Long Area Poems
Long Area Poems. Below are the most popular long Area by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Area poems by poem length and keyword.
lower abdominal area gurgles and balloons
gastrointestinal tract
vis a vis flatulence croons
in tandem and/or subsequent expulsion
eliminates fecal waste
witnessing sprinting to bathroom, this scribe
(against time) and jet propulsion
of sphincter muscles'
spasmodic desperately raced
unpleasant symptom of anxiety/ panic attack
twas a stranger to this rhyme stir,
who now finds himself barrack
cay did, and held hostage, where thoughts
about mooning doth not crack
a smile, or baring derriere tubby more exact
me up - matter of fact
no source of laughter, nada one ha intact
(despite usual presence of chuckles
from this fan of good humor) high jacked
for what seems a maternity leave
from all mothers tub be
thus envision, a bevy of pregnant gals
aching with cramps he
ving (times square of the hippopotamus)
with cervix fully dilated key
ping alert, when mother nature ready
to pull up all stops (via umbilical cord)
to deliver nee,
sans bundle of joy, followed
in quick succession with after birth re:
placental sack, hence said effort to expel newborn
the closest scenario experience ill suited to dance
afflicting this anxiety prone lovely bones, an all expanse
paid (seat of the pants) accursed bane of proletariat grants
no truce to attend finds me pampered asper this rants!
Repast for June 13th, 2020...
(and countless provender
scores of years gone by)...
to partake larding refrigerator cupboards
think respectable food vendor.
Courtesy Montgomery County
(Pennsylvania) Assistance Office in general
and Electronic Benefit Transfer
(EBT) card in particular.
Yes, I (a mere tenderloin) reckonize
a long overdue thank you
wouldrequiremorethanone breath whew
but a clear and
distinct preference necessitates
easy to read and understand view
versus merely typing gobbledygook,
which would invite
yours truly typing Urdu
(which language I know
absolutely nothing about... true)
but lack of familiarity
never stopped me stew
wing anonymous readers
with ire, now I rue
men hate, yepper after
forcing anonymous readers
to wade, née (nearly drown)
into thicket of quo
titty yen verbiage, invariable
coming across as po
i.e. half assed poet,
whose self impressive smugness
amounted to diddly squat,
thee immediate answer
obviously, an emphatic,
Italic, unchic... "NO"
quite surprised if
"PLEASE SIR, I WANT MO!"
your unequivocal response,
which counter reply "LO
AND BEHOLD" would
casually follow suit ya know,
cuz all kidding aside,
yours truly (me), an average Joe
King garden variety,
and generic bot ready
for thee to interview
me, ultimately, preferably,
and ideally hue
not linkedin to
those awful *****sapiens
though... as a baby going goo
goo gaga, they seem
exclusive as Fontainebleau
(Area: 66.43 mi²)
regarding comprehending et tu
probably agree, that babies
create an abundance of do do
unapproachable as motley crew
who stoically man/woman
aforementioned French town
southeast of Paris where
sun shines every day,
and sky always blue.
Hey Jimmy, what is your story ?
Was your death private or gory ?
Why did you decide to die ?
What was the pain & what was the lie ?.
I see you were only twenty five
When you chose to kill your life
Where red dirt roads and wheat fields kiss
You chose to show the world your fist.
Your pain was greater than your assets
And idealic life from country aspect
Was Tottenham life not good enough ?
That caused your end to be so rough ?.
And though you lived in a prosperous state
couldn’t you talk to your closest mate ?
Your body here may still remain
I hope it brings a positive change.
While visiting family in Tottenham, Australia, and spending some time in the
outback, I found a monument to a man who committed suicide in an idealic
area where the cares of life seems kilometres away…
I've tied my shoes, as I fold my hands to the completeness;
Of the common area, walking on coals of fire;
I combed my hair with every desire to refresh myself
And as I fix the flat tire;
Whose gonna mop the kitchen floor;
While locking the basement door;
Keeping out the old fish, who's cooking out of old ceramics;
I apologize as I wonder whose gonna dry my eyes as I cry;
I washed my feet with gasoline,
While the police officer treating me mean;
Wasted collard greens, someone place my silk handkerchief
in the washing machine ;
Watching the new today what am I to believe, how shall we receive;
Whose gonna mop the kitchen floor;
While locking the basement door;
Keeping out the old trout, as the elderly shout;
saying the youth the young today don't know what it's all about;
There is nothing more than two pair, nothing more than two doubles;
Add each scenario together and you have the number
4
Want more, one plus one plus one plus one is
4
so just relax, your limited max out don't pout
Want more, ten fingers minus two thumbs and fold the
remaining four fingers you show the remainder is
4
So you still want more then I suggest you go to,
the golf coarse place the ball on the ground prior to you hitting it holler;
4
As the blind fold comes off and my eyes open to yours, I see everywhere I want to be
As I take your hand we go everywhere she wants to see
Go ahead and do your hair up just the way I like it, but you think is dumb, I have a couple of hair ties tied around my heart if you need one
And every time I look into your eyes it like it’s the first time
I’ve been waiting all my life for this ecstasy to overflow from my glass
So, when you take my hand tell me how you will never let go
I will believe you like it is all I know, and the brokenness from my past never took place
The days are getting older and I told myself I won’t stop until you are mine
If you are never mine I hope the guy who catches your shine understand that gold, silver, and bronze only hold value if the beholder believes
Its all the same when the pain taste just as good as happiness and you begin
to forget what normal was
Yes life is important and there area so many things and moving pieces but as long as you can swim you will be able to walk on water
Life gets so complicated that sometimes its easier to just give up or forget
But if I forget it all I will never forget your drink of choice…cherry coke and vodka…
p.s. let’s get drinks…
negativity
peel away layers
