Long Stake out Poems

Long Stake out Poems. Below are the most popular long Stake out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stake out poems by poem length and keyword.


Yikes I Got Man Boobs

with noticeable burgeoning bosom in the offing, ahoy
this baby faced blubbery bosom beastie boy
fast becoming a bra man,
and might hire himself out
as a male wet nurse for employ

ment, cuz when stark naked on shark tank,
I behold two bopping, brewing, busting
flap jacks in search of a frying pan,
which change in my physiognomy doth annoy
but, suddenly spurring,

this ordinarily calm, cool, and collected chap
positing even a more radical income idea
changing ma name to Chester, letting hooters
get suckled, though,
methinks they qualify as milk duds

tit two siamese twin guys christened ell and roy
offering accompanied with serving of cookies,
where adipose floppy blimps
rank popular as novel cheap toy

where art though washboard stomach,
where brestworks didst sprout
as if overnight a markedly increased
from flat “Joe” six pack chest did an about
face, with squishy, mushy, and doughy
sprang up without doubt

suddenly forcing a sexual identity crisis,
which freaky phenomenon makes me wanna pout
for weird, wicked woebegone
affects the psyche of this lviii aged lout
wondering what other transitions,

this fellow may indeed be on the look out
feigning to traverse (in me mind) badgering
rugged hormonal secretion terrain akin to a girl scout
on the prowl targeting a peeping tom,
whose foolery demands clout,

thus this imposed unfair punishment,
as some half assed irreversible decree
maybe hints of other surprises,
yet tubby revealed, which haint no fallacy
possibly being brewed up by a brood

of bruiting imps of the pervert with glee
some bot sized microscopic
anti bosom buddy hood stolen the genetic key
analogous to a pesky malware,
virus, trojan horse secrete lee

scheming to transform the sexual identity of me
perhaps waking up tomorrow minus
my little peppy ***** , and behold a pussy
should such an outcome prevail,
where media papparazzi

stake out this freak of nature re:
doubling efforts erecting fortifications
in a big old sassy tree,
especially if the press
(i.e. particularly meaning Wikileaks)
discovers ability to experience infinite orgasms
converting sexual predilection into electric utility.


Wintry Thrills and Chills

Silver eyed blackbirds from above
  and beige browned turtle doves
  stake out the yard searching in need
  between the fallen leaves for seed.
Red winged orange cardinals appear
  calm awaiting their turns to spear
  as burnt umber wrens rush
 with burnished sparrows hiding in the brush,
A half dozen burly furred squirrels race
 with each other straddling trees in the chase;
 peeking in and out the thicket for cues
 where tag and play ensues.
Aggressive blue jays screech
  pushing everyone aside in their reach,
  pouncing on squirrel and bird alike
  save the dominant silver eyes blackbird spike.
Few are brave enough to stand and hold their ground
  taking in the yard that abounds
  as they run or fly rather than stay
  to quick escape to sky or tree away.
With the sudden early wintry chills
 each recognize the familiar thrills
 no longer come at dawning
 skipping in the earlier mornings.
The yard is still alive
 with chatter and play
 as creatures of the garden thrive
 ready to greet the challenge of the day.
© DM Babbit  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Trapped

Pigeon caught on a subway platform
              bobbing in a landscape of feet
Escape cut off,
               bobbing through risks
               weaving clear of grinding boots
Liberated from nature,
               pigeon transit-frenetic
               like a novice in deep end swimming
               no warning signs posted

A bird in need of rescue 
               from commuters who barely break
               their stride
               a tumbled push of bodies
Breathless souls in a hectic stake out
                for metallic space
                unfiltered anxiety
                plundered sense of validation
                no warning signs heeded
Beaked  captives who rush the subway train
                perpetually severed
                from
                       their 
                              wings.








