Long At one Poems
Long At one Poems. Below are the most popular long At one by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long At one poems by poem length and keyword.
School gets out at one o’clock instead of three-thirty.
The teenagers drive around the town square, cuddled up.
Parents are calling to make sure they are wearing coats.
Grandmas are making chili, and grandpas are snoozing.
They picture their grandchildren home, safely drinking cider.
The air is frigid cold; no one should be out here.
Faces turn red in seconds, lips are chapped.
Teenagers are laughing, inside warm vehicles,
Twirling around on black ice, sliding into bushes
Small animals wish they were hibernating. Their feet freezing.
Icicles hang from the front of houses, glistening and blinking.
Frost on top of snow makes it dazzle like rhinestones
The blue white of the ground is lovely enough to make you cry.
Children are arguing with their parents, wanting to be out there.
Most come in within minutes, after realizing how brittle the wind is.
Others have to wait until they can barely walk on frostbitten toes.
Faces are pressed to windows, watching squirrels scurry.
One lone black dog attempts to walk across the snow
In a labored way, making slow progress
Mom and Dad are cooking pizzas, speaking of their own snow days
The youngest children are listening, attempting to relate
The others are looking at pictures of California on their I-phones
Snow Day 2020 is not so terribly different than Snow Day 1964
Snowdrifts, black ice, freezing rain on top of snow, interstates closed.
Making a memory as children begin frosting snowflake sugar cookies.
an ebony raven flew in through the window
looked over his neck a few times
I thought someone might be after him
He was the first visitor to my new exhibition
I had named this display Poe, in honor of the real poet of our times
but never expected this spontaneous visitor
He landed on the skull I had arranged on my volumes
I wondered what was to come
Would this uninvited guest inspire a poem?
Surely more than one
I wished now that I had bought a quill
I had stared at one a few times
But you have to dip them into an ink well
And I am such a slob, I gave up on the idea
The raven stared unblinking at me
Was this an accusation? Disappointment?
I felt his disgust.
Byte size food begets best bedeviled egg head benefits
re: visited today April 12th, 2023
Way before aye knew
the name Fletcherism applied
family and friends even
Smetana's bartered bride
would (tongue in cheek) chide
tummy uncommonly
(recherché) atypical dyed
ded if the letter “y” one did elide
in the wool feeding
and/or slaking thirst guide
did precepts sans hungry
deaf eating beast impossible to hide
(the ferocious growling harassing imp -
armed to the figurative teeth ready to pounce
viz casus belli sans reeling off
a pseudo say id dish us vicious jeremiad
me, this unrepentant conscientious masticator,
who re: lied
on self control unbeknownst
to this pumpkin eater
(me not named Peter)
unwittingly followed
the basic tenet of Fletcherism - custom made
modus operandi vis a vis exercising okayed
mandibular metered (when famished),
eyes kept closed while tongue gently played
adhered to practice of eating small amounts,
which discipline stayed
engorging self, and as a result
(consuming sustenance
only when hungry avoiding
(wolfing like an instantaneous blitzkrieg flash)
found me aware visa vis master car ding
marginal increase in pounds meaning
thy body electric weighed
approximately for long stretches
to enable safe passage for sturdy brigs
when a habitue at one or another dining digs
stuffed nibbling on hors d'oeuvre figs
adequately satiating with with oomf
when contra dance caller Scott Higgs
announced "hands four," which signal
helped get my mojo back
and reel lee deuce home jigs,
which indeed kickstarted and syncopated,
oft times espying Bobby Riggs
who years gone back whiz Vic Tory huss
e'en when donning apparel of Whigs
like colluding trumpetting molecules
that via tiff Fanny doth zags and zigs.
Most women on Easter Sunday
Morning wear festive and elegant
Bonnets to match their bright
Dresses; men wear lighter, sharp
Suits with cheery feeling, not the
Usual dark ones that are so
Depressing and their neckties must be
Perfect! Coming out of the church in
Throngs, they seem brides and grooms
Again...chatting and smiling at one
Another, knowing that He was,
Risen and gone to Heaven to
Prepare a place for them and their
Children...shouldn't they rejoice
Today? And sitting at an exquisite
Table they say Grace, while Easter
Eggs and bunnies tempt them with their
Lively colors and sweet smell! Even the
Dogs and cats hide underneath the table for
An unforgettable, delicious dessert!
Entered in Brian Strand's Contest, "An Easter Picture"
To live under oppression is terrible
watching every word you utter
never quite sure what sets him off
what he laughs at one day, the next
a flying fist smashes you to the floor
Always fearful, guts in a spin of tension
listening at night for the creak of stairs
knowing you will be brutally raped
just an object, a chattel to be used
the heartache, pain and despair.
The feeling of helplessness abounds
you wake one morning to find
all is quiet, not even sounds of snoring
fearfully you walk through the house.
Then, there he lies bloated not moving
he has drowned in his own vomit
a kind policeman takes your hand
leads you off to see a doctor
Who is shocked by your battered body
tenderly they question you
stunned into silence by your words
you are taken to a pretty home
A kindly woman cares for you
suddenly at the age of 14
you are finally free of him
can go out when you like
even finally have some friends
And are able to say what you want
with no fear of flying fists lashing out
baffled, bewildered you slowly adapt
savouring the greatest gift of all
Freedom, yes Freedom, so priceless
the chains of oppression have slipped away
after 14 years of being humiliated and oppressed
suddenly a new world opens up before you
where the choices are limited only by yourself
FREEDOM
written 07/ 21/2013
contest: Girl Rising
Only a few have touched my soul
But those that have made quite an impact
I'm talking about women mostly here
But some men did also attract
Some male athletes can surely impress
Their charisma wins the day
But it's the ladies to whom I'm referring to
Reside here in our cyber café
Don't have to possess stunning good looks
Warm hearts score bigger with me
True beauty, they say, comes from within
Which is what I've found it to be
What amazes me is the number of sweeties
Here in one place at one time
Guess because there's so many on the Soup
Is why I have love on my mind
© Jack Ellison 2013
The umbilical cord is blue,
The placenta is black and red,
The newborn's skin is purple,
And now, I'm a dad.
