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.


Premium Member Whispers From the Past

Their house was damp and drafty and the furnishings unique
I guess you'd say the decor was eclectic and antique 

There was an old piano that was often out of tune 
And as a child I'd tap the keys till others left the room

The scuttle by the fireplace was always filled with coal
And on the parlor table apples filled a crystal bowl

The rooms were very tiny and the rugs hid worn out floors 
And large keyholes were common place on all interior doors

A painted creaky stair case closely hugged the front hall wall 
With twelve steps to the second floor; one wouldn't want to fall

Small heaters in the bedrooms took the chill away at night
And for cold feet hot water bottles warmed them up just right

My Nanna made us Ovaltine and bought us bags of sweets 
And Grandpa sometimes baked fresh bread which was a special treat

The kitchen had a small gas stove where a whistling kettle sat 
And the teapot had a cosy which I once thought was a hat 

The fragrance of a fresh brewed tea would fill the kitchen air
And Nanna with her apron on was often busy there

These memories are decades old and whispers from the past
And the photos that I cherish now, I hope will always last
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member In the Lobby, Summer of 1982

At the Oakland Airport Hilton Inn, I was working the evening shift, from 3 to 11 p.m.
behind the front desk on a Saturday at 8 p.m.  Three Canadian boys, one younger 
than the other two, shared a Junior Suite that connects to two bedrooms on either side, 
each with two queen beds.  Two Canadian Undercover Secret Servicemen were in the 
other connecting bedroom, as the younger boy was the son of the Canadian Prime Minister, 
Pierre Trudeau, 10-year-old Justin Trudeau, who’ll be the future Prime Minister of Canada.  

He is on our VIP list, and now he has gone and stood at the Cashier Stand at the opposite 
side of the front desk counter, where I went to assist him.  He asked me, “Do you accept this 
Canadian five-dollar bill for American quarters?” The Canadian dollar is one of several foreign
currencies for which we have an exchange rate of seventy-three cents to the Canadian dollar.  
Although it didn’t break even, I gave it to him at seventy-five cents instead.  I personally 
covered the difference, a loss of a few pennies, of which I had notified the young Justin of 
my neighborly gesture.

The three boys were attending The Day on the Green Concert—an event where various bands
perform nearby at the Oakland Coliseum.  The boys were hoping to bump into Michael Jackson, 
who performed there, but he took a side entrance, bypassing the lobby altogether.  The boys 
were taking turns playing Galaga and Asteroids on the gaming tables that were set up in the 
lobby.  I had notified the Canadian secret servicemen who shortly joined us in the lobby.  They 
sat at a nearby table, busted out a deck of cards, and began playing among themselves.  The 
lobby gift shop was closing, nearing 8:30 p.m.  Young Justin came with cash from his friends, 
asking for more quarters.  After some time had passed, the boys called it a night, and they all 
left, leaving the comfortably air-conditioned lobby to me.
Form: Prose

Premium Member Housework

There's more to keeping house,
Than washing dishes, sweeping floors.
You must wipe away the dirt,
From window sills and doors.

Picking up and straightening,
For certain is a must,
But if you want it to be clean,
It's wash and scrub and dust.

Because you ran the vacuum,
You think you've done a chore,
But did you wash the window panes?
Did you mop the floor?

The cupboard doors need wiping down,
Else they get greasy, tacky.
The hood above the stove as well,
The counter tops are nasty.

Then there's dusting to be done,
And don't forget the bathroom.
Tub and toilet, bathroom sink,
Deodorize the room.

Now if you think your work is done,
The bedrooms need a cleaning,
So everything smells fresh and clean,
As you lay a-dreaming.

Tomorrow is another day,
Just like the one before.
You did all this just yesterday,
But it must have grown some more.
© Judy Ball  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quatrain

bed time

Bedtime

The beginning of the night was hot
I went to bed naked (daredevil.)
On the other side of the bedroom, I saw a naked man had
a big stomach, large balls and a small .
Since he wasn’t me, I did not bid him good night
I switched off the light.
During the night, it got cold, a foretaste of winter
hastily put my pajamas on.
I had noticed the man in the other room had a long foreskin
at least he was not Jewish.
I made a mental note to ask her who he was
we sleep in separate bedrooms because of my snoring.
I was thinking of Carl Jung. was he a Christian or not
some of what he said was right in our Western society is steeped
in Christianity,  as is our everyday speech.
Woke up at eight, walked into the kitchen
 , and made coffee
thought, if the man who was not there was still sleeping.
(Tennyson.)
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Grandfather Ghost

