Long Alfresco Poems
Long Alfresco Poems. Below are the most popular long Alfresco by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Alfresco poems by poem length and keyword.
Hot Child In The Urban Summer Dwelling
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" Poem about the heat in the city ....;) "
Hot Child In the Summer Urban Dwelling
The city streets are buckling under the sticky smoldering heat.
Urban life at this moment can be so draining while tensions are
high. People stop,wipe the sweat from their brow as they attempt
to inhale and breathe. "Hey I heard that wheeze from across the street Tony".
Heat choking the life out of us like a looming marauding monster.
Beads drip from angry faces while tempers flare, sirens roar in a city
of despair. Yes Will Smith's song "Summer Time" and the spark of
nostalgia from BBQ's help but its still Spring.
If you have the money you can take a drive down the Jersey shore
or to the Poconos cooling peaks.
A place to breath without choking pollution, heat advisory's and the smells of
unidentified unknown origins. Don't get me wrong there are allot of redeeming
qualities of summer in the city too.
Dinning alfresco, summer concerts, water ice, open fire plugs, Mister Softy
and block parties. Small reliefs of the constant three wheelers screeching
down the Blvd, fighting neighbors, and relentless dripping humidity.
As they say here on the east coast "If it weren't for the humidity I
wouldn't mind the heat". Sure you wouldn't ( wink)
Windows opened as the baby across the alley way cries and the guy
next door yells at his girlfriend while she fires back screaming
like a fish wife. The poor are getting their relief from a rubber hose
spraying water and the rich are relaxing in the Hamptons. Well I guess
if I had it like that I would enjoy it as well, then again I more
likely would open a home for battered women and children, build the
pool there. **** how I wish I had it like that.
I suppose theres no sense in complaining about the heat, just write
it out the best way I know how to deal. So excuse me while I leave
you now to step onto cool tiles of the tub, turn on the crystal clear
water and wash the clammy sticky heat down the drain. Into the Delaware
river of redemption as I take my sixth shower of the day (wink) .
By : Debbie Mills Kelly
For Didds
Four tankards found at the foot of the hill
Bet someone got w*nkered, and now they feel ill
Bet it went down so easy that no one resisted
And now they’ve forgotten the tankards existed
But down at the pub there are rumours of scandals
Of boisterousness, and the theft of four candles
And a gap on the shelf where the tankards once sat
And out on the roof someone’s comedy hat
Maybe barred from the pub and a walk out of town?
With enough beer in tow to conceivably drown
As they woke up the town with their loud shouty glee
And blessed all the hedges with vomit and pee
“Here’s bashin’ yer metal” and “Cheers, me old china”
Drinking alfresco, well, what could be finer
Well, ale, I suppose, for it goes down a treat
Not that one cares when one’s drunk on the street
The next day the tankards just sat by the road
All hopeful and waiting, but nobody showed
Until round the corner a giant appeared
Wearing a rugby shirt, smile and beard
“I’ll tell you what, lads, all back to mine”
Four trusting tankards all followed in line
Expressing their heartfelt and infinite thanks
With tinkles, and clatters, and resonant clanks
There followed a search, and some transient glory
And some vain attempt to uncover their story
So brightly they shone in their moment of fame
Then they just disappeared, in the way that they came
‘Tis said, down in Rowde, that the veil is thin
That mischievous fairies throw stuff in the bin
That strange things do happen, when folk have been drinking
All myth mixed with moonshine and magical thinking
Whatever, wherever, they’re not coming back
So; whose were the tankards, and what was the crack?
by Gail
Born on March 26th 1874 in San Francisco
Where the streets are filled with dining alfresco
At age eleven his father passed
Then relocated to Lawrence Mass.
