Long Tackled Poems
Long Tackled Poems. Below are the most popular long Tackled by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tackled poems by poem length and keyword.
I dug my toes into the tile floors
through the custom issued socks
and ahead I looked at the psychs counter
and with energy and lift I would rock
I began to run while the guard looked on
he wondered what my actions would be
but a swift pursuit I had in mind
to fly in grace for all to see
Then as my feet left the ground
the guard forcefully tackled me
slamming my head into the counter
and then down to the floor half gracefully
A crowd of staff then jumped on me
and I hugged them back as I knew I would live
they gave me a shot that knocked me out
but I was glad it's what they give
I woke up in an MRI machine
and heard them talking of my arousal
but I would black out once again
only to awake on a psych ward bed
I ask myself should I have taken the flight
trying to fly right through the sky
but it is our flight or fight response
that keeps us from rolling the die
Whenever night comes, I do empty my worries
Till the next dawn of another day for music-
Listening to its pleasure in meter and rhythm;
Work out on papers while driving all thoughts a lorry...
Thinking of who created thought in its simple plight
When designation form its shape to writing pieces:
Which beautifies memories of heart's running stream
Where loneliness swims in care and cheer.
Why will I stay in prison?
When the door is so wide open
To the precious silent moments of the night
Where thinking can bring joy
And ease the pressure in meditation corner to store
The best way challenges are tackled for living
Night fans the smoke of my desires to flame
And there, I receive visions to own the future.
No dove coos, the sun
sleeps below morn's horizon....
family rises
animals still sleep
old man gets upon his feet....
scent of bacon floats
coffee's aroma
wafts upon darkened cold room....
computer alive
buttered toast awaits
time to lie in the warm sun....
breakfast eaten soon
dogs stand by her chair
begging for some bites of food....
bacon entices
day's chores soon tackled
with much enthusiasm....
farmer plants those seeds
fatigue calls out rest
a nap is caught in his chair....
work some more outdoors
whip-poor-wills calls come
night has slipped in the front door....
two dogs, old man rest
Inspired by Marvin Celestial
Haiku about my family
Written: May 6, 2016
Ma and Pa dwelled in their brick rancher for many years.
There they reared their kids, seeing lots of joys and tears.
Pa was proud of his home and kept it in good condition.
He did lots of repairs but at times caused some demolition!
Pa thought himself handy with hammer, nail and saw,
But Ma wasn't so sure, suffering through many a flaw!
"I can repair anything that needs fixin'", he would crow!
"Why hire so-called experts, besides, they cost a lot of dough!"
A leak occurred under the sink and Pa knew just what to do.
When the job was done, water was hip deep, the plumbing all askew!
Pa swallowed his pride and called the plumber to fix the mess.
Ma smiled that knowing smile, her amusement hard to suppress!
His next project was to paint the kitchen, bath and dining room.
He splattered paint on everything, causing Ma to fume!
Ma wanted him to hang a picture for the bedroom's decoration.
He missed the nail, hitting his thumb, loosing a raging imprecation!
Though Pa tackled each job with intense determination,
Seemed like every job he undertook ended in frustration.
"Honey, maybe you should leave the fixin' for the experts to do,
And take up buildin' bird houses - that's a great hobby to pursue!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
I used to steal to make a living
Now I catch those with horrible upbringings
I was a legend in my neighborhood until high school
Then I was taught that stealing and mischief was not cool
I served in the Navy after school for four years
Now I am a DARE cop in the districts ears
I have busted several students with drugs
Discovering their drug dealers lowly scugs
I had one case that took my heart away
A young mans courageous story I am about to relay
His name is Kyle Summers a 5th grader
His efforts were never greater
His older brother Mike was part of a local gang
Murder Mike was his alias nickname
He never murdered anyone though he did like to fight
One afternoon he picked a fight that wasn’t right
A drug dealer Cameron Danz was lacing his Marijuana with meth
Which wasn’t likely to be anything less then death
Mike saw this and confronted Cameron about who was to receive
It was a couple of first timers with a curiosity for weed
Take their money and get rid of some customers was his plan
For he had no more coming in for a monthly span
A fight ensued when the first timers where his brothers friends
He was hospitalized because Cameron hit him with his Benz
At the hospital Mike told Kyle of the horrible intentions
So Kyle set out for their fates prevention
He ran to me while school was just starting
And I called their parents to give them warning
They relayed that the kids already left for school
I jumped in my car and looked for them too
Kyle had seen the drop off point and left school to help
When he showed up the drugs where being dealt
Kyle shouted as loud as he could to warn
They heeded his call and cast away the drugs in the barn
Cameron was infuriated with this and dashed
With all the drugs and a fair amount of cash
Smiles filed the boys faces when he ran
Though they never expected to see him again
He returned with a gun and held them in place
“Beg or you get it in the Face!”
Kyle held still and yet maintained eye contact
That’s what set off his violent attack
Cameron shot in a rage and emptied the clip
In shock Kyle fell forward more than a slip.
