Long Tall(a) Poems
Long Tall(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Tall(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tall(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
My people set out sixty-six years and six months ago
Give or take; sure, liberties taken, but I'll give her back,
And if you want, they got a machine with occasional fact,
But back to forbodingly sixty-six years and six months back,
From where it began, when Mrs Mack wheeled out the TV set-up,
A foot tall, a foot thick, the TV-set set on its squeaky-wheeled mount,
Glory glory no more school work, giddily circling our chairs around,
Our eyeballs were gripped on the skittering image with tinnier sound.
Convincible Wilbur met able Orville so hard in the jaw,
It busted Will's hand and broke Orville's maw at their middle-west home,
Both seemed to feel there were no sounder sounds than primordial groans
Freely to rise, free as the sky, free as a soul freed from its bones.
But Wilbur lay dying from making the rounds with the Brahmins up north,
On his deathbed he choked that he swore at the wings of the Flyer he'd croak,
Now cared-for by lawyers, accountants who brought gifts of ink, pens and notes,
His brother said "sign or I'll kill you" I guess as a bit of a joke.
Sixty-six years and six months beyond the Kitty Hawk time,
Mrs Mack wheeled out the TV-set set on its squeaky-wheeled mount,
Glory glory no more school work, giddily circling our chairs around,
Our eyeballs were gripped on the skittering image with tinnier sound.
It felt profound, though what was Neil Armstrong going on about,
"one squawk small step for squawk man one giant leap for man,"
Kind someone thought to pack our flag to plant in the sand,
Stand and admire our airless, desert, promised land!
Sixty-six years and six months beyond when Apollo sat down,
When Mrs Mack wheeled out the TV-set set on its squeaky-wheeled mount,
Glory glory no more school work, giddily circling our chairs around,
Our eyeballs were gripped on the skittering image with tinnier sound.
Garbage truck man breaking for lunch from his garbage pick-up,
Put down his garbage-truck window and threw out a crumpled-up sack,
Landing about by the two yellow lines on the asphalt pitch black,
And half of us asked 'are we there yet?' and half 'will we ever get back?'
Who is Bigfoot’s Great-grand Daddy?
Whether living in a city or on the mountain side,
People from the world around astound us with their views.
He’s nine-feet tall, a hairy thing, uprightly he flees astride.
Only tracks are left behind and the mystery accrues.
They say that Big Foot does exist and for eons has survived.
A humanoid of greatest size a hairy manlike beast.
Is he really all they say, or are the stories contrived?
And if he lives, tell me, are our imaginations fleeced?
(Genesis 27 … paraphrased…)
Jacob goes to get two goats and steal his father’s blessing.
Their mom prepared a feast of goat, delicious, to Isaac’s taste.
Then, tied goatskin to Jacob’s neck and hands, realizing.
Jacob dressed in Esau’s clothes calmly goes to his father with haste.
Meanwhile, Esau, far away was hunting for venison as asked.
Traipsing around through the scrubby woods tracking.
Moving quickly with his great might to fulfill his father’s task.
A man with hair like that of a goat, his birthright was loosing.
Jacob smelled like Esau and the fields, but his voice…
Isaac questioned, so he felt Jacob’s goatskin clad hands.
Satisfied by the goatskin disguise, destiny made its choice.
Jacob received a blessing of wealth and all of his father’s lands.
When Esau returned with the venison feast, deceit was revealed.
But it was too late his birthright was gone; he was very mad.
“Give me a blessing, father please.” He begged as he kneeled.
You shall live on the fat of the earth…unyoked…his father said.
I wonder –
Is Bigfoot, like Esau, a hunter-gatherer with hands as hairy as a goat?
Does he live independently, a type of man, a scary giant beast?
Wandering upon earth, too and fro, with life barely afloat.
Brothers separated by that ancient deceit filled feast.
Is Bigfoot the hunter-gatherer living on the fat of the land?
Has he since the day of Rachael’s scam lived secluded and beastly?
Have generation upon generation descended that ancient hunting man?
Could Isaac in the Bible be Big Foot’s ancient Great-grand Daddy?
