Long Baby carriage Poems
Long Baby carriage Poems. Below are the most popular long Baby carriage by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Baby carriage poems by poem length and keyword.
AABA/Bebop
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By:Bannock and
Montreal "Smoked" Meatez__
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I think I just met my wife
it is just that simple
her smile her and devilish smirk
that pretty dimple
I think I just meet my wife
I can't believe I said it
it's probably cause I deserve this
I believe I just met my wife
We don't need no catastrophe
we don't need no havoc
our emotional behavior iss fine
please don't try to change my mind
no were not desperate
no revenge or that what they get
we are just a perfect fit
we belong together
I think I just met my husband
I am mature enough to know this
a real expectation
I know what I'm saying
I just met my husband
and I want the world to know
the prevalent issue in marriage
me with the baby carriage
I know what I am saying
I believe I just met my husband
We don't need any naysayers
habitually negative and critical
nothing polished or political
some clown using words that'll
significantly impact relationship
aint no journey or adventure
or someone tryna find words that fit ya
We like it when it's
me for him and him for me
aint no words that
indicate something different
the harmony is smooth
and the melody is suffenant
grooving through us too is coeffeint
more onever the less
thats the difference
I belive I just found the one for me
The movers came to clean out my house,
And said to one another
“Let’s remove ALL the furniture!
The baby carriage and accessories
have served their purpose.
That old stuff is nothing but clutter now.
Don’t let the mother see us
take everything out.
She might want to save her heirlooms:
uterus, cervix, tubes and ovaries.
They really must go,
and it’s better to move them all at once.
Let’s make it quick.
We’ve got other cleaning jobs today, too.”
My baby’s room is empty.
The movers sealed off the space and left.
Where did my baby furniture go?
Was it handled with utmost care?
Will it be reused or recycled?
As owner for decades,
why did I believe their “better out than in”
prevention strategy and problem-solving remedy?
Who decided that I could live
without furniture anyway?
Will that area of my house shrink
for lack of occupancy?
Will the vacuum bring ecstasy, grief or pain?
Will the plumbing to my bathroom expand?
Hist er rec to me!
Does anyone understand why the head of my house
grapples with questions at hand?
I hate wet socks.
I'm knee-deep with diapers floating by.
The steel stairs steps (that go up!)
Just 10 feet from me.
Seawater pouring in from every orifice.
I'd be dead already if I had not bribed the head caterer.
Snagged me a spot 2 levels up
From what is now completely submerged.
I start breast-stroking it through the brackish,
Freezing water.
If I had kids I'd be out of my mind right now.
Tilt! We're tilting!
Arm-straining though sideways-ing water now.
Made it to the steel bars but
Awkward as all heck making any progress.
Scaling Shroeder's stairs,
I hear sounds of mayhem above the open square
The steel stairs lead me.
Shouts of "3 boats left! 3 boats left!"
I emerge onto the upper level
And onto a sliding ballroom.
Hoisting my rump onto the dancefloor
I was met instantly by a wheeled baby carriage
Zooming into my face. No baby.
Black sea water was rushing through the windows
on the lower side of the flickeringly lit ballroom.
A martini glass, magically half-full, swerves into my sliding lap.
A pick it up and slug it back as I brace for
The ocean water I'm rushing towards.
I was 2nd place in breast stroke in the state.
I never thought it would come in handy.
That night I got 5 kids into the last few boats
And then went down with the ship.
Just before losing consciousness,
Descending into the dark oceanic abyss
I could still feel my dreadful socks.
My last thought, still,
Hating wet socks.
Love and marriage
Love and marriage
Go together like
A...something and carriage
....cause that rhymes
He loves me
He loves me not
She loves me
But...maybe, not
....cause I don't think I'm lovable
We're going to the chapel
And we're gonna get married
....cause, well, that's what pretty girls do
But...what if I'm not pretty
Johnny and Mary
Sittin' in a tree
K-I-SS-I-N-G
First comes love
Then comes marriage
Then comes a baby
In...a...baby....carriage
....cause that's the order of things, right
I think I'm barren
College, Great Job
Excellent Man to provide
Then a nice house and car
To show the world I've arrived
...where
For pity's sake, would someone tell me
........where are we going????
