Long Ads Poems
Long Ads Poems. Below are the most popular long Ads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ads poems by poem length and keyword.
Once upon a time not that long ago,
people used newspaper ads to find love;
they were very creative in their wording,
making themselves sound so dreamy.
Now we have dating sites for that,
yes, on the internet love can be found;
it is "the last call for lonely hearts" it seems,
as the bar scene is not the best idea.
So meeting strangers for coffee is now in,
but not much has changed in reality;
from the days of lonely heart ads in papers,
the writer still makes themselves dreamy.
I tried it once 'cause like many I get lonely,
but the man was not as advertised on line;
first of all his picture was twenty years ago.
when did he not think I would notice that !
He was friendly just not lover material,
so, I came home and deleted my profile;
this lonely heart is just going to have to find,
prince charming the old-fashioned way.
_____________________
November 8, 2019
Poetry/Verse/Lonely Hearts Ads
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1194-676-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Last Call For Lonely Hearts
sponsor, Line Gauthier
First Place
I turn on my computer,
It leads me far away.
To all the places I need to go,
And some I wish to stay.
The pictures on the sides,
across, the bottom and the top…
They fill up the entire screen by any memes,
and, some I wish they’d stop…
Lovely dresses every color,
every shade and design.
They fit the perfect people
as if they were all “fine”?
Bright like butterflies,
drifting in the wind.
In styles for fairy people,
crisp, and sweet and thin...
The discounts they are measurable,
If half of all, is good?
So I place things in the box,
And wish, as if I really could! ($)
Not for me, don’t you see,
I…am trying hard.
Turn off the cart,
right from the start…
and keep your visa card.
We get to see you rise, step on the cold floor
When the clock strikes five in the dark.
Your cell goes gaga over nothing, you lie
next to our lot, begging attention.
When the lily in your garden and the mynah
Over the sill shows up, your sleep spent,
You look at the mirror to get a fresh impression of you.
And the mirror sees it all.
Why not use the afternoon, after work?
Give us a day’s read. A day past and spent.
Better in sound than in silence, you think.
We complain non-acknowledgement.
Dates, events, ads, drown in oblivion
As you skim through headlines and
Read columns that interest you.
Why this prejudice? We ask.
You seem not to care.
We are a shadow of the past,
Of today, a piece of paper.
Left to lie, an incomplete existence.
it’s still brick
everywhere in the City
especially Downtown
I wrap the next mula
for my pocket
and catch NYC whip
I stop in the Burg
inside your bodega
I listen to myself for
the first time from the box
this bop electrifies my brolic
while I sip hot Regular Coffee
still waiting for your yerrr
what’s happening at FiDi
fuhgeddaboutdit
I schlep no fronting
cuz my B is always
your word again
that’s deadass
the shunts
dissenting
minorities
and deep
conflicts out
of camera range
I twxt the worlds
from Alphabet City
Honestly I can only read a few and when
I do my creative thinking flies right out
the window from illness weight loss pills
acne toe fungus to the dread of depressions
with flowers in the head seems to be watching
my every move some kind of artificial intelligence
waiting for thoughts to emerge I began scratching
my own head wondering if I have an entire
garden growing inside my skull like one
of those old toilet seats filled with weeds
pondering about the entrance way to old
man Miltons farm leading straight to an
abandoned bathtub covered with soil and
fresh cut daisies I like daisies I suppose
I'll plant a few outback until my writers
block ends stop that day dreaming gal
are you going mad no sir just a bit
drained after indulging in so many ads.
Silver A is the slot this wet morning
Silver A is the most loved Dude
in the streets of Big Apple
for being Copa best patron
& exotic dancers of the strip
clubs don’t with him at all
Silver A is a larger cultural dynamic
representing a still deeper symbolic stratum
the bird that flies
across anything
SoHo
for being
the most sus lit
no cap
no buggin
book it to link
the next Bronx cheer
you sign the dub coming in
your new Hollywood
I’m feening for
Bucktown
in the foundry
the guys call me Yellow
meaning I’m coming from Asia
or my favorite color
I don’t know
they’re fun of
laughing at
every
I know
I won’t
spend
my whole
world here
I’m waiting
for a ship to
Bangkok
but the man
you’ve married
to is coming with
clay sample
I wash every stone
you step on with legs
borrowed from twxt us
we compose estuary in the
Philippines to keep us awake