Long Boardwalk Poems
Long Boardwalk Poems. Below are the most popular long Boardwalk by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boardwalk poems by poem length and keyword.
What's your name" Was the first thing i said to myself when i saw you
Now that i know yo "The touch of you has become so special in my life"
"Momma said" There will be days like this"and im so glad ther is ,please don't let
me be misunderstood"When i say It's A Thin Line Between love And Hate" Tonight's The
NIght"And i want to put it down on paper for you some of this Pure Genuine Mixed Love
So when i say" Hey LoveKnow that you Make My Love Come Down"And that's what
makes the World go round" my World anyway' Who would have thouhjt A "Sadgirl"
A LonelyGirl" like myself could bring so much brightness into a Thug's Life?You dried
up the tears of a clown"stoppedme from being down, broUght me from "Cowboys to Cowgirls
.Now you got me hanging on your string because I'm Your Puppet.What could i do?
You Dropped The Bomb On Me".Im not used to this ,The Town I live In We Smile Now
And Cry Later" Let's Just Kiss And Say Goodbye" is a way of Life Then"BurnRubber"
and never come back!I thoUght i had a choice in this mixed up World and Baby im for
real's"When i say in these Arm's of mine" There Ain't No Woman Like Tha One you Got"Oh
and when you get out. How We'll Be Sitting On The
Dock of the Bay "Under The Boardwalk"Together Baby"
I picture thing really,I've been
"Wishing On a Star"Cruising On A Fantastic Voyage, me sitting SHOTGUN"PLAYING with
your "JOYSTICK"Yeah
that's what i'm talking about,
Baby. For now,It's just a Dream' A Dream Of Sexual
Healing" Not To Mention More Bounce To The Ounce,
With All My Love" That I Have For You "Let's Get It On,Not
once Do i Stop Thinking How Deep Is Your Love" So Darling
Forever Let's Stay Together
Please Don"T Be A HeartBreaker".Because I Do
Love You"And You Could so EasilyTurn My World "Misty
Blue" Please,Please.DoN"t think of me as a game because
"BABY I'M FOR REAL"When a boy falls in love with me i think "IT MUST BE MAGIC"I
never wanted to play the game of "MAKE UP TO BREAK UP"As far as im concerned "I'M
NEVER GOING TO GIVE YOU UP".i'D RATHER GO BLIND, THEN BE
"YEARNING FOR YOUR LOVE" I just want to tell it like
this"I NO MATTER WHAT'I'LL WILL BE THERE BEFORE THE NEXT TEARDROP FALLS"If there's
ever something on your mind "remember you can "COME AND TALK TO ME"
try me,THIS MAGIC MOMENT,Ihave 'NOTHING BUT LOVE FOR YOU BABY.
Somewhere out there in the world
There was a girl, No! strike that—a woman.
He saw as a girl, but knew as a woman.
And loved her only like a man, only a real man can.
A full grown man. Past his trials and tribulations that plague an adolescent youth, posturing while attempting to prove his valor, worth and to much a female’s ambivalent chagrin, his dominance. In his tiny kingdom. Which was really the vast universe of all that crazy phenomenon human beings gave the quirky abstract thing a name. They called it love.
That’s been written about by bards and authors alike. Between a male and a female, the dark to your light. Hey, who is dark anyway? It must be Eve.
Anyhow. Somewhere in the world this forthright, upstanding citizen of a girl, this woman had such an “understanding that she’d see him [in his entirety] like a poem or a story. And "find his words so valuable after all that when he confessed his apprehensions she would explain why they were in fact the very things that made him precious to her.” The Gestalt view of the man. She knew him entirely. Read him like a book. She knew the plot the exposition, the conflict the Rising Action (wink wink) the dénouement and the resolution. As the French would say, n'est-ce pas.
No, like a poem. A poem she wishes she could write. She knew where the best pages of him were. Existing in dog-eared pages with phrases that described earmarked features. Monumental features that tore her heart asunder. Features that filled her up. As god as her witness shed never be hungry again. To lie awake and think of his soul, seeping out of his mouth with words reverberating her own. Oscillating tiny bones, giving semiotics new meaning with each locution.