Poem revised: March 23, 2021

Premium Member - Last Time -

There will always be a last time
                            Fragile web, I can't confirm strength
                    threads spun together into the complex tapestry

                               Existential thinkers of the abyss
                                 searching for light in the dark
                         and attempts to stake out a way forward

                             Phoenix bird, more than just an act
                                   Picture becomes incomplete
                                 the pieces scattered by the wind

                                          Don't lose track
                     one question at a time, a wine glass half finished
                                         where stars explode

                            Caught in this swirling undiluted power
                               unfiltered heart that is deeply rooted
                                      The lighthouse must be lit

                                   Swallowed poisonous syllables
                     the light from the computer screen stings the eyes
                       long-term parking - accept your own limitations

Premium Member Devoid Of Pity

Cowering in the shadow of fear,
you count every sorrow, tear by tear.
And surrender to life's ugly side,
unwittingly letting evil slide.

Bullets rip through the fabric of lies
while somewhere, somehow, somebody dies.
For drugs and guns, paint the hood in blood:
stains of youth, lying dead in the mud.

With the curtains drawn completely tight,
the streets are left to the ghosts of Night.
And doors get locked; deadbolts in place,
while pride vanishes: without a trace.

Needles and condoms litter the park,
where addicts and whores stake out the dark.
And children live under house arrest:
hidden from monsters, out to molest.

Shooting a gun's a juvenile thrill,
unafraid of the law; youngsters kill.
And death runs rampant in the City,
where life's cheap and devoid of pity.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member January Light

He stood stalwart
watching western dusk
promising pink and red ribbon of light
crevice of Presence
between dual dark starless night
and vaguely outlined Earth's end of bright
for yet another day's journey 
through spatial time,
diurnal rhyme.

Boot journeyed feet planted
centering weight and stretching spine
reaching to breach this transitional last gasp
of hope's new day,
grasping for how this time is without precedent
yet timelessly emerging
re-submitting into unto worn-dark cosmic consciousness,
narrow gap of fading pink with blue-grey veins
networking night of sky with Earth
to close this endless day.

Where was he when this time started and closed
and before?
Standing stake-out watching EarthDay's fading string
of time's co-arising light
folding in Earth's darkening rim
rolling toward him
across cold black twilight night
reaching toward his Elder future
staring blind toward endless time
glaring timeless blind back 
through his prehistoric story.

At last, he inhaled deaf heaven 
and blind Earth's embrace
one more time
less day turning night
breathing light in and out of dreams
through lives of sages 
lost to reasoned musing memory.

Treasonally forgetting
to say farewell
and namaste
before gently closing his back yard's western door
with full will and warm co-arising intent
to thank morning's dawn
for showing up
despite his lack of eco-social grace.

His dreams drench absorbing graceful face
smiling Earth's radical revolution
with timeless eternal pace
of dusk's red ribboned grace
warning dawn's threshold of climatic race
toward upside-down political health economies.

Heaven dressing Earth's night
in moon-revolving star light,
while Earth cooperates her most regeneratively sexy synthesis
through sun revolving light's full moon consciousness;
all dressed up
with every Earth revolving
sacred place to go.

He stared through this dual dressed study
until his turn to exhale once more,
while opening dawn's eastern gathering door.

Premium Member Another Monster To Defeat

Dealers sell drugs not far from your door,
patiently waiting there in the dark.
And with cash in hand, you leave once more,
to troll back alleys: daunting and stark.

A storm-soaked sky spits pieces of grey,
hammering the ground with hail and rain.
And as you stumble along the way,
fear triggers jolts of remembered pain.

Junked up specters, these prophets of doom,
pimp their products with swagger and style.
And stake out recesses in the gloom,
where lies get exchanged: for denial.

Ignoring your pledges to abstain,
you renege on your vow to stay clean.
And stick a needle into your vein,
slipping right back to where you have been.

Just another monster to defeat,
Death bides its time, while watching you crawl.
And the consequences of deceit,
are: that no one will care when you fall.
Form: Quatrain

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace