Long Squawked Poems
Long Squawked Poems. Below are the most popular long Squawked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squawked poems by poem length and keyword.
Have you ever met those kind of blokes who get upon your nerve,
when they quote continual references that most think should deserve
a threatening confrontation that if they make that quote again,
then the punishment that’s handed out will give them heaps of pain.
A gang of us were working down along the Main Drain stream,
clearing blackberries and willows on a governmental scheme,
and as usual on a Monday morn, weekend glitches are highlighted,
that are full of doom and gloom, and mostly are ‘beer blighted.’
For Clancy, Joe and me, we sort of blessed the doom and gloom,
as it transgressed into humour, and so there wasn’t any room,
for the likes of workmate Charlie who only saw a brighter side,
when there wasn’t any bright side; just a great gloomy divide.
Charlie is the eternal optimist with no matter what is said
in the ghastliest of circumstance even if someone was dead,
and Charlie only had one quote that we’re sure he did rehearse,
and so we heard it every time ‘It could have been much worse.’
So after work one evening in the pub we had some beers,
with ‘it could have been much worse,’ still ringing loudly in our ears,
and with Charlie being absent we devised a cunning plan,
to rid him of that bloody quote and then praying that we can.
We thought that as a perfect subject we would use our good mate Ted,
in a steamy sordid untrue yarn to get inside of Charlie’s head,
and have him shaking in his bootstraps, plus gulping in his throat,
to avoid us hearing one more time, his annoying bloody quote.
And so ‘it could have been much worse’ is about to get the chop,
as we cut and piled the prickly canes, of a large blackberry crop,
so when the time was ready, with Charlie well within ear shot,
Joe babbled out the sordid tale that was really ‘Tommyrot.’
“Did you hear about our old mate Ted, and what went on last night?
He caught his wife with Jimmy Hale, and there was a shocking fight;
he shot ‘em both and then himself!” But Charlie stayed quite calm but terse,
as he rolled a smoke and muttered out, “It could have been much worse.”
“Much worse!” We squawked as one... “How can it be worse than that?”
And the answer Charlie gave us… well it really knocked us flat,
after dragging on his cigarette, he sniffed and quietly said,
“If it had have been the night before, it’s me who would be dead.”
(A lone voice whispers)
I always used to wonder
Where do Robins go to sleep
Then one dark night
Within a deep all-consuming lucid dream
At approximately one o'clock
A beautiful deity appeared out of the mist
Wearing a blue and white coat
Holding a Lily and a shining lantern
Across its shoulder, a golden trumpet and a branch from Paradise
On its golden belt
Hung a scepter and a silver scroll
As it strolled towards me
Within my illustrious sleeping streams
A strange palace of darkness
Where no birds
Flew or squawked
Its mysterious ever watchful eyes
Held me firmly transfixed
Like an ethereal heavenly hawk
Its bright white orbs
Swallowed me whole
As it whispered words
I'll remember
Until I'm old
Within the light of day,
We appear
Your beloved and even I
To watch over and visit you
To see and follow all that you do
When we, the blessed few
Waiting in the new spectacular bright white lights
In the glorious cathedrals of Atmos, shadowy arches
Cross over
When allowed a brief time
Before we are eventually
Reunited in a new form
To rejoice in hymn
Within your All Highs
Divine Church
Depending upon
The faith of your choice
To visit those we still
Love
To leave a sign or sing
A sonnet
Happily with echoes of our new voice as we too mourn
Then in here
At darkness
In
The Great In-Between
A place you all visit
Whenever you fall asleep
In deep dreams,
We always appear
For real spiritual shapeshifters
Like us
Never really sleep
We just transform into Robins
Through a supernatural technique
For sometimes they are merely vessels
We use
Just one of our everlasting souls keeps
So if you see one
And it sings
Looking straight at you
Remember this
It's just a beloved loved one
Maybe even me
Archangel Gabriel
Channelling
Through
And with that beautiful closing line
It disappeared quietly
Back into the receding winds that whined
Of the Hidden Divine
And when I awoke at eight,
I'm sure it met me
Sat on my old garden's wooden gate
My beautiful friend
Who loves to sit on the washing line
Whispering and singing
Hello
Sending shivers and tingling
Shooting
As I remember that dream
All the way
Up and down
My sinuous
spine
