Long Tank Poems
Long Tank Poems. Below are the most popular long Tank by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tank poems by poem length and keyword.
Some solutions are better left on the shelf,
Even when we have turned into an elf,
If you have interest in the health of yourself.
It may be better to stay clear of the shelf,
If you want to continue thinking for yourself,
And you should never listen to an elf.
Shopping for ideas is not in the interest of good health,
As freedom to think for oneself is often lost to stealth,
That can reduce the need to open your mouth.
Fear of opening your mouth,
Is not in the interest of good health,
So, we should avoid going down that path.
Freedom to think,
Depends on fresh ink,
Not standing on the brink,
If you want new ideas to bank,
You should look to a think tank,
If you want to highly rank.
So, before you take a solution off the shelf,
Try thinking for yourself,
Instead of listening to an elf.
she gave so much that her tank was running on empty
money worldly possession advice love and heart blood
clothed and fed the homeless
a kind word and a few coins
to every poor beggar in sight on the long windy road
of social mobility going the wrong way towards loss
selfless she stumbled upon utter
misery devastation and destitution
surely some of the tramps would buy smokes and booze
in search for mind-numbing solace from their vile plight
who is to judge unless they marched
in somebody else’s shoes or barefoot
the neighbours chuckled she looks like one of the vagrants
and they resembled each other when the days drew to a close
nightmares filled her aspirations and dreams
but she lit candles and incense in firm prayer
one rainy freezing midnight one of her down and out drifters
set himself alight at the local petrol station in search of the light
inflamed her sorrow and the stench of hot fumes
rekindled her blazing desire to proffer even more
‘it’s my fault alone I should have invited him into my home’
but every nook and cranny had already been filled with bodies
and her pantry was empty with power for the fridge disconnected
she had sold the furniture except for mattresses a long time ago
‘should have slept on the street myself and not him´ but
does hindsight matter when blindness stole present vision
eventually the fuel pipe broke under pressure of emptiness
she would call it angel gas supplied by God’s given grace
a true people pleaser with
no charger anywhere near
the gas oven loomed as she searched for a rope in the wood wormed
attic that had infested her strong resolve and last bit of compassion
she was ready to give up and dangle in bliss
from rafters of seemingly senseless kindness
but Karma would not take her weary bones and exhausted mind
when a barely clothed women cuddled her in a smelly embrace
a toothless smile brought back her own kindness
too much decay to change her heavenly abode
23rd September 2020
Givers Contest
Sponsor Regina McIntosh
it was the time to ascend and the elevator door closed with firm resolve
on his many needs and wishes that had pushed his buttons for so long
three wise men had spoken and a triad of Tarot cards had pointed the way
a pitchfork of ambiguous trinity had failed finding the needle in a haystack
horsemen of the apocalypse in his mind had traded their rocking donkeys
for a shiny Harley Davidson with punctured tyres and a hole in the tank
now he was stuck in the enclosure forced to listen to meaningless pan pipes
studied adverts of trade sharing Viagra and courses for meditation and yoga
determined to advance on his hierarchy of needs to the level of self esteem
but the display offered no fourth floor and he quickly went past his target
barred from quick levitation he went down again and attempted the staircase
only to find the door locked with a sign ‘sorry out of order for maintenance’
he bought climbing gear at a DIY store to scale the outside of his building site
carefully read the self-help manual and proceeded on his conquest for change
the windows had not been cleaned for an eternity and he could not look inside
but it was mirror glass cladding in any case and he got a bad case of acrophobia
by now he had received a parking ticket in an underground garage of anxiety
more points on his license reminded him that there was no fast track escape
when his scared gaze fell upon readjustment possibilities and alternative choices
he climbed an oak tree dangled his feet from a branch to look again at his roots
09th September 2020
Grazing upon my hide,
lumbering,
ravenous beasts
farm,
crop, and munch upon
the harvest rich-fields
of my squamous integrum.
The dermatologist tells me not to worry,
that it’s just the normal microscopic
fauna and flora.
They clean away the dead,
vacuuming-up
the desiccated debris
and dander.
“We are not snakes” he says,
“we need help to shed.”
I can’t help thinking of those millions
of par-blind,
pig-like,
tank-shaped organisms
forever thriving,
feasting,
and then they themselves
decaying
upon my skin,
and they all-unknowing
that they are
most definitely not
the greatest creatures
ever to have roamed the earth!
Instinctual animalcules
constantly changing
the density
of the shadows I cast,
the thickness of my shedding.
Mites nibbling away at my silhouette,
until either it seems to be
far too heaped and corporal,
or way too transparent
to be seen in strong sunlight.
Empty
The gas tank is empty.
I have five more miles to go.
The car glides to a stop,
beside the road.
I get out.
I push it further on,
into the dirt and brush.
There is a hush,
deep in my soul.
"How can things be worse?"
I grab my keys,
my purse, my things.
I lock the doors
and leave a note out on the shield.
"I will be back, it is a fact, please do not take away
my only ride... as the ocean of life has risen,
I am near-drowning now."
I turn toward the empty road,
and know that I must hurry.
There is dinner to prepare,
and my family is already home.
They are alone,
and they should not be,
but I can not try harder
than I already do...
lest I fail completely.
Perfection, a goal,
a commitment,
but not attainable
or realistic.
