Long Blanket(a) Poems
Long Blanket(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Blanket(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Blanket(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
It seemed to Hank it was jes' a couple of hours ago since he'd hit the hay.
Now the risin' sun jes' peekin' over the hills heralded another day.
His old hound dog, Spooks, tugged at his blanket a-wantin' to play,
And his faithful hoss, Ol' Dan, greeted him with a raucous neigh.
He pulled on his boots, Stetson hat and bandana, his usual attire,
And stirred last nights camp fire embers to bring alive the fire.
He ate his usual grub of beans, biscuits, coffee and bacon,
And suddenly realized that is was Sunday, if'n he warn't mistaken!
"Wahl" he mused, "I don't reckon the boss'll mind if'n I tarry here a spell.
I'd jes' like to chat with the Lord this mornin' and tell Him all is well."
Hank sat on a log sippin' his joe from a tin cup a-gazin' across the vale,
Thinkin', "I don't need no fancy church to worship. They's confinin' as a jail!"
"Lord, you know I ain't gittin' rich cowboyin' and that's fer damn sure!
Er, 'scuse me Lord fer cussin'. I'm tryin' to make my sinful tongue more pure."
"I don't need no earthly possessions when all about me is Yer great Creation.
These here mountains, rivers and cowboyin' that I love is my compensation."
"I'm a-thankin' Ye fer them eagles soarin' on the wind and fer Yer eternal love,
And fer the pristine Colorady sky, the moon and stars shinin' from high above."
"And finally Lord, when this old cowpoke comes to the end of the trail,
I'd be obliged if'n I could dwell in Yer Corral when I cross that mysterious veil."
"Thank Ye Lord fer lendin' me Yer ears and I promise to keep my cussin' at bay."
"Wahl boys, we'd better skedaddle and git to herdin' them steers to earn our pay."
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
It’s a cold coffee kind of month.
It’s a day when I stare down at a cold liquid in a clear plastic cup and think about that day so long ago when I met a girl near the window.
When we had a conversation while she drew shapes and smiles in the condensation on the window.
When I saw her again, occupying the last booth near the frosted glass.
When I saw her the third time with a blanket around her shoulders and a red beanie covering her short curls.
When I saw her for the unknown time,and this time invited me to share the warmth of the blanket that had quickly become a staple of our friendship.
When we were huddled together listening to Jack Stauber and Cavetown.
A friendship based off of a red blanket, a frosty cold window, and iced coffee.
When I saw her time and time again.
When she called me ????ts? ?af?
And I did my research and her nickname became ?e?µ????t???? f????
When she laughed at my sweet tooth and how much sugar I put into my iced coffee
When I became friends with the girl by the icy window.
When I became more than a friend.
It was a cold coffee kind of month.
But now it is spring.
I see strands of a red blanket in the booth near the window.
The beanie I had received as a gift, customized with ‘ always my ????ts? ?af?’ is chafing at my neck and is uncomfortably warm.
I look down at my coffee, no longer cold, no longer sweet.
And I look out of the window, no longer opaque with ice.
Though it is already spring, I wipe off some residual frost off and watch it melt on my arm.
I look at the window.
Frost melted and gone.
And with it, the girl near the frosted window.
A warm blanket- A gentle hand in a dark night, a friend during lovers' plight. Lie with me, not next to me. Ill bring safety in numbers of one, exchanged for the sun. Fall into me, breathless heaving heavy hums. I am love that covers.
A cup of coffee- Touch me gently, I surge through you with urgency. I'm the nostalgia in your bones with every trace of me I pour back into you. Kissed by flame and earthy song, I spill over my shame. Bold, strong, sultry alchemist—a perfect blend.
A sunrise- Dedicated and humbly I break in. Though rays unseen, and warmth unfelt, I show up daily giving life to those who never fully appreciate. I embrace the earth with the tenderness of a mother's hug. A reminder of rebirth, tangible.
Pen and Paper- Slow to fumble, i enter in with grace. Over the stillness of the room I trace. Always there by the crackling of the fireplace. Waiting to hold a hand, through pain and sorrow i ease in your fingertips.
Security Blanket
No chance of rain tonight,
No bogeyman, when I turn off the lights.
A phrase I found and adore with the warmth of your security.
You are the reason I attain true maturity.
I love when you lay down next to me,
Like the high tide of the sea,
You move all the warm emotions inside.
My arms are the comfort you use to seek and hide.
Your nestle holds a true rhythm that hums its own song~
Nothing comes close to breaking this precious bond~
A sweet cradle-song only I hear,
You play my grin, without the strings of a puppeteer.
My heartbeat needs its fix and drug,
Your sweet, charming smiles and hug,
Is all I need to succeed,
You are, my only creed!
A kiss, I give on your forehead,
Into a poet’s world where your blanket a dulcet lullaby,
my arms are your bed.
“Goodnight Sweet Child, Sweet Child of Mine!”
By; pd
She’s just an old memory of a younger man’s dreams
An image of love hard to find
I can still see her eyes, taste the joy of her lips
In the deep recesses of my mind
Hair that was flowing, a smile that was glowing
An angel with earthly charms
Felt her heart beat in the tropical heat
Got lost in her loving arms
Sometimes I wonder if it was only a dream
An old sea story that I told
But I remember those eyes like a radiant beam
A treasure greater than gold
I wonder now if she waited on shore
With the fire in her heart still burning
And I wonder if there were tears in her eyes
Realizing I would not be returning
She’s just an old memory that haunts me today
A storybook love affair
A blanket, a beach and two bodies entangled
On a tropical island somewhere.
In the outskirts, where whispers weave through the wind,
there stands a farmhouse, its timbers groaning with secrets,
a silhouette etched against the horizon’s fading light.
