Long Bags Poems
Long Bags Poems. Below are the most popular long Bags by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bags poems by poem length and keyword.
Essential workers
They stand in front of the mirror
With black bags under their eyes
Forcing themselves awake
Just like any other day
The clock says 2:00 AM
They've taken a shower
They've gotten dressed
But now they put on a mask
And hope they don't catch death
The radio thanks them for their sacrifice
And their corporations give a high five
All the while they just need to feed their families
And pay their rent
So they don't end up on the street
They'd give anything to be hidden at home
With a lovely little safety net
And healthcare coverage just in case
Instead they go to work
Surrounded by people who don't care
About maintaining social distance
So when those front doors open
People can horde more than they need
And after an hour there's nothing left
No hand sanitizer, no Lysol, no toilet paper
They call them heroes
But treat them like zeroes
Then they have to go home
And infect their kids and parents
Meanwhile disgusting billionaires tweet
To free America from the shutdown
Because they aren't making millions
Let's not get it twisted
The party of pro-life
Wants to sacrifice lives
To reopen the economy
Essential workers
If it wasn't already clear
This country puts profit over people
GDP over EBT
GOP over PPE
USD over common sense
I'm one of those essential workers
That stands in front of the mirror
With black bags under my eyes
Just like any other day
Don't think everyone eats
Because you eat
Or drinks clean water
Because you still can.
Don't think everyone has a bed
In which to lay their head
Don't think there's a stove
Like yours in every household
Houses hold stuff;
Household stuff
Some people walk
With all their stuff -in bags.
Got to sleep with
One eye open
Glad to have eyes.
Grateful eyes.
And there are more
And more out there,
with nowhere to be.
Cannot stand nor sit.
Glad to have a cell
Jail is their hotel, If lucky.
Don't think that- that bath
You took is "par for the course"
Think outside of your door.
Look outside of your window.
For some …
America isn’t happening anymore.
Now you lay it down to sleep,
Praying for your soul to be kept
The shortest verse is,
“Jesus wept".
People sleeping
On the ground and floors...
Even the shelters doors are closed.
How long can you hold on?
Facing the elements and the sun.
Living on the edge of hope.
Kill you for a bar of soap.
No Medical, nor food and now neglected.
No control over your own circumstances,
Children no longer being protected.
Living off others and depending on chance.
No one to render that, human touch.
Its dog eat dog,” look at her-
She’s over der eating”;
Some have nothing;
Some have much.
So much that;
They are not in touch,
with the new reality;
That for some
"America just isn’t
happening anymore".
Singing “la la la la” …
Have-nots, attack the ones
Who have a lot -
Envy rises if you even, eat a lunch,
and they’re not eating.
Do you blame them?
So, just keep walking through
Singing- la dee da la dee da.
Hey, you in la la land
“What are you going to do”?
Your “Stuff “won’t be going with you.!
the rains came with thunder, the sky had turned dark,
the kids stopped their playing, and ran from the park,
the animals scurried, to hide in their shelters,
the nurses with wheel chairs, collected the elders,
who sat in the garden, of the aging old folks home,
while beggars were walking, the wet streets alone,
in search of some money, to purchase some booze,
with nothing to prove, they’ve nothing to lose,
the church bells were ringing, the choir was singing,
the preacher was stumbling, had done too much drinking,
policemen had gathered, inside Dunkin Donuts,
discussing how their kids, were acting like grownups,
yes times they are changing, the time now has come,
to come to our senses, no time to play dumb,
kids are much smarter, then when we were growing,
they know so much more, and boy is it showing,
the TV, the radio, the net and the press,
bombarding the airwaves, cause so much stress,
so I packed my bags, escaped from this mess
don’t bother to find me, I’ll leave no address,
Bahamas was calling, I’m lying on the sand,
I drink rum in peace, while watching the band,
play steel drums at sunset, while I hold the hand,
of some island girl, so beautifully tanned,
no early rise, from this wondrous night,
as she waits in bed, I shut off the light.