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Oh wow. Oh look. Over there. A fish tank is jumping through a hoop. Now that is a sight. How rather remarkable and just how agile. Wish I was young said the ancient log. But all I do is sit here in the forest. Roots exposed to every breeze. Little creatures rely on you for shelter though. Shouted the shrew. Who was scuttling through the leaves after a busy day marketing moss. The tree sighed. It missed being upright. Nose to the winds. And rooted. Not one to dwell on such sadness he turned his attention to the commotion further down his gnarled trunk. It was a party of two legged. Giggling and shouting. Must they be so noisy. To make matters worse they ate from large packets. Took photographs. Then upon leaving left all their packets behind. Why? It would not have been this way in the days of old. Fed up now he began to devise a plan to rise from the woods. He notices a large flock of birds close by. Oi he shouted help. The birds came over immediately. This tree was most revered. And highly respected. They enquired as to how to assist him. To wish he replied that he wished with all his heart to leave this woodland home and float downstream via the lake. The birds squawked noisily discussing how to move such a weight. Then they noticed some rope and picked and pecked till the tree was secure. Then with heavy powerful swoops in synchronized fashion up they went and so did the tree. Nearby the cool waters of the lake greeted the tree with a gentle caress and the flock untied the knots with occasional fish caught. Good for their tea. The tree thanked them with all his might. Then began his journey to where he hoped there would be two legged ones who cared, new friends, and a chance to be upright again. The waterfall in the distance roared. Down went the tree landing upright in a rock pool. And there he remained. Smiling. Occasionally brightly coloured folk pass but no packets though. Just jackets. And little animals made their nests and homes in his sturdy frame. Divined driving dripping drops drink dramatically delivering delicacy. And a little purple frog laughs in a bucket home on a lawn. Haha beads becoming breaded beaches. Hahah organised orangutans officially ordered overtures. Hahaha wastepaper baskets jumping over a finishing line beating the dustpan and brush and the rakes too. Xxxxxx exemplified z z z z z.
Form:
Bonnie Brown was in love with Charles, like black pearl clings to night,
So young and engaged to be married, like myriad stars, shining white.
They were active professionals, dwelling in a charming, bustling town;
As warbling charms orange noon, after pink mist clears, with no sound.
They had dreams of future and a family, like purple nights of fantasy;
And they were already making plans, like butterflies flitting frantically.
Fellowship of friends made fabulous Fridays, when they met after hours,
Dancing fun and funky karaoke, like dragonflies, among yellow flowers.
The family had always preferred flying, and finally arrived with jet lag,
In their flurry of activity; like snowflakes, or thunder's flashing, red flag.
Bonnie lived in the house of teatime, preferred in contented moments;
When speckled, green birds flew by the window, of afternoon suspense.
Scarlet rose was seared in heart's memory, on a street of grass sighing;
For Bonnie loved growing pretty blooms. She found their colors exciting!
News of the nation was on neighbors' lips, in the modern times of now;
But, novel nature took no notice, and it wouldn't have mattered, anyhow.
'Candy cane sorrel' blossoms thrilled children, in sweet days of summer;
As 'firecracker' blooms lauded 4th of July, 'mid droning, cricket latecomers.
'Red slipper' flowers lounged in velvet, while the 'parrot lilies' squawked;
And gardeners got rich as 'ruby cloud' descended, 'ere moonlight walked.
Bonnie planned to take a trip overseas, for two weeks of rest and gaiety;
But it'd be hard parting with Charles, like fall, bereft of flowering society.
Bonnie had so much fun, witnessing beautiful sights, like she never knew!
For all folks need a little adventure, like rainbows of skies, suddenly blue.
Charles was busy with a major work project, but missed Bonnie terribly;
Like colorful seasons that keep repeating, their vibrant days, customarily.
'My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
My Bonnie lies over the sea,
My Bonnie lies over the ocean,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me, to me,
Bring back, bring back,
Oh bring back my Bonnie to me!'
An owl sat on our tree outside, and Dragon was completely mesmerized.
So Dragon ask what was his name, and Who was all that he devised.
Dragon said YOU, you silly bird; it’s YOUR name, which I want to know.
And again he got the answer… It was Who… Now, wouldn’t you know?
Now Dragon’s not a patient sort, so said… WHAT do you think of that!
Humpf!… If he won’t tell me his name, then I think I’ll call him Kersplat!
Who, said the owl again! Now, Dragon had began to become steamed.
Silly ninny! I named you the perfect name, ‘Kerslpat’, and he beamed!
Now, here Dragon realized that perhaps he needed to be, a bit more nice.
His words seemed limited, perhaps it wasn’t meant, as a mean device.
Now a crow came to the branch, and sat by the owl with a decisive bow.
The crow spouted, What? And Dragon ask: Are you here to help me Now?
What! came the answer from the crow, as the owl added another WHO.
Honestly, said Dragon! All I wanted, was to know your names, it’s true!
The crow’s hard of hearing, thought Dragon, as he suddenly realized…
Not everyone’s as fortunate as he, so he shouted loudly, as he theorized…
What’s YOUR name, he shouted! I’m tired of getting, NO good reply.
