Long Straddle Poems

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


Branches

Friend, before life moves us to the parting ways
Let wisdom tell from rend of heart its lessons old
That you may take your journey springing praise
And mend with gladness dream and mirrored fold
               One road invites the universe of man to dawn
               The place we left in awe of sword and flash of fire
               Stumbling from purpose and lapping dew for ire
               Making the circle of return to the cradle of the fawn

It's two things the oracle challenges us to know
Where the road diverges into many different paths
What vision shapes the skill that need will show
To meet the tests that sever self from it thoughts
               And lift the eagle to the pinnacle of brimming star
               And say to soul you are worth more than you seem
               In any dissection of the flesh or weighing of dream
               The mantle is mask that pretends not who we are.

What if one branching path a wide lake must cross
What if another a snow-capped cliff must clamber o'er
And still the next has serpents slithering in the grass
And one stretch endless like miles of a sandy shore
               Shall the swimmer charm the serpents, swim
               The sands, and climb the mirror face of ice
               Against a different purpose will his dream suffice
               Or all mismatched paths not a meet a fate still grim?

O too many on the wrong path are embarked, too few
Their purpose know before the journey begins
The shipwreck on deserts straddle the sense as clue
Ignored ... self-blinded race, drowning in our sins
               He who foreknew us predestined purpose too
               Each tree is seeded after its kind, each man can
               Achieve only what is set in the primordial plan
               The broad way is littered with much too much to rue.

What use is choice unless some context tell the aim
For once and only once we choose the path to good
And joy, the river does not return, the sea is the same
Only at the rapids end. Not what I would, but what I should
               Is all I need to know. It's not the prize but the race
               We run is what we are destined for. Go now, friend
               And wing the light and for mist of truth contend
               The swift may run, but the wise the victory taste.
Form: Verse


Brutus the Mule Pt1

Brutus was always bad
                      But what can you expect from a liasion
                      When Molly the mare, met  the Jackass
                                        Brutus's dad?
 
                           Well here is the story about Brutus
                            Its a Mule, son of Molly and Rufus
                            Molly was a comely mare you see
                    Rufus looked like a Jackass in every degree
                           They didn't share any love or hate 
                But what brought them together was a twist of fate
 
                         My uncle wanted a worker you see
                      Something relentless, strong and mighty
                        To climb the valley, hills and the glen
                In this capacity ,the mule was man's best friend
 
                 So a date was set for Rufus and Molly to meet
          Out of the prying eyes of children to accomplish the feat
                           After Brutus trysts and dirty deed
                           Molly grew fat from Brutus's seed
                       Nine months later at the break of dawn
                        We had Brutus, Molly's craggy spawn
 
                          Now just after about a year had gone
                          Brutus grew sturdy and also strong
                          He looked  more like a horse you see
                            An equine specimen we'll all agree
 
                             It was time for Brutus's schooling
 
                               In simple stages was the plan
                         Uncle Poppy, to be the leading Hand
                The plan was hatched and the scene was staged 
                        To gradually induce Brutus to his trade
                    We decided when Brutus was watered and fed
               Uncle Poppy would mount his back and straddle his leg
                        Brutus didn't flinch nor did he complain
                         Haughtily Uncle Poppy patted Brutus's mane
 
                        Time after time he would sit on his back
                        Brutus stood still, but never moved a jot.
                      But composed and agreeable was our take
                         Then further progress we ought to make.

Pt 1

Premium Member The Couple Who Lived In 4-E

Behind caution tape, I stand in the shade
watching a wrecking ball, tethered to sway
And soon with a gasp from the crowd standing by
A piece of the past is ready to die

I am seeing a lifetime, as it falls to the ground
the old tenement house, on Avery Street

For years it was home, to folks across town
Rarely do people now straddle it's shores
Where the root-buckled sidewalks lead up to the doors
And feet skipped over the cracks, with swift daily chores

All the chalked hopscotch lines have since washed away
along with laughter and the gold of the day
Summertime colors have withered and fled
Into bruised, battered bricks, of memories bled

Now, forsaken, this dethroned queen
With broken limbs and shattered eyes
of shards of glass, and broken lives 
Still haunt the northwest wing