Don’t over analyze the symbolism here reader. She’d lie awake and ruminate his gestures, his mannerisms. His smile. And the way his face would look in different light. And how when he laughed the crinkles that formed around those intelligent eyes after he eloquently would mouth some truism. And she knew this face appeared throughout history. And she knew a writer of ballads wrote “don’t shove me while I’m drowning… were all just hunting for love” and she read once an author noted: “almost all the people on the boardwalk were paired off into couples.” The end.
The Long Trail © by Trisha Sugarek
The Circle Heart brand on the wet rump rippled
as the horse shivered with exhaustion
the sun lost its battle with night and
dropped behind the far peak
Chaparejos, worn thin and soft fit his legs
like they had grown there
Dusty spurs jangled as he trotted into the sleepy town
A saddle that had seen a thousand miles creaked
and complained as he stepped down
the crown of his hat was stained with sweat
from the hard ride
Reins dangled in the dirt
The horse hung his head, relieved to not
be moving anymore
A drink or two to wash the Santa Fe Trail dust
from the cowboy’s throat he stepped up onto the boardwalk,
turned and gazed at the town
and the mountains beyond
the color of old blood as the sun lost its glory
He pulled a cigarillo out, and with one smooth
movement wiped a match on his pants, the tiny
flame igniting
He puffed and blew smoke into the night air
watched the town close up for the night
Across the street a cur scurried around a corner
a merchant keyed his shop closed and
lit the gas lantern beside his door
The work had been good at the Circle Heart ranch, the grub even better
But the trail was his siren, always calling him, luring him over the next hill, down the next wash,
up the next canyon
sleeping next to a small camp fire,
staring at a billion stars
wondering if someone, something out there
was staring back
He wanted to settle but he hadn’t found
the right place
the right woman
the right time
Flicking the smoke into the street, he turned
and entered the saloon,
honky-tonk piano music played
The doors behind him whispered back and forth
The patrons saw another dusty, tired cowpoke, looking
for a few hours of pleasure
some music, some whiskey, and if he could afford it
the soft arms of a woman
The cowboy saw weak town folk,
forever saddled to their days
the bit in their mouths dictating their lives
wary of any stranger, their gaze sidling away
Set ‘em up and keep ‘em comin’, the cowboy barked
Show me your coin, the barkeep growled
His days were numbered
the boys from the Circle Heart ranch would find
him and the horse
They would take their horse and probably string
him up to the nearest tree
I wave vaguely toward a boat in the distance, but
can't think of what I would say if they invited me on board.
"That seems excessive kindness," I say, but a voice laughs in my head,
"Yeah, but they'll never do that!" In its vacuum stare, a seagull
encourages me to think past my confusing options. I laugh pretty hard and
move on to the empty boardwalk overlooking the choppy waters, picking someone's trash as part of my civic duty, thinking "life's better in this barren habitat" and then am glued to a kite spinning wildly in the sky attached to a windsurfer riding the waves, suddenly disappearing and then resurfacing, has trouble unhooking the kite, saying to myself, "that's a good kite he should keep it" and then watch it fly like a free bird before crashing into the ocean. I walk past the sign that reads, "Sally was here today" wondering if she was blonde or brunette. I whisper in my head, "this place must do well in the Summer." Today it's silent, like our interior souls crushed by the disease. "We'll come ahead on this one. What made you look for water snake in this environment?" My father would have encouraged me that I was right, he was always delusional, always carried a small umbrella even in hot Summer days as a precaution. "You need to learn to manage your affairs better," his voice rings in my head. He loved his car and wanted to drive it to his own funeral. I see an old grill gummed up with ashes, wondering how many beachgoers it had pleased and all the stories it had to tell. "There was once a married couple who ate their burgers raw." The boardwalk turns into rocky sand, waiting to torture my bare feet, a seagull is looking purposefully at my predicament, perhaps chuckling,
"these helpless creatures."
