Long Widow Poems
Long Widow Poems. Below are the most popular long Widow by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Widow poems by poem length and keyword.
‘Twas way back in them days
when the ranch owner’s ways
was just about the only law there was around
Rancher’s money was king
and gun violence reigned
till marshal Ben Miller made his way into town
Well that town was real rough
till Ben said ‘twas enough
that’s when he used his guns to bring law to the street
But there's always that one
thinks he's fast with his gun
would soon find himself face down covered with a sheet
For the next twenty years
Ben had kept the streets clear
of any no-gooders that might drift into town
Then folks started to say
Ben was showing some gray
maybe his old age had started to slow him down
The councilmen all met
said it is with regret
that we tell you it's time for you to settle down
They baked him a nice cake
a few speeches they'd make
and introduced him to the new marshal in town
Town folk gathered and cheered
told him how twenty years
was a long time to stay on this side of the grave
Ben took a look around
rode his horse outta town
with his new gold watch and the few dollars he'd saved
That is often the way
a cowboy's life got played
long ago when the country was still just a pup
When a trusted hired hand
gave his life for the brand
honest and loyal was the way he was raised up
If you think this is sad
or Ben's life turned out bad
well then this might be a little good news for you
Was the very next week
Men lay dead in the street
they had robbed the bank and stole the mayor's horse too
When they tried to get Ben
to come marshal again
sure don't take no book smarts to know how he replied
Well, he asked widow Jones
if she'd like to go along
and off to the wide open Montana they'd ride
Was a day in March when
Jasmine married old Ben
Though they had only been courtin' about a year
Said they was gonna go
where the tall grasses grow
gonna try their hand raisin a few cows and steers
Well they made it alright
through frozen winter nights
mostly cause they hadn't built up much of a herd
When the next spring turned mild
it brought both calves and child
after that first year their ranchin' blood had been stirred
It’s been thirty years since
granpap left Defiance
now I stop alongside his grave near' every day
I watch over his spread
more than five thousand head
as they grow fat right here on the Rockin’ Bar J
After finishing a seminar based on demand and supply,
I walked out to the street and hailed a taxi going by,
and as I sat down in the seat, the taxi driver said to me,
‘my, my, your timings perfect, you are just the same as Terry.’
I must admit he had me thinking, so of course I answered ‘Who?’
‘Terry Parker’ said the cabbie; a bloke it’s obvious he knew.
‘Yeah, anything that Terry did, he was right on every score,
he lived with perfect timing and Terry never had one flaw.’
I had never met a bloke like Terry, so I’m wary of the fact,
so I subtly gave me answer in a way most would react,
‘None of us are perfect mate,’ but the cabbie did insist
That Terry, he was faultless, and so few like him exist.
I heard that Terry was an athlete with the most amazing skills,
His golfing matched the pros, and his tennis playing simply thrills,
he could sing like Johnny Cash; and even better so I’m told,
he danced like Fred Astaire; his piano playing…simply gold.
I could only think he must be special, this Terry Parker bloke,
and the cabbie uttered ‘hang on,’ and once again he spoke,
‘there’s more to Terry yet, you see his memory never failed,
he remembered every birthday, and every one detailed.
‘He was a connoisseur on beer, and knew everything ‘bout wine,
He knew how to serve the finest foods; all simply pure divine.
And if anything needs fixing, then Terry was your shining light,
he was streets ahead of me, ‘cause I can’t do nothing right.
‘He could always read the traffic, and you’d never find him stuck,
not like me when I am driving, for I had none of Terry’s luck,
and I ought to mention women, and how he made them feel so good,
he was the ideal gentleman; he treated women how I should.
‘Terry would never answer back, even if the woman’s wrong,
he was a charming butler, and his charisma it was strong,
he kept his house immaculate, as no other person can…
no one could measure up; Terry Parker was the perfect man.’
When I reached my destination but before I stepped outside,
I paid the driver what was due, and then I thanked him for the ride,
but I thought it best I mention, at more or less a parting whim,
‘this Terry Parker is remarkable, how did you get to meet him?’