Thick layers of dust, cover the limpid leaves
of an old silk rose, within a vase
and reminds the gloom of dime store trips
when the passing lives, that used to be
were alive with simple certainty

A curtain, torn, hangs by a thread
and shivers, laced within the wind
A haven, built, of brick and clay
Defaced, disgraced, red-brick decay

Each story told, each life it held
Now crumbles with each stone, once laid

There were some who still remember, well
The ones who lived above the rim
By whom you could set the clock
By footsteps walked on wooden stairs
Who made this place a home

Now far away, the gossips say 
"Their health had failed, such hell to pay
For now it seems to live each day
Someone has to tell them...
When to eat, when to dress and when to bathe"

People had watched them come and go
It was always with hand in hand...
Their music was heard between the cracks
Mozart, Bach, Glenn Miller bands

They had lived here forty years or more
Or so the legend goes....
No one really knows for sure, but know it was for years...

But now a flower in a vase
Is covered dust to dust
The lights turned off, no sigh, no trace...
with windows black, and lyrics lost

The wave that came, went back to sea
Like the hopes that fade away
Tomorrow's dreams have come and gone
to leave a winter's song
And is the only thing that holds the years
From waning into none....



___________________________________

The Time Is Now

All of our righteousness are as filthy rags 
I do believe that's what I read 
We all fall short of the glory of God 
I know that's what my bible said. 
But there are some of you that don't have a clue 
You think yourselves an exception to these rules 
You think you are wise and perfect in God's eyes 
When in reality, you're nothing but fools. 
You judge all of mankind making yourself blind 
To your own faults, or you pretend to have none 
You curse all men who are submerged in their sin 
While forgetting the things that you've done. 
You're in church every week and when its your turn to speak 
You speak loudly, for you love to be heard 
You should keep it in mind while impressing mankind 
That your actions speak louder than your words. 
It is church goers like you when you do what you do 
That causes God to quickly take offense 
You skillfully dodge all blame and hide in God's name 
However, there are many ways to straddle the fence. 
Now don't get me wrong for I do not go along 
With the things that men are doing today 
But I can't throw a stone when I've many faults of my own 
I just tell people about God the right way. 
You and your kind who are so stupid and blind 
Build yourselves up by knocking others down 
Because they're not like you and don't do what you do 
You say that they're lost, and will not get a crown. 
You sit in high places and walk about with two faces 
Seeming godly, if only in your eyes 
You tell your sisters and brothers that they're better than others 
But I know that this is nothing but lies. 
Think what you may but come judgement day 
When the Master has completed His reaping 
You'll stand in His glory and we'll know the true story 
For He'll reveil the secrets that you're keeping. 
When God sees your mess He will not be impressed 
By what you have or what you think you may know 
He'll take just one look, see your name not in His book 
Then it will be off to hell you will go. 
You could change this sad ending if you stopped your pretending 
To be perfect and all holier than thou 
Stop hiding your evil ways and do as God says 
Then you'll be saved, but the time is right now. 
By Benjamin Macieo Davis 
Theprinceofpoetry
Form: Rhyme

Blood In the Air (Part 2)

I slide through
          the darkness
     within your walls,
following wires
      to their heart.
Solidifying in your basement
  I shred your fuse box,
        turning your house
             into my domain.

I follow your
             fluttering heartbeat,
circling you,
      I can smell your blood,
  can almost see its scent
curling through the air,
leaning down
          close to your face
turning my head
        this way and that
captivated
           with the fear 
                 in your eyes.
A growl rolls
        from my throat
as I start to salivate.
Staying,
    part in your world,
          part in mine
I resume circling you
      picking up speed,   
   causing a whirl of wind
for you to feel,
             almost comforting,
playtime begins
                 ........................Now.
I start slashing
             haphazardly
with my claws
   like thousands
           of knives
in a tornado
              surrounding you,
your blood
    is lifted
        by my wind
speckling the walls.

The whole time
you wail
    reminding me
       of a gothic symphony
      that I choreograph
my attacks to.
Becoming whole again
    the last 
       of your blood in the air
showers down upon me,
bathing me in your essence.

