Long Vii Poems
Long Vii Poems. Below are the most popular long Vii by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vii poems by poem length and keyword.
VII.
Reid’s eyes widened with the realization,
she was with child? How long had she known?
His mind reeled and more men gathered outside,
by this time his cover had been long blown.
He glanced down upon red Wolf struggling,
then at the woman who haunted his dreams,
forced to chose between revenge or his love,
just minutes ago so simple it seemed.
He glanced at Mink, and she looked back at him,
said, “If you will spare him, I will go with you.
Take me and our child far from this place,
just please do not do what you came to do.”
Red Wolf argured back, speaking in Cheyenne,
traded words with both his daughter and wife,
then Mink said,”He says he will let me go,
that I bring shame to his lodge and his life.
“He says we should both ride away quickly,
that if we do so he’ll delay the chase.
He says a whore daughter is bad enough,
but bearing your son makes me a disgrace.”
Tears streamed down her face as she said the words,
her mother joined in with an acid tounge,
Reid felt something break through his burning rage,
asked, “Do you truly carry my little one?”
When Mink nodded, he pushed Red Wolf forwards,
keeping his knife at the neck of the chief,
the whole band stayed back as they walked through the camp,
Mink ran ahead and two horses did seek.
She mounted first, Reid pushed Red Wolf away,
leapt on a horse and away they did sprint,
the two kept riding for hours that night,
pushing their mounts through second and third winds.
Red Wolf, it seemed, kept his word to the two,
no pursuit was launched by the Cheyenne braves,
but Reid knew now he could never go home,
he had failed to get revenge for the raid.
In the end he took her to the white world,
back to the people he’d not known since youth,
and I see from your looks that you have doubts,
but what I’m telling you is the plain truth.
I know because my father told it to me,
of how he came to Kansas with his squaw,
I was not that child, I came later,
Mink made Gray Fox ten times over a pa.
He doesn’t talk about it all that much,
most of the details mother told to me,
but when he does, a look comes to his eyes,
a look that’s haunting too all who might see.
It’s not that he regrets moving out here,
he’s lived a life that is worthy and full,
but sometimes I think, when he gets like that,
he regrets not slaying that damn Red Wolf.
I
A queue to a doorway
No-one knows what´s
On sale there
It could be washing powder
Almonds or diamonds
You think this was some
Yesterday
Look out your
Ghost smeared
Window
This is now
II
Throw stones at the
Motorcade
The pin pricked
Giant will barely
Pause
At banners & petitions
Faded pendants
Worthless paper
Riding out for a
Losing battle
Looking to a broken sky
For some Mon´s Angel
Less an army
More a mob
To the castle!
To the castle!
With flaming
Molotov
You awake in darkness
Hopeful
So many crusades
Begin in dreams
III
Tobolski late summer
With blankets for curtains
Tapestry dust
Stirred into
Koptyski forest soil
The former holy
The highest
Dragged
Splintered
Made human
Or less
IV
Each new dawning day
Spins us up to escape velocity
To be spat out to unthinking stars
Made passive by the weight of reason & history
We stare out into the rain
Believing wolves rule beyond the clearing
Elsewhere there is dancing
Cruise ships leave a wake of
Halved grapefruits
Shirts and skirts worn once
Gilded, seamless they glide
Oblivious to the hidden knife
The newspaper wrapped revolver
Passed under the café table
At the platform´s edge
All are equal to the justice
Of the approaching train
V
Red Emma
Red Emma
Won´t you send Berkman over
With a satchel full
Of dynamite
On a Chicago bound
Train
VI
Part six
In which
I dig a hole
To bury past dreams
And convictions
I brain-grew
At a factory lathe
Always knowing
There was escape
A high window climb
And as any fool knows
The fresh-turned soil
Of any deep hole
Can be easy seen
From the public road
VII
My advice to you
Young devil-cared rebel
Why don´t you climb on the roof
While your parents are sleeping
Try & flag down a passing
Black star liner
The busted sewer pipe
Has flooded the basement
Wet pages spin like lily pads
Stashed furniture corpse-bloats
Full boxes mush-mold
Time is tight
Young devil-cared pilgrim
Take with you only
What your pockets can hold
VIII
Among the defeated
Slack faces on rusted fairground rides
Among the defeated
Eating smoke rain mocked
Among the defeated
Careless cigarettes burn umbrella holes
Among the defeated
Landlocked padlocked frozen out
IX
Don´t
try a handstand
Your coins will
Fall out
X
Under the tar
The chariot ruts
A Golem
Is stirring.