The driver took my money, and then he muttered deep and slow,
‘Actually I never met him, but I’m married to his widow.’
Chains, hay forks, knives, and a hollow whisper,
become more true and sinister.
Halt in the middle of the moon light,
and a waver image soon is no delight.
Voices run a muck in the head,
so not calming you wish you were dead.
Gushing blood through the eye
not an image that you would rely.
Nails stuck on your neck with such pain
so your paralyze just little life sustain.
Hoodlums terrorizing people running a muck
did not really know they are in luck.
More dangerous beings are out their
to commit such act and with sinister stare.
Laughing with haunting echo's through
is an aspect of fear can imbue.
The wind changes direction to smother
the echoing sound of laughter.
The panicking state that you are in
soon drives a knife within.
Blood rushing out of your vain
a crucial part of your life dropping like rain.
Running without a destination
you will never reach anyone of your relation.
Sliding your body on a wall
keeping your fall in a stall.
Red eyes you can see it at night
is soon devouring you with little bite.
Changing your belief with tonics of relief
and it is to late to turn a new leaf.
Ears start to deceive the animals sound
eating limbs are chewing around.
Slowly your red eyes steadily getting heavy
is starting to take your life with a levy.
Dropping down with no attitude
and your life force slowly loses altitude.
Breathing comes not so easy
smelling flesh seems so beastly.
The change comes a desire
with frightening red eyes of fire.
Comes more lethal than the hoodlums
your heart beating like drums.
Your hand becomes all fury
claws come out and your howl with furry.
Trance your in with no one to blame
a rage thats hundreds of centuries of flame.
Rising from a slumber of long lust
a animal instinct that you can trust.
Tearing things apart with no meaning
is a trait that is so deceiving.
Red eyes at night you see in a window
like a poisonous black widow.
Keeps you in attack mode of insanity
that takes all your vanity.
Ferocious emotions eating away
the soul that you had once betray.
The echoing sounds of loud thunder
breaks away the armor with sunder.
You fall once again to torturous agony
the feeling of one self is so lonely.
Shaking in the corner you are found
with blood soaked skin you drowned.
The night becomes day cruel in some way
your memories go in disarray.
The hunters with torches and sinister look
had parted way their hands shook.
There I was just chillen with all my homeies in the big zip block bag. We were all talking about the latest ozome spray, and we were wondering if it would work on us, since our scents were pretty potent. We all just were hanging out when suddenly we felt the dresser draw open. Sock after sock were moved until the tuber ware container we lived in was found. The sound of the struggle they made to open the tuber ware scared us, but then we heard the popping sound and knew it was open. “Who would it be?” we all thought impatiently. There was just so many varieties of us to choose from, it was crazy. Afghan, Afghani, Alaskan Thunder**** ,Black Widow ,Blue Dream, Blueberry , Buddha, Cali Dream, Cali Gold, Caribbean Dream, or me Hash. We all were anxious to see who it would be today. We never knew, the big hand would come in and just choose so many of us at different times that we never knew what to expect. He went to the left, than he went to the right, and then he went to the center; and looked dead in at me. Everyone turned around and stared at me. I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know what to say. Dead silent, it was pure dead silence when I looked to my left, to make a run for it, whoosh their I go! Up in the air, taken by the big hand! Never to see friends or loved ones again, never being able to tell them what happens up here with the big hand out from the dresser. The big hand was holding me, than there was some weird exchange with another hand and something green looking, than I was gone from that room forever. The next day, I was taken out by this new big hand. He put me in some big contraption, it said it was made of steel. He tossed me in there and, Ow! Oh the pain I cannot describe! Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh so miserable. I am in pieces, literally. I am in pieces, and some dark chamber I have never seen before. All a sudden, it opens. I am banged thumb, thumb, thumb, out onto the table. I am placed in some cylinder looking object, and thrown back together with all my pieces. While sitting there, thinking and wondering about what is going to happen to me, it suddenly gets hot. So sudden, in fact, that you ought to think somebody lit a match or something… and then… Ow! Ow! Oooh! Fire! It burns! My life! It has gone up in flames and smoke, and now I am gone! Oh how do I miss the dra-… Death, something undeniable to every human, animal, and mind.
