Long Thwack Poems
Long Thwack Poems. Below are the most popular long Thwack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Thwack poems by poem length and keyword.
It's straight, I think, and gladly start,
Faith and hope and trust fill my heart;
Flora and fauna and fields fresh,
Climbers and creepers crawl enmesh...!
Trails with bushes and choke and block,
I twist and turn and thwack the lock;
Hills and vales and mountain- cliffs curl,
Way unto way many ways furl...!
Dogs and cats are part of the way,
Could cattle and hogs keep away;
Mild and wild are beasts of jungles,
Seem perplexed as though in bungles...!
Men and women rich and poor join,
Good and bad seem sides of same coin;
Yet, when Jesus says: I'm the way,
Who will, with him, succeed to stay...?
24 April 2023
A mother of eight
Left to raise them on her own
Damn that man...for dying
And leaving her lost, alone
A soldier of valor
Stood his ground in the face of fear
Now, he is court marshaled
For the lies they wanted to hear
A child hides in a closet
Hearing every thwack of the belt
Fighting the concern welling up
To be experienced, processed, felt
.......no grid
Pain beyond measure
Racks the prisoner of war
Trying to get through the moment
Til there will be no more
.......breath
Relief doesn't come
In fact, it builds and festers
Til the filters, ideals, beliefs
Are sequestered
.......to show themselves
and .........Give an account
to WHO?????
If one has no reason
And finds no need to question
Life is just a series of events
A journey without suggestion
Hmmm....what's that like?
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-06-2019
Note: I have always had a grid. My encounter with TRUTH at 18 months set my path. Here I am now, faced with a truth I had never considered...it's a gift; therefore, compassion is necessary for understanding. I hope I have entered into the Grid deep enough to provide insight.
New born baby was tiny and tender
A beauty to behold!
It had soft silky skin and sported a sweet smile
Family loved it very much
All were euphoric at its birth
Enamoured by it's beauty,
huge hands came
snatched it and
walked away
Hard hands hurt the new born.
Family watched helplessly
Later throwing it on pathway,
Hands walked off
Hurrying humans crushed the little one again and again
Mindlessly walking mighty muddy feet mashed it mercilessly
Sharp spiked slippers stamped on it pricking and scratching
Thud, thump, thwack stomp, scratch
Blow after blow
Miserable, melancholic, disconsolate, doleful, distressed
new born baby was lying helplessly on the path
Early morning sweeper came with
sharp spiked broom swiftly sweeping
gathered it and dumped it along with other garbage
Garbage truck took the new born child away and
BURNT IT ALIVE
A mute life met a miserable death
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note: New born baby refers to a fresh bloomed flower.
Plucked flower is still alive, feels pain.
Even insects in ground feel pain.
Treat all forms of life as you would treat humans.
NA in Break My Heart, Why Don't Cha by Edward Ibeh
4th Feb 2021
These are poems for children and poems about children and their mothers, fathers, grandmother, grandfathers and extended families.
The Desk
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
There is a child I used to know
who sat, perhaps, at this same desk
where you sit now, and made a mess
of things sometimes.I wonder how
he learned at all...
He saw T-Rexes down the hall
and dreamed of trains and cars and wrecks.
He dribbled phantom basketballs,
shot spitwads at his schoolmates' necks.
He played with pasty Elmer's glue
(and sometimes got the glue on you!) .
He earned the nickname 'teacher's PEST.'
His mother had to come to school
because he broke the golden rule.
He dreaded each and every test.
But something happened in the fall—
he grew up big and straight and tall,
and now his desk is far too small;
so you can have it.
One thing, though—
one swirling autumn, one bright snow,
one gooey tube of Elmer's glue...
and you'll outgrow this old desk, too.
Originally published by TALESetc
A True Story
by Michael R. Burch
for Jeremy
Jeremy hit the ball today,
over the fence and far away.
So very, very far away
a neighbor had to toss it back.
(She thought it was an air attack!)
Jeremy hit the ball so hard
it flew across our neighbor's yard.