Something is missing from
The facts we've been given
No matter how much information we have
Something HUGE is missin'
Two means difference
It provides humanity a choice
But if we lean to one side
The other has no voice
....how do we know TRUTH
It has to be on the line
....in the expression of the = sign
Written by Trudy Schrader on 07-15-2018
Neither puppy love nor lust, each insists
in its imperfect play. Their hearts resist
both by clinging in its barbaric way.
Youth forgiven. The wolf begs her to stay.
But a commitment is made in marriage.
It is not found in a baby carriage.
What do we know of love - it’s not first sight.
It is the highs and lows - bond holds on tight.
Love’s patient, kind, not selfish nor boastful.
It’s the making of memories - joyful.
To let go of bitterness’ a decision.
Poof like magic, the wrongs are forgiven.
Black and blues, the stumbles and falls, gets up
on the horse - believers climb to the top.
~
Now what of those years, of the worse decrease?
Does the sorrow make the better cerise?
Does the white-gowned wife, handsome groom resume
as if the bond is pruned, roses in bloom?
Yes, the rivulets of tears reverent.
The jubilee melody resonant.
When love is stirred with sugar and nettles,
sorrow’d years melt. Felicitous petals
land on silver hair and wrinkles. O God!
Yes, three cords complete and restore the flawed.
Love protects, hopes, perseveres in trials.
The truth of a lifetime's years in their smiles.
Shakespeare regales Summer’s hot gaze, short days.
Yet love stoked in the Winter’s hearth - O blaze!
1/30/2021
What Is Love
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
Hybronnet is similar to a sonnet, can have a variable rhyme scheme,
does not have to be iambic meter. The poet is given liberty to choose how to structure the rhyme of the Hybronnet poem into a combination of rhymes be it slant, feminine, masculine, etc. or apply it in any design deemed appropriate
There will be catastrophic damages to our
great nation, if we elect the Project 2025
conservative administration..
They plan to holt all carbon emission goals and
return to drilling oil and gas and coals..
Begin the largest mass deportation.
Eliminate the Department of Education.
Adopt the biblical definition for marriage: a man,
and a woman and a baby carriage..
Those Justices who Roe vs Wade did kill, now
plan to ban the abortion pill.
Aiming at the "awoke agenda", to end equality
and inclusion, the message they render..
Planning to criminalize p.o.r.n., which has been
around way before most of us were born..
Repay there big donors that had their backs by
heavily reducing their corporate tax..
Ending the three branches of gov., a long standing
tradition, by placing the Department of Justice
under the Executive position.
All government employees will have no job protections,
the end of our Republic, a very sad projection..
I make my own pickles but they're no good.
When it comes to eating them, no one should.
They're even worse than the ones Aunt Bee made.
If you ever eat one, you'd better be afraid.
They taste like kerosene even though they're dill.
Don't eat my pickles, they've been known to kill.
A woman wanted some rat poison but she used my pickles instead.
In less than five minutes, every rat in her house was dead.
A man just took a bite of one of my pickles and he's gone blind.
If the dumbass had listened to me, he wouldn't be in this bind.
A lady wasted her money when she bought a baby carriage.
She ate one of my pickles and then she had a miscarriage.
If you come to my house, you'd better listen to me on the double.
Don't you dare eat one of my pickles or you will be in trouble.
(This is a fictional poem.)
One day just like that she began. A little smudge no bigger than God's thumb.
Forgetting old bones and scarred memories she was born one early March.
A lion in a baby carriage roaring and carrying on as if she had just been
flapped to the moon. The old perambulator squeaked as two strong hands
clutched the bar and rocked up and down. Moms cherry red lips whispered
in the winter wind as the snow fell softly all around.
The angels created origami wings and fluttering them around her
like white sail boat masts, entertained her to no end as the sun
shone down with all its strength.
Was the world ready for a super-girl filled with superpowers of delusional dimensions? Where they ready for her free-will descension?
The Earth winked at the stars and the sun cradled the moon. V was propelled to a palladium planet by an introspective God who watched from heaven's big screen as a tiny by-product of a dismantled placenta, a backlash of an Infinite Spirit's creation, a clairvoyant child with a good dose of E.S.P. , was suddenly back on Planet B .
God rolling up the parchment scroll gave out a sigh of relief.
It took as many years for her to mature as a fig on a southern tree.
But grow up she did and oh the things she achieved, who knew ?
to be continued...