Long Stables Poems
Long Stables Poems. Below are the most popular long Stables by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stables poems by poem length and keyword.
MOTHER SPARROW CONSTRUCTS A BIRDS NEST
under the eaves of
the roof mighty mother bird
sparrow building a
new nest eggs laid still
soil/twigs/rain/trash together
tightly woven mesh
barns and stables, on
structures mud nests tuck under
fields under bridges
~
can find Barn Swallows
across North America
sparrow building nest
under the eaves of
the roof mighty mother bird
sparrow building a
new nest eggs laid still
soil/twigs/rain/trash together
tightly woven mesh
~
fluttering perching
bobbing up an down and out
constructs a bird nest
alas, mother bird
feeds her young chick mouth open
wide receives a worm
4/15/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Bubbling burbling banter brimming from the bar
No sombre timbre just the tingling of folks mingling
Delightful pitter patter of insightful chitter chatter
Webbed blossom ebbed down dappled dimpled jar
Parched pagans perch in their lair a rare secular church
Trumpets tradition beacons blush.. echo embers of the past
Flames flickering strumpets cackling like sassy harridins
Classy cast of polished pewter & bravado of ballsy brass
Timeless games crackling with larking bickering larrikins
Wisps of whimsy waft across tobacco tinted tickled times
Smorgasbord horde quaffing quenching in crannies cavorting
Carousing castles sparkle canoodling too many rascal debacles
With adored nooks courting timber flanneled panels sporting
As sons then become dad..on the same pews with their lad
Lawyer betwixt a tyro…local employer..bumpkin on the giro
Museums of marvels.. hoodwink bores & dodgy metaphors
Higgledy piggledy tables graced stables of parables & fables
Laced with a lush house pour of moreish memories of before
Gracious & loquacious landladies & landlords near and far
Each a stellar story teller in the bar and in the cellar a star
Toast halcyon hostelries that boast such hallowed hosts
Who let us roam in our home from home we raise our jar
Big grin as we begin another weekend just staying in
That special space of friendly faces ..our third place
Ta
There came an invitation to a banquet:
"The Lady of the Manor bids thee cheer.
We’ve meat and drink sufficient for the twelvemonth
And summon thee for Pentecost this year.
We honor thee a seat on the pavilion
And ask thee as a noble honored guest,
In keeping with the manner of tradition.
Regale us with the marvels of thy quest."
I made resolve departure on the morrow
And ventured to the sands that marched nigh Wales,
Acquainted with the last of my provisions
Not long before the height of my travails.
A page announced the word of my reception.
The steward made me place upon the board.
I sensed a vague discomfort at the seating,
But bade the issue seek its own accord.
They served me wine of nary any vintage.
A coarse cut crust of bread lay in a bowl.
The kitchen maid then ushered in a trencher
Of four and twenty minnow over sole.
The fish was cold; the sauce was thin as water.
My questions rang as though the maid were deaf;
Pray tell me why my supper reeks of stables,
And please return this offal to the chef.
I found the feast a gospel of demerit
And wondered what betide the warder’s art,
With bill of fare unjustly less than tasteful;
A feeble blend of spices lacking heart.
And so resides the moral of this story,
The nut inside the shell within the husk:
Nobility’s no guarantee of flavor,
And prompt, attentive service is a must.
Women Bartender Parties
Their eyes watched
the bartender,
like a tennis ball,
volleying to each side,
bouncing, soft like
from side to side
of the bar, filling drinks
and old men's hearts
with wet dreams,
prompting the men
on gathering closer
to the campfire.
She was hot.
Their necks stretched,
minds made pseudo
claims, and mouths watered
of her effect.
She was young and new,
and too studious.
A librarian by day,
layers of academia,
flowing through her veins-
you could see that
she was smart, yet sassy.
There was no hiding, though,
the biker girl behind
those glasses, hair
in a bun, and brass demeanor.
She made sashay look
pedestrian.
She could compete with
a New York model
with her providence,
long arms and legs,
and a longer neck,
that likely sprung
a gasket in her admirers.
Would she lie?
When she gained wind
of whispering old men,
poking the shortness
of her denim shorts
she tickled their fancies.
"Is my vagina sticking out,"
as she checked her shorts,
innocence oozing from her
and sending old men's
watering hole to rise.
