Long Addition Poems
Long Addition Poems. Below are the most popular long Addition by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Addition poems by poem length and keyword.
Words can serve to soften an unintended offense by
engaging attention, admitting fault and displaying selflessness.
"My bad", or more commonly, "I'm sorry" and "Forgive me"
In any language, they are a means to discovery, détente and delight-
Je suis desole, Es tut mir Leid, Lo lamento
Choosing to be heard honestly, the right words are crucial to
lightening the load, bandaging broken-ness as well as harboring hope.
And in addition, the voice tone, facial expression and body stance
are worth attending to in order to establish a sincere apology.
Congratulations! You’re going to be a big brother!
This is a special day!
Your Mommy and Daddy just found out…
your baby sister’s on her way.
We know whoever she is…
whatever name your parents pick
she’ll be bringing along with her
your fist lessons in arithmetic.
With a beautiful face we’re sure you’ll soon come to adore…
she’ll teach you simple addition…how 3 + 1 makes 4.
She’ll teach you about subtraction…
you will make the perfect pair…
and you’ll learn how much you miss her…
those times when she’s not there.
She’ll teach you how to share
how to divide things into equal parts.
You’ll learn how sharing is a gift
that comes from somewhere in your heart.
You’ll wonder where all the love you’re feeling for her comes from..
If it was hiding deep inside?
And how, once she arrived, the love within your family…
so quickly multiplied.
All this and more she will teach you..
and one day it’ll be your turn…
to teach her these same lessons…
when she is old enough to learn.
Women have an inny
Between their legs
Every year she gets a dozen eggs
Sometimes she cracks one open
Then begins the hoping
That the baby comes out right
Perhaps a child of the light
Or a creature of the of the night
No one knows
What on the inside grows
It has got to be scary
Not knowing if it will be
Fair or hairy
A John or a Mary
Or a crossdresser named Larry
To take that seed
And plant it deep
And wait to see what you reap
9 months
For a surprise
Between your thighs
A screaming pile of wrinkled skin
A baby is what you win
An addition to your kin
Something to watch grow
And add to the show
Of the dim witted and slow
While you bask in the afterglow
Of maternal bliss
Relishing a mother’s kiss
Now comes the greatest game of all
Building a human for life’s call
A tall order indeed
Growing this cerebral seed
Fulfilling all they need
As they speed
From want to greed
From follow to lead
From joy to bleed
Hoping they follow
A good creed
In this existence
You brought them to
They were the winner
In the ejaculate race
The fastest DNA
In your womb space
All you can do is hope and pray
They come out the right way
And make their worth for the day
This sexual roulette
Is a complete gamble
An utter ramble
Into the unknown
A chemical throw of the dice
Snake eyes
Between your thighs
Damn, crapped out
Don’t worry
Just pour another drink
And I’ll give you another shot at the pink
Load and lock
As you park your cock
In the fun funnel
The mystery tunnel
Let the good goose fly
You know the flight plan
Fill me up and be a man
270 days
Then 18 years
To show them the ways
Of who, when, and how to play
It’s quite a trip
From pole to hole
From crawl to walk
From walk to grave
And in the middle
A useful slave
A mind-boggling ride
To be shot
From a cannon of flesh
Then born
Bloody and fresh
Integrated into
Society’s mesh
And begin the countdown of your life’s clock
If you only knew what awaited
You would wish your daddy masturbated
In a sock
On second thought, skip the eggs
I’ll have some toast instead.
Eric (sometimes not)
One mountain after another
The green jagged edges
Puffy clouds hither and thither
Cloud around the sedges
Clouds make love with high peaks
Holding our gaze in awe
While the lips the mountain-top seeks
Wind blows and clouds withdraw
Clouds are somewhat promiscuous
Now they love the hill tops
Soon they feel it monotonous
And shift to thick green locks
The hills are lost in lovely thoughts
Rhododendrons are nice
We try to find their lovely plots
Drizzle and congealed ice
Blue thrush sings you whistling
You feel relaxed like sky
You draw fragrance deeply smelling
The musk rose laughs close by
Suddenly lands a roaring sound
Filling the nearby air
Very soon all the silence drowned
River descending there
Amazingly tall waterfall
Thundering and making us small
_____________________________________________________________
16 August, 2016 : For Contest : Wordscapes : Sponsored by John Hamilton
The concluding two lines in addition to the stipulated 24 could not be avoided
Lovingly, Apu
Prithwiraj Chowdhury
Pulu, how are you? Are you all well, these days?
This pen is down on spark, too soon, quite a dismay!
These letters are tracing more and more blurry , even more than a foggy winter morn,
Where all these years got eloped, along the way? How come, a mystic fate, for so long?
It seems, as if , these gone days, the sundial rested the bonded mystery on a railtrack.
With a longer story to tell, between, I managed your address , now it is with me.
Silly me! I have simply forgotten to introduce myself, a thing in my task list, yet to see,
Can you recall me? I am roll number forty six, Apurba Kumar Roy, to be more precise.
Last time, I saw you in Nagpur, in a factory workplace.
Do you know what happened, then? I visited Khulna, Aparna’s village place.
Khulna, in Bangladesh, now, so the map says.
Who is there, still living in residence?
Is there anyone remaining, who calls you “Pulu”, other than me?
Kajol is a married family man now, he is posted in Calcutta, with his service.
Apart from all these, let us come to the topic of this letter, why so, why this one, now?
Do not have any clue to begin with words, to fetch a river of tears with cobblestones, to let you know.
It has been almost thirty years since we last met, no correspondence , nothing at all!
