Long Thrower Poems
Long Thrower Poems. Below are the most popular long Thrower by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thrower poems by poem length and keyword.
Terminology:
Crystal booths in a nocturnal snow.
significant downpours of shedding stars.
This said, feel free to scatter, scrabble or mash.
Words are fungible,
many still believe that poetics
do indeed belong to the fungi family,
though some have been classified
as many-limbed Triffids
of the squishy kind.
Now throw moondust at the reader's eyes:
Obscurity is essential, however, first create a window
that opens to reflect the thrower.
Rain down upon the moondust until mud takes shape.
There are no words for this process,
so, make some up.
Flourish:
Without a final flourish the poet is left with a turgid puddle
avoid turgidity at all costs, especially puddles.
Sprays of celebratory tinsel
or globs of gore are always effective.
Reaching for the stars with a palsied hand
will jerk tears out of a slab of concrete
eventually.
Swiftly leave the space you are now occupying,
other's will be impatiently waiting to craft their next masterpiece.
FRED
Fred the farmer he bought a new tractor
The milk maid he wanted to attract her
He said you wanna ride
So she jumped in beside
Said tis slow can't it go any faster .
SAUL
In ancient times the killer Saul Porters
Was better known as the 'beast who slaughters'
Folks heard a victim shout
Saul was seized and knocked out
They hung him and cut him into quarters.
JOHNNY
An old gunmaker called Johnny Aled
Was testing one of his guns in his shed
The firing pin jamned
He said I'll be dammed
Shook the barell and it blew off his head.
CHARLES
A two timer by the name of Charles Fring
Was with a hooker in bed doing their thing
Thought he'd switched off his phone
Then heard screams and a moan
Twas still on and his wife heard everything.
MING SO
A hammer thrower from China, Ming So
At the games it was her turn to throw
She swung it around
Her feet left the ground
With excitement she'd forgot to let go.
RANDY MONK
There was a randy old monk from Biscay
With others wives liked to romp in the hay
With a smile and a grin
Said free loves not a sin
His Abbot didn't quite see it that way.
WOODCUTTER
There was a woodcutter from Tralee
Showed no mercy when hacking a tree
But the tree fought back
And in the attack
Broke his jaw, lower back and left knee.
TRAPPER
Into the woods he went hunting for bear
By sheer bad luck disturbed a grizzlys lair
Ran down the hill in fear
Smell of bear was quite near
Caught his foot in another trappers snare.
Written 25th August 2019.
Solitary soldier
Walks out of the smoke
Flame thrower exhausted
For the lives choked
In barren surround
The stench of flesh
Burning bodies
Blood running trench
Gone is the sky
That was there this morning
Billowing death
Death clouds forming
Out of these clouds
Walks a nineteen year old boy
Sent to war
To play with deaths toy
As he walks away
Lighting a cigarette
As he draws on its life
Is it to help him forget
Did he come home from this war
Will we never know
For the expanse of the clouds
Drifting likes deaths snow
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war3.php
The tent, has a scent of mildewed fear
and palpitates with shouting cries
exciting our senses with familiar rise
Our nerves stretched taut, with thrills, inside
The marksman tosses wild and free
A showman's skill that stirs the dust
I signal him, he aims at me...
Then I must brace, and I must trust!
It is approaching time for the last shot
I must hold my breath, and stop my heart
Then in rapid fire, he'll throw the lot
I now give the final cue to start
He hurls the daggers around my head
My death defied by dangerous chance!
He drinks applause so keenly fed
My own reward .... a meager glance....
________________________________________________________________________
For David's Contest: Circus
A young discus thrower hurls the discus with all his might
It lands, churning up the soil somewhere nearby
The discus thrower is happy, or perhaps disappointed
If his rival has managed to throw the discus further
Let’s try to give these competitions some meaning
Is there anything in them, hidden behind the obvious
Behind the victories and defeats – perhaps a thirst for a little power,
A sublimation of war, or, conversely, the peaceful labour of farmers?
Or do competitions serve as a consolation for those
Who cannot or do not wish to compete?
But perhaps someday, another time,
When discs are made to order,
Tailored precisely to the thrower’s palm.
NO MORE LOVE POEM
“”..... Ander her picture when she cut her wrists and so the kid saw the picture and his prick went Whoop Whoop Whoop,,,”
- Trantino. The Great Blafigria Is.
“ … For I dream I know not how¡
And my soul is sorely shaken
Lest an evil step be taken,-
Lest the dead who is forsaken
May not be happy now.”
-The Bridal Ballad. Edgar Allan Poe
Please Stop.
I don’t want falling in Love
& being pretty smart
O mamma mia.
When the Train is Gone
I thrower in motion:
I don’t hit the nail on the head¡
I’m going wild against the Wall
Slap-up meal.
My brain’s been ****ed
When yr love is come
Toot toot
Damn ***** ate my dog.
Then haemin’s yr Ass:
Love is a silly thing
Fancying that
All over the place
And to die
Of a broken Heart, ja, ja ja.
Hey captain¡ Hey captain¡
My arm chaplain is incapable.
Hey Captain¡ Hey Captain¡
I think we’re gonna cum
In the twinkling of an eye:
The end of the love
Lies inside you¡
Do you know Do you see:
All lovers are Rapier pigs
bastard Gentlemen of rape
Looking out at all rissoles
In the churches’ streets
& saying:
” let me darkle
Or let me daze”.
With Langston Huges’ motto
As we live and learn:
“Dig and be dug
In return”
No more Love Poem
Darkly Vampire.
Carry me to Yr Black Ritual
Of bloody Love
Leaning lip-poised.
