Long Twenty three Poems
Long Twenty three Poems. Below are the most popular long Twenty three by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Twenty three poems by poem length and keyword.
they built a ballpark over my bones,
laid asphalt like a priest's last lie—
no headstone, no name,
just beer guts and baseball caps
spilling nacho cheese
where I once bled.
I was twenty-three,
shot twice in the alley behind Leroy’s Bar,
the paper called me
“suspected.”
that was all they needed.
the morgue forgot me,
the state ignored me,
and my mother—
she wept
until the flies outnumbered her prayers.
now they cheer a double play
while I sleep beneath their roars,
rootless and rotted,
a ghost who never swung a bat—
but still waits
for justice
to round third base and come home.
L o s t road l o n e l y highway
Tell me what you see
Fortune future avenue
B l i n d spots b l i n d l y
Transfixed d e s e r t e d road
No turn seems to be
Show a sign any sign
, Mile m a r k e r twenty-three
L o s t road D a m n e d highway
Answers needed please
Death Valley next exit
Categorically d i s e a s e d
Ungrateful r o a d tripped,
Avenue F u t u r e unfortunately
Now I s e e the spots
In D e a d s E n d circling
bmdavey@2005
Fernando Ramone was a Latin lover
Who dazzled the girls with his charm
He could often be seen strolling along
With a gorgeous girl on his arm
It didn't feel much different this night
Though the mood in the bar was uneasy
As he wandered in, all eyes were on him
He was sweating and feeling queasy
Tension was thick, could be cut with a knife
With conviction he strode to the bar
A shot rang out from the back of the room
Ramone dropped, his mouth oddly ajar
Patrons did freeze as he lay in a heap
Not a single sound could be heard
A man emerged from the back of the room
Strode forward without saying a word
Gasps were heard as he came into the light
Deputy Marshall John Parker by name
Tracking down Ramone for many long years
A rampage of mayhem his fame
Ramone was wanted in twenty-three states
For a ten year murderous spree
Asked why he shot him without any warning
Parker mumbled the name Anabellee
Anabellee was one of his victims
And the daughter of Deputy John
Rage and revenge was all he could feel
Then the vengeance was suddenly gone
Deputy Parker is now serving time
For the murder of Fernando Ramone
Some say Parker should really be freed
But killing cannot be condoned
We guidance counselors got to tour an engineering firm.
They were all set up for us, and made it lively and fun!
I had no idea until that day I had missed my calling.
The competition was on. We were given twenty minutes
And the exact same building materials – paper and tape.
Goal: Each team would try to build the strongest bridge.
At the end of the time pennies were dropped on them.
The engineers counted each penny as it was placed.
Eleven. Bam. Crushed.
Eighteen Bam. Crushed.
Twenty-three. Bam. Crushed.
They left ours until last.
I had no idea why.
We were the four oldest women there, forty years older than the others.
The reigning champion bridge had lasted through 114 pennies.
They came to our bridge, and stopped counting at 312 pennies.
We old ladies were gloating and high-fiving each other,
feeling like real engineers.
Best fun I have had in a long time!
Sweet,
bitter,
or in between.
Maybe a little of both.
Jeckle and hyde,
or more like
Jacklyn and Hilda,
split personalities,
I love em all,
big or small
red hair and all.
Women,
girls,
I love em all,
Mostly in between.
See,
I'm at twenty six,
fixed,
on older women
above age twenty three.
To me,
these are the ripening years,
when girls become women.
When what they want become
natural as spring water.
I have
tasted the juices
of many vintages.
Like a ripened wine.
Like a grape,
turned from sour to sweet.
like a mango mixed delicately
with a peach.
Older, mature woman
are what I fancy.
I compare to an exquisite
Cabernet,
Or
like the Martini's I drink dry.
Why do I like older women?
Why?
I have tried,
experimented with youth,
only to find an
abundance of
drama queen
feelings.
Wild emotions that flare
with each conversation,
with each vacation
I take to the pub,
or to the club.
Each accusation
is followed by my
truth.
Still,
she'll explode.
I then realize it is her
youth.
I love em all though,
all shapes, sizes
and creeds.
To satisfy my hunger,
to satisfy my needs.
Most times
I like my coffee black
sugar sweet
no cream.
I mix my
vanilla cappuccino,
her milk frothed
until she steams.
I think back,
remember,
this woman age
thirty nine.
She must have had the
ingredient to the fountain of youth.