She was a frolicking horse
that put all the other
bar's bartenders to pasture.
She continued pouring
drinks, like how pouring rain-
rescues drought stricken
crops. She had that effect.
When she saddled next
to an old man, lucky one
at that, her gray eyes
boring into his browns,
as they split the night air
into little gifts,
exchanging presents
of knowledge of each other,
you could see his horses
neighing, too, nudging
to get out of the stables.
Did she say she was writing
a book?
He doesn't remember.
He remembers
seeing a moon flower.
She continued serving rain,
while the jukebox played
and the patrons swayed,
exchanging banter with each.
Moments later she did
the unthinkable-no
it wasn't a red scarlet.
Or connotative.
She drank, which is taboo,
matching shots of Royal,
three, with the old man,
while not missing a beat,
holding her liquor well,
and turning back his hands
............. of time.
connie pachecho
4/20/17
Kylie had a diving accident,
In her friend’s swimming pool,
In which she broke her neck,
And so was sped to hospital.
Tragically, all the doctors, staff,
Thought she was really drunk,
Because she still had movement,
In her left leg, toes - not sunk.
So she hoped in therapy rehab,
To walk again and ably function,
Because she new procedures,
From her stables’ education.
She told and told the nurses,
Don’t move me, don’t move me!
But with insults they inquired,
If she was also on drugs illegally.
Then they dropped her! She fell,
Passed out to be hoisted up,
Onto the bench again, no brace,
And she knew she’d not get up.
However, she says she told,
a physio, “I had no negative,
feelings about having a spinal
injury. I wanted to [be positive
and] look to the future and find
out what I could do. Hand on
heart, I never felt ‘Why me?’”
I never reflected [ever upon]
the things I used to be able
to do but now are not possible.
I did miss my horses and that
I would never be [at all] able
to ride again but I was all
about looking forward.” Kylie
Sued her friend’s dad, father,
But she did not sway the jury.
But then she took to court,
Frimley Park Hospital, NHS,
But just before the court case,
She settled for £1m, no less.
Kylie spent much of her money,
On equipment for w/c rugby,
Which is no coward’s game,
But which lets you have rigidity.
Toughness is her top standard,
And she made the London Paras,
But recently changed to the club,
So at Rio threw 18.75m: 4th brass.
She loves being an auntie,
To her sisters little boy, nephew,
But is not looking to have kids,
Or relationships do or to accrue.
Squiggles the striped pony with floozy hair
Woke up this morning with nary a care
He fluffed out his mane and headed to the stables
Uh-oh; it seems he had spent the night with the Mables
The Mables are two old maids, both in love with Squiggles.
I asked him about this, and heard some neigh-like-giggles.
He is a character, this striped pony with the floozy hair.
I hear the old maids calling, which gives him a scare
Don’t tell them you saw me, he tells me in a happy way
This pony does not know how to have a half-way bad day.
I see he is heading for another stall, housing a filly, Gray.
The rest of the barnyard rolls their eyes and gets out of the way
A philly steak style ribeye
shved thin. stir fried with onion
,garlic, and mushrooms.
Mixed with a mixture of
cream cheese, pareseam cheese
and smoked swiss.
Served on a spinach and swiss tart
with a raspberry and balsamic vinegar
salad. They smiled and
grinned.
I heard them humming
the song of deliciousness while
they dined. Highly ttractive
and so fine, she
smiled and grinned
until I built my nerves up
to ask for her name and number.
I rode my horse over to the stables
and left my truck at the Straphouse.
Since I was a member of the staff
I had certain tasks to complete
before I could take a break.
I planned to spend my break with her
until this God Awful cloud came over head.
Thats when everything changed.
I took her by the hand and we
looked for a radio to find
out current conditions.
We asked Cysa the waiter
what was going on
he said a tornado watch
had been placed
on the area. If one were to arrive
we were advised to
go to the wine celler. So we
just went there
and had our lunch. We had
Barbaqued Porkbelly
with Asain Roasted plums
in a wine sauce. With fried rice
and a Casear salad.
it was so delicous.
At the foot of this mountain named burden,
I found a place to sit:
Black water as mirror, reflecting dust blue sky
and clouds too thin to hold up dreams.
I know you’d recognize this:
Under the null sky, soil trembles
far, far away. The air a thick blanket over one's airway.
