Long Yowl Poems
Long Yowl Poems. Below are the most popular long Yowl by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Yowl poems by poem length and keyword.
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on.
Lost the fire in my belly but I still log on.
Working hard every day, dreaming to be free,
But can’t afford it in this economy.
Slaving in a sweat shop singing the blues,
Ain’t got time for a Caribbean cruise.
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on,
Wondering where all my freedom has gone.
The price of eggs has me crying foul,
But Uncle Sam turns a deaf ear when I yowl.
Where O where have my tax dollars gone?
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on.
Seems so strange to spend on climate change,
When me and my friends got no pocket change.
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on.
Will freedom be taxed until it's all gone?
Got a raise last week and was feeling good,
Until a gang burnt up my neighborhood.
Fentanyl is killing and our borders long gone.
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on.
Got a raise last week and was feeling good,
Until a peaceful gang burned my neighborhood.
I wanna retire but I’m barely hanging on.
Barely…, barely…, barely,
…Hanging…
on
It was warm in the yurt; the desert was unyieldingly hot.
There was the slight scent of ylanylang, it was sweet.
The guy wearing the yarmulke had a captive audience
He was yacking to the point of yammering, I could barely watch.
Yack Yack Yack Yammer Yammer Yammer
How could these other guys stand it?
He was giving them his lowdown on the festival of Yule.
They yield the floor to him, which was insanity.
I know him well, and he has never attended such a festival.
Someone walked in carrying a tray of food including one yam.
That yam is mine! I yelled with a yowl.
I had not meant this as a yawp, but it came out that way.
I yearned to get out of this yurt, but the show was not over yet.
My cousin was stroking the back of an old man with yellow hair.
A youngster came over to me and asked for a bite of my yam.
I stared him down; I do not even like children; they have no place here.
This is for men, not babies.
Yum! I said. This is super delicious.
The youngster shrugged and waked off, seeming not to care.
Yesterday I might have been a bit more generous, but today I am angry.
I got talked into this gathering, and I knew it would be the Jerome show.
It is always the Jerome show when my cousin is about.
I yearn for the end of this craziness.
I want to go home and be me again.
Thankfully, another Fourth of July has come and went,
Providing a day for folks to celebrate to their hearts content!
Its good that a day is set aside to honor the birth of our nation,
To enjoy parades, hot dogs, hamburgers and a tad of libation.
All of this is well and good yet I have a genuine complaint!
Why can't obnoxious neighbors use a modicum of restraint,
When setting off their fireworks all up and down the street?
It sounds as if world war three has begun as each of them compete!
Adding to the din is the howling of dozens of neighborhood curs.
Even my cat gets upset and starts to yowl when this occurs!
Fireworks vendors swarmed into town by the legion;
Mercifully, they've folded their tents and left the region!
Now, maybe I can get some much needed sleep 'til next July,
When all hell breaks loose again and on that you can rely!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Car gliding gently, whirling down
Mountain engine idling fine
Tall pines flying in circles
Going on for a circumnavigatingly long time
Around the world, no houses
Around the trees, no world
Buzzcut for a boy
Frizz for a girl
Reaching the highway
Open your mouth
To the north and south sierra mountains
Grey and jagged brown
Up and down a heartbeat trace
Across the curve of the world
Right at the gas station, water bottles rattle
The road a narrow vein on the dusty ochre desert skin
Lean with your elbow out till you’re halfway down the globe
Till the car door’s on fire and you can’t take any more
Time to not think about anything
To feel the humming engine’s spirit lift
Chassis growing wings out wide and tyres thrusting wanting air
And, suddenly you’re up there, legs as light as oxygen
Heart pounding, face beaming, spirit going up up
Body begging to come down down
Mouth not knowing whether to be open or shut
Back gently to earth
Turn off to Joshua Tree's dusty ribbon highway
Desert swelling of the mind
Dead reckoning of the blind holy hills
The way they sway rocks in the red in the heat
And the gravel with the chirp and play
Of the desert insect sea
And the sun falls so quick
Once white now dark the world glows deep
With colours rose and mint
Put up the tent
My girlfriend and me
Hear the first coyotes yowl
I get a flashlight and go to the trunk
See a hairy limb in the side of the beam
Flip round see a tarantula crawl towards my feet
Torch turns to check around and see a hundred other
Feeling fingers, fur and fangs
Twitching, marching, swarming from the rocks
Go back to the tent
And zip that mother up, check the flap
What’s up? says my girlfriend. Everything ok?
Oh, yeah, I say, just making sure no mosquitos get in
I’ll get my toothbrush, she says
No, don’t go out, darling, I say.
Let's do that in the morning.
October’s Finale
October sets the stage for ghostly goblins – frost on pumpkins;
Black cats yowl on top of fences arching, upstage the moonlight;
Floating apparitions of wraiths soliloquies in mid-flight fright;
Full moons cast eerie – shadows lost in howling ghost light winds.