Now its time
             to shake your grave,
I push you
           onto your back
and straddle you
    then lay you open
       from the bottom of your neck
          to the end of your belly,
with bone crushing force
       shatter your sternum,
then slide my fingers
            between your ribs
and rip open
            the protective cage
      around your organs,
                  I wish you could see this,
                        I love to share.
Sitting their
          watching your heart beat
    what I have left for a body
screams for a taste,
   reaching down
          I slide my hand
under your heart
    cradling it in my grasp,
feeling the rhythmic thump
of your life pump
is too much for me
           and I squeeze
                until it bursts,
then hunker down
  to for fill
     my lust
        for what
           you were created of.


Good and Bad Leaders

From the beginning of time there have been good and bad leaders in each and every country. 

There are leaders who concern themselves with the well being of all its fellow citizens and they don’t worship money because they find ways to share it with those most in need first. They straddle the fence but they lean more towards the right than towards the wrong and find themselves becoming ever so strong.

Universal Health will keep all its fellow citizens healthy because without it, as disturbing as this may sound, plagues can be wide spread; a cough here a sneeze there, the question is who really cares. Will it be you, me or we?

There are those who convince others to follow them with empty promises of “See what I’m doing I’m putting more money in your hands, you the people who are tired and sick of lack. I’m creating more JOBS and more security, just follow me!”

Follow you? The one who is undermining its citizens by proposing to get rid of The Environmental Protection Agency and if you succeed than that’s the beginning of living in a lawless land, that would be naivety. 

Would a good leader put its citizens at risk just to bring in oil and mining companies that violate corporate ethics?

Being Americans we all may feel a sense of privilege because our country imports and exports an abundance of goods and we all want our “Goods and Plenty”. And our barometer of enough, have been ignored with more and more stuff. “It’s the American Way” many will say.

But in America we have the “Haves” and the “Have Nots” Therefore the “Haves” may feel that they stand to lose a lot if they stand up for the “Have Nots”
“Oh such a hard decision to make” Not really, it will be a bigger mistake when the “Have Nots’’ realize that their condition all the time was fake.

We all eat, sleep, dress and rest and look our best. Some travel by foot some travel by plane but they all travel just the same.

So we seldom examine the truth because the lie is more appealing and it agrees with our greed.

My Leader promised me that He would supply all my needs. 

Food, shelter, clothes, understanding, joy, gladness, and prosperity 
And he’s never disappointed me.
© Lara Wash  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Didactic

Ride Home

Hey there I been eyeing YOU
BEEN fantasizing about a rendezvous 
Wanna make your commute home
 one you look forward to
Have you been wanting ME 
the way I've I been wanting YOU?
Do u mind if I have a lick of your hot sexiness?
We can be discrete bend me over and pull up my dress
It's empty nobody here no one to know
Wanna ride YOU home nice and slow
Been lusting you so long sexy stranger I'm good to go
Tell me what you like I won't say NO
No need to waste time with fake pleasantries
We can give each other what we NEED 
I been watching you for months to and fro
Come over here give it a go
wanna please you you work so hard
Did my straightforward approach catch you off guard?
I'm a REAL grown Women I speak than I DO
Nothing to be scared of don't want to frighten you
But when I see something that I want I conquer it
I take care of my business baby I HANDLE IT
Come on baby no need to hesitate 
Our bodies come together
 our hips gyrate
Your touch feels good so RIGHT
I know what you want 
I know what you LIKE
No need to rush there's no time clock
Let's get busy 
Time make this train ROCK
straddle my legs around your waist
You tell me my lips you been dreaming to get a taste
Well it just so happens to be your LUCKY day
Pull me in closer feel my breasts sway 
When our mouths collide it's pure delicious bliss
I m so ready I will fulfill your every erotic wish
Your body has ignited inside me a burning flame
No don't speak don't need to Know your name
We are adults let's not waste time on a silly game
Doesn't matter won't change anything still WANT you all the same
You have had a long stressful day
Just relax &  lay back I'll help you wash it all away
Take it in feels incredible enjoy every minute
Wanna lick you everywhere wanna get all up in it
There you go close your eyes
Isn't this by far a more ENJOYABLE ride?
Dam  you feel good
 this is my idea of sexy fun
Don't get off this ride
Until your good and DONE
Than please pull down my dress 
Because  I gotta run
Don't tell anyone what we've done
It's our secret strictly
 between ME & YOU
Hope To see you tomorrow 
Same place same time ...ROUND two
© Diana Vee  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

