Long Before noon Poems
Long Before noon Poems. Below are the most popular long Before noon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Before noon poems by poem length and keyword.
Winter is hiding around the bend and forcing its way towards the center, it is carrying a hundred thousand shovels in a boat and generators pile up to its throat.
Hundreds of snow boots, gloves and battery made heaters lay flat on top, snow blowers galore and insulators to line the floor. Hundreds of wheel barrows and bags of barbecue coal to heat the house and everything you need for winter was on the boat.
It is docked around the corner with an elephant standing guard waiting on the signal to move.
The weather pattern is not right; you have got to roll the dice to get the weather pattern back on track to ripen the fruits and furnish the ingredients for the one pot soup.
You must go back to the international space station and check the angle of the moon and position the weather spoon, before the sun rises, then place a snow bait on top of the gate, before day break.
Something has shifted up there and is causing chaos down here, you must find it and repair it before noon. Observe where the rain is falling and where the fire is burning. Place a tag over it and mend it with your spit.
The year is coming to a close, and you have got to tie up the loose ends and get everyone back in line to cooperate with the divine. You have to examine all the countries on the list and make an offer that they cannot resist.
Once the list is clear and everyone must draw near, those who refuse to join will be cut out off permanently from the divine. You will recall your ambassador and cut off all international flight that go to their land and cancel all foreign aid, trade and business transaction.
And withdraw the multitude from their land the multitude will leave before dawn.
The one pot soup is easier to cook; the one pot soup is in my playbook, read it carefully and gathers the ingredients from every culture on the list and combine them together and give everyone a bowl to partake of the one pot soup.
The most recognizable album cover in history, the photo of the
Beatles crossing Abbey Road, taken in the summer of sixty nine,
fifteen minutes before noon on August eight to be précised.
An iconic album cover for the image resonated with the fans.
There are wall posters of this photo and it seems men, my age,
in music industry have one in their living rooms or studios.
The photograph of the most influential band in the world walking
on a zebra crossing became one of the most imitated of all time.
I am one of those who imitated it five months ago, 19 of October
at eleven fifty in the morning, when we had photos taken crossing
Abbey Road, amidst a busy road in northwest London in St. John’s Wood
in the city of Westminster, outside Abbey Road Studios, formerly EMI.
We crossed Abbey Road in single file with me leading, followed by my
daughter and my granddaughter with our fourth person, my grandson
taking the pictures so he was not included, kind of disappointing.
How I wish we were there on October 9, John Lennon and my birthday.
Hangovers do fester as belly grumbles pester just before noon
Jesters off their head after night on the tiles painting toon red
Close to fainting need a feed must get some sustenance soon
Shirking the headache lurking adored blackboard’s been read
No takeovers.. leftovers get makeovers morning and afternoon
Grazing stable biker at formica table amazing fable we croon
Not naff no faff or fuss caffs for all us riff raffs got street cred
Within we maybe a Lord or Lady not just bumpkin or buffoon
Before you got stubble or into a lot trouble bubble were fed
No fraud smorgasbord for flawed horde who applaud swoon
In the clover.. a pig in poo.. a cat with nip skip over the moon
Working class gets a VIP pass for a scoff then it is off to bed
PVC chairs in maroon & bottomless milky sugary tea a boon
Irking folks saying that the culture to which we are wed‘s dead
Won’t let become another ruin don’t impugn like Sting in Dune
Will last as hewn from the past for cast of many a loon and goon
Whichever combo folks bacon & eggs begs for a bit of fried bread
Tireless toast stacking yokes cracking the wireless a backing tune
Raiding yesteryear clips & dips in fading memory lane trips instead
Proustian rushes sprinkle gush us luxuriating in a lush laden lagoon
Savour as kids blushes twinkle with elderly who wrinkle like a prune
The history is not really a mystery as clearly is salary and calorie led
No tycoon flush on capitalist balloon spewn from a cliched cartoon
Flavour is not as posh or plush as that tosh we see over in the Med
Not cheesy or sleazy don’t tease me lampoon our cultural cocoon
Saviour for brave knave where good behaviour does favour fortune
Are batty if thrills of a patty or natty fatty spread fills you with dread
Park your ar*e ignore Worldly farce & take it easy in a Greasy Spoon
Daylight shouts like madman lurking on the roof
And I could hear the early morning train from a distance speeding like bullets down the track disturbing the
village people with its thundering horn
And the sprinklers lying flat on the garden lawn soaked
the earth just before the break of dawn and the
people could breathe fresh air.
They set out on a journey together to amuse themselves
But the train divert and the end up in a village of hell
No one was dancing to their tune and a large gathering
Appeared at the square before noon, nobody knew
What they were about until the people began to shout.
It was social and political and somewhat persona. The people want a man out of the town for his policy is causing the people to frown. They took to the stage in the middle of the square
To talk of the sorrows that they bear; people were literally
Starving, they had no paying job and the whole situation was desperate and sad
But someone was among the crowd whose heart was purer than gold, he was overcome with emotions after listening to the people’s story and he took out a little purse with a check book
And right on the spot wrote a check in the amount of a hundred and sixty million for the town’s budget.