Unquotable quotes – VII
What comes in through one ear goes out through the rear.
Give him a wench and, he’ll want her to be French.
Give him an inch and he’ll take no small pinch.
Better be swallowed by a whale than be torn to shreds by a
shark of a girl in a gale.
The praying mantis kills after she copulates in bliss ; the
predatory woman drills a hole in your bank account first
before she kills for a thrill.
The banana kills its bearer for the latter cannot bear another.
Take the pillow but not the widow
Marry her sister if she’s fatter.
Frogs in a well croak well in hell.
A crab walking straight is out of gait.
(continuing the series from UQ - VI)
We are all sinners under bums.
We are all looters under swarms.
We are all marchers under drums.
We are all dreamers under balms.
We are all loafers under palms.
We are all voters under domes.
We are all soupers under poems.
for Chrissie Morris-Brady
If you call a spade a jade, you’ve got it made
But if you call a maid a jade, you’re likely to get laid
Though if you call a maid in bed, you’re going to get wed
Yet if you call a maid to bed, you’re sure to be up-fed.
If you call a maid in a hurry, you’re likely to be sorry
Or if you call a maid in a lorry, you’re bound to worry.
If you called a lad dad, he’d likely not be glad
Yet if you called the lad bad, he’d certainly be sad
But if you called the lad mad, he’s bound to think you a grad.
If you called a nerd a turd, you could possibly get furred
But if you thought a Lord bored, you probably will get bored
Yet if you called a Lord a toad, he’ll have you all towed.
Then if you called a Knight tight, he’ll challenge you to a fight.
If you called a Baron daemon, he’ll think you were a doorman.
If you refer to Jude as a nude, you’re likely to get screwed
And refer to the nude as lewd, you’re bound to get brewed
And think of Dude as crude, there’s bound to be a feud.
If you called a squid a quid, it’s bound to think like a Druid.
If you call what you said dead, you’ll never ever get read
If you thought home food good, you must be a real hood
And rely on your word two-third, you sure are a dud.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
The question has to be this. Is a meow a cow?
Q1…...................A Catalogue?
Well what can one say?
Really all that?
How can I possibly make it under the word count?
So many pages and items itemised mean that descriptions decipher coded callings
Well presumabley it would begin with an attempt to identify the word catalogue
So begin by pulling the word out in a concertinaed fashion
And that make what?
Cat a log
Always ignore and be very ignorant of a U and and E for a U and an E together are simply way too much of a headache and a sight to understand
Particularly if attempting a headstand on top of a big wheel at a fun fair
So a cat on a log could have many pages:
i. A large head. This page is filled with many items including fur and eyes and comes with free ears as a special introductory offer
ii. Paw page. Claws are optional although customers can opt to buy retractable paws or paws that can pull out. The pull out paws are the most popular.
iii. This is the page of the upper body. So details several fur options. As with the fur options of page one it is possible to have log or short fur styles and colours are of all hue including rainbow coloured varieties.
iv. This is the middle section where customers can choose from a selection of sizes depending upon availability. And of course fur selection. And a range of colours too.
v. This is the back end of the cat so customers can choose a tail. Sometimes it is possible to request no tail particularly if the customer is from the Island of Mann. There is an absence of a tail upon that isle. Again it is possible to select the type of fur. And of course colours.
vi. The final section is the type of log. A wide selection of trees are available. Plus it is possible for customers to create their own log from a tree using an app called 'treenamer'. This clever app offers a beautiful range of wood from worldwide and cosmological locations.
vii. This is the index page.
