Long Anecdotes Poems
Long Anecdotes Poems. Below are the most popular long Anecdotes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Anecdotes poems by poem length and keyword.
One of the resourceful books unbeatable;
Children’s love, care and comfort biddable
Is none better than Reader’s Digest – capable.
Articles, reports, jokes and anecdotes audible;
All are present in it; all are undoubtable.
Changing the mindset of students capable
Is a new, systematic thing coachable.
Changing the world and its cannibal
Into the virtues and values bindable.
Explaining itself if anytime culpable;
And so is famous for being countable.
Teachers, parents, students ennoble
Reader’s Digest for not being enfeeble.
Leaders or followers who are like a crucible
Change their minds and be bendable.
Behaviour and conduct – key undoubtable
Will keep you atop, elevated, lofty and able.
* It has been over two years since my mom/best friend in the world was taken from me, but the wound is as fresh as ever … I was told that the passing days would make it better, but I’m still waiting for the sun to rise. *
~
dear Mama, have you found that other side
where loved ones, hope and heaven all reside?
oh do you stroll, Dad's hand lost deep in yours
and breathe the splendid air that kingdom's shores?
dear Mama are you dancing with your knight
in sturdy armor that you shined so bright?
oh do you paint new landscapes of that realm
and sail those azure seas, Dad at the helm?
dear Mama are you singing bright and clear
and sharing anecdotes to charm or cheer?
oh are you with the dear ones who have passed?
so many went before you, gone too fast …
dear Mama, do you know how much I miss
our talks and nature walks, your loving kiss?
oh do you yearn our sweet connection, rare
that even without words, was always there?
dear Mama do you know the hole that now
I have to heal within my heart somehow?
oh what's this man to do, his mama gone
but for her sake, find ways to carry on?
dear Mama I will sow your seeds for life -
the grace and care you gave as mom and wife
I'll do my best to share my heart, like you
your smile deep inside to get me through …
dear Mama, death has taken such a toll
still, I've one hope eternal for my soul -
that someday when my body sets it free
dear Mama's open arms will wait …
for me. ?????
From my book “Melancholy Moon”, Copyright © 2024, Wheelsong Books, UK
( photographs taken from Barden Family personal domain files )
out of everything that i’ve ever been told in my life
out of all the things that have been said to me that render me
obligated to shove a coy smile and an aloof
“thank you”
into the hands of whoever was speaking,
the heartfelt anecdotes
that have stuck with me the most
are the ones to have been branded and signed by you
the way you worded them
made me sound so much more valuable
than anything i’ve ever heard before
the focal point being
“you’re the kind of person someone leaves their entire life behind for”
and what bloomed
from the seeds
you planted in my garden
is something i thought i’d never lose
something i’d tried to protect so heavily
perhaps too heavily
but now i must ask, are you as comfortable with her in your arms are you claimed to be in mine?
do you miss her warmth on nights you’re alone in your own bed?
or is it mine that you sought after at 5am?
have you said things to her that even remotely resemble the things you’ve said to me?
or did you just copy and paste?
do you still expect me to believe that i meant anything different
to anything you’ve felt with her,
when your claim to be too busy in your head
actually meant too busy in her bed?
did you think i was being playful
when i told you that
i’m always aware
of when i am being deceived.
had you taken me seriously the first time
perhaps i wouldn’t be straining myself
trying not to completely push you away.
under any other circumstances
i would’ve had to remind you
that no matter what you do
and no matter what i say,
you will always be weak for me
but you already know that
and that is going to be the
end of us both.
~ r.a
(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)
I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money
to countless years (spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spumed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinguished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within each trough and crest
found thee old man with privateer mein
whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.
An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
Missing: Pieces of Me
SPLINTERED HEART
like a leg severed, ripped loose:
the phantom limb throbs and aches
knowing yet unwilling, unable to accept
that it's only a ghost playing evil pranks
sitting frozen and paralytic
from the weight, the frightful weight
dragging, forcing down the head
welding chin to collarbone...
heavy, crushing feeling on the chest
punishing pressure on the heart
a heart at the point of imploding...
alarm clock crying, screaming:
time warp between sleep and awake
when not yet aware of where one is
not yet aware of what or who one is
a split-second reprieve until----
(oh, it really did happen
oh, I don’t have a leg now
oh, you have been torn loose
taking pieces of me with you)
it has been proven medically:
people with life threatening seizures
can eventually function normally
with half of their brains removed
not so with a splintered heart
not so with half a heart...
~ How can I forget a gently bold spirit that is Tim
whose poetry brims with verve,
contemporary images, wit, and emotional depth?
While exchanging comments on our posts,
I found out that he stayed in my country during
the war. His anecdotes sparked the beginnings of
a dear friendship that allowed us to connect through
email and facebook. Tim was an erudite poet as
seen through this winning piece in a contest.
~Knowing his health was becoming frail, he would slip
in and out of the site, yet quickly responded to most
of us on social media.
