Long Awnings Poems
Long Awnings Poems. Below are the most popular long Awnings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Awnings poems by poem length and keyword.
Somewhere in New York City was an upbeat corner building.
Painted in bright lively colors, with awnings and such.
The corner filled with a building shaped like a canister.
colorful petunias, geraniums and daisies smiled at me from boxes.
Interesting people live here, I told myself, and often.
I sat on a stoop, watching people come in and out on a Tuesday.
Making up stories about this one and that one, it was so much fun!
New York City is filled with neighbors and strangers.
In this building I pictured a large network of friends.
Because of the colors and the prettiness and the calm aura.
I wanted to live in this building when I grew up.
My career took me to the west coast, but I thought of this building often.
It was my meditation spot, and my story-idea station.
Millions used to roam across Africa’s plains,
But, sadly, not one Gazebo still remains,
Yes, unfortunately, they are now extinct,
Their fate and Man’s greed, clearly linked.
Treasured for their waterproofed hides,
Used as Marquees by jetsetters and blushing brides,
Eyelets used to mask inappropriate holes,
Their thin straight legs used as supporting poles.
The world’s appetite for awnings was immense,
Pressure on their survival became too in-tents,
Most were poached - but some were boiled,
Corruption rife and palms were oiled.
Did I detect tears in Attenborough’s eyes,
As his films captured the Gazebos sad demise?
Let the whole world learn from this,
Not allow species to head into an abyss,
Never let us again, our powers abuse,
Just so we can enjoy shaded barbeques!
Bad, Cheese
The carpet smelled old, with dust… and other things.
I sat outside your door, on the floor, smelling it.
The odorous sweetness, would never leave me,
Completely…
Until I asked God to take it away.
You had nothing to do with that.
You were evil, you are evil,
I pray you will not be lost forever,
as no one should go to hell.
Trading comfort for the price of your child.
Trading comfort for the price of innocence.
Where you also given away?
I would like to know what made you so?
What made you… the mom, that you are?
The Monster’s appetite was fed by wicked flakes of skin,
peeled back and roasted, slowly over a pit, where things moved.
You never saw it, as you preferred blindness.
How? How then could you keep out the smell?
Like a lovely meadow, scented with the leavings,
of the careless, and defiled.
Angels came,
they washed the awnings,
the windows,
and left…
all the doors wide open.
You can no longer hide the truth,
as the brightness pierces walls.
Evil is a shadow, that can not find space now,
to cast it’s wickedness…toward others.
The tweet on the pipe called the muster fall-in
The cadets all fell in with nary a din
For now they’d be grouped for “Hands to Cleanship”
To dress up the ship afore the Old Man's pip-pip
Well-trained, the cadets set to their work
The Bo ‘suns and POGIs made sure they didn’t shirk.
The awnings were tautened with the Shark's Mouth agape
The ropes in the grommets brought all into shape
The hydrants and fittings were brassoed and shined
The scuppers were cleaned where muck was confined
Running rigging was secured with belaying pins
All loose gear were neatly stacked in their bins
Hawsers and towropes were carefully coiled
Wire ropes ‘spiked, unkinked and oiled.
The decks were all cleaned with the broom and the brush
Fenders and pontoons secured so sides wouldn’t crush
With hammers the cable was chipped off of rust
The shackles were oiled after cleaning the dust.
The bitters on the bits were tethered on tight
With the bitter ends belayed and tucked out of sight.
The QD was holystoned with water and sand
(All set for the do with the Naval Band)
The Old Lady was painted in her customary gray
Her waists all shaped up for the rest of the day
The guns were all covered for the incoming squall
Even before the “cover guns” call
The Inglefields were mustered, the pennants and flags
Strung for’ard to stern without any sags
And thus was the ship all dressed to the tee
As shipshape and dandy as she rightly ought to be.
Their tasks all done, the cadets did secure
But the day was not done, there was more to endure!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside the Pinecone Coffee Bar,
dappled sunlight sifts through
oak branches like powdered cinnamon.
Beneath bark-striped awnings,
two squirrels sit debating
virtues of hazelnut cream~
claws tapping porcelain.
One stirs her espresso
with a twig so precise,
the other debates nutmeg~
twice or just thrice?
One sips with pinky raised,
with dainty, pawful grace;
the other gulps hers,
prefers dark acorn roast.
They chitter-chatter
and lean towards one another,
tails twitching over stolen scones,
plotting the morning’s next heist:
a sugar packet,
and in which oak to nap in
when the caffeine fades.
I dream of magic lines but they elude me.
Chapbook on acrylic tube palette, janus-faced cave in
at the crack of dawn,
crescent moonlight awnings turn to circus of the soul,
images that colour dullard pages leave furrow on my
hayrick haggard brow.