In truth,
a pure "dime".
A dime piece,
slang,
for a magnificent woman,
a stunning woman.
She would take me to
unexpected feelings, places
buried deep inside my mind.
she was kind!
This beautiful woman,
age thirty nine....
Jared Pickett
4/28/07
Asavvy1
Fernando Ramone was a Latin lover
Who dazzled the girls with his charm
He could often be seen strolling along
With a gorgeous girl on each arm
It didn't feel much different this night
Though the mood in the bar was uneasy
As he wandered in, all eyes were on him
He was sweating and feeling queasy
Tension was thick, could be cut with a knife
With conviction he strode to the bar
A shot rang out from the back of the room
Ramone dropped, his mouth oddly ajar
Patrons froze as he lay in a heap
Not a single sound could be heard
A man emerged from the back of the room
Strode forward without saying a word
Gasps were heard as he came into the light
Deputy Marshall John Parker by name
Tracking down Ramone for many years
A rampage of mayhem his fame
Ramone was wanted in twenty-three states
For a ten year murderous spree
Asked why he shot him without any warning
Parker mumbled the name Anabellee
Anabellee was one of his victims
And the daughter of Deputy John
Rage and revenge was all he could feel
Then the vengeance was suddenly gone
Deputy Parker is now serving time
For the murder of Fernando Ramone
Some say Parker should really be freed
But killing cannot be condoned
Womb Tomb
The baby loved the heart music of her mother to be!
She heard the water running
all over Mommy’s body and
breast,
As she listened so ever so intently!
“One day I will see Mother’s lovely, happy face.
It is getting way too small in
here!”
She heard the sound of soft,
rhythmic purrs.
In her tiny dreams,she wished
those sounds might one day
would be hers!
Baby Migdalia, just dreamt
thoughts of hope and joy.
A Daddy near of only such
dreams, she knew of no such
things as murder or fear.
Then, Mommy and Daddy,
In voices got very angy!
Daddy shouted at Mommy
“We have no money to raise
a child!
Woman have you gone mad?”
I became frightened and so utterly sad!
Can any of you, anyone, help me?
Have the courage to please
Tell them, to let me be born?
I am God’s present to them.
Not a beast of burden.
But myself and others, we need all of you to speak for us.
We are the future.
We are your sons and lovely
daughters.
Twenty-three thousand of us a day, in the USA meet this fate.
Lives ended and sent back to God’sHoly Gate.
Help us, please?
Baby Migdalia and all the unborn!
“As I watched the seagulls, I thought, That’s the road to take; find the absolute rhythm and follow it with absolute trust.” ~ Nikos Kazantzakis
RUDIMENTS OF WINGS
O child, your seablown hollyhocks— recall
of Kilmer’s tree. So rapidly your heart
‘tis wild, carefree.
Sweet child, your cherry cheeks are mountain peaks
in Field’s gingham and calico The Feud.
You soar on swing.
Quill and ink — unflappable raven wings
of Poe’s haunting ballad stir up feelings,
never receding.
Dear child, out in the lonely woods of Frost,
harness bells shaking in the snowy woods—
effervescent cold.
The Lord is my shepherd, Psalm twenty-three.
Lovely solemnity— a poem-prayer.
Schooled in scripture.
Rudimentary poetry in flight.
you hold onto each illumined feather—
the inner child.
2/19/2022
This or That, Vol 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
When I was young, I wanted to be twenty-one. When twenty-one came, I was thrilled and it made my day. So thrilled, each year I stayed twenty-one. When I turned fifty, my husband gave me a surprise party. I then decide to turn twenty-two, each year I stayed twenty-two. When I turned sixty, at the party I turned twenty-three. Birthday time is what you make of it, young or old where will you stay in time. After all it is just a day, your very special day for one year.
Date Written: 6/8/2020
3 Place Time Contest Judged:6/11/2020 Sponsored by:Chantelle Anne Cooke
~ the nameless ebony bird sings so mournfully -
the wind lifts your wings ~
poet's quote
A gaping hole in the ground
No tombstone or roses
White painted tiny coffin
angelic hands in prayer
A simple metal plate
with a number
No tolerance for fake tears
Justice must be a promise
Newborn child with the right to life
left under a bridge, naked
wrapped in a dirty plastic bag
The child didn't have a chance
in twenty-three minus degrees
A mother and father
abandoned his responsibility
their horrible secret
remains a dark shadow