Lend me the swiftness of your wings, so I can ride above
the foamy waves and sit on a humpback whale that lies still in
recumbent grace, sniffing you out. I am your maid and it does not take long
to try its patience. I hope you spare me your wet witching. You would have saved a squad of dolphins from their daily doldrum if you were game and
moved in their playful company.
Inaccessible solitude, I venture to conclude at random.
"Highlights of New Jersey"
New Jersey is quaintly known as the Garden State for fun
with sandy beaches kissed by ocean waves beneath golden Sun
amusement parks and midway piers stream wooden boardwalk
arcades offer magic machines with flashing lights that talk.
boat rides on blue Atlantic coast and fishing by the bay
surfing upon white capped waves as marble tourneys play
shopping at the mini malls, stopping for frosty treat
funnel cake or snow cones to alleviate the heat.
racing monster wheels doing 'wheelies' in beige sand
as lovers stroll the promanade in love while hand in hand
bed and breakfast hideaways to feed the appetite
miniature golf on hotel rooftops close to the Moon at night.
Memories in Margate with The Geeter With the Heater*
Convention Center marathons for dancers digging beaters
casino trips for tourists and residents alike
a visit to the Cape May Zoo or riding cool mountain bike.
roadside stands selling vegetables and fruits
plants and flowers beautiful from full grown or from roots
the scenic drive through highways or back roads share greenview
still munching on hot Curly's fries in circled crunchy chew.
a seashore paradise and a Summertime resort
with Christie at the helm with a positive report
museums of great art and historical conquests
a friendly atmosphere New Jersey loves to welcome guests.
sports reign supreme, with many choices of teams to cheer
fans follow scores from near and far in sports clubs drinking beer
good education for all children schools excellently rated
and seniors are protected in communities so gated.
a native of the Garden State am proud to boast and say
once you visit all the magic places to take your breath away
even Hurricane Sandy could not dissuade the residents
everyone joined in unison to assist with dire events.
New Jersey towns will build again in love with this great State
positive outlooks count so much .. even erases hate
and when we lay our heads down at night to pray
we thank God for His blessings in a very special way.
*The Geeter With the Heater - Jerry Blavat, D.J. at Memories in Margate Club.
*For Richard Tarr's New Jersey Contest.
Unless…
by Odin Roark
Seems just yesterday the sun arced
Over precarious ice
The street’s one elm
Leaned its naked branches with the wind Bringing winter’s announcement
A Coney Island cat crouched puzzled
Gradual crusting snow layering
The boardwalk a ribbon of white awaiting the gray
Mister Cat sprung back into dumpster heaven
Closed his eyes
And returned to his lone-bird dream
The one always disappearing
Over horizon’s edge
A few blocks away
Anxious hormones kept rebellious teens
Of mere rip-torn jeans and NFL jerseys
Rubbing their friction memories
Into goose-bumped skin
Frozen leaves scurried left and right
Separated from their bark insulated origin
The once virile tree sap
Now but a cryonic life flow
Awaiting spring’s resurrection
Somewhere
A corner-park’s snowman
Bowed forgiveness to the stinging wind
Its shivering cold prepared girth and pride
For tomorrow’s collapse
Beneath Time’s Square lights
Heavy metal leapt from SUV windows
Igniting crystal air
Into a vortex of tribal dance sensations
Vibrations warming all in its path
Yesterday’s season-change
Like a surprise party
Thrown on a whim
Roared through the city’s trenches
Beneath skyscraper walls of protection
As if birthing another Also Sprach Zarathustra
Daring frozen tears to fall
Central Park’s tree branches
Clustered and embraced each other
Like mouths searching for lips of warmth
While a lone photographer
Adorned in raccoon coat
Pointed her camera at breathing drifts
Becoming icing for fantasy’s deep freeze cake
At city’s center
Twisting cables of struggling semaphores
Blinked for mercy
As the insistent primal howl echoed
Across pot holed roadways
And iron slabs of street repair
Above underground steel tracks
Awaiting metro’s ignited contact
As dawn broke
Veined tunnels continued swallowing
The rushing energy astride quickened steps
Running feet
Shoving elbows and shoulders
City dweller anxiety
Cascaded down entrance stairwells
Boarded subway cars
Merged into the city’s synaptic darkness
And awaited their stop
Most likely yet another insulated destination
Where nature happening
Might once again go unnoticed
Never to be recalled
Unless…
He strolls down the boardwalk so reverently. Uncertainty flows through the
civilians minds. He looks them up and down, picking his victims. He plays with
their mind showing them fake substance of his being. He rips at their soul, and
spoon feeds their minds with all his untimely lies. Their all naive, they all don't
see. He's dangerous, he grabs hold of his victims with his claws which are
sharp as ravens, and punctures their heart. I've been there, he's done so to me.
