Long Trotters Poems
Long Trotters Poems. Below are the most popular long Trotters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trotters poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was only ten years old, I yelled at my TV
For I could not believe the filth they played to kids like me
Right there upon my TV screen, a frog with skin of green
Was lusted after by a pig whose plans were quite obscene
That frog would always act like he was playing hard to get
But that there pig would have her way… it was a certain bet
Well, some years on I met that frog and frankly I saw red
I glared right at that dirty frog and this is what I said…
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
Amphibians ain’t meant to speak, but he’d been on TV
He stood there with an attitude and tried to make me see
I glared at him and said there’s nothing here to be discussed
A frog that sleeps with piggies is a frog I’ll never trust
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
See, I’d just seen my dentist and he told me you’d been in
He said he had to throw you out or land one on your chin
He wouldn’t see you then, nor would he polish up the gnashers
Of any frog whose teeth and breath smelled much like bacon rashers
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
That frog has really messed me up. My nightmares feature girls
They all have snouts, four trotters and a little tail that curls
My given name is Herman so my friends all call me Hermie
But in my nightmare all those pigs squeal, “Come to Mumma, Kermie!”
Up yours, Bacon-Balls, there’s no ifs and no buts
I’d bet ten bucks you let that pig have access to your nuts
So up yours, Bacon-Balls, your love life is a crime
A frog that sleeps with pigs should be a frog that’s doing time
I only hope that, one day, on him, law enforcement calls
And at the gallows they will hang him by his bacon balls
Be sure that I shall be right there to watch him as he falls
And as they pull the lever, I’ll cry, “Up yours, Bacon Balls!”
It happened without any action on my part.
All I had to do was just say, "Yes, I will go".
Moreover, it was not my dream, but my friend's.
However, from a child, I have been an avid sports fan.
My games of choice, and my childhood fantasies
were baseball, basketball, and later on, football.
From a child, I had pictured myself on the field of dreams playing baseball. When reality set in, I was content to see myself in the stands.
In 1974, I attended my first MLB game in Chicago. In 1984, I attended a Harlem Globe Trotters game in Oakland, Ca.
In or about 1990, I attended my first NBA game in Sacramento, Ca.
That left one major American sport to go, and it was a long-shot.
In fact, such a feat was buried deep in the bottom of my bucket list.
There were certainly other things placed in a higher priority, but life
happens, and so often we have very little to do with the happenings.
So in 2019, I was invited by a friend to attend an NFL game in K.C., Mo.,
and after a Greyhound Bus, an Amtrak Train, a rented car, and nearly a
4000 mile round trip, that game became the most recent item kicked off
my bucket list. In a very real sense, there were two buckets in one, shared by friends. My life's venture came as a gift. Who knew?
111220PSCtest, What Have You Kicked Off On Your Bucket List,
Chantelle Anne Cooke. 2P
(Innuendo -- Pigs)
All around are sticks and stone
Feel God's loving arms around you
-----At last, I am redeemed-----
A feast of my soul, you shall receive
A cake for dinner, I made out of stones
Ratchet pigs fill their dirty mouths,
Consuming my soul, sipping on champagne
At peace with myself, brushing off the walls
Nevertheless, tonight they speak in tongues
-I strain my ears to listen;
While pettitoes approach my page
I hear the squeals, I hear the chit chat
from he/she that wears no shame.
Am I she, the evil one?
The one you penned -
Under the influence of manipulation
Trying to stifle my voice of beauty
No matter, I am crazy, a dreamer
Never claim to be THE INNOCENT,
The Poet Destroyer!!!
I ignore the walls when they speak
Nevertheless, tonight they have eyes
They watch my every move
A trotters dance, of togetherness
Forgetting the reason we are here
I will win and conquer my privacy
You can't destroy what you can't see
I am the glory of my day
I am God's pet!!!
A Lamb, wearing white
To others a wolf in disguise
Spitting slithers, swear
I am the Devil's Advocate
I marvel how they snort at night
Today I will crash the sore whispering party
You! My friend, no longer exist
You are naught more than cobwebs
You will dream about me, write about me
I will give you ammo, then read it from you.
I will show you what a demon is!
Like the light and envy of every moon
I shall ask my reflection and remove
the residue from hogging lips.
I will watch you urbane the truth
The heat and lust I conquer from you
A font with no reflection, dating apples
Heading away from its own advice
A hard task from its quill, enjoying leftovers
Pinpointing fingers among shallow dreams
It's sickening to see pigs pat each others back
Feeding on my demonic words
Convoying innuendos in my bearing
Now it's my turn, to turn the roaster on
With no interest in removing muddy sheets
I shall smile and walk away
In - joy - my heart beats and smiles
Knowing, I made you look --- AGAIN!!!
By: PD
Behold sequestered by the sea,
not whale, nor seal, nor small sand-flea.
This is the face of old grand Ewe,
whom from the cliffs, has come to view.
Though slit-eyed stare, gazes at the ocean,
watching it move in glorious motion.
And then slowly moves across the land,
as trotters deep in arduous sand.
But none the less, the ewe finds the rock,
somewhere steady, to rest her flock.
And signals up with baas of glee,
as sheep come down, all primed for tea.
Yet when the waves do come to shore,
Ewe is perplexed by fish galore.
It flaps its tail, and moves its fin,
yet gasps for air with frightful grin!
For no chud nor chard to eat but bark,
blown in from prior stormy dark.
Ewe signals to the nearby scene,
and struts upon its golfing green.
And takes a bite and likes the taste,
and soon the whole flock emigrate.