It was more than enough to clear the debt and to get the books inured and at last the people cross over.
Next time when you hear the train the train, the hooting is not in vain, help could be coming to your city and it will make the people happy.
The traveler’s purse has all that you need to succeed so don’t go empty handed when you g to visit someone.
There is a wind blowing around me,
and something from the sea is draining my energy
It is dragging me towards the battered shore
And I have to take refuge behind the door
but a giant wave plucked me out and tossed
my slender frame about it covers me
and I am lost in the middle of the sea
the current keeps spinning me around
And all that I have is a cap and a crown
Oh Mother of the sea, rest your bosom
upon my knees and make haste to save me
I have no more strides left
And I am running out of breath
Cast your boat upon the shore and
Come and rescue me
before the waves swallow me
Oh mother of the sea
is this my final destiny?
I have not lived my life yet
And I am on the verge of death
Please don’t take me so soon
We have to meet before noon
I have set my eyes on you
Form the first day I met you
I was here and you were there
And when the energy breaks through the room
It filled the atmosphere with fresh air
and from that very day
you took my heart away
and I couldn’t look the other way
Oh mother of the sea,
Tell my sweet heart
to come and rescue me
I am lost in the middle of the sea
And my eyes are set upon thee.
In a Train Station
Quickly we had our breakfasts
Then we both gazed
At the station clock
The morning train is late
Everything is wet
At night, the rain poured heavy
I listened to it
Hitting the bricks on the roof.
So tasty is this coffee, you said
The smell of bread, the flame of the oven
And the two bags
You didn’t wear your trenchcoat, I asked
You didn’t reply
You doubted
Whether we could reach the airport before noon
The plane won’t wait for us, you said
What if the train never arrives
We have no time
The hands of the clock are not moving
And those waiting before us
Took their bags and disappeared
What are we waiting for?
I was lost in the cumulus clouds
Over the chimneys of country houses
Yet, the village was still sleeping
The station guard switched off the lights
And left, humming a song
Tell me
When will we leave too?
No one is here
Even you
You are not here
The rain has dried up
Your dreams became pale
And very far is the airport.
The newly retired couple
came to Florida
escaping Canada’s winter.
Emerging from his camper
shortly before noon each day
he sat in a chair under an awning.
I never saw him reading
or going anywhere,
except short trips to the grocer.
His only interest seemed to be
cigarettes as he puffed
throughout the day.
I cringed each time I heard
him cough—a shallow and congested sound
from unhealthy lungs.
When I think of him
I feel a sadness.
Our camping neighbor last year
died before returning home in the Spring.
I wonder about this neighbor,
will his wife also call us with bad news?
I am a flickering light -
a little candle -
a dancing flame so happy to have been set alight!
But I am fragile, Father.
A sudden gust could blow me out.
A brief shower of rain.
A spiteful touch from cold fingers.
A swell of noxious pride at my own tiny mortal beauty.
So hold me very close, Father.
Shield me with your mighty, gentle hand.
Be patient with me as only you could be.
For I am a forgetful and unfaithful little heart.
But, at least for a moment,
I can offer you my sincere desire to love you,
though I fear that I hardly have the power to love at all.
But you make all things new.
Written in Co-Cathedral of the Sacred Heart
2025-08-22
started before noon, finished by 12:04 PM.
He Kept looking into the palm of his hands
To see if there is something that he could understand
But the words continue to scroll up and down like
Writings on a page revealing his old age,
There was something in the light that he
Could not see that was draining his
Physical energy, it was just one sentence about
The rum punch that everyone likes to have when the day is done
And multitude converge underneath the sun before a big stage
With the American flag hoisted everywhere and the watch party that follows kept floating in the air and destiny open the roof
So that he could choose and the light that shine from above
Lead him on another path, and so he went out for a ride and reality reveal his pride and something explode in his head
And finally he could see what was waiting for thee
He was proud to be an American but his heart was singing
A different song, it is the investment that he sees why his heart was pining after thee and the miracle that was waiting in the tree forces him to change his tune and meet thee before noon
And the wilderness finally departs and at last the day could start
And so look into the palm of his hands and at last he could understand the cards that were playing in his hands.
I remember a time
when I was just a teen
The 80s had bigger hair
Than ever's been seen
The 80s had a language
That was all it's own
Phrases I haven't used
Since I have been grown
Phrases like: "Omigod"
And "Gag, me with a spoon"
The valley girl said the word "like"
A million times before noon
There were so many groups
Back in High School
Gothic, nerds, and jocks
All of us trying to be cool.
Some of us were popular
Some of us were just wannabes
Some of us were invisible
Some were just oddities
We all were so different
Each In our own ways
High School was tough
But those really were the days
I kid you not
About the way things were
Over the years it has
Become quite a blur.
As I look back on
My life as a teen
The 80s were the best years
That has ever been seen.
8/27/2020