Long Wrestling Poems
Long Wrestling Poems. Below are the most popular long Wrestling by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wrestling poems by poem length and keyword.
We knew he was coming
He returned his invite with
a will show. We knew that
Someone with interest in
him would likely try to coax
him over in public.We just didn't
know who; we were told a man
firmly known as blank, was looking
to start his own stable or a league
of guys who were goal oreinted and
team players. He had trainers and
Management ready to start his own
Team almost accompany full of
Individuals. He said he talked both
To interior and exterior athletes who
Knew what Championship fabric was
made of. Ah buzz we can say.Some thing
specail others would speak. Whispered
Into rumor until this night.When the call
came in we hunched. When the moment
came, just like you we were in awe! When
It happened we got the people on the phone.
It didn't take long. Before executive producers
could get out the theme song. Before any
interview was cut. A man and his manager
shocked the world. Ladies and Gentlemen
If you got a hat, hold on to it! If you have prior
Obligations set the machine to record. Fans of
the sport be ready to be amazed. Legends of
the game, take heed, what's next is wrestling at
it's best. You'll become grandpa and grandma his one
will still be on your list!
" LAKESIDE" LAUN NIOSES AND " BIG KNUCKLE" TRYST HESSLER
WERE VICTORIUS IN A TAG BOUT AGAINST
GALBITRON TU M'AIMES AND " THE spotLIGHT" BRENT SPINNER
A SCIENTIFIC CLASSIC SAW
" THE WORLDS FINEST" JEFFREY GRANT
VERSES
RINGO " BLACK WASP" STUBBLE
using a depths grapevine figure four
(standing version) stubble made grant
call for the bell at 16;45 ending Grants
never- submitted streak!
three corner " take-on"
" MY wIFE FREIND" cRAWLIN mOSSINSINGER
AND " CRAZY MAN" SAUCEY LAPIN
verses
" THE SHUDDER RUG'S DANCER" DRED CAULDRON,
" MAIN-MAN" RUDY SAYSOO
verses
"SWEETY" PAWL SCULLY
in a three cornered brawl, were two teams verses one man ( the giant "sweety pawl scully
defeated both teams after scoring pinfalls against mossinsinger
and cauldron, this put's him into title contention.
"Daryl's Devil" Frank Rizzo and Daryl " moneyclip" Sawyer
outwrestled "THE CUDDLEDOG DOLLS" SPIKE AND GNAWS
USING "AN ON HIGH TOP FADE" CLOTHESLINE
TO SCORE THE VICTORY.
"DREAM LYRIC" LANNY LOUFFER-DAME MADE QUICK WORK OF
" BIG SKY " DOPPLER MC DIFFADULT WINNING VIA COUNT OUT
KEEPING "THE COVANT CROWN OF THORNES" CHAMPIONSHIP
"DINGY" DANNYBOY PICKETT
WRESTLED THE GRINDSTONE GIGGLER
TO A 14 MINUTE DRAW.
AFTER THE BOUT "THE GRINDSTONE GIGGLER"
WAS UNMASKED. iT CAUSED A MEMBER OF
THE WORLD LEAGUE WRESTLING PROMOTION
TO PROTEST THE OFFICAILS DECISION,
THE CHALLENGE BOUGHT TWELVE MEN INTO THE RING
IT INTERUPPED THE SHOW FOR TWENTY MINUTES.
AFTER THE SHOW WE FOUND OUT THAT PART OF
THE JOINT VENTURE BETWEEN
WORLD LEAGUE WRESTLING AND CANADIAN WORLD CLASS
WERE CONTRACTED TO NOT ALLOW EITHER ORGANIZATION WRESTLERS TO UNMASK OR REMOVE FACE-PAINT
OF ANY WRESTLER.
IT HAPPENS THE GUY WHO WRESTLED AS
" THE GRINDSTONE GIGGLER, WAS THE
CANADAIN NATION CHAMPION
WHO HAD NOT HAMMERED OUT A DEAL TO WRESTLE AS
CHAMPION.
BY UNMASKING THE GIGGLER: PICKET EXPOSED THE CONTROVERY
THAT THE OFFICAILS SOUGHT TO KEEP QUEIT.
stay tuned for updates on this dilmma.