So very hard across her yard
the bat that boomed a mighty 'THWACK! '
now shows an eensy-teensy crack.
Originally published by TALESetc
Mother's Smile
by Michael R. Burch
for my mother Christine Ena Burch and my wife Beth Harris Burch
There never was a fonder smile
than mother's smile, no softer touch
than mother's touch. So sleep awhile
and know she loves you more than 'much.'
So more than 'much, ' much more than 'all.'
Though tender words, these do not speak
of love at all, nor how we fall
and mother's there, nor how we reach
from nightmares in the ticking night
and she is there to hold us tight.
There never was a stronger back
than father's back, that held our weight
and lifted us, when we were small,
and bore us till we reached the gate,
then held our hands that first bright mile
till we could run, and did, and flew.
But, oh, a mother's tender smile
will leap and follow after you!
Originally published by TALESetc
Keywords/Tags: children's poems, child, children, childhood, family, mother, father, son, daughter
Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh: (Genesis 2:23)
A man leaves his mother and father
To cleave to his wife.
--No thoughts whatever of marital strife.
Then the children arrive,
Heralds of joy.
One is a girl; another a boy.
At first all is bliss
With the master and miss.
Then suddenly, THWACK,
The façade shows a crack.
Be it spit-up or colic,
Or just one sleepless night.
Both parents agree,
Something's not right.
The blame and the guilt,
The guilt and the blame:
Can any marriage survive
Such a cruel game?
Fast forward a bit
Past tears and accusations,
To late teen years
Of monetary machinations.
The fights and the shouting,
The wounds and the pouting;
The warnings and threats,
The mountains of debt...
And now that the darlings are married
And settled,
You're on call 24/7,
Constantly nettled.
But in hindsight it's worth it,
That much is clear.
So I'll end this bloody ode
On a note of good cheer:
Happy Valentine's Day, My Wife, My Love, My Dear!
(February 02 2018)
Deep within the city park
stood Barnaby, a highly
grumpy, semi- sentient apple
tree.
He absolutely despised
when children approached
with fawning, goofy faces to
steal his fruit.
Whenever kids giggled and
reached up, Barnaby would
furiously shake his wooden
branches.
THWACK! A barrage of ripe,
juicy red apples went flying
like heat- seeking missiles.
He pelted the screaming kids
right on their bottoms, chuckling
a low, creaky laugh.
The children thought it was a
hilarious game and ran through
the park intentionally.
They made ridiculous,
exaggerated kissy- faces just
to trigger the tree's flying fruit
defense.
Barnaby snorted woodchips,
launching a rapid- fire green
Granny Smith straight at a
nose.
The park echoed with loud,
joyful snorts as apples
bounced harmlessly off
targeted bellies.
The grumpy tree finally
smiled, realizing his thrown
treats made everyone incredibly
happy.
The archers’ line was straddled,
By many a shapely calf.
The Marshall called the nocking,
And winked at the pretty lass.
The Maiden drew the bowstring back,
To her ruddy cheek,
As she fired her fledgling flights;
They heard the fair Maid "Eek!"
Chorus
"Sing Hey Ho, best beware!
Hey Ho have a care,
If ye've any pretty parts,
Ye'll keep them out of there!"
The bowman smiled and nodded,
As the Maiden struck a pose.
"Try again M'Darlin' Dear,
"But watch out for y'er nose!"
The Maiden rubbed her forearm,
And looked back with a glare.
Nocked another arrow shaft,
And hit the bull's-eye square.
Gentles all they tipped their hats.
The Marshall cleared the field.
The Maiden went to fetch her flights.
The men trod close at heel.
Returning with a manly stride,
Yet again, she took her stance.
The bowmen's eyes all glimmered,
With mischief far in advance.
Chorus
Pulling back her bow string,
To her crimson cheek so close,
She let another arrow fly free.
The string hit her in the nose!
Tears welled in the Maiden's eyes.
All the gentlemen rushed the Dear.