Bring the Nzu and
Kola nut
Take it to the
stranger among us,
Let him kiss it and
be bless.
Let him rub the Nzu
on his arms then his
fore head.
It is our tradition
here not to neglect
A humble stranger in
our land.
We kiss suffering on
the lips, it harm us
not.
We measure our joy
with dance and
laughter.
pour the oil in the
calabash
Roast the yam and
break the kolanut,
Let the youngest
among us break and
share it.
Pour the dry gin on
the ground and bless
the gods
Our forefathers must
drink before we
taste ours
Angry will they be
if they taste not
the gin.
It is our tradition
here in Nkporoland.
The maiden must not
touch the raging
masquerade
Keep them afar off
from the here, let
them smell not of
it.
All the young men
must be present at
the Iza Afa festival
and then the young
women must not be
excluded from the
Igboto Nma festival
in the village
square.
When is the
initiation into the
masks spirit taken
place?
Warn all the young
men to partake, it
is our tradition
Never allow the she
goat deliver in
pain,
Go call the elders
to look after its
delivering.
The snake must never
be in group like the
beads
It is an abomination
not among the
tradition.
Gather the cowries
and the white chalk
and assemble the
youth in the shrine
Lets pour the goat
blood for the
sacrifices
The gos will hear us
this time after
We went astray from
it in foolishness.
Call on the widow
among us, i heard
there was one.
Her hair must be
Barbe thoroughly
She must bath and
drink the water used
on
Her deceased husband
bath.
The Umu Ada must be
there
It is the tradition
here.
Let the Umu Ada
check the maidens
Of their virginity
before they dance
Let them deep their
hands into the hole
One after the other
to check the fruits.
It is part of the
traditions.
The king must not
set his eyes on a
rotten
Shining meals which
are set for the
vultures.
Let not a child
whistles in the day
Let not a girl child
come out to the
Agbala naked
Under the initiation
in festival of
virginity.
We all must set the
tradition going
It is our right and
liberty to excel.
Neglect not the
wisdom of the elders
In his wisdom exist
pure and holy.
Our fore fathers
must be happy and
free
when we all observe
the traditions
Of Nkporoland in its
pure heart.
EYE of READINESS
-SUCCESS
"We were welcomed by the eagle, who dropped us on our rears, when we finally achieved success, in his eyes. Dropped us a parting tear."
EYE of ROARING TIGER
-BELLY DANCER
"We were welcomed by the cute baby unborn, who laughed and giggled when he saw us. He sought for our hand to hold."
EYE of DISCOVERY
-PARASITE
"We were welcomed by the black widow, who left us when she learned to bite. She seduced and warned of times times and half a time."
EYE of BEAVER
-REDWOOD TREE
"We were welcomed by the tall, strong, majestic tree, which taught us to make homes and bridges."
EYE of HORSE
-MOON SHADOW
"We were welcomed by the crescent moon, which watched over us, like a guardian angel. Did readings of our palms and our hearts."
EYE of FUTURE
-CRAFT
"We were welcomed by the iron-headed robot, who taught us to weld, and work hard at tasks. We were joined by the Dolphin who showed us playful craft."
EYE of ADVENTURE
-POLITICS
"We were welcomed by the lion, who led us into the forest. We laughed at the leopard, who played with us, and at the ostrich, who tried to eat us. The Penguin, who tried to lead us.The Lemur wanted to be King over us and be named Julian The BestOfUs."
EYE of SIX-LEAF SHEPHERD
-SKELETON
"We were welcomed by the hominid skeleton, who taught us how to hunt and eat. To fashion weapon and shield and have reverence for the sacrifice of love and the dead."
EYE of FLYING
-FARMER
"We were welcomed by the bean farmer, who taught us to work the earth. We laughed at the sheep, who told us about the moon."
Eye of Dress Code
-BUILDER
"We were welcomed by the stonemason, who taught us to shape stone into buildings. We laughed at the angles and the way the functionality meets the eye. Architectural refinery of the Fairy mind."