It took seven minutes -
No more than that,
My love stands, leans on me,
Then comes out a head
And then - an announcement
To all alive:
The baby is here -
Greet her, husband and wife!
How do I feel
Do you suppose
When you reach for my eyes
Or snatch at my nose
Or look at my face
With wise giant clear eyes
Appearing informed
By multiple lives
And yet also open
To everything here -
Whatever world you come from,
Greetings, my dear!
"Num-num" for milk,
"Bum-bum" to get changed -
Both words you know
At one month of age,
You look like a bear cub
When your mom sits you up
And resound like a trumpet
When you give out a burp
Or you happily laugh
When you stand on her thighs
And she holds you up
And looks in your eyes
And when I say
You will grow up strong
You don't cry any more
And then stare along -
Everyone says
"What a beautiful baby"
Hug you and kiss you
And then you are happy
Wherefrom do you come?
What do you know?
What is your truth?
Into what will you grow?
What will you teach us?
What will you become?
Put pieces together
Into what sum?
How to combine
Wisdom of soul
With what exists
In this world?
All that you have been,
All that you see,
All that is given
And what you will be -
Masterpiece, artist,
Creation, creator,
Nature, mankind,
Shaped and the shaper,
Part you eternal,
Part me and my wife,
Part what you'll learn
And part all of life -
In those giant eyes
As you look to the ceiling
Full of great thought
Full of great feeling
Full of everything
That is true:
Lillian Gaia Shambat,
I love you!
Radical sounds like those 60’s kids
Who wanted to end the war or inequality
And used bombs to do it
Or at least used bombs to express their earnestness.
So in the context of the Right
Maybe a radical would sit
Outside or in an abortion clinic
And pray really hard.
Somehow it just doesn’t sound the same,
But both kinds of radicals
Are trying to change the world.
The far-right on the other hand,
As the far end of the political spectrum
Which has total government at one end
And zero government the other,
Is the side that values freedom
In the pursuit of Life, Liberty and Happiness
As long as no one is harmed in this individual pursuit.
To do this, traditional values
Like faith, family and country are prized.
And they are done by simply living naturally
Not trying to change anything or anyone.
Now if this sounds radical,
Something has gone wrong, radically wrong.
And yet “far-right” is often used disparagingly
When what it is is good old wholesome values,
You know, ones that far-right revolutionary
Thomas Jefferson proudly proclaimed.
And the beauty of his proclamation
Is that it included all of US.
What are the alternatives to far right or left?
I know people who say a middle of the road position
Is the political sweet spot,
The natural position of the smart and sane.
But what does this middle ground mean?
Does it mean a little socialism with a little capitalism,
A little nation building with a little isolationism
A little gun control with a limited range of guns
A little censorship with a little free speech
A lot of taxes with a little fiscal restraint
A lot of tyranny with a little freedom
A lot of crime with a little support for the rule of law
A lot of anti-Americanism with a little patriotic celebration?
Somehow a middle position just sounds like a comprise
Designed to keep everyone happy
Which of course in the real world
Is just another pipe dream.
I think in the real world
There will always be winners and losers
And there is nothing wrong
With having your favorites in this contest.
I know I’d rather support the law over criminals
The individual over the collective
Sound money over debt
Peace over war
And freedom over slavery,
Any day, but hey,
I guess that makes me of the far-right.
(10/10/25)
The best advice I ever received about growing old…I offer now to you:
It came from an old married couple…She had just turned 80…he was 82
You are going to love this couple… before I met them I was told
and that was true as their energy and their love was a wonder to behold.
They would drive across the country to see their children and grandchildren for they could think of nothing greater…
The young 80 year old did all the driving while the old man was the navigator.
She pictured herself a race car driver…for her…speed was all the rage…
“When I get on the highway,” she’d say, “I like to drive my age.”
She was proud of her driving accomplishments…how she was always early…never late…and she bragged how’d she’d gotten a speeding ticket in almost every state.
One day they stopped long enough for me to ask, “Hey, you two…what’s your secret…won’t you help me see…the mystery to all your energy…the key to your vitality?”
They smiled at one another and immediately I was caught by the way they gave me this advice by finishing each other’s thought.
“Life is precious.” He said. “We plan to enjoy it or as long as we can.”
We figure at our age.” She continued. “If we stop we might not get started again.”
Eventually, as Emily Dickinson wrote, (just one of her many gems)
‘Because they would not stop for death…it kindly stopped for them.’
But not until they blessed me with the advice I follow every time my two feet meet the road….
given to me by an older couple
long ago…
who in their many years together…
always loved and never slowed.
The great big oak tree casts off his coat while the rest of us put ours on,
Throwing down the golden-brown piles of spiky leaves,
A dance floor for the couple everyone’s talking about.
It’s their time now, their time in the pallid sun!
And sure, Holly might make a scene, berry-ripe in snow, like children’s faces,
But her slender partner really steals the show.
Ivy’s green, she winds, she twists, she makes her place secure – winds both ends at one go.
And oak and ash don’t mind her creeping up and down – they know.
They know as well as you and I
That when the summer’s in the sky
And flowers are all in bloom,
Ivy dies before the trees. Her time comes all too soon.