behold emptiness
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 5/15/09
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Senior Advisor, to Founder of Motivational Strips
Ambassador De Literature
Noble Star of Literature 2018
Living Legend of the 21st Century
Pentasiv B World Friendship Poetry Featured Poet 2019
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Trumptopia
What if there was a world where there was only one continent and this continent was a democracy level-headed citizens voted their wishes their dreams for one to be a representative for the fair treatment and engaging their dreams and in this world millions vote they hope to be enhanced to be entranced to be taken care of as they follow their chosen one the one they voted for
Yet they didn't know if only they knew that the one they voted for wasn't for all human for you see his heart wasn't as pure for it is sold
What if this world leader had behold the essence of the presence he sells
His presence to be president is essence a king and yet ever present to rule his area to secure his land what if he devised with an evil comrade a disease to present to his flock
What if this world leader with the hands of his enemy devised a plan to kill millions of citizens of the land for which he rules what if the narrative is proven as history may tell us in the future this leader doesn't concede sprouting words of discord telling the masses to ignore drink disinfectant you may live you won't die
What is this world leader was not a racist but a healer you know he speaks well when he embraces all those that can avail convey save the rich resist the poor the poverty class we must ignore socialism isn't a new division the upper class the rich at Mass they are the best they must last what if in a new world you just have one job and that was just to praise God praise the Lord for you see Humanity in this world that be only the leader must be
Welcome to Trumptopia
God bless him in this new America
1/10/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
My Kolkata was Shamsul Huda Road, Tanning area, Shiva Temple,
Lansdowne Park. My hallowed celebration was
month-long festival in the neighbourhood -
sometimes the open-air play like Madhusudan story,
sometimes the pastoral songs by Nirmalendu Choudhury.
From far watched prestigious Modern School, and the line-up of cars at lunch,
waited at Beckbagan stop to Jadavpur University, for Number forty-five bus.
Sometimes walked to Lady Brabourne College to save the bus-fare,
spent hours at Gol Park Library, among books which marvelled me.
Sometimes travelled to National Library at Alipore for some fictitious reason,
chatting at 8B bus-stop, those friends are lost to me now,
don't find them on Facebook, never dared to step in Jadavpur Coffee-House.
Moved far away, Kolkata has changed.
British Council was not too far, experienced Shakespeare and Dickens there.
And New Market was on the way, spent hours and hours with no purchase,
having the bus-fare was enough. Once entered Victoria Memorial Museum,
did we bunk classes? Don't remember.
Muktaangan Theatre? My Teacher-aunt was so fond of!
Kolkata has changed fast! A little slow…would be better!
The smell of earth hasn't changed…the petrichor!
So exhilarating was getting drenched while returning from college!
Wet saree, didn't even know what a make-up was,
water dripping off from braids of hair !
The petrichor gets me back to the soil,
to the same place, which once I left!
Ecological Colonization -
"the action by a plant or animal of establishing itself in an area."
Each spring the pine trees become quite distraught
considering it a mere childish ploy
that neighb'ring maple trees without much thought
must litter the ground with their silly toys.
The willful whirly birds with tensity
find life each fall equally distressing
since pine needles have a propensity
for clutter by untidy undressing.
The hybrid elms propose a postulate
attempting proof that those who are living
with a roommate's rude failure to placate
must learn the pensive art of forgiving.
The plan was to establish parity
between the two trees, the maple and pine,
by having each tree speak apology
putting request for pardon on the line.
Sadly the prose from the trees went south bound
when a pedantic oak cast its acorns
like aspersions upon their common ground
and the gum shed its sap on the hawthorns.
Dear Barry.
I was thinking about friendship this morning.
I considered the fact that I have several friends.
Lots of acquaintances that could become friends,
but presently could not be considered as friends.
It takes certain connections to be truly friends;
and I have not been one that connects extensively.
This connection that I'm speaking of is one such
as made by you and me; the kind that I have not
Experienced since my mid teens. That was the time
when my friendship bonds seemed to scatter.
Since then, friendships have been very limited and
shallow, and not made very well in all of my 77 years;
The kind of friendships that develop and keep building;
With which I feel safe and are within my comfort zone.
It's the kind that allows someone special or unique
to enter into the deepest corridors of the heart.
From my perspective, there are various portals
in the heart where only a few are allowed to enter.
This morning, I thought to myself and considered
the fact thst there are specific areas of the heart for
Certain friends where only that particular friend
can go. It is off limits to others. Overall, none
Is loved more or less that the other. Whether
consciously or otherwise, each has earned the
Right and the privilege to occupy that particular
zone. Only in that space are they allowed to roam.
Several years ago, you, my dear brother, was invited
into a very private space in my heart. Thanks for
Being willing to enter that area of my heart. I have
no regret and have been enriched because of it.
I shall long remember one of the first times we
Shareed a breakfast. You might remember that I
Said to you, "Some day we are going to talk".
It was clear to both of us that I was referring to
'real talk' and not small talk.
Although long distance has minimized our conversations and
the fellowship to which we always looked forward,
Our friendship is strong. Your friendship is priceless
And greatly appreciated. Blessings.
Your forever friend,
BILLY