EYE of BEAUTIFUL MOUNTAIN
-WORD
"We were welcomed by the WORD of God, who told us all of these things. How to turn water into wine.
How to be drunk and merry in the living waters."
These verses, woven with passion and grace?,
evoking emotions, leaving souls in its entrace,
words that linger, like whispered wind, on fire.
Imprints left, in hearts, deeply pinned by desire.
Join my quest for fire,
for warmth and burn of principles-
Dire_
Eye of Dire Wolf
HEAVENLY CHOIR~
Contained within a simple poem, a few words could never describe my mother.
A child bride at seventeen; a city girl became a farmer's wife.
She never complained about tending the fields, one row after another.
My mom loved her new husband and her new way of life.
A mother at nineteen, thank goodness for my Aunt Chloe.
"No hospital for me," my young mother said. "I will not go!"
Delivered by my granny, I was told Mom kissed my head to show
she loved me though I'd caused her cries of pain and woe.
Cooking was not Mom's forte'. She burned so many meals,
but Dad loved her anyway for giving him two girls and a boy.
Times were often rough but to us it was not a big deal.
We were happy to be loved, a gift better than any game or toy.
Mom was always cheerful, except when we did something wrong.
A spanking was on the agenda, and we knew it was deserved.
A smack or two was all she delivered, then she sang us a song.
No lack of love did mom have for me, it was never reserved.
Farming was not an easy life...crops ruined by summer hail.
In just a few minutes everything was lost, but Mom wore a smile.
"Don't worry. It'll be okay. I'm getting a job delivering the mail."
She left early in the morning, walking to mail boxes mile after mile.
Bereaved as a widow, my mother cried softly upon my shoulder.
I gave her comfort as she did me for the loss of husband and dad.
Always close in times of need, I took care of Mom when I was older.
Hurricane Katrina took her house, but not the memories she had.
I moved away for several years but came home to visit in June.
Mom's hazel eyes reflected her love for me and the man I married.
Six months later, I sat on the porch gazing at the full moon.
My sister called, but her voice was sad. I knew why she tarried.
I knew what she couldn't put into words. Mom had passed away.
Oh, the agony of not being there... my tears fall as I write.
To my mom, the beautiful young wife and mother, I'd say,
I pray you knew how much I loved you...
A star fell from the sky tonight.
_______________________
December 25th, 2015
About My Mom Contest
Sponsor: Judy Konos
The Silence of War
Behind the Curtains of a church window
Men in Prayer, orchestrated by sweat and Lice
Find relief from snipers gaze
Beside the cross sits the last candle
Flickering precariously, searching for sanctuary from the wind
But the wick is near the end
And so are these men
The Harvest of War is almost in
For this is November 1918.
The German guns call like the song of the Siren
Irresistible, for only the dead will hear
New orders to cross the Sambre-Oise Canal
Another postcard for Historians to write.
Machine gunners scythe the ranks
Gone the Irish regiment, clover for the beast
I take shelter behind a splintered Oak Tree
Once magnificent, A survivor of Natures glory
Now a hideous spectre to man’s intervention.
I wait here with Wilf my captain
Waiting for death to find me
The mud beckoning for blood,
The Canal red like the River Sticks
A feed for tomorrows Newspaper.
A groan from wilf, his eyes start to dim
Fear brings the Lord’s Prayer to my lips
A last haven for my soul to cling
I watch his spirit fly away,
As the words fade from my voice
Like so many others on this day of carnage
Wilf, my friend, died November 4th 1918
Yet another contribution to this dark harvest,
Another soul for god to tender.
A statistic, a casualty of war,
To be remembered generically
A wreath to share with a multitude of lost darlings,
Another photograph to fade on the mantel piece
A piece of History for a grieving widow to dust
In the ranks of the dead
Angels count our losses
What dreams did we lose?
What voices were made silent?
What books were never written?
And how many tomorrows gone,
Lost in the darkness of death?
Under this oak tree, fading from memory
A soldier Wilfred Owen was taken too
Unspoken truth in unspoken poems
Silent to mortal’s ear
Another casualty of war
A feast of wisdom for angels to keep?
For His words were far too much,
for the hogs of war to stomach.
