Long Slouch Poems
Long Slouch Poems. Below are the most popular long Slouch by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Slouch poems by poem length and keyword.
I retired gracefully, happily, knowing I could never be fully completely replaced even to this day.
I was slick, photographic, revered by so many, loved by a few, heavy, a bit conceited but in a good way.
Diligent children hid me in boots, closets, drawers, or moldy piles of black and white laundry where I rarely had to stay.
I came out in the early 1900’s, evolved so well I didn’t recognize myself by 1959, my heyday.
I was routinely hidden under bedclothes, mattresses or pillows; contraband, peeked at by flashlight.
I belonged to the whole family, but whoever found me first hid me well; I was never shared outright.
My captor would slide me out silently, hoping their siblings would not discover me and start a fight.
I was the prize of the month, the trophy of the hour, the coveted, revered, brightest of the bright.
Brothers and sisters fought each other to pull me out of their rural mailboxes to hide me under the couch.
Coveted, cherished, loved, revered; fought over, fawned over, poured over; I was never ever like a slouch.
I was thrilled that I was circled, starred, torn up, folded, figures were written all over me, and it caused a little ouch.
A big part of Sears, and Christmas too, I brought dreams, hopes, and anticipated joys, causing more than one wage earner to grouch.
LOCKED UP
Not an ordinary day in a garden where nature smiles at us,
canopied with the blue sky, the flowers in their autumn beauty
with the freshest hue. lulled by the infinite scent of nature,
melodies from unschooled professionals echo above
as the evening breeze gently touches us.
Not far apart is an queen enclose in her gentle rain.
I gaze admiringly totally engulfed, unlike the ones on my rear view
this one tickle my fancy making me want to live in the moment forever,
her face shone as though with the rising sun in an atmosphere
of gilts and glamour, this thick aura of love that have engulfed us drown every fear.
Her eyes filled with wanders fore-tale of the world here after.
her laughs massage's my ego in many unpredictable ways
On that day every wise man have an intuition,
I slouch in her ambush in sweet surrender,
cooee on her she responded with a yes looking at her
I die from the infectious shy smiles and blissful radiance
beaming from her, refreshing more than the mountain dew, i felt like am in a conquered territory.
Something in her eyes make me want to lose myself into her arms,
I only come to realize she's lonely when I did.
I stand heavily burden with love in my heart smiling but
blinded with an invisible tears, suffocating under the heat of heart break
from the tears of yesterday fanning again the embers of love.
We walk down the gleeful street beside the crystal water fall,
where the waves cares the shore lines.
Been described by birds with broken wings as a wrong match
involve in the game of fools but not been exposed to western mischief
we raid on; dancing to the undertone music in our hearts.
Her voice bring me up to speed to act on the script of predestination,
thought I should run my pen through her but
well began is half done am still a prisoner of all I saw
looked up in the confine of love but yet still free.
Not sure yet, I slowly turn to the sound of a familiar voice.
Yours maybe?
It has been three years since the social dance of co-workers and mingling - inevitable small talk.
Three years ago, this was a not so foreign path.
Is it too much all at once?
These long office corridors can be home
versus the long, dreadful, hours spent at home
the winter months are not the worst - June, July and August are the culprits.
They drag - like an old train chugging past.
Whistling in the wind.
My life is not a rundown railroad train.
dodging my own shadow, I spent what seemed like lifetimes, watching the sun slouch across the carpet.
Seated at a round table, they laugh in the crowded cafe.
Alert yet apart, I will blend in like a chameleon, like a flower in a vase I will arrange myself to bend with my fellow flowers.
We will all bloom and it will all be glorious.
Aware that the Goldilocks Zone is an area of habitable space a planet is from a star, this Monotetra poem resulted from my first thought...thinking with the mind of this fairytale miss.
I don't like to whine or complain
but sometimes I am quite inane.
When feeling lost, I can't remain
Totally sane totally sane
The day's too hot; the night's too cold
I try real hard to stay controlled
but life seized me when I got old
a stranglehold a stranglehold
Husband said I've become a grouch
He's a caveman. To that I'll vouch
because he broke both bed and couch
Walks with a slouch walks with a slouch
I cooked a roast; he wanted steak
His loud snoring keeps me awake
That ol' bear gives me a headache
I need a break I need a break
One day soon, I'll leave that lout
Wear a smile instead of a pout
Sleep in my bed and throw him out
Without a doubt without a doubt
I will not be his 'Goldi Girl'
That Neanderthal is a churl
Life's my oyster with sand to swirl
I'll be a pearl I'll be a pearl
March 28, 2021
Goldilocks Zone Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Anthony Biaanco
Liverpool showed very early they have a goal
How very cold?
But the Londoners got off the couch
And stood tall without a slouch
They scored one really quick
Giving the clock not much time to tick
As the first half minutes showed they were up for this incredible task
This West Ham physical challenge could make their owners go to the flask
Tied at the break
Bubbles back home wondered what it would take
Ten minutes into the second forty-five
I tell you no lie
Hammies had a strike
And winning points were in sight.
As the champion elect
Go on an offensive peck
Telling those at Anfield they are not done
Shrugging off the thought the Londoners have won
As for those named red
It must be said
They were able to get it leveled at two
And West Ham needed to stay cool
Another Liverpool score would hand the Hammies a loss
That in turn could create a meeting with the relegation boss
Reality started to settle in
And for the Hammies another sports book win
It was two that Liverpool were giving
With the sports book hinting ‘Hammies, where are you making a living?’
