Long Arranging Poems
Long Arranging Poems. Below are the most popular long Arranging by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Arranging poems by poem length and keyword.
Each year the amber season arrives carrying its quiet cargo of dreams,
and I walk the bronze-lit shoreline where gold settles like soft breath,
trusting the world’s gentler side, the part that doesn’t break.
The sky deepens into a copper and lavender calm, a place where nothing seems to break,
and even my thoughts drift softly, arranging themselves into slow-moving dreams
that glide like leaf-boats along the gilded corridor of the river’s breath.
I breathe in the warmth rising from autumn’s breath,
feeling the annual turning of time, the way it refuses to rush or break,
and in that stillness I sense the amber pulse of returning dreams.
Amber dreams,
held by autumn’s breath,
refusing to break.
It happened on a winter day many years ago,
my big sister was killed by a truck,
after slipping off a snowbank . . .
mom was yelling at her to get down,
she turned, smiled at us and waved,
then, suddenly slipped down into the street.
I will never forget my mom's screams,
it was my birthday the next day.
The days that passed after were confusing,
I was sent to gran and gramps,
my parents arranging a funeral,
they never took me. (I asked why for years)
When it was all over they came for me,
and my father said, "we have to cut her hair."
You see both my sister and I,
had long, long dark hair
and we looked very much alike,
I suppose they wanted me to look different.
Well, they cut it short,
but, I was still the same little girl,
and I still looked like my sister . . .
they kept cutting it all through my childhood,
I would run to the attic holding my doll weeping,
"here nobody sees me cry."
It kept going on . . .
until, I was old enough to protest,
and then, I was on a mission to grow my hair
as long as I could and to this day I will not cut it.
I will never understand the why . . .
did they want to erase me .
As my hair grew long my confidence soared,
and in my dads last days he
loved to stroke my long hair . . .
Halloween party
I was not at all scared but brave to boast
arranging Halloween party being the host,
on a Halloween night at remote sea-coast.
offering chocolate cake and butter-toast.
Also to relish beer with turkey roast,
Guests were vampire, venomous snake, scary ghost,
wicked witty witch, crooked, cunning most,
Nocturnal owl screaming sitting on post.
Hawk and eagle fought hard at their utmost
both having curvy beaks, first and foremost.
Red and yellow light flashing on lamppost.
Party ran chaos till late night almost.
This Christmas started out just the same
as all thee other one's I mean mom
baking her famous fruit cake
while my two aunt argue back and forth
over my uncle Paulie being late with the turkey again
spending hours on his famous meatball sauce
quite the ritual as everyone does their part
about midday thee sorting of Christmas lights
awaiting aunt sister Mary Agnes to come
strolling in with a fresh cut tree
she finds every year at Our lady of Mount Carmel
faithfully father carmine always picks the wreath
bringing a bottle of Russo to enhance the mood
but what did i know soon pop rushes to the cellar
retrieving his state of thee art
phonographic record player way before our time
he would say struggling with the cords of an old RCA
clutching his 78 record collection of frank Sinatra
Mario Lanza Nat King Cole the Andrew sisters Lawrence welk
by now i had drifted into stage four of boredom
when the annual box of ornaments pass by
being carried by my clumsy brother Anthony
tangled in the cords of pop's record player again
he chuckles at the busy lad the song began to sound
my Nona and uncle Luigi start arranging the chairs
making a dance floor Italian pastries are being served
with long belly laughs forcefully bringing them all to tears
year after year my aunts began to cry with happiness
pinching cheeks when everyone stop's what they were doing
to join in a tarantella dance pop catches me pouting
he began to sing along chanting his favorite song capturing
my smile with what's a matter you hey what are gonna say hey
don't you like a this place hey shut up a your face
Anthony and Yolanda Nicholsen Catholic war veterans
“Hi!” She is about two, round face, enormous brown eyes, pink snowsuit.
Running around Starbucks, while her mother is getting things settled at a table.
Some patrons look amused, others do not look up.
How they cannot look up into that adorable face, I have no clue.
“Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!”
I cannot write anything; I am too fascinated, watching people’s reactions
And non-reactions, which are still incredulously difficult for me to understand.
She is an angel, spreading joy.
An older gentleman looks up and glares at her. He had shuffled in like a walking apology,
Head down, walking slowly, bent over like a broken willow in pain.
“Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!” she says cheerfully, standing at his table.
He ignores her, and she puts her chubby hand on his knee.
I am ready to run over and save her if I have to, as her mother is still busy
Putting the new baby’s seat into a booth, and arranging blue blankets.
The old man looks down. “Well, hello!” he says. “How are you?”
He smiles. This hello had changed his entire demeanor.
Pink snowsuit giggles. She turns and walks to another table,
satisfied now. “Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi! Hi!”
When the older gentleman leaves, he stops by and
says something to the young mother.
I hear her say, “I am glad she was not a bother.”
“Quite the contrary,” he says.
