Long Bedrooms Poems
Long Bedrooms Poems. Below are the most popular long Bedrooms by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bedrooms poems by poem length and keyword.
HOUSE OF PAIN
The structure itself is a shrine to the past with a pain so built in, it forever will last.
The walls that once rang with love, laughter and cheer, now echo with silence drab and drear.
The table where meals and games were had, now has only two seats, just a mom and a dad.
The bedrooms are empty, there’s no one there, the toys packed away, even old teddy bear.
The halls once filled with the excitement of play, now serve just as passage to get through the day.
The basement that housed an imagination station, has morphed into just a storage location.
The garage that once housed the tools of fun, is a place where children no longer run.
The yard that played host to gardens, fires and football, is now barren space where the grass grows tall.
The driveway once littered with bikes and bright chalk, has been transformed only into ground where the occupants walk.
Trains, legos and pictures are all put away, as objective reminders of a much brighter day.
Kids stories and books that were read before bed, are now words on a page that will never be said.
Those special Holiday times with so much to do, have become merely seasons to just muddle through.
The house itself stands as a strong memory to what once was and never more shall be.
Host to a loving family.
Potatoes And Mushrooms
Fries are not only deep-fried sticks to which nothing permanent connects
But also, what happens when a person makes some serious mistakes.
And a way to eat however many potatoes a person wants to in one sitting
Even after a couple of inconvenient but needed fittings
Steaks are better for people than snakes especially at lakes regardless of who bakes but sometimes more fat than meat -although maybe not in sweet old Crete Maybe that doesn't bother a Pete or a Skeeter - however it does bother me even without bees.
The hatred of mushrooms is sometimes based on uncorrected misconceptions but they make poor brooms for bedrooms and awful grooms-not to mention bad brides but they are pretty good stuffed, as are potatoes!
Doing the Damn Thang-------------
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Written by: Mi-Darn Gigue
He wanted an 'ole style barn type ah place"
we told him we could get his thang ah workin if he'd just
be more concern with what he wanted.
Stick frame internal, with dustcrete walls
inside the uh-what-cha-muh-jig, I know
what you talking bout but Mister
load baring walls and floors concern
me with your descion..
one level with two baths and four bedrooms
and a kitchen and greatroom not
to mention themaster bed room.
Yeah I just need it right away you know
No Pussy footing around.in four months
I wanna be look towards having
my new bride in this thang!
Talking about putting a guitart in the floor
with some epoxy over it. "the dang thang"
some flutes in the kitchen counter
and a piece of that ole tree in the
backyard.
We can do the dang thang: all it takes
is us-ah gettin started.
Dinkle dittle no middle man
in the middle. Scrupted and scramble breakfast is
on me!
We gotta date Mister! The Man is the Plan,
morning coffe and discussions!
see ya in the morning!
Oh yeah does epoxy and like
a plastic oboe sound right
we can put some in the island in the kitchen along
with some of those plastic violens.
some gold trim will make the whole thang Boogie!
Sounds beatiful to me Man: thats the plan Man!
The stone casts of the life
The journey has not ended
since I had a fall on the terrace the dream was over
I had been holding on selling my old home for a slushy reason.
No, I have not resigned I will not give up on anything
it is just I have to find other alternatives.
No, I have no firm plans they never came to fruition.
I have had the fortune to live a dream.
Now I live in a flat too big for me four bedrooms and
I only sleep in one of them.
The next step I live to what life gives me I don´t need much
when I was a seaman, I had a cabin, books and a bunk.
I never dreamt of a castle.
Except for recurring depression, I´m quietly contented.
No matter how much I try,
from the beginning to the end,
all they seem to look at
is what I haven't done
to impress their friends.
Your situation wasn't that good
when I first met you.
I took you from a domestic situation
and helped you make it through.
Put you in a fancy house
with four bedrooms and room to grow,
because giving you something better
was the only thing I wanted you to know.
I helped you get a real fancy job,
making money so you could maintain.
Then you got sick, and my life changed too,
but you never heard me complain.
I handled my obligations
and stood beside you like a true man.
I helped raise your kids
and taught them everything that I can.
Now you lie in bed
with barely any movement some days,
while other days your movement is great,
and through every up and down,
I'm still right here to wait.
I wait on you hand and foot,
trying to give you everything you need.
Never taking a break,
because taking care of you
became more important than me.
So, yes, I might forget an anniversary.
I might even forget a birthday or two.
But remember all those days in the hospital
when I never walked away from you.
Now you say I never thought
about our anniversary
or did anything special enough to see.
But I've spent my life taking care of you—
and that's my confession from me.
I may not always bring the flowers,
remember every date,
or celebrate everything
the way you think I should.
But when life changed without warning,
I stayed when I could've walked away for good.
Having you around for another year
is a special anniversary to me.
Because another year with you still here
means more than anything money could ever bring.
so be glad I'm in your life, being all that I can be.
even in a crowd
one can still find solitude—
silence not required
My children got me a subscription one of those services that sends me a weekly prompt, usually something about my childhood, to help get those creative juices flowing. One of those prompts read, “when you were a child, did you have to share a bedroom and possibly a bed with your siblings?”
