Long Aged(a) Poems
Long Aged(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Aged(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Aged(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Flashing memory of pretty little faces,
Touching eloquence of paint- brushes
Sounds of the gentle wind on the tree leaves
And I whispered, "Poet, will you tell me about a poem you loved once?"
Mingling with vibes of rainbow colors, so serene!
A drizzling rain, pouring on, never soaks thoroughly, none,
The sad flute vibrates through the air, drags from worldly muse...
And I whispered, "Poet, will you tell me about a poem you loved once?"
Memory carries the smell, the fragrance, the flavor of the taste
And all words bypassed as the smoke rose from the decorated tea pot....
I recalled your face then, could hear your natural tone, sweet and dense.
And I whispered, "Poet, will you tell me about a poem you loved once?"
Although, numerous moments of efforts, yet, maybe one day
A critic will cry out to pause," it is nothing at all, nay!"
Till that moment of sheer pain, for a single time, let me guess
And I whispered, "Poet, will you tell me about a poem you loved once?"
A faraway, precious tune aged a decade ago, still fades away...
Life, then, was carefree and joyful, feels like only yesterday,
Seagulls, floating on the sky, an epic view of the deep, foamy sea....
A journey to reach the lonely saint, most profound passion of spree!
We had just received our second COVID vaccination…the one that if we get the Coronavirus will help us to survive…and then we waited the next few days for the side effects to arrive.
We read about them…and friends had given us a list of side effects they compiled…but we were lucky as our side effects…were relatively mild.
We had some slight headaches, some chills and our arms hurt where the medicine when in…but overall I have to say when it comes to vaccination side effects…We win!
Until I looked in the mirror and what I saw…stopped me cold…”Deborah, I said, come quick…I think this vaccination’s made me old!”
“My skins all wrinkly…there’s spots all over it…and much to my surprise…a lot of my hair is missing…and I have bags underneath my eyes!”
The more I looked at myself the more I realized…It was just as I had thought…I’ve aged a lot in these few days…after receiving my COVID shot.
Deborah was not very comforting…she did not ease my fears…as she kissed me on my wrinkly cheek and said, “You’ve looked like that for years”.
Oh, that can’t be true I said to myself as Deborah walked away without acknowledging my woe…I’m sure I looked much younger just a couple days ago…
But there is a silver lining…for now when people say I’ve gotten older…
that my looks have gone to pot…
I will wave my wrinkly hand…
smile my wrinkly smile and say…
“I blame it on the shot”.
I have lived a thousand years,
And I've never aged a day,
I have shed so many tears,
Watching loved ones pass away.
I have seen cities grow and change,
From London, England to Paris, France,
All my life I've had to rearrange,
As the years went by in advance.
I will never see another sunrise,
I've forgotten the sky of blue,
When shall I meet my demise,
Until then, I must continue.
I have taken lives of the innocent,
And I did it without a care,
No harm is what I had meant,
That is the cause of my despair.
I will taste the iron in your blood,
Dripping over my fangs, it shall flow,
Running down my throat like a flood,
But when, you will not know.
As the clock tower chimes eleven,
I'll be looking for my next victim,
I'll fly through the dark heavens,
Deciding, will it be her or him.
Written by : Kelly Deschler
Poems From The Vampire Contest
Poor old Guido Fawkes who was born up in York
fought in Spain, rebel flame there was lit
and though it is known as the 'eighty year's war'
when he came back he hadn't aged a bit.
With Wintour and Catesby , they all hatched a plot
to send all of our MP's to hell
and only Lord knows if
with all that explosive
with more luck it would have gone well.
Fawkes heard people coming
who were checking the plumbing, their footsteps were near ,
and much louder.
Instead of the rats and occasional cat, they found
several tons of gunpowder.
And trapped in the cellar that unlucky fellah
no chance of receiving a pardon,
midst the hot dogs and beer
is punished each year
on a bonfire in my neighbour's garden.
You made a grand appearance 19 years ago,
A grandson of whom I immediately cherished so.
Your Daddy was so proud placing you on a table top to view,
I didn't realise then but now believe Ireland had sent you.
Your Mom was from England & your Dad from Ontario,
You'd charming ways reminding me of Irish relatives I know.
It was as though you'd inherited their amusing personality,
And you were at birth a blessed treasure to me.
Throughout the years your love was constant and sincere.
I christened you, "Squirt" long before you'd aged a year.
Mysterious your similarities with my side of the family,
An Irish Heart beats within you, I'm sure and a bit of royalty.
From a wee toddler you were kind, sharing everything,
Your candy, your toys, your love, and favourite ice-cream.