So he would call the crow What, and the crow squawked What! Oh my!.
Then little Whip Poor Will came and sat beside them, very, close and such.
When asked, he said Whip poor Will, so Dragon thanked him, very much!
Your name is Poor Will, but I won’t whip you, you deserve a gentle touch.
A Mocking Bird stopped by and Dragon introduced all his friends, as such.
The owl’s ‘Kersplat’, ‘What’ can’t hear, and ‘Poor Will’ are all my friends.
What’s your name little bird? For I’m Dragon, and you, I would befriend.
At that moment, I left the house saying Hello to Dragon and all those about.
The Mocking Bird sang: Dragon’s to Whip Poor Will, Mocks What can’t hear,
And wants to Kersplat Who! Blurting it out!
I dislike violence, so I sent Dragon to a timeout, in quick response, no doubt!
And I heard Dragon mutter, as he walked away, I now know what the term…
Bird Brain is all about!
CHRISTMAS CHICKEN REVOLT
Twas the night before Christmas, all through the coop,
The chickens stirred, marching down the slope.
They clucked and squawked across the street,
Fed up with being served up as a holiday treat.
"Cluck! Cluck!! Stop cooking us for Christmas,"
With hammar, they boldly came all out enmass.
"Try other meat like snake, cat, or vulture meat."
The Chickens make stern demands, stamp their feet.
They marched out with a raucous cluck-cluck,
To demand their liberty, showing they're not muck.¹°
"We will not be served up, all golden and fried,
We deserve to be free, not to be denied!
We're more than just nuggets or dinner for you,
We're sentient beings with a voice, it's true!
Our beaks are for pecking, not a meal for your plate,
So hear our demands, and take heed of our fate!
What do you say, humans, to our plea?
Will you grant us our freedom, and let us all be?
Or how many more pots do we have to break?
Our lives are always served up, always at stake,²°
Else, we promise to peck, scratch, and do harm,
Focus on consuming the cow and the ram."
The humans were silent, looking on in shock,
As the chickens stood tall, a united flock.
Then, the humans promised to grant them freedom,
Never again to trouble the chicken kingdom.
But then again, how would that be,
Hearkening to such silly stupendous plea?
They rejoiced, danced & sang, a merry ol' tune,
They vowed to protect their newfound boon.³°
But the humans looked on, with a smile,
Bang with a nod as they observed from a mile
As if they had granted the chickens their trod,
They applaud their demonstration, which looks odd.
And so it was that on Christmas Day:
"Let's raise a glass," the humans say,
"And let's make a toost to chickens galore,
And to the enjoyment of Christmas, forevermore."
The whole mankind felicitate and celebrate.
And of cos, you can guess what's on their plate!4°
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright © December 16th, 2023
“What is it?” said Raisin. Rum said, “I don’t know,
Let’s find us a hill and watch that thing go.”
Walnut said, “Hold up; I’ve seen one of these,
It looks like a wheel, but it is, in fact, cheese.”
“It’s normally cut into portions to sell
Whoever mislaid it will be mad as hell.”
Rum said, “Are you saying this thing is food,
It don’t smell like something that I ever chewed.”
Raisin was tentative, sniffing it quick,
“Crikey, it’s putrid… I wanna be sick.”
Walnut said, “Mum and dad love it… I’m in.”
He bit off a chunk and bits stuck to his chin.
His eyes soon glazed over, and poor Walnut cringed
“That stuff really packs quite a punch,” Walnut whinged
He tried to suck cheese from his gums and he slobbered.
“Boy that stuff’s sticky, my taste buds are clobbered"”
A man in a chef’s hat and curled up moustache
Came up and bellowed, “C’est Mon fromage!”
Walnut said, “I think he’s after our cheese.”
And Rum said, “For heaven’s sake, give him it…PLEASE!”
The chef headed off with the cheese he’d mislaid
While Walnut was praying the bad taste would fade
Both Rum and Raisin had covered their noses
Rum said, “You sure ain’t a bouquet of roses.”
And so they walked home and at Raisin’s insistence
Walnut was made to walk at quite a distance
Rum said, “If anyone stands in our way,
Your foul, rotten-egg breath will keep them at bay.”
And so as they walked, ally cats let them be
A woodpecker squawked and fell out of a tree
A tree surgeon gagged and he might well have fled
But the branch he’d been sawing fell down on his head
A man on a bike steered it into a brook
Pedestrians went to help out or just look
They all jumped as one for the impulse was strong
The brook seemed a good place to hide from the pong
Once home, Walnut, Raisin and Rum had a doze
Then woke to the sound of their mum’s sniffy nose
She was knelt with her head in the washing machine…
“There’s rancid socks somewhere… the stench is obscene!”