The horn blew as the wind picked the same moment
The note carried over the field and picking up speed
All memories of him drifted away as the bugle went silent
But she remained until the last rose
Later she would remember his last words
He had told her he would never forget her
And like the last star that goes where stars go
She went there as well
She went to that last rose and was comforted
She could feel his hands
She could smell his scent
And she saw the uniform and the horn
They met when he returned from the war and he had limped
He limped with warmth and with no complaint
They had one son but he did one too many bags
He carried his bags up his arm
And there was no bugle or wind
But there were roses and tears
They got through it with love and his limp
They sat on the porch rocking and remembered
Until his limp grew slower and the horn played
But the rose ...............
On the porch, clouds covering the sun
Memories flood like spring rain
Remembering those times long ago
Of burlap times and pain
There was no hope for satin gowns
Calico was my dress
Then times were harder that one year
Adults were really stressed
Daddy bought the animal feed
In sacks of printed cloth
Mama got enough matching bags
Untouched by dreaded moth
Two skirts were made by a seamstress
Some shirts from bleached flour sacks
There was no nudity at our home
In work mom did not slack
We knew nothing of satin cloth
Survival our weak mode
God blessed my father's efforts
When new skirts were sewed
Written: March 24, 2018
Will I grieve you, only if you grieve me
Said you couldn’t rest
So I lay in this casket with you
A bouquet in a basket, why risk the truth
Delusional I may be
A happy ending, a sympathetic conclusion
Is something we’d pay to see
Cross your arms and lay with me
The aspects it’s okay to be
You or me, whom shall we grieve
There are certain things I need from you
Like we feed
There are pertinent things I need you to do
As we grow to be adults
We simply do what needs to be done
Across from the morgue
Smiling faces soaked in with the sun
Outside these walls of Berlin
Suited individuals call for her sins
Will you grieve me, only if I grieve you
Through the many hours of this day
Tragic circumstances flower our May
In a declining sun set it reflects from my window pane
A metaphor of my life lived in feign
As if I demand that you be my friend
Take this childs hand to the end
Down those spiral steps
Admire the depths of a single breath
Your or me, whom shall we grieve?
A mother dropped her bags to comfort her daughter
On and on through the years she brought her
These missing links of murder
Kissing a stench never before heard of
Full of bars, cool as scars
Precious jewels of mars
Like I lost my tongue
I’ll start a thousand wars
For I will not be forgotten!!!
I became insane, with long intervals of horrible sanity.
Edgar Allan Poe
The crowd approached the lens of the mega camera. Its gnawing rose up in the smoke of 5,438 cigarettes encircled in the density of that afternoon. Moisture brought a stench of copper and old gold and bits of coal intermingled with splinters from -what at simple glance appeared to be- a human jaw. When it rains, Palenque is as fragile and shifting as mirages in the desert.
The euphoria had taken over the town and made of the palenqueros, clairvoyants. The exorbitant pressures on their optic nerve reached the braking point of their vessels. Seeing was no longer possible, now with bloody pupils, in the immense darkness, they became seers.
The hour advanced in highs and lows precipitation. The cloudburst couldn't wait; heavy drops rushed down and some ran with paper bags on their heads, while others made a circle gripped by the handles of their coffee cups. In the distance a haunted chant:
OTRA, OTRA, OTRA!
The mantle of the night caught fire and the howling resounding swindled like pinwheels. The strange music of pain. In a defiant effort, they aimed at turning their heads like tourniquets as they marched on, insanely saints.
ya'll heard the one
about and and gal
kissing on Christmas day
her Husband comes along
said whats going on
get from neath that misletoe
unhand my wife
darling let call it a night
Mister just let her go
then he balled up his fist said
I'll hit you with this
leave my gal alone
grab your rags
pack your bags
Fella it's time to go
I aint wrong for quick cheeky peck
ya'll been sliding tougunes
and you got your hands all
on her ass
aint airin out my lungs
cause i'm wrong
cause you damn well know
I'm right
take your jacket off
let's go out side
time for us guys to fight
bizzy me
you wiff my Gal
well that aint like I planned
see I'm her Mister
don't get it twisted mister
you egging for ah fyte!
