It seems an eternity, waiting
for the cows to come home.
They never will, and so why
do I wait so long to take a hard look at myself?
Mirrored reflections caught in the bourbon glass,
fractured and foggy.
We drank more than our share last night,
and my memory fell down the stairs,
rolling with the bottles,
bruised,
yet always out of reach,
a blue moon waning in the distance.
The 1960s hover,
phantoms of a past we romanticize,
awaiting their return as if
a forgotten song might suddenly play,
but we can never go back,
to flower power,
to protests in the park,
to nights where anything seemed possible.
Lost in the haze of our youth.
I await their return other things,
like an old friend who swore to come back,
but never did.
Promises dissolving ithinvair,
like smoke rings we blew into the night sky.
And here I stand,
waiting,
for the cows that never come home,
for the past that never repeats,
for the moment I finally look,
deep into my own eyes,
and see not what was,
but what is,
and what might be.
I've said it once
And I will say it again
That girls have always been a mystery
They are like buses
That won't come
Then suddenly you get three
They look so pretty
And very hard to resist
The prettier the girl
The sweeter is the kiss
It was like some mating ritual
They have things us boys don’t have
They hang around in gangs giggling
Always wondered what they kept in their handbags
That they danced around on the floor
To catch your eye
But I never threw it
Although I used to try
When I got married
I tried to find a map
And read a manual too
Did Mum and Dad
Really do that?
Well I never thought it but must be true
Because babies down come from nowhere
And I have three blisters too.
Whenever they have a problem
And don’t know what to do
They ask you
And end up doing
The opposite
You can tell them till the cows come home
And until your face turns blue
Above all, they deserve attention and respect
That’s if you have a tame one
And they don’t leave you in debt.
Peter Dome©2024.
I would rather meet the monstrous
In the cold clear light of day
Than in some dark alley in
A nightmare scape
That's all I got to say
For if fears are denied
till the cows come home
It won't delay milking time
It only festers
till it has to break through
And beautiful repose begrime
Like a boioioil (This nonsensical line courtesy of my brother)He says your welcome.
Smell the sweet and salty air
Roam the wide beach without a care
Walk ankle deep in the ocean's cooling foam
Dig in the sand till the cows come home
For the fleeting moments spent in this magical place
Forget the outside world and its fanatic pace
Be a child once more, let your mind roam free
See life not as it is but as it could be
We live but once and time is a but a fleeting friend
So cherish this time from glorious beginning till end
Have you ever done something till the cows come home
A thing comes to mind immediately, involves many moans
What are YOU thinking
Methinks I have an inkling
It involves two torsos and ignoring your iPhones
the only thing these days i do
is watch my reflection in a junkies spoon
turning away before i go too deep
yet crawling back as hell's urge hits me
i've watched more friends come and go
living fast while dying slow
waiting for the monkey on my back
to draw the last card from out my deck
i've bought this farm for milking blood
just so i will have enough
where i'll do it till the cows come home
or at least until i'm dead and gone
a partial shadow follows me
being only half the man i used to be
where the only thing these days i do
is watch my reflection in a junkies spoon
The heroin epidemic is so out of control these days,
my prayers go out to those and the family of those caught up in this hell.
May God have mercy on their souls...
There's no way to make this world a better place
'Cause there's a sickness that infects the human race
So I sit here on my porch and let it go
For they just killed Jesus, don't you know
The cops want a power that's supreme
Justice in this land is just a dream
Being poor is the only crime I know
'Cause if your rich they have to let you go
I'm thinking there's just to many laws
Most of which I'm sure you'll find a flaw
If someone came along, to stand for good
They would kill him as fast as they could
The Constitution's just a fairy tale
Without a charge, you could land in jail
They can torture you 'till the cows come home
That's what happens when you live in modern Rome
JADE
by Rosemarie Rowley
I knew you fainthearted what side you were on
When you talked of social reality: not Jesus at the well
With the Samaritan woman, or the invisible loss of power
Which halts her speech and causes His deference
Holding her in trust for what she is.
You can talk of rural communes in China
Till the cows come home – leading them will be a girl
Bearing a key-ring and a dead black raven.
Your ways are sweet indeed, nectar and honey
And vinegar to end it all: you’d let all the
Wells in the world run dry for a principle
And proudly show us the papier-mache women who survived,
Embalmed with bitter hope and urgent salvation,
To tell the tale on electro-magnetic tape.
Well the cows came home
And now I don’t know what to do
Because I have been waiting for them
I thought something magical would happen
But they just kind of sauntered up (only the way a cow can do)
And stood there and mooed.
At first I was dumbstruck
But then I decided to dance
For I had heard from a friend they liked to watch people dance
But I got the same dumbfounded looks from the whole herd
What next…drum solo…of course they would love that
I could see them all swaying and holding lighters in the air
But alas again no fireworks nothing.
So I went to the barn and they all followed me (kind of spooky)
And I got out some hay and spread it around
And they began to eat
So was that why they came home?
I always heard the old timers say “Till the cows come home.”
I just never thought it would be so dang boring.
I think next time I’ll just go see a movie and not wait for them.
It's a brand new day that lies ahead
Fame and fortune or heartaches instead
Each new day, it remains to be seen
Happy or sad or a place in between
You can't just leave it to fate every day
Your approach is key, you do have a say
The same old story bout good versus evil
Bout ying and yang, calm or upheaval
No one's mastered this up and down stuff
We try our best so that's surely enough
What more can we do, just smile and say
We're happy as all get out every damn day
Heard it a lot but it's still true as ever
Your approach is key, it's how we measure
So as I proclaimed at the start of this poem
Just plug away till the cows come home!
© Jack Ellison 2013
When it comes to being romantic
The French have it cut and dried
When they whisper je t'aime
You feel so good inside
The italians are no slouch
When its their turn to say
Cara mia, ti voglio bene
It turns my body to clay
When it comes to romance
We in Wales have a lovely word
We say darling "cariad" i love you
Rwy'n dy garu di, is what you hear
Now you Norwegians
The words sound a bit flexy
But I am sure with your accent
Elsker deg sounds so sexy
The world over knows that
Smile and hug or shake of the hands
Says I love you no matter what
Please writen a verse using your language
I will edit and add it....Seren
Mandy has written
My language is English it's very common here
But I can say I love you and hope you can hear
I love you till the cows come home and until the sun does sleep
I love you for all times, I give you these precious words to keep. xx
Andrea has written
For all gents to impress their newest dear
you can whisper softly into her ear:
"Jetaime", "Querido" " Kuss mich" or "Ti amo"
Its HOW you say it that the girls will love to hear
“I just started choppin’!” he said
Chopped so long his hands were bare
Split open, blistered like a cherry pie
It was the day after Auschwitz
So mad at the world, at the Nazi’s, at God
“So I’m just gonna chop!” he said
A swing and a CRACK!
A swing and a CRACK!
Splintering wood, chips fly in the air
The fourth of July, wood sparks everywhere
Like split open skulls, the logs laid bare
So filled up with steam, huff and puff
Till he’s flush in the face
But that axe keeps climbing
It’s way above his head and his shoulders
To rest a moment before it enters
The wooden fibers to split between
“D--- the world!”
and “D--- the Nazi’s!”
How could you let this happen?
How could you make this happen?
With your rooms filled of shoes and glasses and hair
And the buildings of luggage and flesh lamp skins
How could you let this happen?
How could you make this happen?
“I’m just gonna keep on choppin!
Till the cows come home!”
He said, “I’m just gonna keep on choppin’!
Forever and ever!”
“But sir,” I said,
“won’t you run out of wood?
And then you’ll end up like them.”
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.