Long Than bauk Poems
Long Than bauk Poems. Below are the most popular long Than bauk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Than bauk poems by poem length and keyword.
Am I the only one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing?
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
Yes, it can soar indeed,
so high, with the wind taking it places,
almost making it forget,
just enjoying the wind rushing through,
lighthearted
The wind drops,
then it gets snared
among tree branches maybe,
or perhaps stuck on a roof or elsewhere
with its string all tangled and knotted,
almost impossible to untangle
if made with paper,
it should be lucky to still be intact,
with nary a tear
more often than not,
it gets ditched in the trash,
the price to pay for
its momentary freedom
Sometimes, though
perhaps a rarity these days,
there is that boy who makes
that kite from scratch,
whittles the sticks himself,
painstakingly forming that frame,
creating that kite with love
So when it does get all tangled up,
that boy still tries so hard to fix it,
to make it new...
never minding the cuts
he gets in the process--
That string not meant to tie down
that kite,
but a lifeline to the boy
But like I said,
that must be a rare thing these days...
For I am one to think
that a kite is such a sad thing...
Flimsy...frail...
never really free,
forever tied to a string
** There are many of you who have helped me in my journey in writing, & my heartfelt smiley thanks to all of you but I'd also like to give thank you hugs and smiles to Chris D. Aechtner ^_^ I distinctly remember asking you about Sijo, wow when was that? 2 years ago? Back then, I knew I asked the right person--& from there, you've helped bring to light (& helped me appreciate) a lot of other writing forms, just talking about those forms was a blast, just you sharing some of what you've been learning along the way (& believe me, I've learned even a thing or two! can I just say this? I bet you'd make an awesomely cool teacher :D)-- from sijo, to limericks, to sonnets, to haiku and kimo, to than-bauk to that Grook! ook! Being mainly a free-verse writer, you've helped me diversify & that means a lot to me. So my heartfelt thank you for being there in my poetic journey, and for being my friend :D
oops. that wasn't a couple of lines?! lol
QUOTE ME BY CHAPTER AND CURSE
No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are these douche bags who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostage while holding a gun
But stoned cold junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun
I knocked down and old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing an inhabited home the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl
Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn back around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one those PHun-loving PHools
What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply can’t trust
The ones who think havoc is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building because I know there are riches in apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat a man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree
So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And you all deserve to be robbed because you’re rich and undoubtedly kind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her closet of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize there ain’t nothing of yours I wouldn't have sold
I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would be rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never really take a life
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
A man walks into a new generation gangster town,
there were guns, amoe, drugs, explosives, and allot of bad people, and that's all he found.
He looked around the streets and saw allot of African American people running the show,
he walks into one corridor and into another city, and he welcomed the flow.
The new city, to him it wasn't any different than the one he just came out from, there were Muslims,
they wore gold chains and hiphop music was playing every where, the mostly dealt cocaine, and said fuk them.
there women were so beautiful, they would walk around in heals and panties were ever they went,
the man walked though all the gorgeous women and thought to him self, "no I can't".
The man walks into a new city, he walked into "The Slums" it was the hardest and the baddest outlaws of the nations,
the man looked around and right away he did not like what he saw there, everything was dirty and without and patience.
He couldn't wait to get out of there, the women were nasty and smelled like they haven't showered in years,
The man put his head down and started walking out of the slums with nothing in his eyes but tears.
The man walked into "Siberia" Everyone living there saw the man come in and they all rushed to great him,
at first the man got a little scared, but than he saw there smiles, so he smiled back at them.
Everyone was living there was dancing to a death mettle Hip Hop music, while drinking and sniffing cocaine with a gun on there sides,
The man walks to the bar while looking at all the beautiful women that are dancing and giving him a sexy look.
Than the BOSS of the city comes up to him, pores him a drink and tells him how he is the BOSS of the whole West Coast,
the man looked at him and smiled, he put his hand around the boss, looked at everyone around and said, "Let's Toast".
old man counts coup
lots killed few missed
aims true then laughs
a long stretched band
the aged hand aims
flies land dead
This actually happened. I was about ten years old, visiting my gramp’s home, in the North Carolina mountains just out of Canton. My mom needed some relief while she was about to have my second brother. Grand dad took us across the pasture to a neighbor’s home to listen to a champion ship boxing match on the radio. I don’t remember who fought but I remember it being gosh awful hot and the windows were up to catch a breeze which never came. On reflecting later I supposed it had something to do with giving the flies a way to get back out. Not the first sign of a screen anywhere on the windows. Anyway this old, old man about 200 or so years was in bed with some kind of nite shirt on. He was sitting up, propped against some pillows and had a sling shot rubber. He could stretch it out about three feet and then pop the flies off of his bed from about two, two and half feet away. It was all he could do to stretch that band back and you can imagine his hands were wobbling and shaking from the strain. When he popped a fly he would just laugh like crazy. Somehow he managed to sync with all that wobbling and shaking and would usually get a fly. On the way home we laughed about that till our sides split. I have often thought about the old man and the way he had to spend his last days. The way he laughed I guess he was happy enough in his situation. And the way we laughed I hope was not a lack of deference to his situation, but the comedic fashion in which he was acting. The longer I live, it seems the more respect I have for old people. Wonder why that is?
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A rare good sou-L
at Mote-L Six
who smel-Led different.