When Tim passed on, I was shocked; his demise ...sudden.
I am grateful to have known him up close and personal,
a man of integrity who wanted to revisit our country with
his daughter a year before he finally rested in peace. Salute, Tim!
Anthony Biaasoc's The Uncontest Contest
6/22/2020
Just because I wear black glasses
Does it mean the universe is black?
Just because I find thorns and bushes
Does it mean all face the same too?
Just because I see one side of the globe
Does it mean there’s no other side at all?
When Red signals stop my movements
Don’t green signals allow others to move?
The universe is not a little textile piece
To measure, slice, sew and showcase.
It has gold, yet, it’s not gold;
It has diamonds, yet, it’s no diamond.
It’s a mixture; an amalgamation –
Of colors, forms, shapes, flavors,
Rhymes, rhythms, humans, beasts…
It’s a treasure of philosophies, theologies,
Truths, myths, anecdotes, fables, epics…
Only having removed our color-glasses of
Likes and dislikes; and made our minds
Clear, clean, white papers unsoiled
And perceive through the light of faith
Can we fully know its sacred secrets!
Isn’t true discernment of deserts and
Deserted paths the magic of wisdom…!
Yet, no tree can be fully fruitful
In the ever wide wild orchid of wisdom;
No seeker gains absolute enlightenment
In the endless school of experience
The universe, so far, has never opened
Its doors of secrets entirely to anyone…
02 June 2021
(TW Infertility)
My body is built to bear children.
I must stop comparing my body to those
of women who are simply built....
differently than I am.
My stretch marks are an atlas of the
paths I've walked. From adolescence to
womanhood, I have a story. My body
tells, my story.
I'm coming to accept that I will simply
never be that small, and it is not
something to be shameful about.
I'm coming to accept this with little
anecdotes, such as, my body is built to
bear children.
But I still have days, where I feel like I am...
too much.
On those days, I try to make myself smaller on my couch;
but only end up making myself larger
with each handful I shovel to the pit,
in the bottom of my stomach.
What can I use to console myself
when my disappointment in my looks is
all consuming.
So much so that the doubtful light
at the end of the tunnel is more tempting
than the sun.
And what happens...where does my
anecdote go when, the children never come?
When my gynecologist finds similes in words such as 'barren' or 'empty'
My body-was, built to bear children.
FRINGE BENEFITS FOR WANTING WHAT I CAN NEVER HAVE
snaggletooth and lonely
hungering for hunger and boney
in my mind, wanting to love you only
when you pass by, i gurgle in honor of you
piss poor and destitute, my shrine of you expresses from a quiet
place on the downlow
hip hurting and shaking for foundations of my body heat, my thoughts of you leave me with sticky icicles
crying like a baby to the open diary of the moon, i daydream in zonules of rocketship anecdotes
i am a pinball wizard rolling caravans of wishful thinking around the many mazes that the stars create
then i pause....become blank....lose focus....become devoid of all thought
i sleep a stiffened steep sleep till morning
then i become the antisocial broken record again buying flowers for all my thoughts of you.....
4/3/22
Just trying to live it up
But still in the cut
Used to be bothered, now I hardly give a f***
Your attitude and outlook about as useful as bird s***
You need to learn quick
Nobody is perfect
True love we all deserve it
But your actions left another burned bridge
Use to be, but no longer allergic
It all use to be nothing, never would concern this
But it all I eventually came to terms with
By having a firm grip
During a difficult battle, the tables I turned and flipped
It involved laundry detergent
And a tourniquet
Across the Earth a shift
This is factual not anecdotes
Worldwide, not just across the Alaskan coast
Still sad that folks
Brag and boast
Not focused on what matters most
Over the years
Not always crystal clear
And all that it appears
All these chipmunks
And others out to trick us
Too many witch hunts
Occurring constantly every six months
Don't think that all of it sucks
Never give up
Remember you only live once
I put on some swim trunks
Drank out of a big cup
And the only thing I could think of
Was making some big bucks
sometimes in the midst of life
i can sometimes be so lost in myself
i lose sight of such a beautiful treasure
while sleeping one day, God woke me up
He told me to take my blinders off and forget MY normalcy
choosing unselfishness, i ask about her children
choosing thoughtfulness, i ask about what else brings her joy
choosing to refocus, i ask about her other favorite things
choosing the inner enjoyment of it all, i just listen to the resulting anecdotes
learning from the overall conclusion, i Thank God for Intervening
the tears slowly flow when i realize that i never really knew my New Friend
consoling me, she begins to ask me the same questions
it is when i saw her tears flowing that i discover that i was not alone
our apologies are expressed by our newfound openness
our acceptance of each others' apologies comes when we ultimately forgive ourselves
the dust is now settled
all the smoke has been cleared
all eyes are now clear and dry
forgiveness has now bee officially confirmed
it is time to finally try the butterscotch sundaes, the white chocolate chip cookies, and the vanilla almond milk