Long Tracks Poems
Long Tracks Poems. Below are the most popular long Tracks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tracks poems by poem length and keyword.
John Deere riding lawn mowers in fields of high grass
can sometimes be cruel to small creatures that live within.
My brother, Jimmy, twelve years old at the time,
noticed a puff of fur fly out from the side of the green beast
as he ran screaming and flailing his arms at my father.
With tears running down his cheeks,
Jimmy searched the surrounding area for other rabbits
that he could secure away from the rotating blades.
He came upon the brood of new born bunnies that
must have been the offspring of the clump of fur
now nestled in the shreds of grass.
My father tried to explain to Jimmy the futility
of trying to save four newborn rabbits,
but Jimmy would not listen as he removed his shirt
and placed the four, still furless, wet bunnies inside.
At twelve years old, Jimmy had already saved
the life of a robin from the mouth of a stray cat;
raised frogs from tadpole eggs found in the small
pond of water formed in tire tracks down the old dirt road;
helped our pet dog deliver a litter of eight puppies;
rescued a butterfly cocoon from a fallen branch;
and nursed back to health a box turtle ran over by a car
on the road in front of our house.
With a shoebox full of grass, a light bulb for warmth,
and an eyedropper of milk, Jimmy stayed with those
bunnies day and night.
As days slipped by, eyes opened; a bigger eye dropper was needed;
lettuce was introduced to the shoe box; and furless bodies
became covered in a soft brown fur coat.
Jimmy was never one to become too attached to his patients;
he did not do what he did to try to add to his menagerie of pets.
When he was confident that the bunnies were ready to live on their own
he began his long hike into the fields, far removed from John Deere tractors,
farmers, cats and dogs; and, released the four, healthy bunnies into the world.
Twenty years later, no one was able to do for Jimmy
what he continuously did for the creatures that he so loved and adored.
We lost a good man that day. May he rest in peace.
Joyous Day At The Train Station
A most absurd thing happened while I made my way
to meet my morning train one sunny, summer day.
While walking on the path I saw the engineer
I see most every day when traveling, but near
him was a box of sorts all covered with a sheet.
He quickly called to me and said, "please come to meet
this stray, a golden-orange tabby cat I caught
along the tracks. A little irritable and fraught
but genial, and he emits the sweetest mews.
His fur is smooth and excellent; bright eyes diffuse
green glows of iris; he's a beauty with no home."
I bent and peered inside, he looked so all alone,
but kindly met my eyes with such a generous
meow and then moved over close to where I was.
Not minding one iota when I picked him up,
he fit so sweetly in my arms which I did cup
and did appreciate my holding him so near.
He tucked his head beneath my chin, and it was clear
in order to make him my own, there was a kink...
a costly act...skip work today. Then, in a wink,
I called my boss, and 'knock on wood', he said okay.
An unplanned meeting with my new-found pet this day
gave me a special joy, and with a hug sincere,
"an admirable kindness," said the engineer.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Make A Poem
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Judged: 07/12/2016
Couplet Form using Iambic Hexameter: 12 syllables and 6 feet per line
21 Required Words to Include in Poem:
Absurd, appreciate, admirable, cat, caught, costly, emits,
engineer, excellent golden, generous, genial, iris, iota,
irritable, kindly, knock, kink, orange, over, order
My poem took about 3 hours to
compose between two writing sessions:
evening of July 2 and morning of July 3.
If a statement is True,
such as
I am WhiteMale,
then the oppositional statement
I am BlackFeMale
is False
which enjoys equivalent truth value with
I am NotBlack/NotFemale,
and I am WhiteMale
back where we started,
more obvious rather than less obscure.
But, if a statement is Not(Not True)
and NotFalse,
could it also be Not(Not False)?
Imagine,
if you dare,
you are a browngrey-scaled transgender person,
vulnerable to many bipolar lack of boundary issues,
with a troubling tendency to camouflage your ambiguous identity,
rather like that damned cat in a box,
half alive and yet also half dead.
Being a wise politician,
when you are with the White Republican Males,
you send messages persuading them to see you as
"I too am a WhiteMale"
no awkward discussions needed, really.
And, when you decide to go to the other side
of your parallel tracks,
hanging with the Black Democratic EcoFeminists,
they invite you to now become one with their village
"I am a Feminist of Full Rainbow/BrownGreyScale Color"
Is it notnot true
yet also notnot false
that this White kinda conservative Male
could also become a more liberated Black Democratic SheMale?
And yet this seems like double-bound co-information
not accessible
from a unilateral,
as contrasted with a bilateral,
view of all accessible identities of this nomial statement
as either not true
or not false,
such that
our TransGender Person of PolyCulturing Intent and Capacity
is also both not entirely truly alive
and not entirely falsely dead,
when reconsidered,
bicamerally dipolar reconnected,
sometimes more BothAnd full-color brown-octave recessive
and sometimes less EitherOr greyscaled calculating dominant,
and occasionally all the fractal-regenerative WinWin above.