From the hills and the pastures blowing free
His words ran so deep and scrupulously dreamy
In the 1900’s he began forward to Derry New Hampshire
Where the broken apple limbs made fair bushfire
Sweet fields swayed and the autumn sighed
Robert was devoted to nature and the great outside
Blooming vivid colors in the musty breeze
Burnt amber firewood rests in columns and is seized
Frozen grounds and lanterns aglow
Heaps of clad earth dancing around the spruce in a row
Where impulsive minds were left to wander
A glorious view of the silvery birch around yonder
There a hunger grew like no other, and emerged
In the myths of his seclusion inspiration ran with an urge
So there he traveled the courses
On posed dapple-grey horses
Spent time in his teaching
Always in hopes of reaching
Though suffered many a personal tragedy in succession
He later settled in Ripton Vermont and continued his profession
Frost received the Pulitzer Prize for poetry four times in his life
Having succeeding many children and a wife
Robert Frost died on January 29, 1963, having had four children
And six grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren
He is and will always be regarded a master-poet and writer
Leaving piles of verse for all to read thus making life brighter
Our Kitty’s allergic to peanuts,
Most don’t eat meat anymore,
Lynn and Tim are Vegans
Alex is a staunch carnivore.
Vegan, Veggies and carnies
All coming to visit for lunch
Sue was tearing her hair out
Planning feeding such a bunch.
Our first family get together
After more than two Covid years
Set us all a panic hoping that
The day didn’t end in tears.
Thanks to modern supermarkets
And a bit of a marathon shop
All those dietary requirements
Didn’t quite catch us on the hop.
Entertaining the family these days
With those modern eating quirks,
Thank the Lord for listed ingredients
A scheme that obviously works.
The sun was bright and warm
So we could all eat alfresco
All more than complementary
When it was time for them to go.
It was a really great success
Once the planning was complete
And now we can both get back to
Buying just what we like to eat.
We’re a meat and two veg couple,
All carefully calorie counted.
It took more than little effort but
All difficulties had been surmounted.
When I think of my Mam and Dad,
They just wouldn't have believed it,
A generation from leaner times with
No option but to take it or leave it.
Memory glosses over the facts of
What were the necessary ways,
The truth of the matter being
Those weren’t quite such Good Old Days.
This perfect summer’s day
with the sky an azure blue
Sitting ‘neath an aged Oak
I hear the sweetest birdsong too
Vibrant leaves unblemished
emerge from winters sleep
Fragrant petals fresh and new
they also take a peep
Whilst sat upon this garden seat
It feels so nice in paradise
For now I'm living way up high
in my penthouse apartment
almost touching the sky
Spectacular views in every direction
the sea and the hills
How lucky am I
But sat now in this garden
treasured memories come to me
When grandkids they were young
I almost hear them laugh with glee
I close my eyes ~ in my mind’s eye
'tis them that I can see
On summer evenings you and I
with our favourite glass of wine
To catch the last rays of the sun
alfresco you and I would dine
But now you're gone true love of mine
and I live all alone
Watching the sea and stars and moon
Each day like flowers
they blossom and bloom
But on this sunny summers day
as I begin to drift away
our garden back then ~ so special to me
surrounded by auras of fragrance and beauty
and sweet loving memories how life used to be…
Written 27th April 2021
after spending the afternoon sitting in a friend's beautiful garden…
Contest ALL YOURS (APR 28)
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Darling, together we are on a beautiful night
Stars twinkling and the moon is shining bright
Tonight we celebrate a year of wedded bliss
Still love you darling and I long for your kiss
Dining Alfresco in the cool Autumn breeze
Blossom gently falls from the colorful trees
Hand in hand we sit sipping on a glass of wine
Moonlight and romance together, simply divine
Lean over to kiss you, know the moment is right
Only sound we can hear is the music of the night
Never been a better night for some love and romance
Come my darling, together we will have a moon dance
Silence is broken as in the distant a Whippoorwill sings
Sure I am, I can feel music from your gentle heart strings
Are we really here tonight in love, or am I only dreaming?
Who should I thank I wonder for such a perfect evening
Want to hold you close, dance slow under moonlit skies
Won't want to go home sweetheart until sun starts to rise
Moon is shining and from a distance music is heard too
Great for dancing and later darling, I'll make love to you
Everything is perfect tonight sweetheart, perhaps it's a sign
Is it just sweet love or do the moon and stars actually align
One thing is for certain, couldn't be better for romance
We'd be simply stupid if we didn't have a Moon dance
“Back garden” of my childhood I remember,
The front for special roses was reserved,
We sometimes ate outside in the back garden,
Alfresco though a word I never heard!