Wait a doggone second guys. Do you mean to tell me that sleeping alone when you were a child is a real thing? Man, when I was growing up back in Wakenda, I recall the biggest house we ever lived in had four bedrooms. I know that a four-bedroom house might sound like a mansion but when you throw in the fact that there were more kids than you could count without using your toes, plus mom and dad, that sure didn’t leave much space. Heck, even after I joined the Army, depending on where I was stationed, I had to share a bedroom with 4 to 12 other people. Then I got married and spent each night of my life sharing a bed. After all those years, I’m not sure I could sleep a whole night without the sound of snoring and an occasional fart drifting out from under the covers.
We decry some Arabic countries
where women are forced by law
to wear burkhas and cover
their faces and cannot speak out.
We speak for them, and ask,
“Where are the rights
of these poor women
who can make no decisions
and cannot participate?”
“Horrors!” we cry.
“In this country women
can make their own decisions
about what they want and
about their own bodies!”
That is, up until now, at least.
For certain lawmakers
would have us believe that our
government should have the right
to tell us we MUST have a child,
once conceived, no abortion,
no matter the financial or
health issues or even rape!
They want no birth control for
those “wanton” women
(Many of them married) who
want to have sex without
procreation in mind!
No more terminations of
pregnancies to save a
mother’s life or to protect
the victim of a brutal rape!
In other words, NO MORE CHOICE!
No doctor's interference.
Other people are given the
right to decide what
it is a woman has to do.
Less government, they say?
yet the government will now
sit in judgment in our bedrooms?
Shame! Shame on these throwbacks
to a hundred years ago!
Shame on these who would
move our country back into the
dark ages because of personal beliefs.
We hear we must overturn
theocracies and turn them into
secular democracies like ours,
where there is freedom of religion
as we have in this country.
But some who tout our democracy
Want to turn our country
Into their version of a government
by religious fiat, in which
their particular interpretation of
he Bible will determine
what we can or cannot do.
Gone will be options for women!
And gone, also, will be that
precious freedom of religion
our forefathers fought for,
along with the separation of
Church and State that is laid
out in our Constitution!
But it seems the Constitution
doesn't deter our leaders.
Stand your ground, women. Vote!
People of ALL religions or none,
stand your ground as well!
For, if we are too lazy to vote,
too lazy to stake our position in
defending our Constitution,
we will lose everything, whether
we are Jews, Buddhists, Muslims,
Catholics, atheists or, yes, even moderate
or evangelical Protestant Christians.
thoughts jump
like grasshoppers
from one idea to the next
between words,
quiet spaces
say more
than we think they do
grandma's old button box
spills memories
on my desk
yesterday walks into today
like rain
through an open window
sometimes
we forget periods
and let our breathing
make the rules
poems can break their lines
anywhere
they want to rest
words stretch
like rubber bands
sometimes they snap
and fly away
half-finished sentences
can be the most
honest ones
when we're hurt,
we pretend everything
is perfectly fine
kitchens and bedrooms
hold secrets
that make us
who we really are
looking closely at the truth
even when it makes us squirm
not yes, not no
freedom lives in the maybe
wild looks like freedom
when you've been sitting
still too long
who are you?
I'm the kid
who won't stay in the box
rivers always
know their way
flowing towards
something bigger
we are the change
we want,
each small choice
creates waves
Last Chance
Fire! Fire! What can we do?
Get everyone out and that includes you
What can we save before it’s all gone?
I look around frantically, it looks like an exploded bomb
The smoke is so thick, the noises so loud
Check the boy’s bedrooms the smoke a thick dark cloud.
An explosion rings out - the telly has blown
A noise above my head, as the glass hits, that it has thrown
The heat breathing in is getting too much to bear
I want my photographs now anything else I don't care.
My boys are out and my husband is pulling at me
There is nothing more important there, that I can see
They are safe now and I will be too
I grab the wireless phone and am outside as the boiler blew
Engulfed in red and golden searing flame
The air is suddenly cooled and someone asks my name
I managed to call the fires service, with my cordless phone
There is nothing now worth keeping, except our family home
Things can be replaced and thing can be brought new
But we cannot replace each other and we found out that was true.
For the "Last Chance Contest" written By Mandy Tams hosted by Kirsten Bruni
An ardent longing for the finer things ...
Vodka from eggs - bedrooms with wings.
Bugatti's and coffees topped with gold,
Armani, Brioni, and true absinthe, old.
Bottega Veneta or a Lanvin wool coat,
Yachts that are really just mansions that float.
Valets and limos and luxe high-rise suites,
Beds dressed in D. Porthault Jours de Paris sheets.
Bluefin sashimi, Kopi Luwak,
Yubari Melon, and real Dark To'ak.
Matsutake Mushrooms, Wagyu Beef,
South Devon Crab with fresh saffron leaf.
Almas Caviar, Bonnotte Potatoes,
White Alba Truffles, Canarian Tomatoes.
Heligan Pineapple, Densuke Black
Watermelon, sweet. In pocket, a stack.
Milan designed leather shoes and gloves -
Oh, I'm cursed, eternal, with such lavish loves!
So what is the claim, if extravagance deems?
I hope for tomorrow, and believe in my dreams.
For naught yet compares to my imaginings' wealth,
All the money on earth can't buy my good health.
So I dream, but I'm happy with all I've been blessed,
And MAYBE, in time ... fate will see to the rest.