Wiping the pretty lassies face,
Of every single tear.
They brushed the few stray auburn locks
From before her green-brown eyes
Handed her the fine longbow,
And heard her sorrowful sighs,
"Do try again M'Dear Mistress,
But for your form we fear,
So, be very, very, careful Maid!
Keep those nipples out of there!"
Chorus
'Twas 'pon the final flurry,
As she drew string back to cheek;
"Thwack" went the taunting bowstring,
And again the Maiden "Eekked!"
Her cheeks they blanched a deathly white,
'Pon her brow there came a frown;
Still, when the Marshall called count;
She gamely shot the round.
"Sing Hey Ho, don't be scared,
Hey Ho just take a care,
'Tis simply a friendly warning
Not to put ye're pretty parts there!"
Yup, its not easy
being a female gardener
fun glorious fun
passionate joy in sun -
BUT -- just now for instance
deconstructing a tree
snap -- thwack --- stings like a bee
as green branch flicks a boob
YOOWSER!!!
Loppers and boobs its a horror show
No holding up close for leverage strong
or squeezes, bruises sing
a black/blue song
hold far away from chest
use more muscles is best.
No getting the hose out for a convenient piddle
Too obvious when female needs to widdle.
Of course I'm smarter
So that's a useful starter
For massive shrub removal got a good technique
but best done when no one around to peek
As when final root comes loose
I go head over bum, like a boomerang goose!
And YEAH,
When I get home really do need
a comforting beer!
Written 6th July 2018 for Nick Trim's contest.
Amuse me with your rhyme.
“Pshaw!” My grandmother said
as she thumped and bumped about
her crowded kitchen
steam rising, having
heated conversation with herself
Rankled by my grandfather's
latest excuse for not helping
around the house
Thwack! She smacked
the meat down on the counter
pounding and whacking
dinner into submission
Beyond exasperation
stewing, livid
“Pshaw!” She said again
louder this time, making me jump
sounding like the air-brake
on my Grandfather's big truck
letting off pressure
Little and fiery
fierce and feisty
my Grandfather had no idea
what he was up against
the volatile, volcanic fury
of a woman thwarted
“Land's Sakes, Willard!”
was his final warning
but he let it go past that-
to the point of
“Pshaw!”
Leisurely walk around Lords non stop pop of champagne cork
Scorecard dork does chalk the first over from Will O’Rourke
Another flowering Kiwi tree who gets the ball to talk & fork
While towering style of Kyle with guile & wile gall fans gawk
Doff your hat to Matt who really is all that aficionados squawk
Smith another hawk with similar riff for this tiff swing will stalk
Serious talent apparent not transparent with delirious torque
Balk one last refrain from the reign of Kane the Kiwi bulwark
If it grips rips what pips seeing Glenn Phillips flips & fillips
Golden arm charm can disarm like when baby Joe in skips
With Kane masters and pastors of snips missing the slips
Nudges nurdles overcomes hurdles as fans lick their lips
Never ruffled by kerfuffles silky shuffles and wristy whips
Express bouncer nips & dips caress the ball off their hips
Finesse not largesse witness their prowess heavenly sips
Zach having been so cack defence so slack got the sack
No coming back picked from the pack Gay to have a crack
Not out of whack got the knack this season has got a stack
Trust plucky Ducky again gets lucky no vastly ghastly hack
Stokesy becomes like Wokesy bat & ball gets us off the rack
Dirty Harry not shirty silly willy nilly hill billy flirty is like smack
In Ashes dung Tongue among the flashes of changing tack
No Josh tosh stung with gung ho bolts flung stumps thwack
Tongue climbs a rung with pace he brung others made us yack
Golly after much flak jolly Ollie the wally again leads the attack
After scold behold in from the cold part of fold & in the black
Coz after Oz fires our tyres flat just old hat we need a new jack
If not too chatty no cheeky drag on sneaky f*g or fatty snack
Hopefully no folly he will be fit on the track give us bit we lack
No off his trolley verbal volley Ollie could be return of the Mac