And so that is a catalogue explained.
It is far harder to outline
A catamaran
A cat o nine tails
A cat nap
A cat kin............and how many more times?
When a pin becomes a paw it is time for the scratch of the posts.
Z Otocolobus manul Z at 44 claws to 9 whiskers
X
Form:
VII
There never was an army quite like Xerxes’.
Hyrcanians, Medes, Egyptians, Syrians, Scyths –
soon, Greece would grovel at its tender mercies –
a fate more gruesome than the grimmest myths.
It drank whole rivers dry. Took three days with
the crossing of the bridge. Then came a scare:
as Persian lava swamped its xenolith,
the portents were not good. A pregnant mare
gave birth to healthy offspring. But it was a hare.
VIII
A blundering boxer trying to swat a fly,
the Persian force could lunge, but could not kill:
it lost all credit at Thermopylae.
The Greeks, hard pressed, were in the battle still.
To win a war, you break the other’s will,
and this was not occurring. Could the key
be naval warfare? So, for good or ill,
Salamis earned its place in history.
The fleets would clash there. Whose would be the victory?
IX
A tyrant’s strength is his Achilles’ Heel.
His habit of command, of being obeyed,
occludes capacity to see and feel.
To trap them at their moorings seemed a raid
assured to smash the Greeks. Their fleet once flayed,
they could not go on fighting. They must lose.
But Persia’s pride, colossal numbers, made
disaster certain. Tangled, cramped, confused,
the sharks became the bait. For Xerxes, dreadful news.
X
“My bridge. Is it still standing?” Xerxes asked.
Oh, in that question, what a universe!
The pampered prince who - up to now - had basked
in sunshine felt a clutch of fear, and worse:
the tide of fortune, swinging to reverse,
began to drain him of all certainty.
The bridge was now his lifeline, and his curse,
his last hope and his vulnerability.
Persepolis lay far away, fenced off by sea.
XI
So, despots kneel before their own adventures,
become the playthings of their crazy schemes,
contract with Fate, creating wild debentures,
condemn themselves by sure-to-crumble dreams.
Unhappy with mere wealth, they seek extremes
which bring no comfort: sick ambitions bloat
and fester. Most familiar of themes,
Great Xerxes’ boasts grew more and more remote,
until the day his restless minions cut his throat.
VII: Give me time...
Give me time, they say it will heal
But I don't want to forget the emotions I feel
But that's not what I'm worried about
Will the future be as happy, is what I doubt
The happiness you feel I cannot describe
The brain continues to blast unless I imbibe
That something warmed the cockles of the heart
Even though the brain didn't want to play it's part
Time stood still, and yet rushed by
The feelings that only the one could amplify
New found braveness, but sometimes afraid
So many words unspoken, so many unsaid
Wonder what crystal clarity would've achieved
Some kind of future I had truly believed
But maybe it was all just a test
To shape oneself and forget the rest
VIII: Forget the rest...
Forget the rest, but really, how can I
Twas the most wonderful thing, I cannot deny
Everything seemed bright even in the gloom
The air was fragrant even if there weren't flowers to bloom
There was a wide smile on the face
That simply nothing untowardly could erase
There was hope in every little thing
The sweetness that was only brought by that something
The very thought of it puts me in a daze
The giddiness, the rush, that certainly did amaze
The worries the anxiety were always there
But a new found serenity, satisfaction and glare
It changed me for the better too
For a good person I wanted to turn into
Nothing ever made me feel this way
That something was special, and is today
IX: That something was special...