Flying Saucers, Flake, Bar Six
Country Style, Gobstoppers, Twix
Arrow Bars and Sherbert Dabs
Sweet Tobacco, Lucky Bags
Toffee Crisp and Dairy Crunch
Grand Seville and Milky Lunch
Beta Bars, Loot, Candy Floss
The mysterious chewing gum flavour loss
Golden Crisp, Nut Crisp and Fuse
Extra, Bliss and Trebor Chews
Caramel and Raspberry Ruffles
Drifter and Milk Chocolate Truffles
‘99’ Flake ice cream cones
Zooms and Fabs and Toblerones
Coffee Break, Bitz, Victory Vs
Cadbury’s Special Recipes
Swisskit, Gold Mine, Apple Jack
Tiffin, Feast and Caramac
Welcome, Skippy and Sultana
Nutty, Banjo and Cabana
Chewing Nuts, Cough Candy Twist
Butterscotch and Butterkist
Crunchie, Topic, Fudge, Mintola
Super Mousse, Crazy Joe Cola
Golden Cup, Fruit Flavoured Rocks
(The secret of) The Black Magic Box
Floral Gums and Cherry Lips
Olde English Spangles, Walnut Whips
Kinder toys encased in plastic
Necklace sweets linked on elastic
Butter Mints, Fruit Polos, Yorkies
Sherbert Lemons, Sherbert Strawberries
Bazooka Joes and Liquorice pipes
Lollipops with swirly stripes
Mint Cracknel, Taxis, long red laces
Texan Bars and Funny Faces
Winter Mixture, Rainbow Drops
Jazzies, Kit Kat, Pips, Ice Pops
Toffee Bon Bons, Drumsticks, Rolos
Amazin’ Raisin, Aztec, Mojos
Barley Sugar, Chocolate Limes
Daims that changed their name from Dimes
Jelly Babies, Jelly Tots
Milk Gums, Munchies, Mars, Pear Drops
Coltsford Rock and Anglo Bubblies
Sugared Almonds, Frozen Jubliies
Peanut Brittle, Prize, Ice Breaker
Dolly Mixtures, Old Jamaica
Kop Kops, Wine Gums, Laughs and Treets
Jap Desserts and whistling sweets
Fishermen's Friends and Hacks and Zubes
Pineapple Chunks and Cola Cubes
Everton Mints and Pontefract Cakes
White chocolate mice and jelly snakes
Refreshers, Teacakes, Swizzles, Pacers
Toffee Logs, Fruit Gums and Waifers
Rumba, Dipped Flake, T Bar, Tunes
Fry's Five Centres, Macaroons
Bars and boxes of Milk Tray
Milky Bar and Milky Way
This ‘Pick and Mix’ is yours to share
With all sweet lovers
everywhere.
I used to think heartbreak missed girls like me,
the ones who waited, who stayed soft and sure.
For years I prayed, “Lord, guard this fragile heart,”
believing stillness meant I’d skip the fall.
Then he arrived. The first to hold my hand,
the first to kiss me like it meant something.
He made me feel alive in quiet ways,
like maybe love was something I could keep.
I watched him more than I watched roads I drove.
He smiled, said, “Please just focus on the lights.”
He tied my shoes, he carried all my bags,
he paid for every meal and never asked.
I wore his silver chain across my gold,
his jumper like a shield against the wind.
I baked him brownies when words felt too big.
I sent one postcard filled with prayer and ink.
We made the shoreline sacred for a time,
salt skin, sea wind, the sky pulled close to us.
He felt like something God had shaped by hand,
a story only heaven could have planned.
I told him I was proud, again, again.
My love came through in all the smallest things:
warm food, soft hands, a voice note filled with grace,
an open heart that never asked for much.
But sometimes love, so full, can spill too fast.
Sometimes deep hope gets tangled into need.
I still don’t know if I came on too strong,
if longing made me blind to letting go.
He left. We don’t speak. I broke our silence,
not for him, but for a scrap of relief.
His name still echoes underneath my prayers.
His memory still walks beside the waves.
I thought I’d waited well enough to skip
this hollow ache, this silence in my chest.
But love, once real, leaves ruins in its place.
And mine was real. No matter how it ends.
Still, I believe God weeps with the broken.
Still, I believe He sits with those who grieve.
This heart may ache, but it is not ashamed,
I loved him whole. And that will always count.
Because I’m still the girl who loves too much,
who gives without a tally, without fear.
And though it hurt, I would not change a thing.
To love like that is never wasted love.