Backwater sonnet form leaning towards some meadow compost rot.
Ghost written silhouettes, shatter fragile eggs on
loop pile Berber carpets,
yolk stain and pale brown chicken hash tags.
Tight rope knot escarpment found in tripod camera verse,
cliff edge heart-stop paen is just another
blue-sky canon over billed by birds of prey.
Poetic licence pointer to a learner permit doggerel,
aspiring metre patchwork but a tapered column
lost in grey day whimper.
Guangdong province text in lychee pink for window glaze.
Fleeting notions dangle at the sparrow hawk crossroads,
while grazing skinny red ballon formations overhead.
Mother of invention please shine your convex beam
upon this wellspring drought abandonment I swim in.
Sudden brain cell drafts a Jack-o’-lantern of disjointed phases,
stretcher bear the legless phrases that leave me
wheelchaired and infirmed in woolly states.
Timeline mainstream woofer whose lagging jacket hemline falls apart,
areole reduced branch slowly bleeds its cactus juice of inspiration.
A rush, a fever, quotidian fever,
no greater longing can us writers have.
Where fatso's by the fireplace
His wicked fingers teasing
A velvet suit shows ashes on
for yuling peoples pleasing
When awnings on a window top
reveal a shadow stalking
And presence through a livingroom
embark on children's stockings
That strolling down a corridor
will bring a puppy lapping
When Santa bends to pat him down
and calm him from his yapping
And move along to lend his toys
to all good girls and boys
Unloading what are gifts to bring
for promise and for joys
That every light we go to be
are Santa's for the cause
When Christmas Day means gifts to be
an evening with the Claus
A descension of value bows night scenes,
the purple canopy edges its hoist,
spirits cool Platte River to lose its sheen,
Nebraskans wake to clarion fields voiced.
A loyal guest calls, it's the Sandhill Cranes,
dancing lessons, fields fattening corn orts,
pecking and choosing established campaigns.
Last state, go afoul, -- a date with the courts.
Locals aid their tally, most from afar,
It is nature's clock, all good things must end,
fly north to breed, and brood, and up to par,
A month's here, till next year, that's how the trend.
Awnings grey, triumphant stirs, the tension,
inspiring, crescendo ... the ascension.
It glanced seductively at Louis with intricate petals and thorns from the roadside
A weedy hawker peddled the evergreen climber to make meagre ends meet
Measuring up philanthropy and potential for growth Louis dug down in his pockets
Found a new home for the tree as he sought wild abundance and passionate care
Knew nothing about inflorescence and internodes but was enchanted by beauty
Antoinette his young lover and soulmate encouraged the deal knew about botany
While he marvelled at her gait and anatomy long enough to notice the seeds
Visions of swell budding nature embraced and caressed copious plenteous bounty
Lush pink flowers like the innocent blush on faces after commensurate move sent
Delightful shivers down his loins as he smelt musk though the plant has no scent
A love affair uncontrollable emotions gentle pricks of the thorn and delight
Five sepals and they named them faith kindness compassion exultation and hope
Like the name giving explorer Louis circumnavigated earth moon and sunshine
Kept the most wonderful travels from her navel to wild luscious heavenly harbour
Flowerets of communion branches of intricate journeys and spread of infinite joy
They sailed the oceans together with no compass no chart only light from inside
Discovered all glorious reds orange chakras purple indigo and innocent white
Made love in radiant glows of their garden in vibrant evocative synesthetic flow
The Universe applauded chanted approval as they danced naked under awesome
Canopies dawning awnings and became the hippies they had always wanted to be
20th March 2019
I lingered by the seaside on a cold and frosty morning,
The dark clouds overhead were billowing out a warning
Feeling them calling to me in a manner of some gloom.
That I would be better off watching them from my room.
I aimed to linger longer so took no notice of the clouds.
An imposing storm would surely keep away the crowds.
I gleefully watched the tiny sand crabs scurry to and fro,
Sensing the storm coming, weren’t sure which way to go.
I casually lingered up the stairs that led to the main street,
There I spied the ice-cream shop, decided to have a treat.
Flavour would me a momentous decision. It took a while.
Now which, Banana Rama or Choc Cherry made me smile.
Enjoying my cone, I lingered on, watching folk all scatter.
Rain by now was pouring down, to me it didn’t matter.
Many were in the little café, no doubt they took refuge.
Looking over to the sea, the waves now were really huge.
Thunder crashed and lightning flashed, the rain fell down.
I lingered slowly under awnings to the other side of town.
Watched cars slowing down and splash in a puddle or two.
I lingered further, might as well I had nothing better to do.