I showed up and tackled Cameron just a little late
I couldn’t save him he soon met his fate
In my eyes he saved his friends and died
Though now I live with it and sometimes cry
I gather violent mists linger a harsh reality.
Stash them in a gooseneck lather lethality.
To float gently in the air like wool leaf surface.
As I blame, they're sitting on my final service.
Stash them in a gooseneck lather lethality.
I've riveted whether they'll promptly answer.
As I blame, they're sitting on my final service.
Similar to how you tackled packed gems.
I've riveted whether they'll promptly answer.
Yet, how stressed they grow to the enhancer.
Similar to how you dealt gently with vivid flowers.
Recognizing the beam does not need a chamfer.
Yet, how stressed they grow to the enhancer.
To float gently in the air like wool leaf surface.
Recognizing the beam does not need a chamfer.
I gather violent mists linger a harsh reality.
Written: January 08, 2022
DO- IT (DUETS) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: James Edward Lee Sr.
Memoriam of the Great Sardar Vallabh Bhai Patel
Who was the first Vice Prime Minister and Home Minister
United each petty kingdom and state and made them dwell
In a single unit, and thus he did administer...
Ironman, he was called, due to his determination.
Kings and kingdoms, like thatched huts of coconut leaves, he shook.
For a united nation, he had no hesitation.
For this, each and every possible means he undertook
We heard, as a barrister, when he was hearing a case
He happened to get a telegram and just kept quiet.
Death of his wife! Yet, as a man in war, he took his place.
Fraternally, he and Neheru tackled each riot.
We had such politicians those days, I'm sorry to say.
We lack such. Is this why we have to go the statue way...?
FATE'S FOOTFALLS
I'm on the thirty-five yard line
theball is in my hand
But I trip and fumble first down
I got a job now suddenly I'm fired
this must be my call
I'm then tackled it's...fates footfalls
I'm running for my life
Seems like I'm forever being chased
By life misfortune trying to reach the line of scrimmage
Recieving down yhe field of life to be the winner
Even a field goal would mean much
Running past defensive tackles
What's the matter life's trying stop my touchdowns
But I run on firm and strong
gonna past those gaols for a touch down
All this bring it on, I'm gonna make it through lifes game
Gonna win that Superbowl ring
And I won't be tackled by fates footfalls
03/7/18
For Contest: FATE'S FOOTFALLS
Sponsored by: JOHN LAWLESS
©2018
The small scar on my face
doesn't reflect the day I flew
Yes, darting through the air
harder than I knew
I had dug my slippers into the tile
and ran as hard as I could
I needed to cause a scene
Disaster if you would
I ran towards the mental health counter
and launched myself into the air
I felt I was fighting for my life
Oh was I really scared
It was days I was in this mental ward
and they just stuck me with a needle
I didn't know what it was
But I had asked them if I would die
So back to me flying in the air
The guard was watching me closely
And after I went airbourne
He tackled me so grandiosely
My head struck the counter
and I fell down to the floor
A group of staff tackled me
Yet I would just adore...
You see I knew that I would live
after making such a scene
But they drugged me, knocked me out
and brought me to the MRI machine
I gained consciousness for a little bit
inside the mechanical trap
but then I'd knock right out
back into a proverbial nap
When I finally came to I was on a bed
And I was accompanied by a nurse
I didn't know if I should feel relieved
or have feelings that were worse
I just know that I did my best
to keep myself alive
For here goes another day
that I will not die
When I was a young lad in elementary school,
I was an underachiever, and that wasn’t cool.
Not for my teachers, my parents, or classmates so cruel,
Echoing, “No, that’s wrong, do it again!”
But no matter how I strained, I just couldn’t win.
The pressure, the teasing, none of it helped.
My mind stayed off-track, my confidence shelved.
A big test tomorrow… what would I do?
Why bother studying? Why bother? What’s the use?
“You’ll strain your brain, go insane, and fail this one too.”
But I tried again, took out book, paper, and pen,
And made yet another attempt at my failing studying.
I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly it did:
I began to write in rhyme, every paragraph, every tidbit.
I took the printed words and reshaped them in time,
Rewriting, revising, turning lessons into rhyme.
And when it was time to sleep, the echoes filled my mind.
Soft rhythms drifting gently, leaving anxiety behind.
I hadn’t felt that relaxed in such a long time.
At my desk the next morning, pen at the ready,
My teacher placed the final exam before me, steady.
For the very first time, I looked at the test, smiled wide,
And tackled that sucker confidently, with nothing to hide.
Question after question, no hesitation, no fear,
Each answer flowed clearer with every idea.
Then came the essay… but all I could think was rhyme,
So I translated my verses into prose more aligned
With the average reader’s everyday mind.
“Time’s up. Pens down.” Tests collected, graded, stored.
Tomorrow we’d learn who’d move on, and who’d stay back one grade more.
The next morning my teacher returned each test one by one,
Praising some students loudly, scolding others when done.
Then she placed mine on my desk, staring at me in dismay.
“See me after class,” she said. “Something is wrong here today.”
She paused, confused, unsure what to say…
"Congratulations," she said to me suspiciously, “You got an A.”