Long Bag Poems
Long Bag Poems. Below are the most popular long Bag by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bag poems by poem length and keyword.
I've a bag for spiders, you may ask why
Cannot stand them, when I spy one I cry
Pop them into the bag each one I snatch
Though they're speedy and difficult to catch.
The bag is creepy for it walks the floor
Not seen anything alike it before
I find it in the kitchen, bedroom too
I've even found spider bag in the loo.
Can’t decide what to do with the dam bag
Dare not throw it away, though it's a drag
I could not kill spiders, that would be sad
It would play on my mind and drive me mad.
What can I do with the bag, tell me please
I'm going out of my mind, I believe
To put it in a bin would be a sin
Perhaps I just must let the bag live in.
Make no doubt about it
from the top of the world
I'll shout it
baby I want you as my own
Some thing is making
me crazy
thought it wouldn't fade me
til I looked at the ring you have
back then thought I'd understand
Never thought you'd betray me
never thought this would say me
now here I am all alone
Better get myself together
Find away to nevermind the weather
keep myself from feeling all alone
When the doorbell rang I wandered
Glad I got the second chance for it
Got so tired of being alone
what is inspired by love
isn't what it always seem
those who guide your way
can lead you in to
troubled waters
they can speak you kind
to make you faulter
whats a man to do
who's a man to trust
what are we in and what's
it all a doubt
she preaches love and affection
when I need it she gives me direct
but when you work against
me and refuse to understand
She left out of the store with several new garments in hand
Walking out the front door and now she's feeling pretty grand
And so down the street she walked smiling at each passersby
Rarely would one's eyes meet but some people did actually try
And about four blocks away nearly half way to her own place
She seen something that day something so hard to even face
But there the woman still laid on a box there at seventh street
In so guessing the reason she stayed there for the warm vent
She paused for a moment but then she started to just go past
With all the stink from the vent she started walking really fast
Finally she had made it by but maybe she needed a new way
A disgust she wouldn't admit but some of the things she'd say
That night as the girl slept she began to have this vivid dream
As all those fears had now crept or so for now it would seem
Laying there alone on that vent never again to feel any love
Except a few coins that were sent tossed down from above
Feeling such hunger and thirst and the chill upon her bones
Never had she felt worst in the losing of all that she owns
As there this girl had only slept but the pain was so deep
For she had even wept laying there upon that trash heap
When she suddenly awoke right in the middle of the night
Like her conscious had spoke putting everything into sight
The next day, still there, she took yesterdays bag of clothes
That someone still does care is what that old woman now knows
I've let it slip
I've lost my grip,
I had it yesterday
I had better find it
Before it gets away
It was a firm grip
One I was so proud to own
How could I let it slip
Now it's all alone
What will I do without it?
I am sure I do not know,
I had it at the airport
Where did that travel bag go?
Get a grip on yourself,
All will be alright.
An airways attendant
Said it was already on the plane,
waiting for the flight.
I am travelling to Tasmania
To see my eldest son,
I may arrive in Pennsylvania,
That will be lots of fun
I have had enough today,
Although looking forward to this trip
Once I board the plane,
I will be able to get a grip!
There was a trouble-maker, a cute tyke.
You know the type! He had a little trike.
Perhaps his name was like the cartoon “Dennis.”
To everyone he met, he was a menace.
He asked his mother for a bag and went
into the basement. Webs on the cement
were also on the walls and everywhere.
Mom never had it sprayed for insects there.
It took him quite a while, but quite a lot
of spiders in that small bag Dennis got.
He also went outside to find some more.
It took him all day. What was it all for?
He hated school, but most of all, one teacher
who taught biology like she were a preacher.
Her droning on and on made Dennis sick.
To make him even hate bugs – what a trick!
The coming lesson would be spider-filled.
On that teacher’s desk, the young lad spilled
his bag of spiders when her back was turned.
The F he got was the funnest that he’d ever earned!
A nearly full bag of fries in a trash bin
is a little tempting to one not having eaten all day!
Somewhere is a single mom scrubbing floors
so her kids can eat a PB sandwich
smeared with a little jelly,
or maybe
she will leave them with generic macaroni,
a Kraft substitute easy for kids to fix alone -
but no big juicy red apples because
those would cost twice as much
as packaged macaroni for several kids.
At least cheese in little packets is calcium for bones.
Or is it?
When it’s the season to be jolly,
potatoes are rather cheap and versatile.
You can boil, fry, bake or microwave them.
You can buy them flaked
for cafeteria style mashed potatoes.
But there is something special about salted French fries
put into red containers bought at McDonald’s although
they get tossed out barely eaten with half-drunk cokes
in the same way that people throw money out the door
almost any time they go out to eat.
Eating out! That is such a luxury for someone who is poor.
I’m ok; my belly has its fair share of fat.
Folks like me can always last till we get home.
But tonight while it is cold and dark,
I hope someone will find those fries I spy
sitting at the top of this garbage heap.
I know they’d be a treat for someone truly starving,
and they’d appreciate them more than he
who was eating them when they were nice and hot.
Even better, of course, I hope all those in need
can find a way to feed their families and always have
a place to lay their head down for the night.
For the Garbage Poetry Contest of Anthony Slausen
I have a little shopping sack
That folds into a square.
It’s nylon; tucked inside my bag,
I hardly know it’s there.
The one I carry’s navy blue
With lots of bright green stars
And it is strong enough to schlep
Some boxes, cans or jars.
In stores, they ask, “You need a bag?”
For they’re no longer free.
I shake my head, unfolding mine
And I am proud of me.
Of course, I never carried one
When bags were given out
And if I didn’t have to pay,
I’d use the store’s, no doubt.
Yet now I do my little part
(Whatever it is worth)
To save some pennies, but of course,
To help out Mother Earth.
in the corner of room stands my school bag,
creased with memories bearing my name tag,
loads of books it carried over the years,
staying by my side through my exam fears!
smell of its leather is so dear to me,
like smell of its mum to little puppy,
on occasions would cuddle it for warmth,
like cat seeking love from fire of hearth.
relations and friends I may have many,
father, mother sisters and my granny,
they all did their best for me when at school,
but they all had conditions and their rules,
my satchel is one that stayed to the end,
through my worries and fears like a true friend!
my school bag has special place in my heart,
though retired,we will never be apart!
Written 7/11/2021
I am a paper bag.
I am only as good as what I can carry.
I am a paper bag, I am.
I’m not the smart one,
I’m not the successful one
I’m not the tall one who always won and
Then died.
I am a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
I am a paper bag,
I’m not plastic, not I.
I am paper: rough, brown and thin
I’m not waterproof, you know.
And I can’t hold any liquids or gases within.
I only have room for the stuff that matters.
You know, I’m a paper bag.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
I am a paper bag.
Wrinkled and used and often abused
Thrown on the floor.
Buried deep inside your drawers.
I am a paper bag.
I cannot ask for anything more.
I’m only as good as what I can carry.
https://tinyurl.com/y5c4pnet
I carry a bag with me
Packing it inside of my head
We all pack things in different ways
Or sometimes we travel light instead
At times the load seems heavy
With hoarding our memories
Never sharing any in our lives
The burden of it all causes an overflow
We pack our joys and sorrows
And keep space for our tomorrows
We unpack and repack
Just to fit in all that we lack
Never knowing sometimes how
To face this mess we make
Sometimes it takes a little courage
To gather thoughts strewn on the floor
A lot of effort goes into figuring
What to carry and what to throw
A hidden pocket my most precious I store
My imagination and a heart that you adore!
24.6.2021
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Contest: Surprise me.