Long Apron Poems
Long Apron Poems. Below are the most popular long Apron by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Apron poems by poem length and keyword.
Inside familiar folds of my hanging apron
I encounter a blinkless miniature figurine
Glossy, posable, plastic as a Lego creation
Loyal component of kitchen enforces routine
Breakfast allures with buttery muffins toasted
Lunch- a- lot predicts sandwich towers teetering
Dinner calls for lavish legs of livestock roasted
Day which follows knows a sequence repeating
Pack away cycle of soap, soak, replace, bench polishes
Scouring for recipes, Lego lady's eyes neatly smile
Cinnamon wafting whirlwind with servitude accomplishes
Devourers' belches earn her Master Caterer title
Beneath bed, which ejects me at six am alarm
Failed slipper search produces palm sized plaster sculpture
Icing faced, eyes without memory, eternally calm
Solid base she stands on stops commotion from toppling her
Nine am sees my arrival, politely inquiring co-operation
Afternoon forgets to yawn, incessant key tapping keeps on
Harsh carpark steps echo, repell dusk's contemplation
Traffic jams tomorrow's chasms, where dreams hold reunion
Crisp gives way to crinkles, plaster sculpture refutes
Her congeniality and aptitude due to exhaustion
Chalky cheeks split with encouragements' overuse
Legs held as one are motionless to express discourse
Steam escaped open door shows mirrored me showered
Bounce of towel buffed flesh rises in delightful nonchalance
Droplets of conciousness roll a path cleansed in empowerment
Serpent tongue hair saturates time, attacks life with vehemence
Inroduction"Wonder Woman" was a cartoon character I read a girl. She
was super strong and handled huge problems! She was awesome!
I have always wanted to be her! Strong, with those groovy boots, great
hair and outfit.yes, and those boots?
I never wanted to look like some Presidents wives, With dorkydresses
and pill box hats, running into churches.
I have always wanted to be a wild thing,.Strong and able to handle big
issues on my own. And, I have gone just that?
Those little girl ideas turned out to be a reality. Not a pansy am I and
not owned by anyone.
Solving big issues, not hiding behind an apron and unafraid to be political.
Even here~~ women are in closets. Do they live on the moon?
Under a mushroom? Or in a fairie palace?
Where are they? I nearly faint when I find a fearless poet.
That's just how my life turned out. As I first wanted it to be!
Men are not the leaders they think they are. Some very boneheaded
women leaders in the USA, acting like members of the Third Reich.
Men, too.!
We can make an impact with our poetry. It's needed!!!
Time to stop playing gardeners and bird watchers only!
Freedom has to be fought for. Poetry is a medium.
Being afraid to express yourself because of what others think?
That is why......I am..
Calling All Wonder Women!
Last goodbye son it’s time for you to go
Every emotion was there on show
Trying to put on a brave face
Tears were falling; it’s no disgrace
It was time for you to fly the nest
Now time for you to show your best
Going away to study in the UK
God speed to send you safely on your way
Over the seas so so far away
It seems like five minutes since you were born
Now its time for you to spread your own wings
I waved you off on that September morn
I’m so proud of you son that my heart sings
You’re leaving the nest
Time to cut the apron strings
Fly high my darling
Contest Letting Go Three Form Style - Sponsored by Laura Loo
04~02~16
Now Children the pink and purple pails are for the girls, blue and green for the boys
We are going berry picking down by the stone wall Mr. Bethel said we could pick his berries
too
The stone wall off limits to the Webb household, Bobby, Joe and Jim had the scars to prove it
Oh, “MOM“, (coil in fear, no crop) Thank-you What did Millie say; Are we going to make pies?
Ma’am didn’t know sign language, of course we will tell her she can wear the number 2 apron
Dotty, George, and I started running to the end of our property Slow down They’re
excited “Mom”
I know Alice listen you older kids will be paired up with the younger ones: Alice, George and
Harry
Virginia, William and Dorothy; Joe Jim and Robert; Rebecca you’re the best signer, You and
Mildred
Alice, yes Harry why did Ma’am say we could call her “MOM” my voice shakes when I say
Mom
I think all of us feel that way; but make hay while the sun shines, What? Just let her be
MOM today
Pick them ,don’t eat them Wow, Al ,that’s what Becky just said to Millie look Millie said they’re
so sweet
You can read that from over here Yep Millie and Becky have been teaching me. You know
what this means
Easy: I Love you too Where is George? Over there George your not suppose to be on that
side of the wall
It’s sprinkling , my pails almost full come on George let’s go back to “Mom” Alice go get the
other children
This is the first time since I’ve been here that we were all together, laughing and talking
while Mom smiled
As we got to the steps of the porch the sky opened sheets of rain a bolt of lighting , a sonic
boom of thunder
Pig Patty Plop ran into the Laundry mat,
From the awful butcher she was hiding.
Tired, busy mommy was taking some shirts out,
Bubbles hit the floor, and Patty was soon sliding.
She tried to hide under a young child's chair,
But the child let out an enormous scream.
She jumped into a white plastic laundry basket,
But her enormously fat posterior was not clean.
An apron-ed butcher walked in and glared around,
A maniacal man, holding his butcher knife.