We tremble to receive
The darkly ****ing Eucharistic
To touch Perceive
Touch Explore
And yet with utmost Sinful care
Slide Melt
Devour.
The *****Cock
And Chicken
In the head of lustful night
Carry me.
He is a fourth grader
Sitting alone during lunch recess
Sure some call it lunch
I call it lunch recess
Because it is.
No one sits alone unless they
are in trouble. I sit across from him.
Let’s call him Levi.
Hey, Levi, why are you sitting alone?
I’m in trouble.
what happened?
Nathan is the worst thrower in the whole world.
I threw my cap at him, and he threw it at the teacher
and hit her. So now I’m in trouble because of his
bad throw.
The logic is so easy.
I have to hold my smile down hard.
So are you guys still pals?
He nods.
Tomorrow though, he tells me.
It’s not my fault he’s a bad thrower.
I have worked in ten schools as a school counselor.
I have had twelve administrators over twenty-seven years.
This one was the quintessential ridiculous administrator.
Let’s call her Dorothy Doo Wrong.
Dorothy Doo Wrong compartmentalized grades 3rd-5th.
It ensures that the teachers never get to bond with their class.
It is impossible to bond with children you only see half the time.
Dorothy Doo Wrong says no matter what you are supposed to say
“You are not in trouble.”
Teachers need to practice this, for the times that a student might
hit someone, hurt someone, or kill someone.
And you should never act angry.
I was doing lunch duty once when a child put another child in a head lock.
It thought he was going to choke him to death before I could get there.
He argued with me in a yelling way when I told him to go to the office.
When I used a walkie-talkie to say “child has another child in headlock,
I am sending him to the office, DDW said “okay.”
Two seconds later a child in the lunchroom threw food.
I picked up the walkie talkie and said “Sending student to office for throwing food.
Dorothy Doo Wrong yelled “I AM COMING DOWN THERE!”
She came with the head lock choking kid. Gave him another chance.
Later I was told she LOST her COOL when head lock choker did it again
and then the food-thrower threw food.
Wish I could have been there.
In thirty-eight my German Shepherd, loved to learn new tricks
He’d run and catch them in mid air whenever I threw sticks
No other German Shepherd dog could ever hope to beat
The way my Benji caught those sticks and dropped them at my feet
We call them German Shepherds now but war-time defamation
Meant that since the first great war his breed was called alsation
I couldn’t go to war, they told me, “Not with just one leg.”
But Benji ticked their boxes and it didn’t help to beg
So Benji was still young when I was forced to let him go
The army took him from me, “There’s a war on, don’t you know?”
I knew about war horses but that poor young pup of mine
Was so quick and so skilful he was sent to the front line
When the air raid sirens sounded and I fled my bed
I couldn't get my Benji boy out of my worried head
I knew he’d do his duty while he helped to fight the war
But how I craved the day that he might fetch me sticks once more
***
Benji looked up smartly when he heard a sudden thud
A hand grenade had landed right beside him in the mud
He grabbed it and ignoring all the bullets and the flak
His tail was wagging wildly as he quickly took it back
Whilst gone for only seconds no one knew how he returned
Though when his ‘stick’ exploded Benji’s tail was slightly burned
They say he sat - tail wagging - for an hour or more that day
Before he figured out the thrower didn’t want to play
***
By taking out that pill box, Benji saved a dozen men
In forty-four they brought my hero back to me again
Twas six more years we shared before I laid my boy to rest
And of my hundred years and some, those six they were the best
His ashes sleep within a walnut casket on my shelf
A casket that with younger hands I made for him myself
So he’ll be coming with me when I wave this world goodnight
And Benji, my new leg and I will race into the light
7/20/19
"I'll be your Joker"
Still a registered voter
Signed up to be an organ donor
And finally became a car owner
I rarely use a controller
When it's time, I'll man up and buy a stroller
As well as panels that are solar
Near and far from areas that are polar
Doesn't matter if I ever get a Range Rover
Or Roadster
I'm barely ever sober
Always been a loner
And stoner
3 months away from another October
If you want to be my Harley Quinn, I'll be your "Joker"
Not no poser
Where are you Scully? This is agent Mulder
Anytime you want, I'll be your shoulder
To lean on
From here to way beyond
For eons
Where's my Marge? I am Homer
I'll be your rock over and over
Since I've gotten nobler
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I've seen it so much, I could compile a folder
Life's one giant rollercoaster
It's really revving my motor
All these women giving me a b***r
And then the cold shoulder
As if I am an ogre
I remain a soldier
Drinking high end coffee, no more Folgers
Getting wiser and older
Becoming bolder
As the world gets colder
I'm not feeling dolor
Just multi tasking, while a fire continues to smoulder
Maintaining my composure
Finding closure
Getting closer
To greatness instead of being mediocre
I enjoyed the work I did with several growers
As well as trapping some gophers
Occasionally I'll partake in poker
Even though I'm not the best hoaxer
Once or twice I used a fire stoker
When it came to Mary Jane, I was a doter
A fan of it's fragrance, it's not what I'd call an odor
I consume some products made by Clover
And am usually in places considered remoter
It's time I get a toaster and holster
I don't really need a Flame Thrower
Or to get my face on a most wanted poster
Suit yourself if you want to wear a boater
Or choker
Houses in continual foreclosure
Not always wise to go for the price that is lower
Someday my mind and body will be slower
And one day it'll all be over
10-4 over and out
And now you know, what i'm really about
Not just by word of mouth
As they say don't look a gift horse in the mouth
Regardless of if you had your doubts
By: Dalton Ogletree