Long Tongs Poems
Long Tongs Poems. Below are the most popular long Tongs by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tongs poems by poem length and keyword.
One dark and dreary night many, many moons ago
myself and a friend coming home from the local disco
no names mentioned smiling . . .
and in the far distance we could see and hear three girls
laughing and giggling and having fun
This was Halloween Night or All Hallows' Eve . . .
and so we climbed up the nearest evergreen
barely breathing, holding our breaths . . .
so they would not hear us and sense our presence
the one directly in the middle as they neared us
in passing a quick clip at the back of the head said
do you want to hear the screams roaring out of
them away hammer and tongs up the road
We could hear them shouting and carrying on . . .
I'm sure that place is haunted
to this day they tell their story claiming it to be real
well better still was to come for both of us
laughing our hearts out giggling like madmen
I felt like a gruesome hand of ice just touched me . . .
the tremors ran down my spine
jolting me in a most terrible way
almost felt like a gripping sensation on my shoulder
almost falling of the tree with a roar
My good friend starting screaming making it worse . . .
saying somebody must of touched us the same time
we looked at each other and made a race to get home
just got really spooked and ran the whole 3 miles home
in a record time ever saying my holy prayers every stroll of the way . . .
a most hideous and macabre thought -- a ghost touched me
as the cold ran right through me chilling me to the bone
never was I as glad to see holy water in the house
I bless myself for being lucky
never ever have I pulled such a prank
from that night to this . . .
It backfired on us so we chose never to say
a word about it ever again!!
And now we can only say: BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!
And Happy Halloween!!
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Free Verse Collaboration (October 13, 2014)
(Contest Entry for Halloween Co-Writes, 5 Nov 14, Diane Locksley - Sponsor)
A seething summer morning in the oil boom trailer park
Oral Roberts on the radio with the gospel told by Mark
The reek of raw petroleum is everywhere around
We little oil trash urchins play marbles on the ground
He drives out here most every day around the hour of nine
Checking all the trailer windows for a little cardboard sign
He parks the canvas-covered truck and dons his leather vest
Throws a tow sack o'er his back and shows his Sunday best
Down the drive comes Danny, on his mighty motor bike
Hanging on the handlebars, his bigger brother Mike
The engine makes a ton of noise, a dandy double stroke
Two baseball cards and clothespins, hitting every spoke
Our ragamuffin gang was gathered, just waiting for the time
To contrive our evil strategy and carry out our crime
“The iceman, the iceman!”, I hear my sisters say
“Y'all be quiet!”, I hiss to them,” You'll give us all away!”
The iceman sidles round the truck and casts the canvas back
Scores a hundred-pounder block and cleaves it with a whack
Tongs the icy burden to his back and laughs at what is left
Chunks and chips of frozen jewels, the targets of our theft
We want so hard to play it cool and act like we don't care
All our mouths fill up with drool and it's tricky not to stare
The iceman winks his eye at me and hides a little grin
Then walks up to the trailer door where mother lets him in
The moment that the door slams shut, the bandits make their play
With eyes lit up, we whoop and shout like kids on holiday
We suck up all the chunks and chips and with our bellies iced
We swagger off to brag about our frosty jewelry heist
It's true we didn't have a lot, perhaps enough to just scrape by
But the visit from the iceman was like Christmas in July
And when I pass through oilfield country, it never ceases to amaze
How the scent of raw petroleum brings back those icebox days
January 30, 2013
One dark and dreary night many, many moons ago
myself and a friend coming home from the local disco
no names mentioned smiling . . .
and in the far distance we could see and hear three girls
laughing and giggling and having fun
This was Halloween Night or All Hallows' Eve . . .
and so we climbed up the nearest evergreen
barely breathing, holding our breaths . . .
so they would not hear us and sense our presence
the one directly in the middle as they neared us
in passing a quick clip at the back of the head said
do you want to hear the screams roaring out of
them away hammer and tongs up the road
We could hear them shouting and carrying on . . .