On a cell phone we called the police in town.
and they arrested him, detectives from vice.
The pig was hailed a hero, and honored in the town hall.
Saving the rest of the crew from a butcher, deranged, was he.
As a prize for saving the rest of the patrons, eleven in all,
She was allowed to take a spin in washer number thirty- three
Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near.
James 5:7 NIV
AN INVITATION OF BLESSING FROM THE LORD
Hollow bells echo through October halls, stirring of starlings on video.
Cheeks of children long to be red and cold, wrapped in season’s knit.
Harvesting time brings excitement, lifting homeschool from the pit.
Scarecrow sentries stuffed with hay, outwitted by smart-alec crows.
A season for pies with buttery dough — apple, pumpkin and pecan.
Mom’s wearing a vintage apron. Picture the prize with flour on face.
How inviting an Autumn kitchen is, filled with laughter and grace.
Couples, parents with children, cuddle up — moonlight and afghans.
Compassion and mercy on display in Fall’s Cornucopia, therefore be calm
as the land blossoms in corn and pumpkins, green-yellow warty gourds.
Former rain, its arrow unleashed, an invitation of blessing from the Lord.
Angelic breezes, maple-winged cherubs crunching oak - nature of psalms.
October Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Enclosed Rhyme
I will not name the restaurant,
Because it might have been a fluke
But after I ate their offering,
I came home and did a puke.
I pictured the cook, her hair askew,
Letting little drops of it land in the stew.
As she spewed forth a wretched pile
Of words known only to a wicked few.
I pictured her apron messed up with glob.
As she warmed up this smelly slop.
I pictured fish all over the grill in haste,
Which gave my chicken a fishy taste.
I met my friend there, both had the same fate.
I pictured the kitchen laughing at us with vim and spice,
As we tried to choke down the stuff on our plate.
I will not name the restaurant, for it would not be nice.
Here is my friend’s phone number. She is not as kind as I.
Tell her who you are with your usual grace.
She is home sick, mad as a hot fly.
I am sure she will tell you the name of the place.
A parched wind
still circles the dust devils
corralling them
in funneled fury.
The old rooster
atop the barn
squeaks
as the weather changes
as do the joints
in the old blue jeans.
Hard black coffee
bubbles on the stove,
her apron hangs
a memory
on the chair,
an old screen door
shudders,
slams shut,
an old dog curses
the dust.
Bowed heads watch
as he laces his boots,
reaches for that
damned hat,
sips the last of the coffee
runs his fingers
across the hanging apron
whispers
“I love you”,
sets off to worship
in the shrine
of their lives.
©5/7/2018
for Laura Loo – Best Free Verse Poem In May 2018 Poetry Contest
Upon reflecting with misty eyes
childhood days of yore
the mantle of anticipatory
excitement mantle I wore
upon advent of December
twenty fifth not quite threescore
years ago knew nothing
about being dirt poor
yours truly doggedly felt sense
of belonging among k9 korp
versus moody blues hangdog
look resembling Eeyore.
Now fast forward envisioning
gray bewhiskered scraggly
muttering old Unitarian
that would be yours truly courtesy
hyperbole as would be obvious
upon quick visual scan,
who dabbles writing
at least one poem within
twenty four hour
time frame i.e. quotidian
basis, eh not
so much an outdoorsman
these days and definitely not,
nor ever trumpeted
taps as militiaman
within the ranks of Kublai Khan
emperor of China, and
grandson of Genghis Khan
I remain holed up within
one bedroom apartment
unit b44 as iceman,
no, not by choice,
but series of unfortunate events
primarily faulty heater
at the mercy of fate,
a mere dice toss gameplan
always associated as separate
among establishmentarian
forever dreamily fancying
married to countrywoman,
combination platter academician.
Lo and behold days
mein kampf slipped and slid away
leaving faded memories
precious young lad oft times
felt alienated (think) castaway
yet simultaneously unable to flyaway
loosing self from mother's apron strings,
while slipping grip signals foray
into abyss conjured courtesy
thru information superhighway.
Reflection upon tempus fugit
incredulous kick **** lightspeed
precocious age sentimental reverie storybook
happy go lucky idyllic past indeed,
then bound by ignorance,
hence blissfulness no longer doth proceed.
Characters in action
Talents in multiplication
Shapes and sizes of many version
Skills on display with tension
Over the top ropes one would gape
Under the ropes one can escape
Apron of thick mattress
Arena of countless matches
Highlighted are dressed to kill
Fronting the crowd that fill
Seats of spectators that cheer
Feats of competitors, not jeer
Matches roll with blunder
Rumbling and grappling like thunder
Crutches and splints spread over
Bodies of the bruised fall over
Grueling matches live on
Under any pressure show must go on
It's not "business as usual" that linger
Players of theatrics in danger
Venues are slated by dates
Participants stipulated as mates
Previews of expected bouts
Reviews that excite and shouts
Year after year is the Rumble
Inside the ring that crumble
Event that sounds so noble
Fame, not fortune that bubble
A prelude to Wrestlemania
An interlude of regalia
A shot coveted in spotlight
A spot asserted with delight
Let's get ready to rumble!...