Echoes of shame like bare skeleton bones, rattle in chains
Specters of spirits roam through crumbling haunted castles
Ghost trains run again then again, over broken gobo trestles
Spooky whispers of forgotten lines in hair raising rains!
A possessed chorus line of leering pumpkins faces night
Tells a hair raising tale of a roaming headless horseman
Breaking through fourth walls to ride in a spine tingling plan
From the wings on a dark and stormy Halloween midnight
Howling hounds wake vampires who escape from coffins –
Hide from mirrors cloaked backstage with no reflection
Bubbling cauldrons cook creepy spells upon prop inspections
While spirits serenade in ad-lib on stringless mandolins.
Brittle headstones speak in lines of green lichen slime
Whispers blow out flickering lime lights of lantern candles
Graveyards draped in flowing scenes of cobweb handles
Heartbeats pound in monologues behind a scrim of fleeing time.
Haunted theater creaks with unseen footsteps mystery -
A playhouse podium for phantom encores - blocking bows -
Until twelve bells closes shut this deathly stage door somehow -
For November’s morning review that laughs at death’s lost victory.
All Hallows Eve call time when spirit sightings seem to occur -
Screeches of everlasting doom run rampant in audition -
Find their final curtain ringing down on their perdition,
Eternal life, the blessing seen, in the finale of October.
10-5-20
Contest: October
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
across the dark lake a rusty blade waited in the cold wet grass
two copperhead snakes slithered past each with a secret task
a frog hopped by on his way to get eaten by the snakes
the blade giggled a bit as the frog was devoured by the big one
the other snake slithered off, looking for something tasty.
rusty blade could relate, he was ready to take a bite of something himself.
He had tasted potatoes, carrots, steak, pork, and now fish.
There was nothing that he did not like to carve into
something small but fast rushes toward the blade, what is that?
rusty blade regrets that no one ever shared an encyclopedia with him
He had no name for the object, but he still wanted a taste.
He sliced into its leg, and heard a loud horrible yowl. He loved that!
Lately, I have been a-thinkin',
About President Abraham Lincoln,
And about the witty sayings he told,
Quotes for the ages that shall ne'er grow old!
Some I've slightly paraphrased,
And others I've left unscathed.
"No matter how much cats yowl and fight,
There always seem to be plenty of kittens alright!"
"If this is coffee, please bring me some tea,
But if this is tea, bring me some coffee, I plea!"
"I like to see a man preach as if he's fighting bees,
Bringing wayward miscreants to their knees!"
"If I were two-faced, would I be wearing this one?
I think not when all is said and done!"
"Marriage is neither heaven or hell, 'tis said;
'Tis more akin to purgatory instead!"
"General McClellan, if you are not using the army now,
I would like to borrow it if you would please allow!"
"I can make more army generals, you see,
But horses cost money and that is of concern to me!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2015 All Rights Reserved
In the jaundiced light of the pock-marked moon,
Nevada nights many strange visions have seen
But few match spring time rapidly rutting rabbits
Racing and romping in moonlight madness;
Frolicking free in a sagebrush sea
Amidst white-crested mountain waves;
While whirlwinds swirl and in playas play
One hundred and forty fathoms deeper
Than luna-limned beach strands of dry lake shores.
Bobcats lurk in the moonbeam shadowed deeps,
Eager to feast on the bounding banquet
Of loco late-night leaping lepuses.
Madling moonshine swilling drivers pop a
Fair share of raw rabbits upon their grills
As coyotes yowl over missed moonglow kills.
Night undresses the city
her warts and gaping wounds
the stench of her river of stale urine…
Swollen feet wrapped
in rags of sweat and onion
pretending to make a living
in the cathedral of no communion
of pimps and whores who prowl
the very streets where
slick suits of daylight
whored just hours before
of alleycats and strays
who dare not yowl
or claw
by light of day …
Darkness, too, innocent love sequesters
~ one back-alley stairway up
from child molesters
A peaceful dawn in a verdant rainforest
Stretching and lowering their head submissively
Two tiger cubs in a fun frolic play and kittens yowl
Actively under trees, limbs, and leaf brushes passivity
Hugs, scratches, bites, and tiger growls
Along comes a black heart face gibbon
Swinging from branch to branch in high-speed
No tail, arms as long as his body like ribbons
Teasing he joins in “You can’t catch me! Yes indeed!”
Swinging from branch to branch in high- speed
Reaching for the cubs as fast as he could
He pulls their ears and pulls their tail to take heed
Can't seem to get enough of play since he began
The cubs jump and stretch and extended their claws
With all their efforts falling back to the ground with no avail
They suck and draw breath playing hide-seek to get their jaws
on the gibbon. From behind, the gibbon stood on the ground
and pulled their tails
They turned and chased as fast as they could and failed
Worn out conveying a lack of interest they walked away
Swinging from branch to branch in high-speed he stopped and inhaled,
“Where are you going? He wailed.
I’m not done playing?
Come back to play another day. “
3/13/2020
9/9/2016 added top line