Long Sox Poems
Long Sox Poems. Below are the most popular long Sox by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sox poems by poem length and keyword.
Johnny Cash gives it away for free,
John K says he would like to be Prez.
Richard Nixon will run against him,
so the republican party says.
Lamar Cox gets 44th KO,
‘The Stilt’ scores 58 in one game.
In high school Heater’s 135,
gives him claim to some basketball fame.
Presley says goodbye to the Army,
and is back on the recording scene.
X-15 sets a new record height,
‘Sit-in’ becomes protesting’s new thing.
Queen ‘Liz says they’re the ‘House of Windsor,’
“Unsinkable Moly Brown” goes down.
The first Playboy Club hits Chicago,
Ebbit Field is knocked down to the ground.
A 9.6 quake in Morocco,
takes more than 15000 poor souls.
Another sends Hawaii a wave,
kills over 17000 more.
Cardinals move to Saint Louie,
Chicago White Sox wear their new threads.
Oversized mitt designed for catchers,
will keep their hands from turning all red.
USSR says they’ll stop testing,
Krushchev bangs on the desk with his shoe.
Lasers will light up the science world,
France now has an Atomic bomb too.
Satellites can now track the weather,
the court says ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover’ okay.
Civil Rights bill passes the senate,
new birth control pills are here to stay.
‘We shall overcome’ is new anthem,
but not at the riots in Jacksonville.
MLK gets jailed in Atlanta,
while preaching for equality still.
Senate investigates “Payola,
Alan Freed’s one of the 9 accused.
Meanwhile over in Comensky Park,
their new exploding scoreboard debuts.
Americans pay high earnings tax,
John K and Nixon go for the throat.
They debate 4 times on our TV,
before Kennedy gets the most votes.
Say hello to Aretha Franklin,
Chubby Checker has us in a twist.
Huckleberry Hound wins an Emmy,
Cassius Clay is the best with his fists.
A jet hits 2000 MPH,
California cops say UFO.
The atomic reactor is born,
Flintstone’s is the next hit cartoon show.
Lee, Richard and Maurice Petty go,
against each other in the same race.
Richard beats his brother and daddy,
which gives racing world a new face.
Paul and Best kicked out of Germany,
we are not really sure what they did.
Clarabelle speaks in her final show,
simply voices the words, “Goodbye Kids”.
The world’s moving faster and higher,
technology seems to have no cap.
Back in Wakenda, at 3 years old,
I’m still taking an afternoon nap.
OldSockFable
OldSockFable
3Fabel4
One old sock afforded free the one they thought the drier ate the one they
dropped by accident the basket overflowed in haste of want to escape the rain
the sock has none no toe jam yet no misery of toe no hole it is white it is in small
form the top is not so very long but short like a ballerina dancing in a music box
she wears sox like these
Could this one be the sock she wore on a foot like mine to keep it warm?
Iola the dancer the prance the vixen the ballerina the lover the sock loser in the
drier she it is that loves me and still cares Iola is the other name for ewe.
The missing pages on the internet the hair nets no one can ever find they need
them back they must be worn to cover hair in kitchens there the kisses muss the
hair so coifed and formed with gel the parfume forgotten spilled the baby powder
added to make the special day. Dancing done in heart if not in deed dancing just
for me. Jacket is lined and Indian motif fits with my jeans a lighter color blueing
blending as eye dance as eye prance just for Iola ewe in
mye sock and nothing else as she appraises mee. Sandals hidden against the
day eye need them shoes of leather marking time some of them just needing
dimes to ride ride ride then walk some more in leather uppers made of nothing
wondering at love and shoes and slipping in the cracks of learning wondering
again at love slipping sock upon the left foot only making shoe to fit more snug
BULLETIN Flashing News If MSN acquires YAHOO then none of the games will
ever work again the Windows will have the YAHOO frames and MSN will be the
tending frames. Yellow will dominate the blue and everything will be PEA GREEN
when MSN becomes YAHOO nerves strained beyond belief as headache comes
again with no relief just perhaps the medicine eye take so much later in the day
will win me a stay of execution intended not to mend it not to heal it but just to
temporarily extend it. When eye was working and eye lost my toe they took it off
the boot and greasy as it was they tossed it in the trash and smiled Can you save
my toe eye cried NO was all he said it is too dirty there is no way to use it now.
Daylight fades, a city pulsates, and traffic is reflected in store windows.
Hurrying headlights come out of the darkness.
They crisscross like dueling knights. People in the crosswalk scamper
as if squirrels and streetlights leer gleaming yellow eyes, like watchful hawks.