That something was special, and so am I
Gotta move on, a fact I can no longer deny
But thinking about it makes me smile
That something was rare, not from an ordinary pile
The heart raced, hands and legs trembled
The words frequently came out jumbled
It was enchanting and deeply mesmerising
To know I could feel this way, twas surprising
Days seemed long, had sleepless nights
All at the cost of hearts simple delights
Everywhere I looked, it seemed to appear
Whether it was with me, far or near
The beats were amplified, the mind restless
The happiness was constant, more or less
But something so pretty certainly didn't last
Fizzled to dust, it faded too fast
VII.
It was one year, minus a day,
when Reg ventured back to her home,
he’d gotten work running cattle,
all over Nevada did roam.
But the whole time he dreamed about
his woman alone on the ranch,
he realized he truly loved her,
she was his, and he was her man.
When he rode up to her front door,
going in the cover of night,
he knocked softly and she approached,
Reg was astonished by the sight.
It wasn’t just his Jolene there,
a small baby lay in her arms,
she smiled warmly, and she said,
“Couldn’t wait one more day, gol’ darn.
“Well, I guess that you should come in,
you’re daughter would love to meet you,
Regina sure missed her daddy,
and I think her mother did too.”
It took Reg a moment to hear,
he hadn’t expected this all,
that said, he wasn’t complaining,
and into Jolene’s arms did fall.
He lay holding his girls that night,
thought of the preacher way back when,
God wasn’t a creature of wrath,
in truth, he rewarded good men.
They just picked up where they’d left off,
two misfits lived as man and wife,
even brought her to a preacher
so they could say they’d done it right.
Once again joyous weeks went by,
they bought cows to graze on the land,
she was no whore, he no bandit,
to the world, just woman and man.
Until the day Tyree stopped by,
in his hands was a small folder.
“I heard that you were back,”he said,
his face looking somewhat disturbed.
“What makes you look so glum?”asked Reg,
said Tyree, “It’s you family.
I have found what you once asked for,
but do you want to know? Really?”
Reg just looked back, rather confused,
“Well what kind of question is that?
What kind of man wouldn’t want to know
all about their real mom and dad?”
Tyree sighed and gave the folder,
it was pages from a town hall,
a list of births twenty years back,
and Reg quickly scanned through them all.
Most were kids born to married folk,
the way this was supposed to go,
Reg felt thankful for those children,
the pain he’d felt they’d never know.
But that joy soon faded to black,
and Tyree heard Reginald scream,
at the words, ‘A half-Mexican boy
was born to a whore named Jolene…’
...“Remember what I told you of my pa,
of what I shouted at you on that night,
you want a better world? Then help others,
but you gotta do it one at a time.
“I save one person, does this save the world?
Of course not, but the fact of it remains,
that person is still here, to live their life,
to contribute, live and love everyday.
“One less child who has lost their parent,
one less dreamer that was snuffed out too soon.
I stop a car crash, the streets are safer,
stop a drug deal, keep a young man in school.
“The world is better because of all this,
may not be drastic, but God’s keeping score,
the little things make the big picture better,
so people can go enjoy their lives more.
“You say that this means my quests never end,
but I knew that before I even began,
I could do what most do without my power,
or just not care, be a shell of a man?
“Again, that’s a simple answer to me,
but I guess I’m just a small-town Catholic.
I don’t like seeing pain that I can prevent,
and really that is the pure core of it.
“It may not be what your readers demand,
or what you literati find en vouge,
but that’s the whole reason, why I do this…
Is there anything else you want to know?”
She stammered for a bit, caught up in it,
then shook her head and said, “No…not right now.”
He smiled and said, “Good timing, I think,
since I see my second short-stack coming ‘round.”
Tanya remained until they were all done,
and watched the man eat three whole meals of food,
talking of moving and internet memes,
if local sports teams were any good.
And then, just like that, the hero got up,
paid their bill off and went about his day,
Tanya remained there for several moments,
was still struggling to know what to say.
Even with all that, it still took some time
for her to truly comprehend what he meant,
how power could show such humility,
and choose a fight that it never could win.