I'm sure that place is haunted
to this day they tell their story claiming it to be real
well better still was to come for both of us
laughing our hearts out giggling like madmen
I felt like a gruesome hand of ice just touched me . . .
the tremors ran down my spine
jolting me in a most terrible way
almost felt like a gripping sensation on my shoulder
almost falling of the tree with a roar
My good friend starting screaming making it worse . . .
saying somebody must of touched us the same time
we looked at each other and made a race to get home
just got really spooked and ran the whole 3 miles home
in a record time ever saying my holy prayers every stroll of the way . . .
a most hideous and macabre thought -- a ghost touched me
as the cold ran right through me chilling me to the bone
never was I as glad to see holy water in the house
I bless myself for being lucky
never ever have I pulled such a prank
from that night to this . . .
It backfired on us so we chose never to say
a word about it ever again!!
And now we can only say: BOO!! BOO!! BOO!!
And Happy Halloween!!
Liam McDaid and Gary Bateman, Free Verse Collaboration (October 13, 2014)
In our neighborhood during the second world war
At the side of each house were a porch and a door.
And, believe it or not, it was always unlocked
When a tradesman or stranger or visitor knocked.
Around dawn men arrived who at doorsteps would lay
All the baked goods and milk patrons needed that day.
And the women would once a week purchased their meat
From the truck of a butcher who stopped on our street.
Before fridges, remembered by we who are old
Was the ice box in kitchens that kept the food cold.
Using tongs, blocks of ice were delivered by men
Who before they had melted would come back again.
Also, door-to-door salesmen would try to persuade
All the wives that their products were best ever made.
And our neighbor would daily come by for a spell
To a recipe share or with gossip to tell.
In the middle of autumn, the coal truck returned
To replenish the piles that the furnace had burned.
Down long chutes made of metal would tumble and roar
Tons of coal that filled bins on our bare cellar floor.
Roving hobos quite often would rap on the door.
Without jobs or a home, they for food would implore.
The depression still lingered, so mothers would feel
Sympathetic and always provided a meal.
And to parents'displeasure, the screen doors would bang
As kids hurried from houses to be with the gang.
We would gather on lots that were vacant to play
Or would wander the countryside nearly all day.
When it rained, on a porch that was covered we'd meet
To with checkers or Clue or Parcheesi compete.
We swapped marbles, pitched pennies, played poker for fun,
And our comic books read till return of the sun.
At the back door we'd weekly the paper boy pay,
And the mail was delivered then two times a day.
If it weren't for the doctor who'd come when we call,
We would never had needed a front door at all.
It was a nightmare of a boat trip
I almost choked to death on an orange pip
They did not strain the juice well
And from a small pip, I gasped for air and started to swell
If it weren’t for a crewmember named William Patel
Well…
I stayed in bed for a spell
The captain apologised
Which was wise
He said “ the rest of the trip is free.”
So I was extravagant and splashed out on the person I called “Me.”
While sitting on deck, by the pool, sipping me tea
I was captivated by a well-formed female in a translucent bikini
She rolled her eyes flirtingly at me
So being the gentleman I am, I rolled them back you see
We were mesmerised with each other for a while
As we secretly exchanged a naughty smile
I placed hers in me left butt cheek pocket
As I felt me Viagra stick raising like a rocket
This was the beginning of a sensual relationship
Thanks to that bloody orange pip
Anyway, we went below deck
Where it was dark and gave each other a peck
Then we were at it like hammer and tongs
Moaning and groaning the seductive songs
Who needs Viagra, it was me
Only me, all me me me
Take some advise, find a place where you might get caught and you’ll see
It will magnify the enjoyment of your OOOh!, uhhh!, oohweee!
We stood in a narrow doorway
And began entertaining each other with a bit of, you know, foreplay
Then she turned her back to me and oooh! What can I say
Pressing against each other and pushing against the door arch was… heaven all the
way
Then, yep, we were caught, and guess what happen next
It was the captain and she was his wife who would suspect?