The shrill trumpets of the charging gale force winds, rattle an awning,
and newly planted maple saplings bend and sway
in random pairs. Set in concrete planters, they hang on by tender rooted toes.
Pages of a discarded newspaper are hurled into the air,
buoyed on the steely breath of a frigid winter evening.
Several leaflets scatter into the street and down the sidewalk,
into the path of one lone pedestrian.
He slaps away the sports page, that flies into his chapped, red face.
Without hesitation, this castaway vagrant, down and out
by the rape of hard times, will accept an offered dime,
from a passing man in a Red Sox ball cap.
Head bent low, face hidden, a worn and dirty pea coat
pulled tightly around his thin frame, he carries all his meager belongings
in a large paper grocery bag, wrinkled and beginning to tear.
Serving as his satchel, the brown bag, damp and worn,
still displays big bold red and black letters
advertising "Smart and Final Grocery"--"Located in Three Convenient Locations".
A city bus roars by, splashing through three days of rain,
and a siren and a blaring horn is heard from the next block.
The dark silhouetted outcast, stops for a moment,
peers into a sidewalk trash receptacle, then continues slowly down the sidewalk.
A taxi pulls up along the curb behind him, and the attractive couple,
dressed in evening wear, emerge, pay for their taxi, and arm in arm,
enter Mario's Italian Restaurant, the brick bistro
that sits on the corner of Broadway and 1st.
It begins to rain again, and across the street people open umbrellas
and like the afore mentioned squirrels, they scurry home to supper.
The lone man walks in the rain, his pace doesn't quicken, his voice never spoken,
a spirit broken, ............ his sack held together by circumstance.
A passerby takes a brief glance...just a quick, chanced moment,
to take notice of "Smart and Final's" last stance.
The night air with owls cry invitation of canopies of writers to write the
Days using the night pen jolting candle to the candidates aspiring to arson
night. The pans and pots exchanging strong actions to the curve of the sea
like seasonal belt.
I preferred to belt ideas to conclude the departure of imagination under
the wilderness wings of the soup, the night, where I power my thinking to
pink rose. I raid it to trade the sound of night that of my belonging, the
defame of fact to fiction looking strive to live under my enterprise.
I cajoled the swirl wind from the sea pointing to talon meek of jealousy
collided to collaboration the admiral salute me to the situation under the
control of my country where I encountered Taibatou, the couple of days
dash around the bush to the calabash of my thinking, it never too late to
buy the truth with bullets of fact. Shining light to the shift of action
to accost stirring on street with string of peculiar explanations shivering
mind.
Divining day wake with action sealed of blue cap contemplates the
Inflections of words to describe the caravan of chagrin mammals with tiny
ribs socket of sox seceded to sue the merchants of rogue. Daffodils color
purple with flowers morning millet of null to answers. The breads sandal in
my throat which I have to draw it with cup of tea to make the belly
Assault the pang of hunger and thirsty like tricycles moving from left to
right without clear definition.
The sound of broom from unwilling woman woke the master to dance to the
music, the imagination of life sings lullaby the stars smile like sinister
expecting spouse running on the door to dull the light. The coat of
Fabricated joke tore the night blowing scent, scene of stage amphitheater
Like Luke of contort fact to consortium benefit.
Why I have to wander the days sleep in the night wake up from the dream of
success flagship my empty heart drink August to clinch thirst. I sweep the
night to defuse tension that has been marrying me for Century of sentiment
mad of violence concrete of concerts connect direct to the desire night
cold as ice loud as bomb difficult as flying in the air without wings.
T0 Spencer Snyder, age 80
Curtain Call
He signed you for a starring role, with no time to rehearse,
None had played the part before, so no-one better or worse,
Been a long run and the folks keep coming, your lines change like your sox,
Director nods up in the Gods, no prompter in the box,
And every time you looked to Him, He’d smile and say Well Done,
Despite your wild unscripted words, you could do no wrong
Though critics voiced opinions, you know what worth they are,
Mostly orificial, mostly rated R!
Curtain Call! You’re on again today
You can prance and sing and pirouette or sulk the night away
Curtain Call! Delight with what you’ve got,
When you act on inspiration, you can’t be what you’re not.
Well, all runs have their ups and downs, you faltered there sometimes
And scowled at other actors for their excrementary lines,
Complaints they won you nothing but laughter from the crew
But now you know they’re there to show the very best in you!
One day you’ll hear a casting-call, Director’s words are spare:
“The part you played was perfect, I’ve another one to share,
But because you did amuse me with your foibles, funks and fears,
I’ll let you practice this one for another 20 years!”