Mothers rush their children home,
while their mothers rush them home over phone.
Close the gates and seal the windows. They say.
A storm is close.
A storm indeed. A fierce one
brewing over the drowning sun—
By the mountains, a shelf gathering tangerine dust.
Almost peaceful—an illusion
casted by untrimmed nature, a child's first lesson
to adulthood: Never trust words of a season.
Clouds will harden into color of gravel,
and down will fall pebbles, breaking
mailboxes and patched stables.
And at that night, when welter takes over—
Earth howls in despair in the form of thunder.
Children wouldn't cry,
mothers wouldn’t breathe, they wait—
Nature let out all aches before tomorrow.
All critters hidden, but someone must be there
to prove life is fragile.
Down will fall pebbles, shattering the sky's dark twin
into ripples, the clouds—
no longer ghosts, but jagged arms reaching to collect me.
At the foot of this mountain named burden,
I found a place to sleep.
Sergeant Major O'Malley, Seventh Cavalry, had served nigh on three decades.
He rose through the ranks havin' served in squads, companies and brigades.
Second lieutenants were nuisances and he treated them as if they didn't exist!
He took recalcitrant lads behind the barracks to administer discipline with his fist!
You'd better have your horse and tack lookin' keen for Saturday mornin' parades,
Or Sergeant Major O'Malley would sear the ozone with his thunderin' tirades!
He'd escort you to the stables to shovel manure if you ever mistreated a horse!
Sergeant Major O'Malley's colorful lingo left one with a feelin' of remorse!
He had absolutely no patience with the foibles of raw and bumblin' recruits.
Lord have mercy on the hapless lad who failed to shine his saber and his boots!
Should a trooper snooze in the saddle when escortin' the colonel's stage,
Sergeant Major O'Malley would stomp and rave unleashin' a towerin' rage!
At the break of dawn when reveille sounded, he'd burst through the barracks door,
Yellin' "Up and at 'em me lads! Outta them bunks! What am I a-payin' ye for!
Ye sorry excuses fer sojers! Hie to the stables! Them hosses needs oats and hay!
And when that's done, git back here to eat yer grub and scrub this filthy bay!"
Things were different when he dismounted his horse and entered his house!
The one who gave orders and 'wore the stripes' at home was his formidable spouse!
He meekly responded to her constant commands with a resigned, "Yes, my dear."
"Taps" was a welcome sound at close of day in Sergeant Major O'Malley's ear!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
GET IT STRAIGHT BBL
Let the wind be still
I wanna speak below my breathe
Let d breeze blow with ease
I want to sneeze but in peace
Let the beautiful flower blossom in red
I wanna speak and be heard
I'm the head and I lead the herd
So listen to what I've read and heard
The oceans accused the lake of been calm and too quiet
Ever told you that we only marvel at you bounds but disgusted at your unrest
I give credits to the rats that race, graze, brace and play but all on the land
Shame on you bats that grace the sky in the dark clouds, forming and copy the birds in the nite
Yet you seek refuge and lay still on the tree during the day and you all struggle tu hide your face chucking into one another.
You live a fake live of rose flowers
You spread a colourful red garment during the day. Making us believe all is well with you
Yet you shiver in pain and suffer gruesome loneliness in the merciless cold nite.
This you do day in day out
You accuse them of being too quiet
Yet you harbour offensive smell behind your voice
The world only know peace when you speak no word
Our happiness only blossom when you mind your business
You call him a rock
But he melts at the thought of you
You call him a gold sculpture. Yet the rain wash off the clay legs as he fades out
You brag you feed him flesh and fat
How come he vomits shaft and bones
Lie not to us and deceive yourself no more
If you can't make me happy
Please take not my Joy away from me
If you can't run her race for her
Please don't drag her along the path
If you think it's a huddle
Remember our time starts differently
If the red ribbon is your target tu cross
She's got a future beyond across
If you race to win the cup
Her pace is to stay atop
Ruin not her happiness for me
She's the Lady I value
She's the Lady I cherish
She's the lady of my dream
She's the lady I treasure
A rare gem beyond the coast
Pearl of value
Lady of honour.
Listen not to the bleats
You're not meant for their stables
But at the tables with the kings
Dressed in regalia of the royals
Your space is secured
Not up for grab
Not up for none but you.
Tell them tu cut the crap.