The big mother was rather vexed
I tried to tell him not to blow it out of context
But… the bugger wouldn’t stop strangling me with his mount Everest pecs
Give me the orange pip any day
But the situation I was in, hell no way
Meat in my smokehouse a bit light,
With the weather about right,
One morning at first light,
I headed to buzzard roost hollow,
A leash on Brownie’s collar,
But Brownie went crazy as a goose,
When I turn him loose,
My worse fear, I could hear,
Him chasing a deer,
Out of pope county, was clear,
Anyhow, now, down in the pope county wild woods,
Seated on an Arkansas hollow log,
With my finger on a trigger, and my eye on a hog,
I pulled that trigger, and the bullet went zip,
I jumped on that hog, with all my grip,
Though I knew I had missed,
I couldn’t resist,
Now as my grip would slip.
The hog would rip,
Tusk 8 inches long,
Like ice tongs,
Would chomp and rip,
As the battle begin to tip,
Hog getting the best of a bad situation,
Sure wish my dog hadn’t taken, his deer vacation,
At about the time,
I thought it was, the end of the line,
I heard Brownie coming,
Man, that dog was running,
He had heard the fight,
Was coming back, to claim his right,
Old Johnny Cash, in the boy named Sue,
Ain’t shown my dog and me, nothing new,
Blood guts and hair, rose up in the air,
When ole Brownie took hold, this fight ain’t fair,
Didn’t take no hour,
Untill we were back in our own lair,
We were saying a prayer, within the hour,
I was seated in a chair,
At my kitchen table,
Razorback meat, the label,
Ole Brownie, proving himself to be, very able,
To sit under my table,
For he’s my mean hooooog,
DOG!!!
Dedication: "MoonBee Canady" An outstanding poet of light poetry, as far as I am concerned.
I certainly enjoy reading your light poetry, as well as the other types you write. You go girl,
I hope you like these poems! Godly love, Sincerely Moses
9-27-09 johnmosesfreeman@yahoo.com
love is a lofty ideal
croon of tenderness
sounds right, feels good
but how may we share
what we do not have
a hollow emptiness
engulfs our body-mind
womb of space suffocates
we are uncomfortable
in our own skin
being empowered
we pause the cause
of our heart contractions
by befriending silence
refuge of our soul
we are extracted
from our ambedo trance
brutally by the tongs of ego
drawing attention back
to cravings of form
yes, we live here
negation will not help
escapism is not the cure
so we must discover
the absolute truth
discerning mind
is what we first employ
because that is what we have
so we rapidly comprehend
head-heart discord
the thinking mind
merely navigates life
but it is the radiant heart
that pulsates with love
the joy soul seeks
mind oscillates
but love is steady
thus we deem as logical
to meld mind in heart
to feel complete
we test the waters
and find love is the way
being the language of God
but we must first forgive
all those who deceive
yes, we suffer loss
by close ones betrayed
yet as a nonchalant witness
we surrender outcomes
to will divine sublime
God is easily pleased
He delights at our ascent
so awakens in us Holy Spirit
transmuting feeble form
into eternal living light
the false falls away
we now see who we are
the Self made in His image
resplendent with light
in the cave of heart
ego that never was
a mere bubble of delusion
bursts noiselessly in the void
now there is no one here
save the light of Self
love, light and bliss
pulsates day and night
the ignition renewal continual
hidden thus in plain sight
is our open secret
Heavy the hoods of the eyes
that laboured the scan of horizons
Heavy the course of the thoughts
that sat unstirred on the sill of the stare
Heavy this ancient bottomed nose
sitting in judgment over this meat
Endlessly shunting the frenzied workers
now sniff-drunk and steam-bellowed in the street
This the scull careered through rutted scars
the primeval hair bushed in pathways
Where long tribes with long lances
prod the undergrowth for signs of lost bones
These the ears that heard the wake of worlds
wandering in the ever irretraceable tread
Ears though that admit the silent secrets
ever still and hospitable to the panicky refrain
This the assembled machinery, forging fire
have dropped the tongs
Down the corridors of investigation
hurtling in darkening diseases
These the loins, companion of time
stalked through fire, filth, and foam
Baked in the hot ovens of empires
wearied some morning in blurry depredation
Wobble-eyed, knee-tied, dragged with pacing company
through yesterdays that are forever lost indemnity
Heavy the larvae lipped throb, kiss and consider
heavy the molten strata ooze, consider and kiss
These the organs that prodded nations
and shrivelled up to curse them all in pain
Pursed its potency, convulsed the course of the vein
this the dismembered member of the tribe
Heavy, alas, these feet that thump
jog and reel in the dancing rhythm of millenniums
Trod on the will-less face of faiths
twitched their toes and walked their way
©: T. Wignesan, 1957 (from the collection: Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961)
(Intro)
Yo, I got scars on my knuckles and dreams in a duffle,
Life gave me lemons, I sold 'em in a hustle.