Once, it was alive, pulsing with the beat of day-to-day,
but now, it’s shrouded in a cloak of solitude,
walls lined with the echoes of laughter long gone,
rooms filled with the heavy air of stories untold.
The woman who lived there, a mystery, a shadow,
wandered its halls like a ghost, her presence barely felt
but in the gentle ivory caress of piano keys
that floated through the night, a sorrowful symphony
played to an audience of moon and stars.
Folks in town, they gossiped, cruel jests hidden behind closed doors,
labeling her a recluse, a witch, a specter of the past,
never understanding the weight of loneliness she carried,
a burden that bent her shoulders and dulled her eyes.
She found peace in her music, notes rising and falling,
like the breaths she drew, deep and resonant,
a language only she and the night could comprehend.
The farmhouse, with its peeling paint and creaking floors,
stood as a testament to her existence,
its decay mirroring the abandonment she felt,
doors no longer opening to welcome guests,
windows looking out with a yearning for the world.
Inside, the piano waited, its keys now silent,
dust gathering like a blanket, a comfort in the stillness,
each particle a memory, a moment frozen in time.
And so, the house remains, a relic of loneliness,
a monument to the misunderstood,
its story floating with the wind, carried through the fields,
a melody played on the strings of time,
eternal, echoing, alone.
Darkness has overcome me, back alleys alongside the stray cat, no needs to be seen no longer, everyone’s gone home… only the sounds of sirens chasing the empty city streets…
Strangers wrapped up in their only warmth of a tattered blanket, cardboard box is their hotel. No family around to seek my feelings, welcome mat has been pulled..
Life’s showing its ugly face, broken beer bottles, fu garbage cans becomes my fast food, no stranger am I to thus depressing mood.
My only companion is my shadow looming in the evening moonlight, our nightlight soothing our sorrows of a once loving family, laughter, hugs, a warm roof over our head, loving mom who tended to my every need, now up in heaven..
Time for bed, as I wrap up right in my one dirty stingy blanket, a jacket as a pillow to lay my burdened head down, my darkened shadow too is laying down, good night world, my soul I give to you, if I shall die before I wake I give it to God…. Good night
The sky was a blanket of clouds this morning…no birds were singing…no rabbits leaping.
I imagine underneath that blanket…a million stars were sleeping.
I miss the stars when they’re asleep…when our morning walk we cannot share…
but I do take some solace and find some comfort in knowing they’re still there.
So…while the stars were sleeping and I was walking on my own…
I decided, on a whim, to flip through the pictures on my phone.
Like most people, I imagine, my phone is filled to capacity
with pictures from my life…photos of places, friends and family.
And I thought…how wonderful…how exciting…my phone is a memoir…
filled, as I flipped through photos…with a myriad of stars.
Shooting stars…flashing for a moment…as shooting stars are prone…
but a moment I feel blessed…to have captured on my phone.
And in my heart and in my mind…a new thought was given birth:
How lucky I am to be surrounded by so many stars on Earth.
Stars right here on my phone…that I forever shall be keeping…
an awareness made on a cloudy night…
while all the other stars were sleeping.
Underneath the overpass as I was passing by,?
Something in the shadows, a shape had caught my eye.?
I couldn’t tell just what it was—intrusive thoughts owned me,?
For once I didn’t understand the shape my mind did see.
I drove on down the interstate, the rain began to pour,?
Wipers rapping,
?Thunder clapping, ?
Storming at my door.?
Lightning struck around me—waking sights I can’t ignore.
Each flash of light revealed the truth I'd buried long ago,?
A cardboard wall, a tattered coat, a figure slumped below.?
The past came flooding in, a child behind the glass,?
Watching faces in the dark as nameless cars would pass.
I’d asked my mother then, “Why do they sleep outside?”
?She didn’t answer fully, just wiped a tear and sighed.?
“Some people lose more than they should. Some never had a chance.”?
And quietly, I mourned them, through my innocence-glance.
Now grown, I grip the wheel, my coat pulled to my chin,?
Warm coffee in the holder, dry and safe within.?
I carry bags of burdens, yes, but also food and flame—
?A roof, a bed, a blanket, a mailbox with my name.
And still it humbles me, this ache that never mends,?
To know some call the silence home, and cardboard walls their friends.?
That rainy night reminded me how fragile ‘having’ is—
?And how a heart can still break twice for someone else’s kids.
I wonder what became of them—that shape lost in the gray,?
The soul beneath the overpass I passed again today.?
Did someone see their shadow too, and offer them a hand??
Or did they fade into the storm, like footprints in the sand?
Did they find a place to rest where rain no longer seeps,
?Where hunger doesn’t gnaw at ribs and silence gently sleeps??
Or did the cold outlast them, as it does so many nights,
?Where sorrow tucks the nameless in and turns off all the lights?
I’ll never know the answer, though it lingers in my chest,?
This fragile, fleeting moment I cannot lay to rest.?
But every time I see that space, now etched beneath the sky,?
I whisper hope into the wind—that someone helped them try.
I have my red electric blanket, a real joy.
My husband has his baby mattress frog
Kitty has her fluffy big-eyed baby toy.
A stuffed headless tiger is comfort to our dog.
Supper fed and comfortable, we live our life our way.
We curl up in our spots, in front of the television set.
Kitty keeps her baby close at hand, but what can I say?
Now there is another headless animal thanks to Big Gray.
Big Gray is a puppy, and a professional chewer for sure.
He does not understand boundaries, but his heart is pure.
If he goes after Kitty’s baby, there will be the devil to pay.
So, I keep my eyes open, whenever Big Gray heads that way.