Curtain Call! You get…. no stand-in for your role
You signed for the duration when you were just a soul
Curtain Call! When you grasp a life, there’s no-one here to blame,
And how much you enlighten us your only claim to fame!
You pondered long life’s meaning, but the guru’s words rang true,
That it don’t mean a goldarn thing but what it means to you,
It’s meant to be a mystery, of that you can be sure,
And for your play, if we had our way, we’d implore Encore!
And at your final curtain, kindly exit with a smile,
To let us know you loved the part for just a little while,
We’ll stand for your ovation if we’re not all in the ground,
It’s a goodly bet that’s all you get for having us around!
Curtain Call! (It sounds) every morning when you rise,
The stage has made you large as life, regardless of your size,
Curtain Call! We love you, please curtsey to acclaim,
An arch-angelic Oscar has been chiseled with your name!
Bozo the clown is ready to begin,
in Cuba, Fidel Castro starts his reign.
Buddy Holly meets a horrible end,
Charles de Gaulle is back on top again.
Motown now brings us a whole lotta soul,
Disney’s Sleeping Beauty warms up our heart.
TV’s Bonanza, Rawhide, Twilight Zone,
and The Untouchables all get their start.
That F104C flies higher still,
the show ‘Rocky and his Friends’ is unveiled.
Marx Brother’s are no longer on TV,
the first ‘Barbie’ dolls are ready for sale.
Vince Lombardi takes over the Packers,
the Cardinals trade just one player for nine.
Tom Landry starts to coach for the Cowboys,
in about 30 years he will resign.
Boston Celtics score one seventy three,
Candlestick Park is now Bayview’s new name.
One-forty-eight straight then Yogi errors,
Boston Red Sox last race barrier team.
Food stamps help to fill our hungry bellies,
a new design for the pennies tail end.
The Dalai Lama has to leave China,
Al Ginsberg’s “Lyseric Acid” is penned.
Hawaii becomes state number fifty,
Japanese Americans freed once more.
Russia shows us the far side of the moon,
America wants to even the score.
No one knows why they played two All Star games,
least they sent someone to the Hall of Fame.
The AFL is the new football league,
Eddie Lubanski bowls two perfect games.
Oklahoma’s prohibition is done,
Soviets to invade Afghanistan.
Able and Baker leave orbit and back,
and NASA announces their moon trip plan.
SR.N1 is the first flying ship,
Lady Chatterley’s Lover is now banned.
Planet 9 from Outer Space aptly named,
as the world’s ‘worst film’ and then it gets canned.
The discovery of Zinj means humans,
had lived at least two million years ago.
Ike bounces his message off of the moon,
we hear that Kookie can lend us his comb.
Hendrix buys his first electric guitar,
he only plays one gig and then gets fired.
Bob Dylan graduates from his high school,
and he is beginning to be inspired.
There’s a growing sense that things are changing,
people can’t quite put their finger on it.
In Wakenda I’m clinging to my mom,
and my diapers keep filling with ‘not spit’.
Dark and the Light- or- The Goose and the Bride
Act 1
Sunlit promenade juts majestically into the musical pond, spying a Hen Goose appearing to
be sitting on her nest at the end of the popular walkway. I imagined the poor girl had no idea
the odds were stacked against her hatchlings ever glimpsing sunlight.
Act 2
Each day I walked in the park, she was still there, her mate just off-shore, only leaping up
to the promenade to help repel anyone daring to venture down the narrow walkway. In a
flash, she would leap off her nest honking, hissing and snapping at intruders. I watched this
scene unfold with disbelief for three and a half weeks….still she was on her
nest…..sometimes I would come across unsuspecting victims of her assault, muttering
epitaphs of a goosely nature.
Act 3
Halfway through the fourth week, I looked and she was gone, maybe, I thought, she was
successful and had moved with her goslings to the more rugged north-park area of the
winding pond. Not seeing her there, I asked my friend, the park manager, if he knew of her
conclusion. He told me he found her eggs smashed, and one time, came upon adults kicking
the Mother Goose… I borrowed a line from the Black Sox Scandal “say it ain’t so, Joe!”
Act 4
Shaking my head, I proceeded on the path towards the promenade up ahead…. there, on the
very spot where she defended her brood ‘till death, posed a wedding couple, bathed in
afternoon sunlight, he in crisp black, she in billowing white, bringing light to darkness…..
Bringing light
to
darkness
The quiet rain dispelled any thoughts of a rain out.