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
He was the only one from the house of the dead at the cemetery
and he scared the living daylight out of other guests at the funeral
shuffled in rigor mortis and reaped a few condescending remarks
How dare he wield the scythe in his sick hand as if he was real
All the other mourners were dressed in white clothes and offered
eulogies so distorted that none recognized the deceased woman
who hence appeared to be an apparition hallucination and phantom
but he stood tall a few yards away from the expensive marble tomb
Wreathed and writhing she convulsed in her gold-plated coffin
tore the silk and satin lining in post mortal agony and disapproval
Those greedy bigots are shameful to pretend sorrowful everlasting love
they never took me seriously when I rejected their anger and wrath
I cannot breathe with such onslaught of hellfire and false tears
thought I had got rid of their dishonesty and dispassionate lies
Finally I could rest in peace and savour kindness and solitude
and then they spoil this moment and desecrate my final transition
Fortunately the ghost was for real and dispersed the demonstration
of counterfeit sadness cast a spell on the congregation had arranged
for water cannons tear gas and slurry and wielded jolly good canisters
of pepper spray to give them comeuppance and something to cry about
They did not know yet what she had decreed in her last testimony
made them wait for after the burial to prolong avarice and suspense
and delayed the opening of her will until one of them killed off the rest
Call it assisted and advanced suicide in the name of seeking the truth
18th February 2021
Teeth on your neck,
Warm breath
And the kind of heat
Only another body
Could create
When it touches you-
Fingertips colliding
In the darkness,
Folding lips
Devouring,
Dividing and conquering
Everything left to be
Discovered-
We are quickly running
Out of secrets….
Paper skin that inks
Red
For days before fading,
Waiting to be
Rewritten;
I've never known
A love
Not defined by
A purpose
For pain,
A tolerance to give
So you can take
In return-
I only know how to
Devour,
Divide and conquer
A body,
Sweet talk the guards
Of that glorious
Temple
So I can kneel
At your altar
To pray,
Say amen in your name,
Whisper words
In darkness like
A firm believer,
Light a fire
To teach you
What if feels like to be
Burning
From the inside….
So let the flames
Lick your
Eyes,
Gleam
In the street-light
Outside
That was our only witness-
Oh, God
I roleplay a mean
Servant of deliverance-
No one has ever
Bothered to study
A religion such as you….
And maybe I can fill myself,
Go home
And feel whole
The next day,
Body
Like a live wire
In the wake
Of a
Hurricane
That blew,
Fiercely,
Through the night-
We are only in the eye
And I can be your
Sleeping Beauty
In the sunlight-
But I've tried
Happily Ever After
And if you can climb
Past my magic defenses,
Of roses and walls
So tall a giant
Could not scale them
Then I will knight you
And make you my
Queen…
But like a fairytale
I don't last
Forever
And only Disney
Managed to make my
Story
Look pretty-
Let's remember
This all started
With
Whispered discoveries-
Teeth on your neck,
Warm breath
And the kind of heat
Only another body
Could create.
In a world of wandering souls, I seek the man of kind,
A beacon of wisdom, steady and whole, unbound by time.
Unshackled from the chains of doubt and fear,
He stands tall, a guiding light, year after year.
A man who strays but finds his way, back to the heart,
Where love and compassion never depart.
Serene and still, he faces life's design,
Resisting temptations that would make him decline.
Imagine a man standing tall, amidst the chaos and strife,
Refusing to succumb to the darkness of life.
Choosing the righteous path, each day and night,
He shines like a star, a beacon in flight.
I yearn for a man of sense, a father to nations true,
A guide who leads with wisdom, and a heart that's new.
Respecting women without pretense or guile,
Raising children with love, and a gentle smile.
In the midst of turmoil, he finds his peaceful place,
Where love and kindness fill the space.
A refuge from the storm, a shelter from the rain,
He stands as a rock, unbroken and sustained.
His words are honey, sweet and pure of heart,
His actions speak louder, a work of art.
In a world of wandering souls, he's a guiding light,
A beacon of hope, shining through the dark of night.
His presence is a gift, a treasure to behold,
A treasure that's rare, and worth more than gold.
For in his company, we find our peaceful nest,
A place where love and kindness are the greatest quest.
So let us seek this man, with hearts full of cheer,
And follow his example, year after year.
For in his footsteps, we'll find our way to peace,
And a world of love and kindness, will forever release.
Form:
Father Drinan took his class to Coney Island Beach,
He thought the sand and ocean could also teach.
They ran to Nathan's hot dogs, then sunk in deck chairs,
Until a hungry seagull took them unawares.
(bridge)
The seagull grabbed a hotdog from poor Joey McBride,
A clever attack, swooping in from the side.
The kids all laughed, Joey let out a wail,
As off into the sky, his hotdog did sail.
(chorus)
Oh, it’s a lesson in the air, a lesson in the sea,
Life’s got twists and turns, live long and you will see.
Look up at the sky, a hot dog flies away
In this sad world, it’s the sneaky bird that wins the day.
Drinan stood up tall, a different lesson to preach,
But then a bird dive-bombed him, screeching with a screech.
He lifted his umbrella, the bird latched on to it tight,
Stupid Willie Conlon grabbed a bat, hit with all of his might.
