Long After hours Poems
Long After hours Poems. Below are the most popular long After hours by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long After hours poems by poem length and keyword.
Cool breeze
Bird soliloquy;
Dawn sparkles
~~~~~~~~~
City fringe
After hours glee;
Beer-guzzling romp
~~~~~~~~~
Roadside mishap
Curious onlookers;
Help arrives
~~~~~~~~~
New moon
Silvery tints;
Dazzling allure
~~~~~~~~~
Strange forest silhouette
Darkness blankets;
Firefly route
~~~~~~~~~
Soft rain falling
Sing-song streams;
Afternoon siesta
~~~~~~~~~
Joy wears a face
Beauty adorns;
Truth reveals
~~~~~~~~~
Playground noise
Small people cluster;
Laughter frolics
~~~~~~~~~
Newspaper vendor
Street side kiosk;
Dreary news sells
~~~~~~~~~
Food centre queue
Meal time crowds;
Happy salvation
~~~~~~~~~
Neighbour's toy dog
Barking madly;
Nobody's home
~~~~~~~~~
Public holiday
Casual dining;
Crowed eateries
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
02 April 2017
Singapore
I wore all red to your white wedding
Holding your picture like my grandma's antiques
Like poison ivy in the forest, my bloom makes you shiver
Plucking soft feathers from my angel wings
The flowers she gifted you, they'll die one day
Wilting like a poor, dehydrated human
Your mother giggles when you mention me again
"Oh, she was sweet! Shame she had to go."
I didn't have to do anything, ain't it strange?
Opposite of what you said that cool Wednesday night
When I asked about the pink smudge against your collar
Like a scar from childhood that never faded
I clutched my jewelry, watching as you said vows
'Till death do us part, same words you uttered to me
She blushes redder than my lipstick and dress
And you share a feather-soft kiss
Like those times you caressed my rough skin
After hours of staring in the mirror
Like a toddler searching for their mother
And once it was over, I laughed
Vibrations escaped from behind my teeth like water
Your father-in-law sighed and shook his head
"How much is this dowry again?"
He whispered to his wife, watching like an eagle
As his daughter's mascara smudged like paint
I walked over to the room's corner, arms swinging
Dug my acrylics into their most prized possession like a rabid animal
Buttercream journeyed from my lips to nose
Grabbed the bottle beside it, pulled the cork like a fire alarm
Champagne bubbled down my chest
And once I was finished, my heels clicked against the ground
I ran off to my car like a wanted fugitive
And drove into the pinkish-orange sunset
The sky was its canvas
Aqueous darkness
Rainy windowpane;
Warm shelter
~~~~~~~~~
Journey joys
Sublime moments;
Ages ago
~~~~~~~~~
Words unfurl
Paradoxical lot;
Decipher feeling
~~~~~~~~~
Haughty culture
Arrogance limps;
Self-indulgent
~~~~~~~~~
Old man
Blank stares hint;
Lonely devotion
~~~~~~~~~
Watering hole
Crowded after hours;
Funny monkeys
~~~~~~~~~
Kitchen fuss echoes
Meal time crackle;
Feisty commotion
~~~~~~~~~
Bedroom window
Darkness outside;
Lonely feeling
~~~~~~~~~
November moments
Monsoon arrives;
Punctual wetness
~~~~~~~~~
Day slips away
Sudden dark swift;
Deserted walkways
~~~~~~~~~
Eerie lamp-post
Old halogen glow;
Ghostly coldness
~~~~~~~~~
Words fail
Music fiesta;
Jazzy sensorial
~~~~~~~~~
Old black car
On the verge;
Arrival and departure
~~~~~~~~~
Spinal back stabs
Nerve injury hammers;
Excruciating hurts
~~~~~~~~~
Sorry picture
Robot-man slithers;
Painful cough punctures
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
23 November 2016
Singapore
poetry
deep sentiments expressed through the pen,
hard to say why it flows and when,
it is a signature of thoughts that are formed within,
said with tears or smiles without guilt or feelings of sin!