The apple tree the highlight of the garden,
The blossom in the spring adorned with pink,
The “pond” that was bricked over many years ago,
The shed where you could go to have a think.
The football on the grass that needed cutting,
Try not to hit it over next door’s wall,
The separate patch where mum grew potatoes,
The rowan tree just laughing at it all.
The coal bunker a relic from the fifties,
The strawberries that grew from time to time,
A venue that we used for Hide and Seek games,
A tree behind the shed we’d sometimes climb.
No special bins then for our garden rubbish,
We’d have a day to tidy and to weed,
Incinerator used for the disposal,
Before we’d plant the latest shrub or seed.
And when I had my own kids did it change much?
They may have ps one and x box 2,
But in the garden they did have a trampoline,
And sheds? We’ve 2 to keep their stuff from view.
There was no pond but stones that were grassed over,
We’d sometimes sit out for a barbecue,
The hide and seek games also reoccurred here,
I don’t think things have changed that much. Do you?
9 June 2020
Sitting alfresco, with a screen open to the Daily
On a fashionable stretch of street
Lined with expensive everything where
Scents of coffee roast, mingled with vanity
Shiny hair flicking insults and smiles, as waiters
Danced between tables of note
Such is life, he wrote with a grin
Beneath the image he sent to his wife
Of himself and his morning café
His last morning, as it was, of the way he saw life
Looking back that moment quantified
That life isn’t such isn’t that
For some…
The image captured a smug well-dressed executive
In a comfortable life, enjoying the successes
Enjoying a coffee and the freedom
Enjoying life
The image also captured a boy
A boy in a chair
A special chair, with wheels and gadgets and
Controls just in reach
Of a life just such
Or perhaps just out of reach
Melancholy swept over him in that moment
Like witnessing the lowering of a casket of a loved one
He wasn’t sure if it were the tears that
Tendered an offer of concern from the waiter
Or, the fact that he’d spilled his coffee
He looked at the image again
Cherish the such…
Such is life he thought…
For some
Judy Konos Poetry Contest: C’est la vie
Mark Trichet
6 Nov. 2014
Within a lush verdant meadow, meanders a lazy river
Where wildflowers bloom beneath the warm breath of the sun
They sway upon a gypsy wind on this early morning in June
Stems of purple heather rise above the carpeted earth,
Emerald green as any Irish hillside or garden near the shore
Their saccharine scented plumes attract the pollen seekers
Bursts of color can be seen in shades of scarlet and white
For growing on the river's bank is a plethora of anemone
Not the variety that resides in the depths of a sea
Yellow iris mingle with daisies in this alfresco arboretum
Untouched by the hand of man, it's an immaculate bouquet
Resplendent in perfumed glory and pristine perfection
There's the mellifluous sound of a cascading waterfall
singing a soft melody as it spills from crevices of granite rock
Nourishing the serpentine river flowing through the glade
This haven appears as an Elysian Field, as Eden must have been
A sanctuary to remain inviolate and reverenced by the gods
Perceived to be hallowed ground, too sublime for mortal man
September 29, 2021
Your Best Sijo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by William Kekaula
The whole world knows that
Adding vinegar to chips and fish
Turns the whole offering into
An almost Earth shattering dish,
But how many people know,
How many people realise
The amazing effect to be had
By adding Mayo to your fries.
Almost a Damascus Road event
The first time that you try it
Just take the humble spud
And very quickly deep fry it
Then take a huge dollop of
That thick yellow stuff
Don’t worry just how much
You can never have enough.
A nice thick blob to make
A very tasty tasty dip
Then use one by one
On every single chip.
An explosion of joy
Follows each immersion
It really is a case of
Taste bud subversion.
Oh vinegar can be nice
It never ever goes to waste
But lather on the yellow stuff
For that cosmopolitan taste.
It’s the simpler things in life
That can give it zest and glow
Like a bag of red hot chips
And a splodge of Mayo.
You can keep your Fine Dining,
Your food artfully arranged
Your Meat barely cooked,
Oh how things have changed,
Just give me fish and ‘taties,
Wrapped and ready to go
To be Eaten with the fingers
Hot fish and ‘taties alfresco