No Tell No 'Mo


Pick up the plaid skirt curly,
ride to the rave party on the down low
Sneak out the lame pimple place early,
take the cutie to the Hush Hush ‘Mo ‘Mo
Trying to act playa Romeo ... like he know,
but those fumbling hands show
And the honey he brought,
she don’t know too much mo’
Amateur young lovers trying to be pros ...
mature triple X adult for the first time
But they be talking too much,
don’t know when to put the tongue 
in the plug
How to get wired ... get electrocuted love
They don’t tell each other that they really don’t know,
so they continue to put on a clumsy show
She talks a titillating tart Juliet,
but she ain’t a grown woman yet 
Her body says she’s good to go — 
but she don’t know how to pick up the pole,
and vault to the next love level tho’
And the rookie Casanova, with the limp bent noodle,
ain’t got a French poodle clue what to Irish lip doodle
So they continue on with their comedic vaudeville shuffle :
Dumbo gives the bimbo Bambi girl
a hasty, upstairs wardrobe malfunction
This gets dizzy Dolly’s bra flapping like a pigeon
runway model at a pantomime luncheon
Fanny Panty Brice and Klutzy Superfly
starring in a “Dingbat Does Doofus” short sex life
Silly-o omelette loving ... screw ups by the dozen
Doh boy’s first diddle muffins never got into the oven,
cuz he couldn’t get the rise inside the Twinkie to grow
Donut hole girl never got the cream-filled poke ladle straddle,
cuz she couldn’t turn the soft soft wood into hard hard paddle
No tell no ‘mo 
what you say you know ... but don’t
No tell no ‘mo 
what you say you can do ... but your IQ won’t
No tell no ‘mo 
what you say you know ... but you really don’t
No tell no ‘mo 
what you say you can do ... but don’t know how
to 
make the bosom udders give up 
the moo-moo
Baby woodpecker wearing a baby chef rubber hat,
take your baby beaver apron 
unloosed string bow
and naked fetch the how-to-milk stool now
No tell no ‘mo 
what you say you can do ... but don’t know how
Get the ‘Mo ‘Mo 
moo-moo tail tongue pail —  Right now!
And go out to
the barn and learn how to milk the cow
Form: Burlesque

Burning Man Part2

You refuse, refusing the salvant call,
laying there in fetal position,
enthralled by my hex of vinegar and scrawl of liquids release that just seem to pour out of me organically.
Hissing in Wormwood's frequency dwelling, Hollywood "your signature home" learning-annex-auxilliary.
My park and recreation facility.
Reserved, this space taken.
A dump, next to unopened salve
and not knowing your own, side-bar-by-law$.
An unlived, contrived existence, of litigation before dawn.
So shine on, shine on,
Dear: ) (Newton Star blink out before the gravity of
persistence, taken aside, the watchtower of your keen eyed media straddle, beacons a distress
call, to your final hour.
The time your nightwatch is voyeur
procured.
Humpty Dumpty asses with sulphur in their saltwatering laffy Taffy maws, fixed, agape, ajar."Give me some sugar baby."

Jezebellians, you shunned, the truth, when it was audio visually- bore.
Gored yourself on the posts of a grinding of mandibles and dripping blood upon the crucible stone and forbidden bindings.
No white night when a guiding light
doth shine on dead eyes.
No silver linings filling those cavities.
Only self, depravity.
Will be mouthed from the still-shine forever moored. 
Uttered where windmills churn electro
Codes of algo-executionary tables
to turn.
Churning the butter of temptation
with pouting maid determination.
Mitigated, my starlings it is for, 
the ungrateful scored.
Cookie cutter milkmaids of 
factorized words.
Music for Nations.
A union of the snake said Plato.

Fall from the night.
As an Nova of unbeknownst, essence, 
implode yourself of something more,
lost in the mire of the ignorance of indifference, onloaded to fill an emptiness void of frivolous showroom and commercials shined core.
Enjoy the aftermath in my garden.
Take another bite of my lore.
Rise, a new creation, in new age culturism,
the retro- reel of Humanism, of illusionary-fusion of pride and behind the scenes thrones. 
Slavery algorithms,
my Holograms of flesh and Bones.
Burning out on the Threshing floor.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Curriculum Vitae

She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.

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