It was Fenway, it was Father's Day,
And within the sacred realm of wooden bats,
Unswung and dumbly waiting,
There is the halcyon hope of impact
This on our first day of summer
Like the first day with our father
When he slapped us on our day-old baby chests
To keep us alive, keep the beeps beeping,
Forcing life's tiny engine to re-fire,
Making love's literal labor rumble back into place
Like the slamming of the hood of the car or
The smacking of the hanging breaking ball or
The blowing up of balloons, in school, for winter's child
Who needs to see the swelling of life into vivid colors
So that he'll be tempted to speak through the tumors
And show me how even more not-so-small, slow miracles take form,
Like the oldest man on the team,
On the mound, leading the league in wins,
Like my father putting a lunch together,
A salad, asparagus, and sausage in three
Giant containers I could never fit in my work bag
So in a flash he grabs this nifty-sized paper bag out of nowhere,
(the nowhere where the cabinet and the refrigerator is),
That dark and unspeakable vertical slit
Where all things crawl to be forgotten
Except by my dad who hears nothing and attends to everything
Scrambling even now to get a lunch together for his
29-year-old son who slogs eye-blinkingly around the kitchen
As morning-dumb as the day of his arrival
With the first pitch, the first slap, the first symbol of love.
Father's guide us through the passing fog
Like a lighthouse with a hearing problem, on wheels,
Barreling into the future, keeping the ball moving,
Keeping the world working.
The father is our Sun, Summer's Eternal Boy,
Guiding truth (or his version of it) where it need go:
Another Red Sox win,
Another sandwich made,
Another reason to smoke a cigar.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.
As long as you promise to keep swinging
I'll promise to speak up. (And answer my phone.)
MY BOW LEGGED 60's GIRL
Lyons, Kansas, 1969
I took all of your tank tops and your hose and your sox,
and I put them all together in a little brown box.
I put all of your dresses and your shoes in a sack,
and I wrapped it up because I knew you're never coming back.
I took your funky records and your Playgirl magazines
and dropped them in the trash with all your green and purple jeans.
I took the clothes I bundled up and gave them away,
to the Salvation Army, it seems like yesterday.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
I met a wino on the street, she looks just like you,
she wears a see through blouse and she walks bow legged, too.
She sings those funky songs and plays the guitar outa sight,
and she takes a bath in cheap perfume like you did every night.
She still sings about Viet Nam and love we don't show,
guess she doesn't know that Viet Nam was 30 years ago.
She's out protesting every day and carries a sign,
bites her toenails ev night just like you did mine.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
She has a job but all she'll say, it ain't chopping wood.
And it's funny how her money lasts, and she lives so good.
She bought a brand new car one day, a pink Cadillac,
and it's got a bar up in front and mattress in the back.
I don't know why she thinks she has to work every day,
cause I never had a job I just live on my welfare pay.
She picks her nose and rolls each bugger in a sugar ball,
and just like you used to do, then she eats them all.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
You never told me you were leaving town,
you never told me you were leaving.
I married her in the park, it seems like yesterday,
and I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't run away.
Sam came from Bollon on the Wallan S.W.Queensland Aus.
Sam Mc Croon came from Bollon soon
When he heard about old Galoon the Batey
She was big an a Ox light in her sox
And she loved her Irish Pp praety (potato)
They married at once she was no dunce
They tripped to the altar so fine
The kangaroo dogs would bark twice or once (greyhounds used for catching kangaroo)
Goannas cantered off with the wine…….damn gwanas…
Religion came round to the poor little town
They dropped in on poor old Batey
The old shack floor was dirt and some more
And they took Cockies joy, just lately…….(syrup) (Cockies = Aussie Farmers)
Bronco Don appeared saw Batey in tears …….(my Dad Bronco Don )
Don cantered right amongst the religious
Cracked his whip in their tent his anger did vent
Demanded, got cans back prodigious
Now Sam he did work for a man with a quirk
One Colin Mc Farlan Okeefe
He had Sam watching out in a paddock for work
Under a sheet of iron for a sheep thief
Old Sam he did sink down a sewerage trench deep
When tripping across after the rain
Bronco Don reefed him out, hosed him off poor old sheep
And rescued him later again…………(Sam got swallowed up twice)
Sam went to hospital with the flu for a week or two
Had his singlet soaked to get it off
For the hair on his chest had grown right through
Water weakens a man he’d just scoff….(bit shy around water)
Jimmy the lover came to call, banged upon her door
Just come out little sweet Batey
He said I’ve got bananas from the store
She said there’s no body home, come lately…
Jezebel McCroon slept in a room
on a mattress of indian rubber
Aren’t you afraid of Jimmy McDade
the great charmer the lover
Jez just said if I strip naked on the bed
he won’t see me instead
Won’t see me less I smile in the dark,
He’ll sidestep away like a plover unfed
Without a squeak or a squark…..Don Johnson