One day, after I've gone away , God will help unfold your dream,
Hope you'll wind up In Ireland with her 40 shades of green.
You are one in 10 thousand, a loyal grandson, and friend, true blue,
Whatever path you take in life ,I will always love you-Nanny
Mother's hair is whiter than it was a month ago,
her smile is gone; she has aged a hundred years
in thirty days, I do not recognize her.
vibrancy and enthusiasm have dissipated
She cannot sit up, swallow or talk.
I think I’ll know when it is time to let her go.
I hold her hand, it is not freezer cold, but close
a tiny little thing; there is no flicker of the eyes
she is making guttural noises that sound painful.
I look at the clock. I have been here forty-seven minutes.
I cannot bear to be here much longer.
I won’t need words to let her know I am going. She will not care.
My sister comes, and we hold a vigil.
She is loud and happy, glad to see me.
Flitting about in this cramped tiny ugly horrible room.
I am demanding morphine, the nurse hates me and she shows it.
I want this to be over.
Then night draws a veil over the window. All we hear is a death rattle.
I do not know how my sister bears it.
She has watched mother deteriorate into a corpse of herself daily.
I yell for the nurse, but there is still time to hurt ourselves, watching.
Mother's eyes flicker. Clock ticks, accusingly, knowing my thoughts.
Morphine is given. She is finally released from this cancerous body.
We are together, my sister and I, orphans now
The blue dress hangs limply
a reminder of the day
she grew up….well
not really ……. grew up
she just aged a bit too much
a bit too soon.
She had waited
at the window
a cold sun setting on her dream
as shadows lengthened
and disappeared.
He had become that
final shadow
obliterating all hope
of others.
She cried
streetlights illuminating
an emptiness
tears staining her blue dress.
He had promised
and never come.
She had waited
never giving up hope.
She grew up
sometimes too soon
yet still hopes
to show him the blue dress
someday.
©12/9/2019
Blue Dress Poetry Contest
(iv)
We were half-way to Iowa and lethargy was not far
behind us. He had a late start but we all know lethargy
is a health freak and would never drink 64 oz frozen
soda-pops which means he doesn’t have to stop
and pee so often. I was getting nervous because
it seemed everytime you blinked it would take
longer and longer for you to open your eyes again.
So you told me about Mercury, the winged Messenger
and how he was so swift and lithe and angelic.
You were seriously regretting cashing in that
favor with the war Bringer because you thought
that maybe you could have asked him to get
Mercury to pick us up and fly right over I-35
traffic all the way through Missouri’s unengaging
landscape. If only that clerk had said you’re welcome.
(v)
As we finally crossed into Osceola, you introduced
your favorite planet Neptune. You said he was a
mystic and for half a dollar he could tell me how I
would die and I said that I’d rather save the half
a dollar to buy a gumball and watch the pink
or blue or yellow orb roll down the runway
until it hit the metal door of the dispenser with a clink.
I remember you laughed at that. I remember that your
stories would shrink the miles and the hours down
into manageable parts until the eighteen hour road trip
ended in Des Moines and you said, exhausted,
(vi)
Saturn was the bringer of Old Age but that you
hypothesized if we stayed in the car and just
kept driving that Saturn would just get tired
and leave us alone so we packed up and took
the nearest exit for the Yukon Territory. You
looked beautiful then, basking in Saturn’s rage
and you still haven’t aged a damn day.
"If forever is true, make it true, don't give it a second thought," ... by The Poet
"Okay kids, this is December's first day
so let's go in and see what it could be,"
[Oh my goodness ..., I thought she moved away]
"Kids, don't go too far." "Dad, I need to pee."
"Okay son, the bathroom's right over here."
"Go on inside, I'll be right here." [She looks
just the same, never aged a bit ... then, we're
young and in love ... me carrying her books
walking with her to our class ... and her laugh
... I can't get over that ... Ha, and her hair
still gets in the way ... we spent nearly half
of ... oh, she sees me ... (both smiling) then there
gone again ... we thought forever was true]
"Okay Dad, who's that?" "Thought someone I knew."
Mirror, mirror on the wall.
Your reflection is one I don't recall.
Who is this reflection staring back at me,
with his weather beaten face and distinct crow's feet?
Where once there was hair
there's now nothing up there.
All of the scalp's follicles it appears
has migrated to the nose and ears.
This reflection displays one of many years.
The image begins to shed some tears.
This can't possibly be yours truly.
I look like I've aged a century,
and then I'm struck with the hard cold reality.
I have more years behind than ahead of me.
Mirror, mirror on the wall.
I don't enjoy your reflection anymore at all.