How to Stay Married to Me
(a poetic tutorial)
Don’t come at me
With sweets or cookies
On Valentine’s Day
My New Year’s resolutions
Are around to stay
(talk to me around Mother’s Day)
Understand my currency:
Words, sweet syntax,
Small deeds at random
Are my box of chocolates
Fill my tank,
Ask if I’ve lost weight
Offer a walk
Clean the garage
Love our kids
Even after tattoos and missing assignments
Put things together: furniture and broken hearts
Camping trips and holiday dinners
Let the dogs sleep in our bed
And in and out at night
What seems like a zillion times
A human doggie door
Take care of the old people
Move a couch for my grandma
“It has to be now!” Nevermind
That your back is out
Tolerate my OCD tendencies
Ignore the washcloth tower
Turn a blind eye to the
Exercise clothes rotation
Understand it gives me power
Let me be in charge
of the temperature in the car
you take the music--
A better DJ by far
Stockpile our everyday
Like a trip to Sam’s Club
Saturday drives to games
Sunday laundry and grocery
Love me through the mundane
The necessary normal
that makes us great
Hey Mr Doggy, you are as tall as me
I am doing you a favour, stand still and you will see
I am going to wash and dry you, and make you smell so nice
Because at the minute, you smell like my dead mice.
Mummy told me off when; I washed my mice in the bath
I thought they would like a swim, but that idea was naff.
She told me not to bathe things that are smaller than me
So I am going to wash you, you will like it, just wait and see.
You have curly hair; I want to brush it out
Mummy uses conditioner on me, so it doesn’t make me shout
I haven’t got conditioner so I am using some stuff I found
It doesn’t look too bad, and it only cost a pound.
Please let me scrub you now, as I am not in a rush
I already washed daddy’s car, I found a wire brush
It’s made some pretty silver lines and he will just love them
Some look like flowers, on a very long stem.
I have my bucket of water; I found the water in the loo
So don’t worry please Mr Doggy, I know it looks all blue
You will be the cleanest dog, anyone ever saw
And mummy won’t be mad, when she sees my messy floor
I didn’t mean to do it but when the fish wanted to play
I thought they might like a walk as it is a sunny day
It took me ages to catch them, the silly little fish
And they weren’t very happy when I left them in that dish
They didn’t seem to like it when I took them from the tank
And when they went to sleep, they began to smell quite rank
I tried to put them back but when I dropped them in
I fell and pulled the tank off and it didn’t half make a din
So now I am cleaning up, everything I see
And I know mummy and daddy will be pleased with me
So Mr Doggy, please stand still and let me get you clean
I even have some paste that says your teeth will gleam.
© 12/06/2013
Contest Entry: Little Lad and Big Dog
I awaken well before dawn has thought of yawns
It is quiet then, and quite eerie in a way.
The peace deadens distractions, death-hour mourns.
The mind awakens refreshed, sparked by noir cafe.
Contemplation peaks then, and declines throughout the day.
There is no rush to milk the cows or other things.
No deadlines to meet; the slate is clean and ready.
What else can you do at such an hour, but think upon what morn brings?
No one else is mad enough to be up then, all fresh and chatty
Even the shops and streets are all mostly empty.
The sounds are muffled, hushed to not disturb,
Even the birds call out in toned-down tomes,
just to say 'Gidday' with a contrite little blurb,
like those asleep, snore gently and mutter in dreamy moans.
It is so quiet, that you can hear their gentle breathy tones.
A cock crows, a bell tolls, the garbage truck bangs day open.
The first light rings an alarm; the pre-dawn think-tank session is over.
'Good Morning' can be annoying if your stuff not strut and done.
The clatter, toil and bustle of the day makes chaos of the order,
which can only return - past day, past night, in pre-dawn embroider.
Red ribbed tank top and panties.
Drawing and writing’s to earn commissary.
Rugged colored jumpsuits delivered daily through the bars.
A few women foaming at the mouth from drug withdrawals.
Smells of jailed prostitutes.
Some for murder or Robbing for loot.
Three toilet seats lined up, One shower curtain hung by one Rod.
Boxed alone ,dropped by family and friends,No squad
Kites passed by the male inmates through the line
Like clockwork,Under my tray Every-time
A few fights, Kept my body tight.
One eye stayed on guard all night.
Didn’t get any sleep absolutely no rest.
Until the night I earned each inmates respect
No outside letters.
No Love or a sight of light that life ahead is gonna get any better.
Held on to my dignity.
Versatility Adaptability.
'Twas the week after Christmas
and the bills came pouring in,
I went out for some drinks
but my wallet was mighty thin
My buddy beside me
and I in my football cap,
sat down at the watering hole
by the long-handled beer tap
I ordered a tall one
and it tasted so good,
I could see the owner cooking
under the greasy griddle hood
New Year's Eve was upon us
but I certainly didn't gush,
I had a truck on the fritz
and my toilet wouldn't flush
There were women running around
but I didn't much care,
my clothes were dirty
and I forgot to wash my hair
The clock was getting near midnight
and I thought I would die,
then this beautiful woman
looked me straight in the eye
She said, "I was Santa's helper"
as she pulled on my arm,
"I'm here to love you
and do you no harm"
I saw a twinkle in her eye
as I stood up to talk,
she said, "Come with me"
and we started to walk
Out the door in a flash
I knew it was right,
then my eyes were blinded
by a blue flashing light
She shouted, "Put your hands up
we know you robbed a bank!"
I said, "I didn't do it!"
but she handcuffed me for the tank
With my hands behind my back
she shoved me into a car,
to the slammer I was going
and it wasn't very far
My buddy came out laughing
then he rolled on the ground,
he exclaimed, "Happy New Year!"
as fireworks exploded all around
It was a very sick joke
to play on a guy who was down,
but I'll get the SOB this year...
that's one twisted New Year's Eve clown!