I lay my head down to sleep to the calm and peaceful sound of music flowing through the thick trees cruising from the subdivision below my dwelling.The rhythmic sounds of crickets and frogs composed a beautiful sympony and spawned a strange unfamiliar song that lay motionless on my ear, forcing me to absorb the quiet scent of the night and fall asleep without fear.In the dead heat of the night something thrust me from my bed and I found myself in the tumult of everyday life wrestling with the bearded probe again .I discovered my truck in a parking lot with bright white paint applied to the side. A sheet of paper lays flat in the windscreen bearing a name and number "Why should someone paint my truck in white", I muttered silently to myself.This strange happening propelled me to anxiously called the number.A high pitched voice woman answered the phone and gave me directions to find her. I drove endlessly humming a tune until I ended up on the other side of town. As tacky as it seemed and as gloomy as it appeared I entered the place without fear. I parked outside an unpaved parking lot and entered a tall gigantic apartment building and walked up the stairs. Suddenly two young women met me half way and told me that they would take me to the person who painted my truck .All three of us ventured down the stairs and pounced upon a confused crowd of people walking aimlessly up and down the streets while motor vehicles sprawled out everywhere.We hurriedly walked passed a depot and saw hard working men dressed in military suits standing next to barbed wire fences loading people urgently into trucks.They were recruiting barbers and people with skills to join them while screaming and shouting as if they were on the auction block. Many people boarded the truck but we shoved our way through the crowd until we reached a crowded market. The two young woman suddenly disappeared and left me alone standing there.I searched for my truck but I could not find it.Dawn brought the night's fury to an end and I was relieved to be back to reality again.
©2014 Christine Phillips
I've ventured far from Indiana, the home soil of my birth,
To many exotic and exciting places all about this earth.
I've seen majestic Mount Fuji from the Kanto Plain of Tokyo.
But I'd rather marvel at Pikes Peak right here in Colorado!
I've traveled the rugged Khyber Pass in ancient Pakistan,
And saw sumo wrestling and cherry blossoms in Japan.
The alabaster city of Casablanca I've visited in Morocco,
But I'd rather tour old ghost towns right here in Colorado!
Magnificent Mount Vesuvius I've seen across Naples Bay.
In Holland I've seen windmills and tulips in vast display.
I've seen the swallows returning to San Juan Capistrano.
'Tis more thrilling to see eagles soar the pristine skies of Colorado!
In Bermuda I've lolled upon the beaches of pink sand,
And have viewed the towering Alps of Switzerland.
Mayan ruins I've scampered over in Old Mexico,
But I'd rather explore the ruins of Mesa Verde in Colorado!
I've climbed the Tower of Pisa rewarded with a view divine,
And visited the quaint Principality of Liechtenstein.
Some folks strive for a lifetime seeking their El Dorado.
I've found mine right here in Colorful Colorado!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 4 Tracie's " Where in the World..." Contest - Dec 2011
I am standing on the Premis of time watching the year as it lingers on, I have a mission to complete and the whole village is rushing to feet; something magnetic is burning inside and I cannot contain the energy that is running through my vein sometimes it is driving me insane, and I am feeling the pain.
Take my diary to me and set up a table by sea, bring me a comfortable chair and fill my glass with natural juice and invite my friend to play the flute and evoke the memory of my youth.
I have some things planted in my gut to unravel and I believe it is the reason for my trouble, time has come and gone and I am still battling with something that is stronger that my will, it is the part of me that I cannot see, but it often come alive when I hang out by the sea with family friends and company.
Oh, mother of the sea, come and minister to my dignity.
Oh, mother of the, sea time is wrestling with me so come and change the tune and walk with me by the sea at noon, I’ve got to go where love abide, for the universe to walk by my side.
The Universe will destroy the curse and build a castle on top of the hill where I can live and the air with its salty smell will expel the demons back to the pit of hell and knock the conquering foe on the floor and chase him straight the door; oh mother of the sea I am waiting patiently for thee so make haste to come and see me.
I woke up this morning in a good frame, but this unfinished business keeps messing with my mind, it keeps pulling me down and at time I feel as if I am on the run, I have got to have something profound to do before the ceiling falls through the roof for there is nothing else to prove,
I wanted to go out with a big bang with my supporters, friends, families and employees singing a familiar song. If I have to go before the time, you have to give me what is rightfully mine and throw a party in each state for the rich, middle class and the poor with lots of food to eat to and celebrations all over the street.
I am standing on the premise of time, and I will get what is rightfully mine, love is my final destiny, and I am happy, but I am not done yet.
Place my diary on the bookshelf.
Jackie who was permanently stuck in the twos after
a childhood vaccine that was due..
Larry's addiction and prior crimes that led to his
affliction and wheel chair confine.
Bill who struggled with his c.p., only hoping that
others could see beyond his disability..
Joe whose institutional blows caused stuttering,
frustration and angry explodes..
Carol whose Asperger's left her obsessed compulsively
dialing strangers on her ex boyfriend quest..
George who got an inner thrill by chasing trash trucks
until they turned on the hill..
Phil who in public would stop and beg to touch the
calf of a woman's leg..
Barbara with her theatrical flare who craved full attention
every where..
Howard who lost his serenity when any change occured
in his vicinity..
James and his life long obsession with Marlboro lights
and fake wrestling..
Our society labels them developmentally delayed but
many were the best friends I've ever made..
I believe I may be Artificially Intelligent
For many of my lessons were taught by fools
Y’know, those pencil pushing test correctors
The teachers in all the schools
They gave us tests to ascertain
The truth of what they knew
That we’d complain about a D
On assignments over due
Taught us to write sentences
A task that seemed so dire
We went to sleep wrestling with
A dangling modifier
Teachers in the science lab
Their eyes slightly askew
Kept a clear path to the door
Never knowing what we’d do
Yet as it seems with all success
Like the day I hit a homer
I got to wear a funny hat
And pick up a Diploma
Thus, when they say: “must be AI”
I flash upon the past
Knowing that the “algorithm”
Would be tossed right out of class.
INSPIRED BY “SCENTED LEAVES” CONTEST SPONSPORED BY KIM RODRIGUES
Aromatic avenues with the scent of your perfume
Lingering on each leaf you grace with your presence
Those delicate feet treading the petalled pathways of his heart
Enticing a new spring in the Autumn of his life
Autumn
A cold bleak reminder of the rains that are still yet to fall
And yet, he sees the smile that your soul wears just for him
And the seeds are sown in the depths of his heart
A heart that he thought no longer beat
A heart that he no longer wanted to beat
Because a beating heart can bleed
Faster
Harder
Making him weak
He is a man
He cannot afford to be weak
He must be strong
He must prepare for torrential downpours
He must retain his shelter
His armour
He must not wear a smile for you
“He will not!” he tells himself.
Yet somehow those scented leaves make him forget himself
And it’s Spring again
And he dons a secret smile
You intoxicate his senses and he wants to indulge in you more
He needs you. Craves you.
He loves it
He hates it
He no longer knows what to feel
Trapped
His tortured pragmatic mind
Wrestling with a drunken heart
Wanting to be loved
Afraid of what will become of him
If love walks away
So, he aspires to become love
That way he gets to be the one to walk away
He will love you a little
And discard of you a lot
He will maintain control
Control of himself
Control of his fears
At least
That is what he thinks
YOU
With the look of adventure in your crystal blue eyes
And your aromatic fragrance of freedom
Wafting, as you inhabit all who inhale your inner beauty
It’s a scent that lingers
You are that scent
The smell of what could have been
He will forever wear it
Carry it in his heart
Or his mind –
Whichever wins at the end of each dreary day
Now Autumn is not just a reminder of death
Of life
It is a reminder of death
Of love
Still those aromatic avenues are filled with the scent of your perfume
Lingering on each leaf you once graced with your presence
Those indelicate feet trampling the putrid pathways of his hardened heart
Enticing a new harsher winter in the awful Autumn of his lonely life
Midnight Aurora
November 12th 2019
Set for life are the memories family times can engrave.
I hoped for functional behaviors our heart’s could sustain.
Racing, zoom-zoom, noises broadcast from my husband's cave
Where motorcycle races and noises always entertain.
Viewing wrestling on his bedroom TV is our offspring's fave.
He emotes enough excitement to possibly overstrain.
I nest in our living room with all edibles I might crave
And watch dramas that aid my reality escape campaign.
Apart, we watch TV warmly united in love's blessed wave.
By yelling through the house we keep togetherness in our domain.
One Word…
>>>IS>>>
Poetry…is…
Wears the words of smiles and tears,
And speaks of stumbling through graveyards
And up the aisles to ancient altars;
Falling off of sidewalks and through the cracks of life
Then rising up to stargaze from thin lines;
Tripping over can’t and could have,
Butting heads with treasured idols;
Tracking sticky mud across the new waxed
Marble floor of the soul –
Scratching graffiti on the walls of the heart
Or gently laying kisses on fresh jagged wounds –
Carrying baggage filled with
Stones of calendar pages;
Chanting loudly of sunrise and sunset,
Blending crystal snow with newborn leaves;
Escaping clutches of midnight marauders
Embracing the fairness of rose and mauve;
Ignorance ignored screaming,
Scrapping tender knees and elbows on pebbled concrete,
Painting chaos – weaving breaths – unclogging drains –
Knitting together quietness in blooms of Claire de lune.
Poetry…Is…
Wears the words of frowns and grins
And tells of fat ducklings waddling through spring;
Wrapping scars in isolation,
Discarding blindness
In ancient hearts and newborn souls
And all the in between;
Cleaning closets stuffed to overflowing
With emptiness;
Running with ambivalence,
Looking into the eyes of the unresolved,
Fighting wrinkles or teetering on high heels –
Tuxedos rushing by the tattered,
Ragged holding hands with
Fire dancers balancing upon tight ropes –
Drinking fully from a trough
Of clearest spirits, giving up thirst,
Then wrestling with the fevers
Of inspiration through witness eyes,
Shouting across the centuries in baritone and soprano,
Reaching out and gathering in – juggling balls and overflowing plates.
The very marrow and the core,
The words of a poet yesterday – “Pretty, hell, poetry is…life.” Robert Penn Warren – June 1986