Now like new once more
Everything tucked back in
Servitude getting momentary rest
As a hand-me-down’s rebirth
Awaits new challenges
It’s peaceful under here
Dark and warm
Haven’t been this clean forever
Kind of eerie
Like narrow canyons awaiting sunrise
Loved being cocooned back in my box
Wrapped in red and white
Yellow ribboned for giving
All set to surprise
Soon
His grandson’s pocket-memories will begin
As that’s what Swiss Army Knives are for…
Passing to the next
What makes growing up never ending
when I was a little boy I ran into a little bit of bad luck
with my new slingshot I mistakenly killed my Nanna's pet duck
I was frightened and so scared that I had a panic attack
and thinking like a child I buried the duck in the back
unbeknownst to me there was a witness to this deed
I had inadvertently given my sister all the ammunition she would need
and for the entire summer she held that duck of guilt over my head
she blackmailed me to do all her chores until the day I was spirit-led
the Holy Spirit came upon me one day and told me to confess of my sins
for that would be the only way to gain control of my life once again
so with a contrite heart I went and told my Nanna what had went down
she laughed and said she wondered how long I would let my sister push me around
she said she saw me that day when I buried the duck in the backyard
and hoped that I would eventually come and tell her of my part
she was very much aware that my sister had held me in a bind
and she prayed that the teachings of the Lord would come to weigh on my mind
It was a lesson in life that I have since come to discover
that there's nothing you can hide that the Holy Spirit will not uncover
there is no thought, no deed nor anything that will remain concealed
that the light of the Lord Our God will not one day reveal
so don't let the duck of guilt be the sword that hangs over you
confess of your sins and simply live to always tell the truth
Cosmic Adventure
There, upon the launchpad, the countdown proceeds
as bolts explode, and the umbilical apparatus releases,
and massive amounts of energy bursts from engine ignition
to create propulsion thrust and lift-off reaction
for the vehicle’s escape from Earth’s gravitational attraction
in sequential stages, skyrocketing into the orbital trajectory
of slingshot phenomenon to the universe of cosmic adventure,
likened to explorers in olden days piercing the unknown aperture.
Through the porthole, astronauts marvel at the spectacular scenery
as they watch their country on the blue planet disappear gradually.
Emotionally restrained, the astronauts resume their mission,
methodically pushing buttons and recording observations
in a four-dimensional continuum relativity experience,
limited in scope by the laws of scientific ingenuity.
My faith can move mountains
My face my faith looks onward
My hands reaches out
As my legs and feet run
I stopped short of the pitfall
of the valley of death
I stand tall I rise up above it all
And I look up toward heaven crest
And I call I cry out move my faith
I can move mountains move mountain move
I call on the name of Jesus
Our Father my God like David with a slingshot and a pebble a rock
I twirl it around over my head it lifts off
Casting down the Giants bodies I stand in able
Willing and waiting I'm a winner I'm not a sinner
I am great I Am remade my faith can move mountains
I just speak it so as the rolling hills fall down avalanche so flows
Mountains so be it move their gone now
3/24/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2022©
A table filled with gross sample trays.
Surrounded by a poisonous craze.
Getting tired like a spider with claws.
Falling apart like howling and applause.
My emotions are one of those things.
Like underwater bee stings.
That shouldn’t exist in such an odd way.
It takes more than a siren to keep it at bay.
So sirens call out another time.
Then fall apart as if covered in slime.
My emotions are like a slingshot.
Or like rain in a bucket if it started turning hot.
The feelings captured by unknown laughter.
We have to decide after.
Leave the horror in the sink.
Or eat an ice rink.
In the end, I decided to poison my last bit of luck.
Tattered emotions like a hockey puck.
Innocuous craze.
And endless glaze.
My emotions could fall over like a jack-o-lantern.
Which feels unseasonable and worn.
My emotions are like a fly on a bone.
And this fly is like a sprinkle on an ice cream cone.
And a sprinkle could also be-
A penny on fire in a money tree.
Everlasting similar to-
A parasitic worm who lives life true.
Emotions are more than layers of spines.
We all have a crust that really shines.
Don’t try to peel the crust though-
Or something worse than tendons will start to show.
Emotions show up like that.
Rain bucket water, and boney baseball caps.
Adrenaline pumping.......heart thumping
I toe the line.......must do this in record time.
Glancing, glaring ,got to do it right.
Acetone smells........others panting ,
chests expanding, shrewd eyes
stare at this champion standing.
Waiting, watching as the gun is raised
the hand that holds it ........a symbol of praise
to the would be winner.....me.
Pop...... the flutter of wings ... .....the race is on
got to slow down .... slow trot at the start.
horses hooves beat a rythmc tattoo.......... one slowed to a trot.
Sun blazing down...heat rising from the ground
I stay on track, faster now......got to keep others back.
Deep breath ...... a determined shudder.....
I am ready to attack.......
With shoulders rotating, spine twisting,
thighs burning ,heels thumping
the race is on.........like in slow motion
I pass all by...easy as a breeze.
Muscles twitching...
the last stretch is the worst.
Lips dry .....air hunger .......got to keep going...
the others are coming, the roll of thunder
the prize is near.....must get ahead.
Shadows approach at the corners of my eyes
can't let them in.........can't let them win.
Straining. stretching,determined......
a last minute dash is all I need
get it right.. must stay on my feet.
Chest expanded ......... head thrown back
barring others who try to attack
Tripping others... slow them down......must stay ahead.
must win that trophy.......it is mine.
Through the tape I burst, a stone from a slingshot
hits the target.
Winner, my heart shouts.....my head swells..... triumph.
Hooray.... Hooray .... the crowd shouts,
but deafened I am by a stubborn voice.
one from within.......to listen or not I have no choice
You've won, you've won.... but what have you done?
Did you do it for the glory.......were you blinded by ambition
did you have fun.........did you run for you
or for everyone,
was it worth it?
Tell me...........tell me my son.
.
Words drained, blood empty.
Liquid poets imploded,
Poured and stained upon each page,
Given to the superficial sacrifice of meaning.
There is no truth
Which we did not participate in making;
Ours for the taking
In downward spiral steps contrived.
All stars our own to swim,
All space our whim.
Our standard stopped.
Desires dropped
Intermittent fires out
Behind the eye of every host.
Fighting memory, now a ghost
Encased in stones.
Trading one another;
Slingshot yo-yos born
To farthest reaches.
Each annoyance adding
To the proof of scales.
We wear them as a cloak,
Then shed their skin.
Our new man never comes.
The old, erupted once; always
Hung by tinsel strands and strung
Upon a pleasured dome
That some call home,
Yet we dream a coming dawn.
Carriages and motored monuments
Stilled in rarer moments, filled
With each ones essence.
Dwindling our quality of existence
Until we meet at dawn
That man who never comes,
To walk the earth
In shoes that never were.