Yet by the morn, when putters come,
the grass is gone, all in Ewe's tum.
And so sequestered by put and club,
Ewe takes her flock all way back up.
To grassy cliff, to rocky hills,
away from modern-day, beach side thrills.
But never will the Ewe forget,
The escapade, with no regret.
03.17.2024
Once twin towers stood.
In the city king kong fell in love.
Yellow taxi's swarm like stripeless bees.
and a sky line thats silhouted on your mind.
with police sirens screaming
and broadway calling.
Times Square lights hurting your eyes.
With Central park its breathing lung
a countryside oasis in a concrete corsett.
Greenwich village with its arts and crafts
and wall streets big business and brash.
United nations share this town.
musical and big fight nights.
basket balls globe trotters strut thier funky stuff.
and the yankees play class baseball.
all in all
new york as blown my mind.
When I met him, he was hungry and homeless.
Rumor had it that he once played basketball
for the infamous Harlem Globe Trotters.
Three traits that I observed in him would
have proven great for any area of endeavor.
Reuben was bold, persistent, and congenial.
His BOLDNESS did not render him arrogant or rude.
Although our first encounter was eye opening
when he suggested his own breakfast menu,
I found it to be nonthreatening but humorous.
When he continued to drop in for a meal day
after day, his PERSISTANCE was dully noted,
making it difficult for him to go unnoticed.
In spite of his size, looks, and offensive odor,
Reuben was a very CONGENIAL person. He never
resisted or hesitated to conform and comply with
whatever was required of him. He always quietly
agreed, not because he was desirous of a meal,
but because he was simply a very genuine person.
"50 Words for Poe: Circadian"
He pushed the envelope under her door
when she opened it, in her Ghost hands,
it read,
“Circadian nymph,
put on your dance shoes,
collect you at 3.33am.
Downtown Trotters Ghost Ball.
No pesky green Fairies riding Unicorns.
Affectionately yours,
Your Doctor -
Lucifer”
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
https://youtu.be/iyRbigv8iho
“I have a flamethrower. (Zarek)
You have a what? (Astrid)
It pays to be prepared. (Zarek)"
Dance with the Devil
I have a marvellous thingamajig
It came from my dear mother as a gift
Though it was a very long time ago
I still love my thingy, very much so.
I can’t believe what thingamajig does
Leaves a trail behind, when I fail to dust
It’s strange, as my thing has no moving parts
Yet I know it conceals a most loving heart.
Thingamajig is small and well designed
Has a loving soul, kept deep down inside
Sometimes he is heavy, then loses weight
When I need him, he doesn’t hesitate.
There is a special bond between us two
He’s just a handful, beautiful all through
Only I know what thingy gets up to
I tell no one, and I never would do.
Thingamajig runs on his four trotters
Still as good as he came from the potters
His shiny surface glows bright in the dark
He’s truly a magnificent work of art.
He doesn’t talk, but converses with grunts
He’s certain to have been best of the bunch
Folk would think that I was going crazy
Acting alike a foolish old lady.
His tummy swells up as his riches grow
It has to be emptied or else he’d blow
I named my thingamajig Porky Pie
I guess you can tell the reason why.
Me and my mothers gift will never part
If we did I would have a broken heart.
Listening to folk records in my room all day,
as a kid, to another world I'd withdraw
to the streets of Laredo, as cold as the clay.
Later, in music I heard, in pictures I saw,
the Irish roots that our happy and sad songs betray,
like the bold Phelim Brady, the Bard of Armagh.
So I raise a toast, to the wonder they bring -
the melodies of Ireland that make us all sing.
Like Johnny, I'd come marching proudly home again.
Then, once I heard Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye play,
it seemed then, that in bloodshed no one can win,
and from that gentle, green country, so far away,
I acquired a notion, that all war is a sin,
a message in the wind, still blowing today.
So, here's to peace, and the end of war's sting,
and the sad songs of Ireland, that make us sing.
It's a joy to laugh and it's fun to dance and drink.
I say, "welt the floor your trotters shake".
One for all and all for one, our glasses clink -
another noggin of whiskey for heaven's sake.
So raise your voices and give us a wink,
belting funny ditties like Finnegin's Wake,
and here's to fun, and that sort of thing,
and glad songs of Ireland that make us sing.
A voice sings softly in the still afternoon,
and, under the trees, my mind starts to dream,
"who is it singing this beautiful love tune?",
I wonder as through the leaves sunlight streams.
It's Liam Clancy singing Eileen Aroon,
sending me somewhere like heaven it seems.
So, here's to love, and songbirds on the wing,
and the tender songs of Ireland we sing.
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444444 equals 24 trotters
6 heads
4 livers
4 hearts
6 kidneys
2 hams
Various scraps
5 hour boil time
Onions
Carrots
Greenpeppers
Garlic
Thyme
Basil
Bayleaves
2 cups of port
Rubbed sage
Salt
Pepper
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Brunch Day
Sunday morning scrapple/ bacon and mushrooms
Scrambled eggs and cheese
Toast/butter and honey
Hash browns
Jam/jelly
Coffee
Beet, carrot,orange/vodka
Strawberry tart
Butternut squash tart/pecans
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Darling I may never have told you
Ain't nothing right without you
You're the star of the show
My leading lady
Keeping you happy ain't no chore
I love you
I guess I wanted you to know
Sometimes I get a little busy
we spend so much time apart
here a little something to make you smile
It comes straight from my heart
Said I love you
Ain't got no problems saying it again
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Cured salmon rolled in sliced ham with sour cream eggyolk and dill....