I just inherited an old creaky and rustic mansion.
It looks as if it’s “from the house of the dead”.
As I step in the house I felt creepy and freaky! 
I see my hair rise on my arm feeling immobilized.
All of a sudden it brings a cold chill over my body.  
I move through the bedrooms, until I heard an echo shrill.
I start to notice I felt ill; there something feeling as if it’s taken over my body. 
A dark deep clouded mist start to over whelming me and take form.
It’s beginning to transform to mirror image of my grandfather.
I need to confirm on what happening! Or can it be real.
My heart bloods pounding, so fast I can hardly breathe.
Why! Is this happening to me spouting to myself?
Ghost is prowling because it has unfinished business?
I realized it's me? He never got to say goodbye to me.
Thinking how can I apologize!  I know your here to tell me goodbye. 
All of sudden he starts to materialize, and see an arm wave back goodbye.
In a surprise I felt a relief come over me and seeing him with my own eyes.
I knew that he is in a much better place to lie in peace for eternity.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member More More More

In England way back in the 18th century
“Pants” was considered a bad word
Probably coz it sounds like heavy breathing
In bedrooms it could often be heard

Ernest Wright once wrote a whole novel
Without using the letter “e”
Here's a question I'd sure like to ask
Which mental institution lives he

In Tennessee it's actually against the law
To drive your car while sleeping
Well how about that my P-Soup friends
But you can with one eye peeping

Columbus' fee for discovering America
Was a paltry three hundred dollar
If that was today for crying out loud
He'd be living in absolute squalor

Hard to believe Baskin Robbins once made
Ketchup flavoured ice cream, holy crap
Needless to say it wasn't too successful
It melted on burgers, imagine that

Your thumb is the same length as you nose
So nosey people have extra long thumbs
That surely explains why you see some people
With their thumb stuck up their bum

Each year Americans eat 12 billion bananas
I eat probably one billion myself
Okay that's quite an erroneous statement
It's french fries that endanger my health

Did you know butterflies taste with their feet
Imagine if us humans did that
Phew! Stinky poo... I'd swear off eating
And  be skinny as an underweight gnat

Parrots are as intelligent as a five year old child
Know friends where that surely applies
They have this really overwhelming urge
To poop on your head flying by


© Jack Ellison 2013
Form: Quatrain

Premium Member No Matter How Hard I Try

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.
Form: Bio

Just remember this

Just remember this
We are unique in our own aways
Why do we worried so much about us
Our health ?
Because our father gave us
The gift of health
if we start to smoke
We will ruin our lungs
And end up with lung cancer
Also we will be
Wasting money on cigarettes
That is not a good idea
We should look after health
Because health is very precious
Also the smoke gets in your clothes
When you smoke
Why can't we be happy
Being the person we are
I am me you are you
Just remember this
If we were a millionaire
We would be the slave of our money
And you and me would be miserable
Because we would not know what to do
With it
Just remember this
When our body sends a message that
Is tired we should listen to it
And not ignored it
It is telling us that is tired
So we need to go to bed
First we need to shut our minds
Then closed our eyes
I know we have our moments
Sad and happy
When we are sad
We should stay in our bedrooms
With the door clothes
Because we don't want to see
Our friends worried about
They would call us
Cry baby
Also we should be happy
That we have our father in our lives
And also he keep us alive
Every single day
Just remember
It was our father that made us
With his holy hands
© aldo kraas  Create an image from this poem.

Bolero Word Divitive

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!
Form: Ballad

Trailer Park Flood

households lurch
creak unmoored
  hulls rocking

the twang of whip lashed rigging
as electric wires stretch
pull up clods
  yards of plantings

where once roots clutched
bricked-up aluminum
long jacked-up boards
  swirl and bloat

bed-springs shiver off
      unwinding sheets
the dumbfounded foaming
  of absconding pillows

bedrooms fall out
of plunging submarines
chests and draws
shedding a put away sundry 
then the roll and billow
  baffle and muddle

the face-up exposure
of everyday innards
  sweeps by
riding the backbones
of the up-turned
  the bowled over

hard to fathom
that a river of storm clouds
could move all this
manifold clutter
  the cheesy and cherished

dumping down clumps
into wet clay models
  of any new address

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