Then she tell m-E
somebo-Dy took
her P-ink wallet.
dropped her O-ff
someplace d-Owntown
I kn-Ow about.
Next I had s-Ort
self-ctr-Olled and
my O-h fresh bills.
Gave same addres-S
like the la-St cab
ride S-aid. Same spot.
Story she h-Ad
was a b-Ag like
purse A-nd not hers.
When we avrr-Ived
I'm surpr-Ised, that's
her, sm-Iling there.
Lady beh-Ind
said out s-Ide Where'd,
you f-Ind it! Well?
I had to lo-Ok,
say, I kn-Ow her,
We're fr-Om Shanghai. (Ladies say to cabbie)
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A special-Ty
license pla-Te had
been sen-T to him.
He was ve-Ry
pleased with I-t when
the sh-Ipment came.
At the airpor-T
used credi-T card
buy firs-T class seat.
Went to first clas-S
lounge for drink-S of
their Hou-Se Champagne.
Onboard the P-lane
it was sh-Aking
a B-it scary.
Nice aeria-L
shows centra-L parts
home-Land of mines.
Puerto Ric-O
I am h-Ome at
last, O-h I'm blest.
San Juan is stil-L
so a-Live like
mobi-Le peppers.
Arecib-O
Radar N-Oted
cause f-Or its size.
Ponce is -A
nice sort-A place
at -Our south point.
The following scenario occurred via the guest sharing with me
when I was managing the front desk at a hotel in San Francisco,
fronting Union Square. I found his morals promising and conform
to a highly acceptable standard of right and wrong. The ambiance
at the time was understandably festive, and he occasioned me the
day after bearing a pleasant decency. A pricey hotel and a priceless
moment in my lifetime.
~*~ ~*~
A man deplanes
Key Biscayne's flight
take pains planning.
City center
car renter or
enter BART train.
~*~ ~*~
Opts for mincab
as confab airs
quick grab sightsee.
San Francisco
cross the Golden
Gate overwhelm.
~*~ ~*~
Mark Hopkins suite
exec beat and
retreat a bit.
Up and at 'um
took humdrum hence
therefrom outside
~*~ ~*~
Two souls passing,
eyes lashing while
dashing connects.
Man out in town,
Lauren brown suit
and down-brim cap.
~*~ ~*~
Her nuanced face,
garbed black lace that
draped mace hides well.
The schemed conversed,
his bad nursed, hers
rehearsed ensue.
~*~ ~*~
He treats a fine
place to wine and
to dine, ere show!
Ceremony
Christmas Tree Lights
City main square.
~*~ ~*~
Union Square drinks,
glasses clinks, the
man sinks, blacks out.
Wakes--finds--back--the
Photo...huh?...reads,
I'm...wha?...Steve!--(SMILES).
~*~ ~*~
It has short TAIL
Me to TELL now.
the TALE of pet.
Alert at NIGHT
Its eye SIGHT keen
and HEIGHT two feet.
I call it JACK,
almost BLACK skin.
On BACK , white spots.
At morn , I JOG,
my pet DOG runs
BullDOG : Species .
My pet and HENCE
VigiLANCE done.
Strong SENSE of smell.
My only PET
Stays at GATE and
at LATE night too.
Old Poem: Toes Of Rain ...4/6/2014
August spills rains
with tapped grains, like
pearl veins on roofs
Drenched in soft hue,
toes play new songs
of blue night’s croons
~than-bauk form~
................
Makeover: Flavor Of Rain 4/5/2015
Just now, the saline flavor of rain
crawls on my cheeks , drips on hands
then sprawls out unto a wet lane
tingling like a new song
in the blue of night-time, ready to waft
through the flesh of moist petals---
rows of half-sunk blooms levitate as
if their mouths hunger for salty broth
from weeks of flushed heat.
There I am, drenched in the sudden
pour of sheet willing to partake of
such welcome…yes! wake me, melt me,
inhabit me with pearl veins...
bit by bit, the same chimes flutter on my limbs
trailing in a gait of conga strut ---tunes jumping
from a droplets’ swish---couples blending
as one porcelain-like figurine, with vapor glistening
on slippery skin…
and for all the rush and moist touch
of this fluid croon, gods laugh
as if nothing mattered.
~free verse~
Roy Jerden's Makeover
~ I wanted to write a more 'edgy' poem
using the senses as my creative handle~
4/5/2015
I WILL NOT DANCE BECAUSE IT’S THE SAME OLD SONG
Walk a high wire
Walk on the third rail
Walk on fire
And I’ll explain all this with one short tale
I thought for sure it wouldn’t get me
I would get it and I got it for sure
You wouldn’t recognize me if you met me
Because I’ve the wounds of a disease no one can cure
There’s about ten thousand things I’d rather do
Then to find and lose a lovely lady like you
I’d rather be caged with a tiger in the zoo
As slowly my disease progressed and grew
So here sit I on the subway steps a victim of what I sought
Never did I think this could happen to me and hurt so very many
Then by a thin tiny needle was I trapped and thusly caught
And no one would believe my story if I revealed my thoughts for a penny
If it was worth any money I’d throttle and choke a cute little rabbit
And when I see an old lady with a diamond I nab it
If a man in a wheel chair is counting his cash I just grab it
Because these are the things a diseased man does every day to sustain his dope habit
Being caught in a bear trap
Watch my brother die and I not care
Find hell with a well coursed map
But kick a habit like this I do not dare
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~