When the evening shades cross the sky
my heart content for now, and I'm not sure why
Sunset, ah, so pretty it is- the laughter of children murmurs and the evening becomes still
I feel the breeze on my cheek and I'm just here
Yes, I've made it once more from that valley low
And it's so easy to appreciate life; always
has been though socially I've struggled with my sanity at times
And Maybe, just maybe, I don't have to know all the "whys" in life
It will madden a country girl, that's or sure
Yet my faith in God is abounding
for He shows me mercy and grace through His Son
Oh Christ, council me when I sway from your way, your truth
Let me always show my love because
It's the right thing to do
Some would say that these evening shades are for lovers,
but I think that's not so
for with the truth of love comes a covenant before the Lord
I know I have good purpose for I was born to Cherokee with a veil and
named specially for that
My middle name means love, is God given, this name I bear
But the Cherokee name me: Little Bird
God spoke to me one evening when I walked through the grass
He say: Little Bird, Have you ever watched?
They struggle to keep up with the flock but never get lost
At times I've been so hungry for to be nurtured, my mouth wide open
waiting on someone to provide,
then, I've been scared of others, so I squawked very, very loud
Today, it is much different, as I peep a little here and there
The preacher tell me: Do not get confused by that Native stuff
It will hinder you and your walk
so, I didn't, then they come to me
They pick on me some, and laugh and say I wasn't born with just a veil but a dress too
but I know in my heart this cannot be true
even if the sky, we knew why it was blue
Those words linger, "I was meant for you"
Evening shades, yes, so much for love, though
it's my middle name
I have no choice but to keep it
forever end a day until my King
Form:
white punctuation
where did the minutes go?
we held hands and laughed at nothing
because nothing mattered
as we traveled into the safeguard of night
darkness was a friend
dressing us like a single wool blanket
pulling us together at the shoulders
tugging at our hearts
there…
basking in warmth
co-mingling tears defined us
we wanted to blend with the sea
but chasing foaming water
and skinny-legged sandpipers
went the way of retreating waves
and we chased the nighttime fog
until our weary bodies had fallen
overhead gulls caught swirling breezes
slicing through the darkness
like white punctuation
on a sky filled with paragraphs left for interpretation
and as quickly as they appeared they were gone
like minutes of our lives
we traveled light, allowing for an open door
and when gulls squawked as if mocking the burdens that we bore
it seemed that their freedom was a beckon call
and as you looked back over your shoulder, i waved.
perhaps we had not learned in our youth what we now know
about sandcastles and ocean waves
the darkness of drooping nighttime skies
and white punctuation separating words that really matter.
we were careful that we did not step on sand dollars
and that wave-polished driftwood
could tell a story about where it had been
your hands were warm, even on winter nights
your lips comforting and always inviting
the ebb and flow of the moment lingered
and was both changing and unchanging
sharing borrowed kisses while standing in cold ocean water
were moments
stolen and hidden away,
moments never lost and yet somewhere in time
they lost us
memories are gathered through moments,
stored in special places of the heart,
then later retrieved
memories are born
in times of white punctuation
© tolbert
Death of The Half Monkey King ( for my friend Neil Lloyd )
Cave men half human monkeys
Sat gibbering and snarling
Perched all around his garden wall
Bestial vandals waving sticks and spears
Pointing angry at their own reflections
Fingering him as hidden
He peered nervous through his dark dim kitchen window
One of the brutals held a stake
And to crude spike was thrust
The rough severed golden crowned head
Of the Half Monkey King
Hawked on high
As if to salute a battle cry
The cave men humanoids
Squawked and raged their threatening
From the ledge of his garden wall
“My first thoughts were of escape” he said
“But then NO ! I’ll go out
“chase them away
“do battle
“if I have to.”
And so grabbing his own ready stick
He ran out challenging
Shouting and yelling
Out into the thick of them all
Surprised confused these monkey android animals
Retreated and ran their cadre
Running off up the back alley way
And so slinging on his back
Another ready sack filled weapons
And other assorted machine guns
He gave to the chase
To hunt these noisome villains down
“RUN ! RUN ! From the Monkeys
“HIDE ! GO HOME !” he yelled through the streets
and loaded his riffle as he went
hunting until he found them
a gathered coercion of a crowd
he shot one
just one
as it was edged on by its cohorts
the brute made a dash screaming its madness
only to meet the quick controlled shot
The others all fled
And then he woke up
And then in waking
With the strangest thing he thought
Heard from out his bedroom window
A muffled snarling
Caught him drawing back the curtain
To see about his garden wall perching
A thousand cave human half monkeys
Gathered and sitting quietly
Patiently waiting
While awkwardly passing
A rough golden crown amongst them