But ten years later, those doubts were long gone,
she understood him and knew his last name,
though for their kids’ sake, she kept it secret,
those reporters could really be a pain...
There was a young lassie named Heather,
Who played on the beach in hot weather,
She thought it a sin,
Just dressed in her skin,
So covered herself with three feathers.
II
Remember the beach-babe named Heather?
Who covered herself in three feathers?
The boys were aware,
And started to stare,
So now she wears tight shiny leather.
The following is not a limerick, but it continues the story of Heather's Feathers
III
‘Twas a fine use of leather,
On our girl named Heather,
For the boys had to be on a tether.
But leather made Heather
Break out in hot weather,
So now she is back to the feathers.
Now, back to the limericks
IV
Our sweet northern princess named Heather,
Is hooked on a new kind of feather,
It is not from a moose,
It’s Canadian Goose,
So cozy in all kinds of weather.
V
Our Canadian Heather’s a Newfy,
Which to most of us sounds kind of goofy,
But to those from the “Rock”,
She’s the belle of the docks,
With her feathers all ruffled and poofy.
VI
Our Heather has moved to the prairies,
She’s tired of travelling on ferries,
She’s now wearing loafers
And chasing poor gophers,
Which makes her all sweaty and weary.
And now for the conclusion to our story (in rhyme)
VII
Oh, Heather, dear Heather,
What became of your feather,
The last one you had left to dance in,
For the two had been sold,
As the story was told*,
And the last one was held up for ransom.
Some bikers in leather,
Kidnapped our dear heather,
And wanted ten grand to return her,
Let there be no mistake,
She's a lovely 'cheesecake',
But I haven't the money to earn her.
So I made up a plan,
'Twas a bit of a scam,
When I told them I'd pay for my Heather,
So it must have been fate,
When I broke down their gate,
Took my Heather and left them the feather.
Now I have my dear Heather,
Who is plucked of her feather,
And I haven't the money to buy one,
But she says it's okay,
Says she likes it this way,
For the boys in town call her 'The Nude One'.
*That's another story for another time.
After the Second of Epona Plains
Part Seven
Gundar Nills..the Victor.
Your witch I'll burn
At the full moon
So precious to you
As my son was to me.
And Damn you all
For eternity.
So Gundar Nills
Ordered his men
To tie poor
Kathryn to a tree
In the forest
Of the Mystic
Mountains.
He sensed that
His love was in dire need
And rode all the
Day and into the night
Until his horse could go
no more.
On a hill the Young Prince
saw down in the valley
It was Kathryn
that night,
Burned at the stake....
He was too late
To save her.
He mourned.
Gundar Nills,
The Viking King,
Had his revenge,.
His son was
Atoned for at last.
But our Wiccan Princess...
An amulet she
Wore that night.
He said it had the power
To protect her
He said...
No fire or pain
Would she ever know...
As the flames grew around her..
You could hear
A sweet voice singing....
Until she just vanished....
Like smoke in
the air....
Our Prince
gathered his strength
And rode threw the night
To face Gundar Nills,
The Viking King,
A challenge
Was made
And honored.
At the Bay of Epona
They met for one last time..
They both fought
With shields and daggers
Circling each other
Until at last
They rushed head on
Like thunder.
Gundar Nills drove his blade
To the hilt....
He thought he had won the day
But to his dismay...
He felt the point
Of the young Prince's
Knife pierce his Blackened
Heart.....as he fell.
Gundar Nills, the viking King
Was dead.
.
But alas our Prince
was mortally wounded......
Oh Kathryn...he sighed with his
last dying breath,
My love will always yours.
From the day we shared
In the meadow......
Till this...
And our Prince closed his
Eyes forever.
Many did witness what happened next.
The heavens they did open
And Kathryn appeared
In a bright flash of light,
and took her lover
home.
From that day to this
You can see on the
Mountain,
Over looking the bay,
Carved deep
into rock....
Our Prince standing
Guard...
With Kathryn at
his side.
Form: