Long Yips Poems
Long Yips Poems. Below are the most popular long Yips by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yips poems by poem length and keyword.
When all the wranglin' chores was done and the sun settled in the west,
The cowboys was lollin' about the campfire savorin' much needed rest.
From early dawn they'd branded dogies and herded cantankerous steers,
Now it was time to unwind, spin some bull and toss back some beers.
Fer supper they had the usual beef, spuds and beans as hard as stones,
Now they fired up their cigars, pipes and a few fellers lit roll-yer-owns.
A guy played melancholy tunes on his harmonica to calm the antsy herd,
And in the distance the yips and snarls of pesky coyotes could be heard.
They had fed and tethered their hosses and kicked off their boots,
And leaned back on their saddles - what a band of hell-raisin' galoots!
They spun tales of wimmen, whiskey, horses, gamblin' and such,
And took turns bad-mouthin' the trail boss who they didn't like very much!
Their slurred twaddle dwindled to a close and it was time to hit the hay,
Knowing that they had to rise early and face another saddle-sore day.
Usin' their saddles fer pillers they sprawled 'neath a big yeller moon,
Snorin', groanin' and breakin' wind, each emittin' a melodious tune!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Some modern folks, when they hear his name,
will roll their eyes and look ashamed,
thinking the cowboy is uncivilized,
with his hats, and guns, and round-up rides.
That somehow they are beyond the stuff,
to good for the wild, and the rough,
following some unwritten ‘elite’ law,
suppressing the urge to shout ‘yee-haw!’
But I think when it all is said and done,
cowboys are truly made of awesome…
Riding swift across the wide-open plains,
coat flapping behind like your horse’s mane,
maneuvering a large and panicked herd,
turning a stampede with iron nerves,
rough-hewn men cooking by the firelight,
coyote chorus yips through the night,
knowing that for all the wind and grit,
it sure beats sitting in an office.
A battered hat worth more than any pearl,
grabs the attention of the cowgirls,
boots that announce you in any room,
be you a mere hand, or fancy bride-groom.
Leather vests that dress up any shirt,
and somehow can even make fringe"work,
a bandana or a wild rag,
with a thousand uses, not a mere fad.
The tell-tale jangle comes from your spurs,
vast coat made out of buffalo fur.
Square-dance, line-dance, twirl a girl around,
to fiddle and steel guitar’s sound,
campfire songs to entertain the kids,
harmonicas to sing the blues with,
teaching the folks to throw a lasso,
then breaking out tricks with swirling rope.
Living life by a strong honor code,
one that good people would do well to know.
Wyatt Earp and his famous revenge ride,
Masterson cut Dodge City down to size,
Doc Holliday gambling with a death wish,
Billy the Kid, criminal, yet tragic,
Wild Bill holding those aces & eights,
and old Kit Carson, out blazing the way,
Buffalo Bill brought the people a dream,
and who can forget, the legend Bass Reeves?
A six-gun at ready, holster right side,
the lines of a Winchester, ever sublime.
Ranches that sprawl on mountain and prairie,
riding the trails where man can breath free,
rampaging rodeo, those guns are fun,
and damn can those barrel-racers run!
Living out of doors, by both skill and luck,
be it on a horse or a pick-up truck,
It’s clear that when all is said and done,
that cowboys are truly made of awesome.
It"s ten to one in the morning.
i"m lying in my bed.
I have so many men to kill
there buzzing round my head.
My thumb is sore and aches
and hurts each time i press,
but i got to kill those suckers
i"ll teach them not to mess.
The bedroom door bursts open.
My Mother storms inside.
I quickly pull up covers
and vainly try to hide.
What the hell is this?
Don"t you know the time?
Her voice explodes in fire
I mumble humble fine.
The room decends in darkness
silence reigns supreme.
I"m grounded for tomorrow
my Mother she is mean.
The next day at the table
my behaviour is discussed.
My Father nods his head
and says i am the worst.
A whole day without gameing
God my lifes the pits.
I"m sure i"ll die of boredom
I bet I get the yips.
But soon the day is over
it"s midnight in my room
I can"t resist temptation
to pick up and resume.
I switch on my Playstation.
and put it all on mute.
My Mum will never know.
I think i"m pretty cute.
But what the hell is this
i"ve been taken for a mug.
that bloody devious Mother.
she"s taken off the PLUG!
Almost always, as additional allurements arrive, ask as a Being...
By better borne behests become best Causes ?
Can causes create concise concepts Diligently ?
Do doers do decidedly dumb doldrums Ever ?
Each eek echoes egotistical efforts enduring Familiarity...
Faith fathers forgiveness for flaunting fabled Gifts.
Gasps give great grief, growing gruesome Hatreds...
Hasn't humanity had hurt hearts hung Innocently ?
Is insistence in increasing irritation inevitably incongruous Justice ?
Jimson jars...jitters...joggles...jolts...just jocose jurisprudence' Knell.
Kerfuffle kin, kickshaw kept ken, kindly knaves kneading Lamentations...
Leaving love's loaves, lordly lotharios, looking like lowlifes Made.
Marking more madmen mere moronic monsters meting mayhem Nearby.
Now, not never, nab needed nerves, nurture nasturtium near Openness !
Once only one, ordained our ostracism, outrage outdone on overwrought Plight.
Perhaps pride precludes passable patience, posing portentous prolapse Quickly !
Quiet quandaries, quarrelsome qualms, quivering quixotic quirks Resplendent...
Reaching relapse, revolving recidivism, reconstructed reflective reform Seen !
Searching secretive states, seemingly simple, sincere serenity sought Through...
Tender tears, touching together to total tympanic transformation Unjust.
Unique union...unimportant, unbending, unpopular, unless universal Veracity !
Verbose verbalism, vertical vignettes verify vital victory Won.
When written with wit...watershed words work wonderful Xerography !
Xyloid xylography, xeroxed xeno X, Yet...
Yesterday's youth, yowled yummy young yips Zanily !
Zeitgeist, zombie zealots zapping zonked zingers...Away !!
Amazing antiquated alluring alligators
Bending ballistic beyond belief barbells
Crushing curious crimson crucial crocodiles
Delighting dark dank daring darling dwarfs
Enormous eager elegant elephants equally excited
Feeling frisky, ferocious, fervently, fanatically fine.
Green gators goading gregarious grievous gargoyles
Hyped up hungry hippos happily hurrying and heading
Into illustrious inlets, ignoring ignorant iguanas.
Jealous jumping jaguars juggle jagged jade jewels,
Kosher kicking kangaroos kill koalas with kindness
Laughing loons languish luxuriously and lightly
Meaningful monkey mascots masticate meaty meatballs
Nevertheless, nefarious needle noses nest in the north.
Opportune opportunists ostracize osprey and ostriches.
Pathetic purple porpoises propose to propel pouting princess.
Queen quickly and querulously questions this
Respectful, responsible, roughnecks readily respond rapidly.
Sadly sensuous swallowtails sing seriously and solemnly.
Taking terrific tubs of time to think
Understanding unilateral Unitarianism
Verifying various variegated varmints who vegetate
While willing whales wish worm water would wander away.
Xavier's ‘Xacting ‘xpecting ‘xtra ‘xams
Young youthful yellow yaps and yips
Zing zanily and zestily into this zealous zebra zoo.
Surreal Nature
Rural Oklahoma: Cool autumn night on the front porch, thoughts and opinions about poetry and painting shared with a dear friend over wine and water. Poetry is sacred she said, and painting is my inner life. Painting was once my wild mind, I replied, but poetry’s now my amateur art.
moon’s half-darkness...
shy in its suit of light
shadows of pines
Three “yips,” almost unnoticed. Coyotes she said, tricksters in authentic guise playing their night games. A cow’s bawl close by, in a moment silenced by a contrapuntal victory chorus, soprano and tenor voices singing to the darkness in celebration of success – a kill.
moon behind clouds
balance... the meaning of
beauty & death
Written 10.08.2013
So a lifetime went by
watching the silver screen
or just hanging about in the foyer
waiting for the right movie to start,
or fooling around on the back row
groping thrilling morsels of joy,
and all the time
denying God, or forgetting God,
or just running away
into more interesting distractions.
Then the moving pictures burn out,
there’s a big singed hole
in the static film slide,
it’s then that you realize that the whole time
you have been the only projector in town.
The cinema has changed over the years,
new digital ways to up
but still, it has always been about you.
‘O God’ you exclaim – ‘it’s all over.’
You beg some omnipresent force
you never paid much attention to
for forgiveness and grace,
then a voice in the emptying theater
of your darkening brain
say’s -- Sure.
Angels appear at various exit doors,
they have flashlights
you are handed a pass, a card which reads:-
‘Go to the light, it’s the second door to the right.’
some of the befuddled audience
exit through the wrong door
and get lost in another movie plot,
but you (by chance) go through the right door.
On the other side
people you once knew cheer,
some old friends of yours
good naturedly jeer.
The dead dog you once
had to put down
yips happily, then pisses
on your leg.
She was calm, collected, majestic and silent as the pups approached her.
Secretly howling her truth but only mystically, in the ethereals,
where other packs could not hear or sense her presence
Faerie-land majesties had cautioned her to not reveal her
alpha sky powers, unless she wanted to share them with her
fellow earth wolves.
She studied the young pups poised before her.
There was a magical thread of desire linking them.
You may mate for life, she said.
As she agreed to the pact, the couple saw purple and
lavender jeweled wings and a jeweled mask for a brief
second.
They gratefully gave a couple of happy yips, and turned
to leave, knowing they would never be the same
having met the prophecy’s she wolf, pure white.
as told in the ancient myths.
Scrambling through the bramble bushes of life
I wonder what is my mission?
Who has the answer? Is it in the cosmos? I look up and smile.
The stars wink at me, holding their own secrets.
My soul is on mute tonight. The silence is wonderful.
A little breeze lifts the edge of my hair. Life is good.
My ideas and ideals are sound.
The only thing I need to do is enjoy this summer’s eve.
Whoo Whoo Whoo A hoot owl honors me with his notes.
In these woods there is no way to figure out his direction.
Coyotes have caught something. They begin yipping excitedly.
I imagine a bunny is being surrounded. Poor bunny.
A whiff of lilac teases my heart. I am so glad I planted that bush.
There is enough star light to take a bit of a walk. I stay on my own land.
The clearing part, not the trees which hide the predators.
The dog runs off, toward the sound of the yips, brave as always.
A lifetime goes by
just hanging about in the foyer
waiting for the right movie to start.
Then you realize
you have been the only theater in town.
Inside your play within a play
angels appear at various exit doors,
they have flashlights
you are handed a card which reads:-
‘Go to the light,
it’s the second door on the right.’
You go through the that door.
On the other side
people you once knew cheer,
some old friends of yours
that died upon a different stage
good naturedly jeer.
The dead dog you once
had to put down
yips happily, then pee's
on your leg.
The whole gang of you
once more
go to the movies.