His poetry made silent by country’s shame,
Unpatriotic, not cricket old bean said the generals
Only now, through peace can we learn
The voice of one soldier,
How I pity humanity
For silence is a killer
Democracy, and justice its victim,
And the inevitable Silence of war will kill us all.
Footnote
On this day November 4th 1918, Wilfred Owen killed in action, Sambre-Oise Canal, 7 days from Sanity
One of England’s Finest War Poets.
Effortlessly now as we battle the darkest battle with those known as the greatest powers
The race is not won by the stronger or swifter, have you ever heard of the one who is called The Deliverer
God has handed the poor man a plot out of poverty, And He has heard the cry of the widow
And the young girl who cries out for vengeance, an Angel tells her, it is the Lord who fights your enemies
So before you come to This place swollen with pride and drunken on your plans for my future misery
Disguised is a blue ninja inside these pictured and captured memories
Defiantly freed for a lifetime and completely treating this as a matter of discretion
Undeserving of nothing, worthy friends are not really what I call my friends at all its unlikely
Because their boast of loyalty is like false fronts and I come up behind them and say why even comment
For it is your words that betray you and despite the lip service that you give me when you preach to me forgiveness
It is not my way to condemn you as judges do when they sentence you for the rest of your lifetime in hell
No I’m like come to a conclusion do away with your false views of me
Land on this solid ground step away from that place all they’ll do is sacrifice you to save themselves
A wrath has descended like storms of destruction the forces are darker than lights when they blackout
The forest is creeping with every creature that is pulled into a place of safety and hiding
Broken arrowheads poisoned with venom are crying out all I need now is a target
Sonic boom sound breaker is broken and long forgotten frozen and composed in music that throws it
Children here the voice of reason, Men are full of deceit and crafty because they are from the devil
Teachers please come and listen for you will teach well after you hear the voice of the Master
Beware! Take heed do not be greedy for a mans life is not consisted of material possessions
By your patience possess your souls, It is expedient that I leave you and go to be with the Father
Because then I will send you the Spirit of comfort and he will bring all these things into remembrance
Lo I am with you all the way to the ends of the earth, and be watchful because no one knows the hour
Not me nor the Angels in Heaven, that time is only known by the Father
And when I say Watch, WATCH! Because I come as a thief in the night!
At any rate, it was not quite a ‘history repeating itself event', but it was close. It was the same place and close to the same time but a different day, separated by nearly a year. Like then, I was watering, there was a spider. and there was a yard bug trapped in a spider’s web. However, unlike then, there would be no rescue by me of an entangled bug, but rather a large catch by the spider.
It was Saturday morning at 7:20 on the 4th of July, and the fireworks would not be blasting away for several hours. However, the yard bug in question would not be around to hear the sounds of patriotic celebrations on this holiday. It appears also that this time, I was just a bit late to hear the sounds of “Help me!”.
Walking out my front door to water the flowers, I bent over to turn on the water faucet and noticed a most interesting encounter. A Black Widow Spider had begun processing its food supply at the expense of a yard bug. The bug was trapped in the spider’s web, and there would be no getting away this time.
After observing this wildlife ritual for a minute or two, I went back into the house to fetch pen and paper to record what I saw. When I returned at 7:30 to continue my observation, I must say that I was surprised that the spider and the bug were nowhere to be found. Not being educated on the eating ways of spiders, I thought that the spider would consume its prey in the web. Apparently, she had a better location for storage and eating purposes.
As I thought upon this wild-life tale, I began to realize that the bug was only slightly smaller than the spider. This meant that there was enough bug food for several days. So the Black Widow was dismantling its prey from the web to tuck it away for future consumption. The big catch was sufficient enough supply for the whole Black Widow family.
I could not help but recall my similar observation of last August 18th, when I was able to rescue the bug from the trap of the spider. It could have been, but I doubt that it was the same bug. I think perhaps he would have been smarter than to return to the same danger zone. But who knows? However, I have every reason to believe that this was the same Black Widow, who this time, beat me to the bug.
07042015 PS Contest, At Any Rate, It Will Be Fast Moving, Julia Ward