Hauling manure
From the neighbor's horse stall
Raking and tilling
And that isn't all
A small wooden fence
To make a surround
So our dog won't go in
And dig up the ground
Seeds and small plantings
Laid neatly in rows
Sprinkle with water
And pray that things grow
Some sunshine is added
Weeds carefully plucked
The first sprouts appear
Perhaps we're in luck!
Our garden is thriving!
The corn getting high!
Tomato plants blossom
A scarecrow stands by
This morning I rise
With anticipated cheer
Not knowing that the fence
Didn't keep out the deer
Our bountiful garden
No longer brings glee
With deer tracks all over
Our crops history!!
I get in the car
And I'm soon on my way
I'm lucky the market
Is open today!!
Head on collisions can not be predicted
At great speeds they are hard to avoid
People on the train sleep in their calm
Not for long when something goes wrong
North bound hits south bound boom!
Mr. Hobo makes the tracks his home
He stands upright for the special delivery
He looks left to see bright lights coming
Then the other way to see yet others
So much rapid illumination thrills him
He smiles and thanks God for his luck
Thanks God it was not two trucks
The impact creates enlightenment
If you must travel, go locomotive
Generally speaking from experience
It is a safer form of transportation
We can only surmise the reason why
People love to ride
“Sorry I Never Knew You”
Written: by Tom Wright
7-23-2016
At point of conception each is assigned a date,
Some dates happen quickly some remain until late.
Clock moves, through our wake hours and slumber,
Always tweaking, our originally assigned number;
At time of expiration a final judgment we’ll face,
To give account for our tracks, and confess our case;
Before a Jehovah God on that day each will bow,
Where called to remembrance is each word and vow.
Not only to answer for the things that we’ve done,
But if we’ve accepted Jesus, God’s only begotten son;
Did we fail to accept Him as our Lord and Master,
Or were we engaged with life as time continued faster.
He’ll open the Book seeking our date of rebirth,
During the time that He assigned us here on earth.
If we’ve lived a moral life, and to Him was true,
His response won’t be “sorry I never knew you”.
The words that many will consider most daunting,
You’re “weighed in the balance and found wanting”.
Autumn leaves
fall slow
a child's questions
left hanging
in digital silence.
My fingers trace
letters that will not
hold still
b becomes d
was becomes saw
help becomes
nothing.
The maple outside
my bedroom window
drops one red leaf,
then another,
marking time
the old way.
Mom's phone buzzes:
Car arriving in 3 minutes
Pizza en route
Package delivered.
But no alert sounds
for the moment
understanding
slips away
from me.
No GPS tracks
the distance
between
what I know
and what
I need to know
to keep up
with Sarah, Asha
and Ahmed
and everyone else
who makes reading
look easy.
The tree empties
itself
of summer.
My note
book
empties
itself
of answers
I cannot find.
Both of us wait
for spring,
for someone
to notice
the silence
growing
inside me
in all this
bright, connected
noise.
Never mind the talk about a cat in the hat
I know a community totally free of mice and rats
There is a very clean area across the railroad tracks
And right in the middle of town lives a lone lady in a shack
The few people that ever pays her a visit never come back
She is ecentric for sure and stone crazy about her many cats
There are so many cats that even the dogs are afraid to bark
lest they disturb the lady or her cats; who knows what that might start?
So the people tolerate their unusual neithbor as a defense against the rodents
When people drive by, they wave, and she waves back from her front yard fense.
01202018PSContest, That Crazy Cat Lady, Line Gauthier
I stepped out at mid-night with a small bag and board the night train, a journey that should have taken an hour lasted for three days, stopping at every interval picking up bags and pans and I watched the frustrated passengers’ drags along. I had an uncomfortable feeling inside as I watched the people scrambling around me, it’s as if they were in some form of urgency to get to a specific place before daybreak, but the frequent stop was slowing them down and adding more misery to their trouble. The night train cruise through village and town, cities and municipalities invading the people’s privacy but I gripped tight in my chair hoping that the moment would pass and I could end my journey at last but destiny would not have it so we had two more days to go before the reached its final stop. The night train parachuting down the tracks honking its horn before the break of dawn, and anxious party goers with hangover, stumbles through the train door and sits on the floor, hugging and laughing and rolling on the floor, it’s as if they were insane, they were rubbing their eyes while forcing a smile and the night train continues to barrel down the track with all the energy that it has and daylight breaks out in the sky and all the passengers starts to cry and the train came to a sudden stop between the trees and the edge of the swinging bridge holding on to one single string.
I've got 99 Dalmatians
99 problems
But a b###h ain't 1
Are simply Black or White
99 shade's of grey
Luckily I can't count to over a 100
Otherwise id have 101
Come from 8 miles away
Wrong side of the tracks
No street cred
Get stage fright
Battle getting it up
Can only spit while flipping burgers
Got 99 dog's but not a single G
calling me dog back
Tried 99 times but still no b###h
hollering back at me neither
Got no litter , got no glitter ,
got no bling , got not paper
Self proclaimed
Fresh Prince of Dead-Air
Cnr 99th street 101
And if 1 of you wants to buy a puppy
forward me your digits after the show
And I'll have 98 problems
But 99 ain't 1