the turbulent stream that carries the life rafts about,
has twists and turns in a dark maze of its own,
journeys are long and exhausting to say the least,
after hours of rowing could be back at the starting crease!
say it freely and say it without hindrance of fear,
like a songbird that sings for its own pleasure,
no audience to applaud or jealous critics to disown,
once written the poetry sails on its own sojourn!
is it about some pain and songs of unfair defeats?
a lost friend or dear one who has left a memory to mourn,
may be a pet that doesn’t answer evening whistle,
or a child that never returned from school!
when loneliness greets life with coffee as only companion,
a half done crossword blocked by repetitive boredom,
when next moment is as predictable as the one that is gone,
when the evening ends and know the next day to be born,
a verse expressed through the heart may bring cheer,
remember to sign it with your heart or smudge it with tears.
10th place
Completely your choice(44)
Brian Strand sponsor
Written 15/01/2021
Sitting in the waiting room in pre-op,
weight and height taken,
filling out a two-page form,
your hand trembling with age.
A history of a long life,
the body betraying the best years—
the Golden Years, where time moves slower.
The neck that needs physio,
the knee throbbing after hours on your feet,
the heart beating in time
with the new pacemaker,
its battery promising at least ten more years.
Thankful for technology,
we get to hold hands another day.
The myriad aches and pains,
a fleeting smile—
the young man with a full head of hair
and a light step,
looking back at me.
Forty years of a good life,
not wanting to see it end.
Together, hand in hand,
we will triumph.
Because each second, each minute, each hour,
each day we have together
is a reminder—
of the life we’ve built,
of the love mirrored in our eyes.
What a wonderful reminder
of the simple things in life,
as we sit together,
with hope.
Confused skyline
Smog curtains;
Choking sensations
~~~~~~~~~
Dry weather
Dehydrated skins;
Hope awaits rain
~~~~~~~~~
Blank page
Thought channels words;
Poetic lines echo
~~~~~~~~~
Cursive strokes
Crisp overtures;
New mint in old style
~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight indigo
Skyline illumination;
After hours prologue
~~~~~~~~~
Abrupt shades
Dusk hurls mimes;
Another masquerade
~~~~~~~~~
Happy hours gossip
Alcohol indulgence;
Cynical dispensations
~~~~~~~~~
Hope floats
Love survives;
Faith lives code
~~~~~~~~~
Rain pours heavy
Drenching wetness;
Lavish permutations
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
28 September 2019
Singapore
I hear Miles in the electric bath, brewing a Brew, a hiss and hum of future notes unsung/
Hear the headhunters who chant the Body Electric, barcodes of the night/
Mercy, Mercy, me — that’s soul cookin’ after-hours, a midnight kitchen of ribes and white bread to wipe the hot sauce from your lips/
Rockin’ the nerves of the city, every night, every light/
Cookin’, relaxin’, workin’ up soul grits and eggs, flapjacks on the side, ya dig/
A breakfast sermon to the late shift, to the dreamers who don’t sleep till they’ve said what they mean/
Smack up, man, Art Pepper’s on the scent, hunting a buzz before show time/
Chrome sun on his horn, a matchbook stuck in his shoe/
His ghost trails through the alleyways of sound recordings that held Pepper's dreams/
California sun gave way to a cool-on-the-coast breeze, of sun dials and jazz by the sea/
Just ask Chet Backer, who blew a mirror of skies into a room that could grow wings/
Like jazz singers, blues singers, they all are — swing, swing, swingers/
Vibrations in the static, a thump thump in the bassline, a ring in the thing that clings/
Jazz licks and kicks, a heartbeat’s percussion, live at Montreux, then Newport, then now, man, like wow/
The stage is a river, improvisation its current, the crowd its reflection/ Somehow, the healing water is in the notes/Notes drift like gulls over a harbor of smoke and light, jazz crowds of sound reassembling every night/
History in a groove, tomorrow’s echo riding the pulse of yesterday’s bright light into the new jazz stars of today/
So hear the electric bath bubble, hear the groove breathe, hear the chorus of the night/
Where the West Coast sun mellowed into cool fog and then into a brass-tangled flight/
Let Miles braid the air with hunger, let Pepper snap a spark, let the crowd rise, let it glow/
In this spoken word, the music speaks us back to who we were — and who we might dare to be/
I savor sunshine - its voracious heat
as I drizzle sweet lemonade
on my dehydrated tongue.
