Long Auctions Poems
Long Auctions Poems. Below are the most popular long Auctions by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Auctions poems by poem length and keyword.
You wise me up faster
To avoiding disaster
Gradually becoming a forecaster
Life's riddle painted me a master
But don't call me a pastor
Cum fasting, I ain't a taskmaster
The mixed differences of two
Can never be measured of blue
You love me, oh mine
Your trust on me assign
Duties beyond heart to fall in line
That factual auctions are redefine
In every activity of the vine
How atmosphere's spells shine
Thy love so genuine
Doubts couldn't ruin
I will remember now and evermore
These and more I heartily adore
To the needful core
Of mess not ignore
And fears you duly cure its metaphor
By which I conquered the mental war
Into background check
By which faults wreck
You lead me aright
Yet you never alight
From the bus of my mind; sitting tight
To continually beep the ray of thy light
Around my heart's sight
Dewing canals; not embracing its delight
You stare, my heart grasp
Gazing either cool or rasp
My soul and mind is now of concern
Even in uncertainty, I've got to learn
All your speaking
Gets brain seeking
Forgotten tales of old wisdom's root
Walking in the wilderness of ideas barefoot
My fearless daring
Assist me cheering
A K-8 school, J.S. Waters, was roundly chastised today
Its students held a 'mock' slave auction
This happened in March, in North Carolina, in the year 2022
White students sold black students as slaves, and used the n-word too
One boy went for $350, later he was clubbed with a baseball bat
So, if you roll your eyes over 'Racism?' --in the USA?
~ You ought to think long and hard about that
Fire the principal, the teachers involved, expel the white participants too
Throw the book at the adults, and at those white kids too
Make an example of these horrid beasts, so this NEVER happens again...
We dare not wonder why Civil War wounds have yet to mend
Oh nose of the Most High
Covering the globe from the sky
Smelling troubles to unfold sigh
And fill this world with cautions
You gave to us our spiritual auctions
To be the best we can cum precautions
Your nose don't teach heart off pity
Or condemn man's acts so ty
But allows redemption really gritty
Your nose withstand our sin
Under born again, we all grin
Our new life is even yet to begin
Though You were only building Your kingdom
If all end in hell, heaven won't lack blossom
Though satan could tell You he had more wisdom
Than any existing one ever lived
But his tricks You already outlived
Truly, You appreciate us; being relieved
You encourage us and love all
Even walking with You, we crawl
Yet You raise us up to Your call
Your nose smells us-- living deads
Feeding us has been not only with breads
But also fishes for those always on their beds
I wish I could make my nose smell like You
The errors in trials traveling in the blue
And the time fulfilment awaits to come true
When truth will no longer dine with lies
I wish I could smell Earth's fall and heaven's rise
How every mortal meets simple demise
I would have treasured every second
And kept it in my chest box so reckoned
By no other than my mind be beckoned
You Smell the cross
You sneeze and mourn Thy loss
To energize us drive sins away perforce
You Smell the great sacrifice
And cast away Thy eyes to paradise
How cheap it becomes more suffice
But You smell sacrifices I made
In the face of sin yet not afraid
Of the Lord's sacrifice life and death trade
You Smell every nook and cranny
You know when I have been sins nanny
Taking order from Eve its granny
Renegade realtor dealt only with sellers sincere
Harried under hammer results which rich revere
Assured Lofty turned over listings like sausages
Heat applied seared buyers, hankering hostages
Canvassing coast, reframed aim purely at the top
Invisible neighbour circular driveways, Dolce Drop
Elm dotted uniform fairyland founded by botanist
Supple carpet resilient reservoir, moist moss on it
Initially entry point sat at a mil, a year later, two
Sales proliferated, profitable Lofty huge revenue
Elated agent, staple baked bread is prone to rise!
Dashing diagonal sold signs proclaim him prized!
Rolls Royce realtor of scorched auctions arriving!
Mainstay, every lavish gathering, client conniving
Head mushroomed, awash in exotic cigar cloud
Homeowner informs of fresh competitor for clout
Choke, champagne sour, audacious Dolce Auctions
For bone fide buyers, property upstart seeps toxins
Outlays myriad of listings, perusing homes pleasure
Customers snub historic prescription high pressure
Left for buttered bread, lofty loaf crumbles, stale
Misaddressed letters droop, month old mouldy mail
Locked recollections, passed in auction residential
Final elusive step strove for indented a firm temple
Funny fail, fall from grace
Claimed victory too soon
First day of June
Oh, beautiful, enigmatic woman,
subject of “Dora Maar with the Green Fingernails,’
nothing did I know about you
before seeing the works you inspired
from a misogynist and womanizer.
You were used as Picasso’s aid and his muse
for 8 years before he used you up
and threw you away.
Shattered, like the “Weeping Woman”
you also posed for,
your life and splendid surreal photography
were overshadowed by the man who never cared
to know any of the women that he used.
You were an artist in your own right,
admired and even successful.
I wonder about you and
why you became reclusive
when Picasso left you for a new lover.
Your life by then was about halfway through.
