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"bronc" poems
---- Sometimes they take over The rhythms in your head Nuances of rhyme schemes The lines your muse has fed You want to use a smaller word Pontificate instead It gallops through your consciousness A wild horse - unlead! The hooves go on like thunder Upon the steed you ride Tearing up the page Pen in hand - astride You are without a bridle Legs grip the mustang's side He has his own way He is a beast with pride! No - he has no stable No - his blood flows wild! Fed grass of the planes He's restless as a child A stallion - yes! A bucking bronc! Unbroken - never mild! Get into his rhetoric He's always getting riled! Write like you're a MUSTANG! RIDE ON!!! You have no reins! Get into his rhythm The rhyme scheme is unstrained Your footing is unsure In uncertain terrains Playing echo chamber music Those cacophonous refrains Bust that bronc!!! He's waiting - Your own head unrestrained!!! SoulSurvivor (C) 5/19/2015
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May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Write like a MUSTANG!
The fuzzy hug that never loosens its grasp Clutching as a barbed wire hugs and puppies cuddle and love, whiskers and noses nuzzling, the straitjacket loves your mind, wishes it could just squeeze the nightmares out and streaming as juices from an orange, but its might only pressurizes, the more you fight the more you hurt, bruising our precious straitjacket heart, he’s here to help us take the tasks of fettering hands just to hug and coil about us Learn to love them, the society blanket, the crazy snuggler, the bunny constrictor Crazy’s not useful and our little straitjacket cures our woes strangling us within linen cotton folds simmer our fires breaking our bronc hushing our tantrum cry It’s the mother we Learn to love Kin that keeps us in heavenly grip The Straitjacket’s here for all our insanists
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Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:29 AM UTC
Ode to Our Little Straitjacket
Fight, Love, Look, See, Take in such a beautiful brawl that stars you and me, Flying chairs and broken glass, Blackened eyes and much-kicked *** One more time around that big ball of fire, What will this trip bring this time around? Some mud and hard to trek mire, Or gold and diamond laid ground, An easy path ahead towards we joyfully bound? Such wisdom must lie in the future, Startling realizations and obstacles we approach, Yet stretches onward like a magnificent azure beacher, That one might upon first glance be wary to broach. But saunter forth we must, With the trodden gait of some war-weary old sailor, With a rind of salt crust, Who has been both Captain and Bailer, Lost-Limbed and near broken. Such a great journey this last trip was, Such changes it has brought, With a son I learned caution and to be more kind, Abandoning my careless risks, To have more presence of mind, To weigh my options and be more careful with my money, And to always be more kind. But roots you should not forget, To take chances still, To still live life with no regrets, For no flour is made in a place that is a still mill. Love this world, But don't hate the things you can't change, Fight for those things, With tooth and claw, For those things will be the most relished victory of all. I sit here typing this, A bittersweet adieu to the year 2022, For death rung in the year, And leaves me with the gift of a new life, The start with a startling pain from the stab of a knife, But ending with the approaching of joy that is oh-so-near. Lace up your boots, Strap on your pack, Take a seat, Buckle in, 7 seconds left on this bucking bronc, A last kick that will bring a few more knocks, But will bring in the new year with smiles that lets the last stings of death defrocked.
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Dec 29, 2022
Dec 29, 2022 at 3:42 AM UTC
2023
Fight, Love, Look, See, Take in such a beautiful brawl that stars you and me, Flying chairs and broken glass, Blackened eyes and much-kicked *** One more time around that big ball of fire, What will this trip bring this time around? Some mud and hard to trek mire, Or gold and diamond laid ground, An easy path ahead towards we joyfully bound? Such wisdom must lie in the future, Startling realizations and obstacles we approach, Yet stretches onward like a magnificent azure beacher, That one might upon first glance be wary to broach. But saunter forth we must, With the trodden gait of some war-weary old sailor, With a rind of salt crust, Who has been both Captain and Bailer, Lost-Limbed and near broken. Such a great journey this last trip was, Such changes it has brought, With a son I learned caution and to be more kind, Abandoning my careless risks, To have more presence of mind, To weigh my options and be more careful with my money, And to always be more kind. But roots you should not forget, To take chances still, To still live life with no regrets, For no flour is made in a place that is a still mill. Love this world, But don't hate the things you can't change, Fight for those things, With tooth and claw, For those things will be the most relished victory of all. I sit here typing this, A bittersweet adieu to the year 2022, For death rung in the year, And leaves me with the gift of a new life, The start with a startling pain from the stab of a knife, But ending with the approaching of joy that is oh-so-near. Lace up your boots, Strap on your pack, Take a seat, Buckle in, 7 seconds left on this bucking bronc, A last kick that will bring a few more knocks, But will bring in the new year with smiles that lets the last stings of death defrocked.
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Not into what if's but men ask What would I do if you weren't tied to old dude? wear shorter skirts to reveal my **** legs. wear lower cut tops to show off my larger, firm and natural assets. walk into clubs alone and get surrounded by ***** guys pdq all looking to ***** or spend a ton of cash and time on me. That **** happens to hot eye candy a lot. : ) give great head to men I like and maybe date them. I'd do all in the bedroom to satisfy a body. You up for being ridden like a bucking bronc. Yee haw cowboy! : ) Content with my man until he kicks. Could be soon. If he kicks gonna miss old dude spoiling my naughty pink ***
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Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:42 AM UTC
What would I do
It’s an eight second partnership The bronc, an angry participant And me, I’m just trying to keep my legs in the stirrups My hands on the reins My wits about me In one piece Welcome to my world It’s a family affair Me and my sons, Troy and Dusty Traveling day and night just to fight For a living, one unforgiving But exciting as the day is long And to keep that ranch in Utah going 200 head of cattle and worries about enough rain Are in our thoughts as we live the literal ups and downs of rodeo We’re in the saddle for good For life Living our destiny As we should As we want to As we have
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May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
The Last Cowboys
By: Cedric McClester   Everything that Trump touches dies And every day Sarah Huckabee lies To keep her job if I had to surmise Even though she should go and cut ties What will she do after he’s impeached? Be a stay at-home-mom who’s overreached Because obviously decorum’s been breeched Like a whale stuck on shore she’ll be beached   That brings us to Kellyanne Conway Lying to her is merely child’s play She tries her best to have the last say While keeping the press safely at bay Though her reputation will not be in tact That’s not conjecture, it’s an actual fact Not an alternative hatched to distract But a reality that can be backed   Now if you want someone who is iller We can begin with Steven Miller Who could have been cast in MJ’s Thriller He’s definitely not a lady killer I guess we could call him a policy wonk If you agree with me, let me hear you honk? Were he a horse he’d be a bronc And if he played cards he’s lose at Poker and Tonk   Everything that Trump touches dies Cuz he is surrounded by the unwise Who cling to him like family ties They’re addicted to power no one denies Let’s look at all of the president’s men Like Manafort, Cohen and what about Flynn And let’s look at all the doo doo they’re in But I’m at my wit’s end as to where to begin Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
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Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
EVERYTHING THAT TRUMP TOUCHES DIES