Mandy said “swing by,” I said “bet,” no delay—
But what happened next? Man, lemme just say...
---
Verse 1
Mandy told me to stop by, I pulled up in Crocs,
Knocked twice, no answer, just a squirrel throwin' rocks.
Saw a van in the back, lookin' shady and mean,
Used a pry bar like it’s part of my hygiene routine.
Next thing I know, red dots on my chest,
FBI yellin’ “Freeze!” like it’s a dance contest.
I said “I’m cold already,” they ain’t laugh at the pun,
Did five years in the pen—now I floss with a shiv for fun.
---
Verse 2
Got out, still mad, still that Mangy old pitbull,
Named “Chaos,” got a grill and a GED, real cool.
He bark in Morse code, talkin’ ‘bout stocks and bonds,
Taught me crypto in the yard with some ramen and tongs.
Now I’m back on the block, wearin’ ankle bling,
Got a parole officer who raps—calls himself “King.”
We do drive-bys in a Prius, eco-friendly thug,
Still livin’ that street life, pitbull cuddles and hugs.
---
Verse 3
I got a tattoo of a toaster, says “Bread or Dead,”
And a mixtape droppin’ soon called Felony & Fred.
I sell dreams in Ziplocs, hope in a can,
And I once got arrested for moonwalkin’ in a traffic jam.
My ex said I’m toxic, I said “Nah, just seasoned,”
She keyed my car, I thanked her—now it’s art, no reason.
So if you see me in the alley with a kazoo and a mug,
Just know you met the legend: Street Life Pitbull Thug.
Mantis
The Malaysian forest bears fruit of disguise. That powdery translucent pink circles the orchid mantis’ frame, measuring at six centimeters, about the size of an adult pinky finger. Her two black and clear patterned antennae pierce the sky. Her grayish-purple oddly almond of sight is dotted with a tiny speck of black. Between them is a dewy yellow pyramid. Her tightly clasped mouth is paired with bony and thick whisker-like tongs.
She is twice the size of her male counterpart, between two and a half and three centimeters long. She has two pairs of wings and three pairs of legs. The two in front are claw-like forks gummed with teeth. Their tails are erect and in the shape of a tightly wrapped rose bud.
The female has six abdominal parts, and the male has eight, shaped like a leaf. The four hind legs are slanted on an angle like that of a grasshopper. Her lifespan is no more than eight months as compared to her male counterpart, who lives five to six months. The orchid mantis poses ever so gently and still on a silky green leaf. She then climbs atop a hairy pink bloom. Her faux nectar and pollen spark curiosity.
A black- winged warrior draws in close. The flapping and the buzzing are gratifying to the mantis. In a nosy prayer position, she preys on the weak. The mantis leans forward and extends her claw-like trap and tightens her grip. The darkness disappears into the thick fog. She is a flower’s defense for months.
Marckincia Jean
Narrative
96/25/19