I watch him straighten up his back in a
military way and walk out proudly.
Written Jan 14th, 2019 Silent One’s Poetry Contest - Hello
peep beyond space-time, through heart’s looking glass
melding with the dark void and becoming
energised consciousness as a dense mass
wherefrom life’s born when God begins humming
brilliant luminous darkness unchanging
stillness zone from which light cannot escape
manifest worlds in Itself arranging
held solely by power of love agape
thus renewing Itself within Itself
all that is, filled by consciousness alone
which is That Brahman, The absolute Self
deep knowing we have been by God’s grace shown
Brahman is That of whom naught can be said ~
All that’s manifest, is by God’s will led
Watching my great grandson laugh
Wondering what his future holds
Realizing how short life is
As a new life unfolds
Did we change in all those years
Thoughts cutting like a knife
Changing perspective as we age
Changing times a way of life
We cannot turn the clocks back
Or bring back the time before
The future lies in his hands
Our good old days will be no more
When he reaches our age
Will he dream of days so long ago
Will there be a changing perspective
Of the things that he loved so
Generations pass as time goes by
Values and spiritual growth re arranging
Hopefully the core beliefs we knew
Would be passed on never changing
I wish him hard times, and a little rain
Some struggles just for now
I also wish him happiness
And all that heaven will allow.
I asked ChatGPT if bad guys create horror scenarios for fun
It replied they did, but details there were none.
It told me that for safety reasons it couldn't give specifics
But this is what it told me, its quite horrific.
Perps have confined victims in prepared rooms
Surrounding them with disturbing objects in the gloom
Recordings are played to instill fear
Must be lots of fun to prepare such atmosphere.
Some bad guys make victims believe they are hunted
What a sense of humor! but their empathy is blunted.
Some cults create alternate reality around a poor soul.
What the victim sees and hears is modified, controlled.
Perps have even pretended to be supernatural beings
Like a stage director, arranging what you're seeing
Convincing the victim the impossible was real
More fun than a reality show, those perps must feel.
The reason I looked this up is that it happened to me
The truth was just too big to convince others to see
Bad guys didn't gaslight me, but they got into my house,
Hit me with drugs through the air, I was like a trapped mouse.
People have told me the motives don't make sense
Bad guys just want money, my story was too intense
But if you're open minded, try Google, not ChatGPT.
You can see motives beside money, evil mimics insanity.
Though in my case, I say the bad guys have a breakthrough
Drugs through the air, is remarkable if true.
But you can google "Devil's Breath", Columbian tourists caught.
Drugs blown at victims, might give you food for thought.
FILLE JOLIE
I see the tall apartments as we pass
We all shudder, slowing to a halt
The bus conductor turns and stares
As he stops to collect more fares
This stop-start ride is not his fault
The Place d’Etoile packed with cars
I am off to start a new school term
And almost ready to face the world
It’s 1960 and the times are changing
Career choices soon need arranging
As a young woman, not just a girl
And my independence I do affirm
I will stay to work in this exciting city
Paris also can offer varied recreation
My parents still living up in Normandy
Little villages always full of bonhomie
But my future is more than anticipation
And Gilles said he thought me pretty
The bus has almost reached Pont Neuf
Now yet another day of boring lessons
See the grown up people sitting here
Not everyone has varied lives, I fear
I just hope I’ll make good impressions
Whether as an aristocrat or mere serf
Nature walks around the street smiling at the people it meets with hope swinging on the vine and a blissful song that is mine. Plants of hope are springing up everywhere, with root cemented into the ground and branches swaying all around.
It is not quiet summer yet but I am soaking in sweat, the sweltering heat is baking underneath my feet and ambition is sitting on the chair with lots of stories to share.
It is one of those mornings when things start off slow and emotion is locked into the ground and the reluctant energy keeps dragging me around, the days get longer, the nights get shorter and my spirit gets bolder.
Appointments keep changing , new schedules are made and I keep waiting for you to come. I was hoping for the day when everything would go as plan but the shadows of the night steals it away but nature stood its ground.
Look at the green plants in the field and the trees soaked up to their knees; the birds are flying to and fro they have no real home to go but sit on the branch and watch the water grow.
The message is clear that spring is still in the air and persistence is still lingering around. Nature will open a shop in another town and summer will salute you with crown; so get ready to move around. It isn’t the edges that I fear, it is the open border and the social disorder. You have got to connect to my heart beat.
Nature is riding on high and it is bidding the galaxy goodbye; it sees in places I cannot see and it anchors in the depth of the sea; and when the night is warm it sails above the sky and part the clouds. Flashes of light descend on the earth filling the air with a sudden glean but nature sits undisturbed.
Nature is running a marathon, testing, arranging and organizing, the mission is on the way and the crew is doing the final touch before they board the bus; the launch is set and everyone is on the deck.
The instructions are clear and by midnight nature should take you in the air, the missiles are blazing on the other side while nature stands still and watches the heavens move.