I dip my toes into the fondant
of lemon afternoon. You’ll find me
wading in the aquamarine swoon.
My coral-colored swimsuit, one piece
tease of a midsummer’s sea;
saltine-salvation with a tangerine squeeze.
Chartreuse eyes, like a key lime pie,
Ray-Ban protected ~ *
dessert winks at her sublime prize.
Quite crimson, I become, forgetting
to reapply sunscreen, with a rub-a-dub-dub,**
as I sunbathe near my ocean tub.
Clueless after hours on the beach,
my love dives into his watermelon treat,
a breach of spousal ethics to my cause.
With a pouty lip and grifting-tears, I con
his palm to soak me down with aloe vera,
and grant me two-fisted cocktail sips.
The saffron sun dips on the zephyr’d beach.
A welcoming arm rounds my shoulders ~
lavender and lilac speech of twilight.
4/9/2021
Contest: Changing Colors
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Required words are highlighted in bold letters
Internal/End Rhymes
24 lines
Ray-Ban — brand of sunglasses
Rub-a-dub-dub — nursery rhyme
It hurts to tell the truth
I guess that's why so many people walk around with fake smiles
Avoiding the pain not knowing they are only stirring up a thunderstorm
Wishing that the rain would go away
Do you know what it feels like to have tears that hold weight
Do you know what it feels like trying to open your mind when your eyes don't want to see
A closed intellect during regular business hours
January cold with a February that loathes
Those who choose to March and not give up in April
May I offer a suggestion
Some of her changes in June
But mother earth will always provide the truth
To the lies in July
I want to be more August
But the 10th month brings more dark to light, as daylight savings time ends
November then December
But that's not the end
Because I forgot to mention these September showers, continue after hours
Listening to the dark lane tapes
Trying to make my own words to put on vinyl
That's the truth
And it hurts to say even though it's good
But the more we tell the truth the easier it will be
Stop hiding
p.s. you can't control the weather...
The Wicker baskets
Rooster crackled, fresh new day!
Sun arose planting gentle kiss
on the Earth's fore-head....
A cottage in the woods stood elegant
Lilted the cool breeze outside so pleasant!
Woke her child this mother, filled with zest
A long embroidered green skirt ,
made of flax this mother had draped...
Adorned her neck, chains of coloured beads and stones
Dusky beauty she was tall and fabulous
lovely eyes and headgear made her look more gorgeous
Her little child of six opened her tiny eyes
Sprang up from the bed and
hugged her mother with warmth
Packed with tubers ,fruits ,water and sharpened sickle
they set deep into the woods in search of willows best
Mother guided, child diligently obeyed ....who in her mother, saw the Queen of the woods!
After hours of toil best quality reeds selected
brought them back home and put to dry in shade
From the already dried heap of weeks before
both set to work displaying their skill at best....
with secateurs and knives and best willows,
nimble fingers played designs best of both
stakes best aligned and the perfect slath followed...Weaving at its best continued...
Expertise Mother taught, the child followed....
By the fall of evening, ten attractive baskets
with well bent handles were all ready for sale,
at a fair in the neighbouring village.....
Smile of satisfaction on both faces lit
Mother thanked and hugged her child
Cuddled and kissed her while she said...
With little bucks we make I 'll buy......
new velvet cloth with glittering mirrors
and stitch for my princess ,
a new birthday dress!!
© Anulaxmi Nayak, 2015