There was a video review
That said a Liverpool goal was not true
With this decision
Hammies collecting the sports book cash seemed to be the mission
When the match came to the end
Liverpool had to work to defend
A nice assault
That did not come up with a goal that was sought
Start preparing for the drop
Since the losing will not stop
Down here in the lower three
There is a positive that one could see
In the other division where EPL teams go when they are missing
And the fans will make sure you hear the hissing
You will be king
Counting the winnings if that is the thing
Since this predicament is months off
And West Ham needs to take care of this evil wintry cough
Then in the spring do the rising
Now that you have William Hill money to do some hiring
He sat straight up in the saddle,
tired, no sweat left in him
as he hadn’t drunk a drop
for days. The white salt ring
left on his skin and the
horses neck were crusty, itchy,
stale smelling. He was tough
as weathered leather, taking
his last ride, the last mile,
the last day, saying goodbye
as he rode away. He was no
slouch, he would sit straight
up until he could no longer
hold his head. The horse
collapsed, dead from exhaustion,
dehydration, refusing to leave
his life long companion. With
a snap, the rope tightened as
the cowboy fell towards his
horse, the final ride over, his
final prayer answered, to
ride forever with his friend.
created 16 Jan 2019
Quite a lot we ask of our selves
as we try to up hold these principles
but this is what it_ life has come to for us
we delay so many things
and hold off twice as much
But this life this life
is a short timeline.
I say live now
don't regret it later
wishing you had done this
wishing you had done that
wishing you had lived
wishing you had time
More time to do all those things you loved
but never did
Willing to will but willing not.
We are considered adults at 18
yet we don't get our lives until 25
Many a time we date till 30
But more often than most
still end up single or unmarried and worried.
Life is a choice
let us choose each day
to be happy
to love
to cherish that which we have
before we hunger for that which we don't yet have.
let us choose not to be perfect
for that's who we are are (perfectly imperfect).
Let us choose not to worry much
let us have our lunch and brunch
Let us choose to seat back and slouch
the moon and sun to watch
and to the humming birds to listen
Let us choose to have fun
let us like wind choose to run
let us choose to fall
to fall in love with ourselves
unemployed and unmarried
educated or uneducated
rich or poor
the thing is for sure
We all deserve a happiness that's pure.
Choose to be happy
choose happy.
A cowboy ain't got no use fer the trappin's uv a meetin' house affiliation,
In which to commune with the Lord to git his religious inspiration!
He won't be corralled by a staid and sanctimonious congregation.
He's free to wrangle his spiritual grub from God's Grand Creation!
He ain't got no need fer a fancy altar er them hard-backed pews,
And he won't squirm fer hours as the preacher expounds upon his views!
The great outdoors is his cathedral where he can worship ever' day.
He lifts his eyes to the hills whence comes strength frum across the way!
The Lord provides music with the thunder rumblin' across the range,
Along with the tenor uv a ripplin' stream as it meanders through the grange.
The risin' sun warms his soul as his hoss canters across the plains.
The splendid sunsets are more stunnin' than any uv them glass-stained panes!
He ain't worried about enterin' a church to be met by a contemptuous sigh,
Jes' 'cause he ain't dressed proper in a three-hundred dollar suit and tie!
The Lord welcomes him in His cathedral with his scruffy boots and jeans.
With his sweat-stained shirt and old slouch hat, he's considered a man of means!
He ain't impressed with majestic naves, apses, transepts and sech things.
His sanctuary is the splendor uv the universe and the blessin's that it brings!
His pew is his saddle where he bows his head in reverent adoration,
Knowin' that frum the grandest cathedral of all, He'll hear his supplication!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Oh, Bandit, what's your impish task
While sporting, sly, that little mask?
You seem quite innocent and frail
Yet the kitchen tells a different tale
Floor all messy, the counters, too
Paw prints that led straight to you
But while I had a penance planned
You're far too sweet to reprimand
Looking slumberous in your slouch
Reclining leisurely upon the couch
Soon you'll close those kitty eyes
And off you'll scamper to fantasize
Such fuzzy mitts you'll fuzzily flail
While prizing creatures, (and your tail)
I can't help query what you'll scheme
While making mischief in your dream
Though doubts, have I, it can't outdo
The pranks you pull while being You
But antics granted, here you'll stay
Because I'd have you no other way
So while you're "Plunder-On-All-Fours"
You've plundered, too, this heart ...
That's yours.
** FIRST PLACE in the "Picture Prompt: Write Me Something Funny" Poetry Contest, Julie Leigh Rodeheaver, Sponsor. **
Hank hired on fer a dollar a day an' found.
He wuz knowed as th' best bronc buster around.
They wuz allus a roll-yer-own a-danglin' frum his lips,
An' he wore his jeans an' chaps low on his hips!
He wuz lean an' lank an' had spent years in th' saddle,
As bow-legged as pliers, spending so much time astraddle!
Wearin' an ol' slouch hat an' well-worn boots,
He'd rode many a wild bronc out uv rodeo chutes!
"Thar stands th' orn'riest critter alive!" th' boss implied.
"Thar ain't no mustang 'round I cain't tame!" Hank replied.
Other cowpokes ambled to th' corral to enjoy th' show,
An' with knowin' grins watched Hank earn his dough!
Th' bronc jes stood there snortin' with fire in his eyes.
Hank could see trouble! Boys, wuz he in fer a su'prise!
Sech hossflesh he'd never rode! He'd never seen sech gyrations!
His ol' bones had never experienced sech sensations!
He wuz throwed, stomped an' wedged agin' th' fence.
With his pals cheerin' him on an' things a-gittin' tense,
He 'lowed, "Boys, I give up! He's beat me good!
I reckon I'd better find myself anuther livelihood!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)