I learned how you continued to create,
but the auctions making you famous today
came after your death and at
the end of the century in which you lived
mostly alone.
That painting of you with green fingernails
was sold for over 4 million dollars,
and you kept it in your private collection
until your death at 89.
This shows me perhaps you had
a piece of your heart still beating
for your long-gone lover.
Sadly, you are still barely known
for much else other than being
Pablo Picasso’s long-ago muse.
How she loved diamonds, her birthstone.
Literally diamonds were her best friends.
She worked very hard and each piece
of jewelry she bought made her happy.
Cluster of diamonds or solitaires, emeralds
and sapphires with diamonds set in precious
metals of gold or platinum, earrings, bracelets,
necklaces in gold and Rolex gem-set watches.
The most precious ones were the four carat diamond
solitaire ring, the twelve carat graduated
Riviere necklace bought at auctions and the Rolex
watch with diamond-set bezel and dial.
She collected her precious jewels for decades.
Those precious jewels were her pride and joy.
Her eyes sparked when she showed them, and
her excitement filled the room with joy.
She died ten years ago, and her eldest daughter
kept them without sharing any with her sister.
Where are the precious jewels now?
Sold, pawned, or given away?
It was just Father’s Day and the worst one of my life
The first one not celebrated since you have been gone Dad
I thought about you all day with sad tears flowing
Finding peace in all the great memories we shared.
I remember the day we went to the antique store together
Reminiscing about going to auctions as a child with you
We laughed because I now love antiques but didn’t then
The special bedroom set you let me pick out for my room.
That day I backed into a sign pole and upset my husband
You gave such sound advice saying cars are not important
Living your life and spending time with loved ones are!
I wish I could go back to that special Father’s Day
So many memories of you being a great Dad!
I learned so much from you, you were my rock.
I could always pick up the phone and get your advice
I find myself picking up the phone to call, just for a moment.
I sometimes wake up and it still feels surreal you are gone.
I know you are no longer suffering and fighting to stay strong
I just wish We could have had more time together Dad, but
I will forever cherish all the life lessons and memories.
6/28/2020
Contest: In Loving Memory
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Mom has always loved antiques
I have never asked her why
Perhaps it's the connection to the past
Maybe the craftsmanship
The smell of ancient wood
The curves
The fact that they were built to last
She turned a passion into a business
A few small pieces in her living room
A sign on a door
Interesting how businesses are born
Bob there by her side
Together building on her dream
There once was an old sawmill
Where men had worked with their hands
Hard work had its demands
Each one did what he could
Their strength remains
Locked within the wood
Those same hands had built mom's home
Over one hundred years ago
Time dripped on it didn't slow
Mom's home became the perfect place
To celebrate the past
Her home and business
Built from things that were made to last
The business grew
Taking over the home
Visits from patrons
Calls on the phone
Busy all the time
No space for them to be alone
It became time
For them to expand
They looked to the future
The life they planned
Built on their historic land
A new addition built from old wood
Soaring ceiling
Above them stood
I remember the beams
Spectacular
From an old barn hewn from fir
Lifted on Bob's wide strong back
Formerly they had been just a stack
A one of a kind home
Filled with love
With bedrooms and landing up above
The kitchen was the centre piece
A place to gather
Filled with love and peace
Love of the past
Hope for the future
Has alway been a part of her
Together melded and celebrated
As a result I appreciate
The solid
The values
The ingenuity
Forever engrained in my blood
My respect for the old
My admiration of antiques
Remnants of the business still remain
The building sold
Mom loves going to auctions
She still sells at local Antique Markets
Sadly Bob has passed on
Thankfully mom has moved on from her sad
She too is made of stronger stuff
Not unlike
Her beloved
Antiques
An old poem and this one is about old things.
For Broken Wings' contest. Written April 13 2013
Let's burn their flag
their Confederate flag
The flag of traitors, of betrayers
Let's burn their flag
Let's light them on fire
their Confederate flags
The flags of those who humiliated
the once-noble African race
selling them down-river at auctions
Let's light their Confederate flags on fire
These traitors hated all blacks -- in THAT,
they were unbiased -- I've witnessed the
snarl on their lips trying to say '*****,'
spitting out, contemptuously, 'Ni-gra.'
These betrayers pleaded 'States Rights'
when they knew damn well that no
state has the right to grant freedom
to some, while denying it to others,
whose blood is as red as their brothers...
So, let's burn their flags
their Confederate flags
Let's burn them all, light them on fire
and ban them forever and aye
"How sweet to the heart are the scenes of my childhood"
Samuel Woodworth, 1785-1842
I remember wonderful childhood days
many special ones were spent with my Dad
reminiscing makes me sad in some ways
Going with you to auctions made you glad
watching the bidding sometimes was a bore
bittersweet memories make me feel sad
You took me to auctions and antique stores
We ate cooked onions and steamed red hot dogs
You bid on the set with the white drawers
It wasn't the one with the pinecone knobs
excited you won the white bedroom set
dreaming of pink bedding in catalogues
For years we laughed about that winning bet,
it wasn't the one you wanted me to get
11/19/2020
Contest: Terza Rima Form
Sponsor: Constance La France