Perhaps you will say, “It is all your fault, why did you not do so, to add up to makeup?”
No stories of addition are left these days, all evolved with subtractions along a lifeline!
My sister left at age six, dad at ten, and while at seventeen, mom left me, for good.
And the spring on a blossoming twenty two, took away Aparna, too!
And not only them, in a seasoned present tense, all are gone, the smoke train engine, my nightingale of sorrow.
(To be contd.)
“It’s a pickle, Puss,” her husband proposes.
“Is it sweet?” she probes.
“It’s a dill, Darling. Just what the doctor ordered.”
The doctor’s face, like vinegar. The nurse didn’t care
for pickles at all. She thought the pickle was a prop.
“No,” the doctor said, “It is a proper pickle and delicious,
though I’ve not tried it.” The nurse just stared
at the newest addition to the pickling jar. It’s junior size,
a miniature snack, at best. It won’t get any bigger.
“Get me a Gherkin!” the doctor yells, “Stat!”
“That’s not a pickle!” yells the wife,
“That’s not a craving. It’s a baby cucumber.”
“Well, I’ll be pickled!” the doctor laughs.
“What a quack!” whispers the husband to his wife.
To the nurse, “Get my wife a snack.”
The nurse brings in the prized pickle and the wife snatches
the giant jolly green, “Now, this will do quite nicely.”
And the couple lived happily ever after, unencumbered,
having the whole enchilada, well the prickly pickle, dear.
8/27/2022
Contest: It's A Pickle Party
Sponsor: Mystic Rose Rose
oh it was dreamy
lost in a haze of nothing-
crashing down screaming
______________________
I got sick, hospital sick, like death's kiss,
but I survived or I would not be writing this;
I had surgeries but this story is about- my high thriller,
it is about the drug Fentanyl a powerful pain killer.
Much stronger than Morphine to control the pain,
and after six months imagine an addiction gone insane;
I came home addicted and knew I was in trouble,
and lost in a drug induced crazy bubble.
Decided to take myself off Fentanyl slowly,
I would thrash like a lunatic saying words unholy;
well, after many weeks, I came down to earth,
I was free again to be me, it was like a rebirth.
Now, hear on the news that people are dying,
from taking Fentanyl and I feel like crying;
it can be a killer and must be treated with respect,
or your life will become nothing but a wreck.
___________________________
December 27, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Fentanyl Addition
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1316-801-27
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Addiction
sponsor, Rob Levasseur, Judged 12/31/20
{Poet’s Note : Fourth Poem of Set of 5 SPOKEN WORD poems written in SAPPHIC STANZAS }
____________________
Life offers to support, first open to Love’s thorns
Sun not changeable, hands to give of own horns
centre in flesh where patience and Spirit mingle
Heart is where they jingle
World our mirror, transparency it holds bold
magical meanings with musical moments emit
highest are those whose existence is not known
hoist ideals beauty sown
We will say, Sisters! we ourselves have achieved
opalescent Sacred Sun wants figures of eight
firmly in lap of luxury, the bait
to lament no more
Brothers no longer hold score, treasure inside
entire planet home, Lesbos to Egypt, no hide
see crystal clear with fine papyrus and ink
so very dear, cheer
Universal power arranges spacious
awareness without thoughts jumbled enchanting
awe at abundant good fortune Heart opened receptive we sing
At wedding feasts nothing further needs adding
Femmes ! to moment sway not nay, syrtos in hay
stepping back to allow for Spirit’s addition
groom in white and black
Union is You _________>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marcie is a delicate, pretty girl with pale blonde hair
Everything about her is natural, a hippie throw back
She thinks like her grandmother, which means she is open
to all kinds of people, and ideas; she sticks to ideals.
She has integrity, a quality we love finding in our heroines
The champion of others, Marcie stands up for the underdog
And the overdog, and all of the other dogs, wanting justice
She is explicitly exacting about fairness, sign of high intelligence
Marcie wears dresses, endearing herself to the ladies at church
the older ones with the peach, pink and blue dyed hair
They think of her as their granddaughter or grandniece
She would be a welcome addition to any of their families
She has no thought of settling down yet, she is young
And feverishly passion about going to a foreign country
She wants to help bring peace to the world
Feels she is the one to do it, and I believe her.
No, I am not the smartest apple on the tree;
and maybe I don't rely enough on social media;
and perhaps I don't believe everything I hear on TV;
but I am certain that my head is not buried in the sand.
It's like this. Last week I received the instruction package
for the upcoming Governor Recall Election in California.
We recalled one governor some 15 to 20 years go, but
I forgot the process for voting in a 'special election'.
So after receiving the information package, I called the voter
registrations office to verify that in addition, I would be getting
my usual ballot in the mail. I was cordially informed that my ballot
would be in the mail the following week. By then, I'm asking myself,
"How hard is this?" I am pleased with the intelligence and politeness
I received from our county workers.
The following week has arrived, and I received my ballots in the mail today for the upcoming September 14th election. Again, I say to myself, "Everything is so timely; how hard can it be?" Within a couple of days, I will have voted and my ballots will be in the mail, postage paid.
And I say to myself, "Am I missing something, or is it only like this in California?" I tell you, it must be different. Otherwise, I'm confused
about all the 'voter fuss'. ... What am I missing ...?
Voter fraud is one thing and voter process is another. The process can be adjusted and remedied, but fraud is a moral dilemma that will never be fixed with politics. Our culture is most definitely moving away, not toward God; and therein lies the problem. God help us.
081721PS *Update: I received a notification from the county election officials on 82421 that my ballot had been counted.