(bridge)
A whack and a thud, the bird fell to the ground,
The kids all stood still, in silence profound.
Father Drinan rubbed his head, now sporting a big bruise,
He thought of leaving teaching, it seemed he had to lose.
But Joey stood there, wiping away his tears,
With a smile and a sigh, he faced his fears.
“It's just a hotdog,” he said, “there's more to life to seek.”
Drinan smiled and nodded, "Blessed are the meek."
Father Drinan never took his class back to the shore,
But they learned something deeper than they’d ever known before.
Not the lesson he wanted to teach, they learned distrust instead
Never relax, every moment must be full of dread.
And don't whack a seagull, if it sits on someone's head.
In the haze of lights, where the world blurs and you start to reclaim yourself,
Standing tall on the fragile pedestal of your own worth,
Their whispers, serpentine and insidious, slither into your thoughts,
Like brainwashed subjects, chanting their mantras of doubt.
"Where does all this self-importance come from?" they hiss,
As if your burgeoning strength were a threat to their fragile egos,
"Don't you know you still hold less value, no matter how smart you are?"
Their words, like chains, attempt to bind you to their limited vision.
"The traits deemed good are for men, so why do you act like them?"
They try to confine you within the narrow walls of their expectations,
"Girls talk silly talk, so why don't you join them?"
They seek to reduce your voice to mere murmurs, inconsequential and quiet.
"We must diminish your confidence through your looks,"
Their strategy clear, to make you believe that all that matters is your pretty face,
To keep you under control and submissive,
To make you think your value depends on their confirmation.
But in the haze of lights, you find clarity,
A realization that their whispers are but echoes of their own insecurities,
You stand tall, a beacon of strength and intelligence,
Resisting their attempts to diminish your essence.
For you know that your worth is not dictated by their shallow judgments,
Nor by the narrow roles they try to impose,
You are a force, a presence, an unbound spirit,
And their whispers, like smoke, dissipate in the light of your truth.
Lavender turkey eggs amid purple straw hat
With fake turquoise frosting,
She sits next to me in the hard pew
What kind of sugar ants will be parading up here now?
For I see this is real frosting she has added
A two-year-old wearing an engaging smile
Sits next to her. Not aware if they are related.
Church gets ultra-busy on Easter morning
Lots of strangers. Is that a Big bird hat?
False alarm. It is a yellow Easter basket hat.
Complete with a giant bunny that dangles down her back.
Made of faux fur, thank goodness. Little girls she sat
beside would be shrieking now if this bunny was real.
Girls cannot keep their paws off her bunny, which has googly eyes.
The next hat walking in has a jaunty cross pinned to the top of it.
The wearer appears arrogant, proud, haughty even,
A blatant contrast to Christ, who was none of these things.
Sh! Someone hisses. "Here is the minister." A hat-less man
Who immediately comments on the wonderful congregation and
The unique hats. He cannot keep his eyes off carrot hat woman.
Her creation is two meters tall - a giant blue bunny holding two bunches of dangling carrots, that take up so much of the pew, no one else can sit there. It matches her wild blue and orange flowered smock that barely covers her knees.
I wear my simple Easter hat with pride,
Cockily thinking I am both subtle and sleek.
Others begin pointing and laughing.
My Easter chick apparently got nervous
and left me several little presents.
I knew I should have made the background brown.
I lingered at loves' door
Lips waiting for a kiss or two
A brush of passion
A whisp of warmth
As many lovers do
The first was quite dull
Fumbly digits all like thumbs
And when it came to kissing
A mouth equipped with a serpents
Tongue nimble agile and erotic
Flickering across my eyes , my lips,
The nape of my neck beastly he was.
The second was tall a voice that any
Woman would pride herself as the
Victor for his serenade prowess
But his beastly nose,dripped, his large
Ears flapped very much like a tiny pigs
And the hair on his chest was about
Four inches long I could have combed it
Collected it and knitted slippers with it.
Number three awe, he was a ballroom dancer
Nimble, thighs and buttocks firm , strong
Thoughts of a snake wrapping its prey came to
Mind when I looked at his legs.
He could spin his partner, toss her up catch her
Throw her and gently dip her and kiss her with
His deepest hungry oceanic green eyes.
Not a hair on his body. Muscular, nimble.
A gentle quiet , yet the most sensual erotic man
I had ever seen. His confidence and gestures
Were such a tease to be so closely paired to a
Zeus in a mans body I loved him the best.
Although he always wore a mask. The allure
If the unknowing. I could only see the eyes.
He barely spoke a word. His body movements
Intertwined with mine. Tangos, waltzes, ballroom
Dances or simply barefoot romps under the moonlight
We synced in every line, gesture,nothing went
Unread.