He's took my everything and now there is nothing, I am nothing. He's made me
one of his fake beings, nothing but a dead talking head with no words coming
from my fake mouth.Nothings real.He is now higher than I. He's took my
everything and sucked it inside, he knows all the secrets I attempt to hide. I love
this man, although I can't stand his presence,he makes me sick.
He was all that I ever cared, ever dared to do things that scare the hell out of me.
He scared me so much in his unconscious land, I'd flood out
my heart my conversation he never took part. He's killed me, inside a part of me
is gone. He took it when I let him inside, now secrets I can no longer hide
He's seen it all, he's took it all. I layed in his arms and there were no longer any
harms, that was a lie! That guy was taking my innocence, taking every ounce of
angelic substance in my aching body. Now a black saddened substance flows
through my veins. I was a part of him and he was a part of me. Now I'm scared,
could this be the truth of his raw being? Was he so sad? Was he so bad?
The answer I sware I cannot bare. I know the truth, but have not spoken a word
for fear my killer would take my only identity I have left.
I love you my ruthless killer
Put your pistol to my brain and drive me insane again
Cheap thrill
Fire at will
Do I fit the bill
Form:
If, as hippy folklore claims, it never rains in California,
Then the watermark is never washed out of the phoney cheque,
And when you’re dead and gone there’ll be no one here to mourn ya
For it was only God above urinating down your neck.
Carbon monoxide inhalation, it’s said, is pretty good for you,
So quit that forty a day habit, baby, move it with the flow;
Auto-suicide will wend its merry way and turn you blue,
So wrap your ruby red ones ‘round a tail pipe instead and blow.
Handprints down at Graumans, stoned celebrity status crested
Of the celluloid long-dead and the many who are soon to be;
My shopping list wants tummy-tucked, liposuction-sculpted, silicon breasted
Platinum blonde-haired bimbos who are certified free of H.I.V.
The boardwalk stretches like a sunshine catwalk by the sand and sea,
That roller babe looks good enough to eat, this must be heaven,
A junk food, high-cal sex blitz, glitzy steam hammer driven reality,
Her brain and heart aged sixty, yet her body twenty-seven.
Hang loose, chill out in air-conditioned stretch limo deep freezers,
It sure ain’t safe to mosey around alone, so don’t take chances;
And the infrared sun might fry your cheek to cancer and bejeezus,
Tough to keep your tongue in it, then, under the circumstances.
At night the stars reveal themselves, yet don’t look to the skies,
Dead super novas are never seen through pollution and stagnation,
Diaz, Hanks, Di-Caprio hold heaven’s wonder in cash cow eyes,
Down here that just about outshines every thing in God’s creation.
Multinational, mega-corporate, Hollywood moguls kick sorry ass,
Bedroom or boardroom these bondage freaks wield Olympian power,
Snorting lines of purest coke, feeding teenage pussy a champagne glass,
A minute on the screen, her life destroyed within an hour.
Gordon Gecko got it wrong, for greed is far from good you see,
Ray Chandler’s quip about this place a compliment and a half -
You know, the one where he gave this town a paper-cup personality -
Still you’ve gotta laugh, don’t you? Well, don’t you gotta laugh…?
The sun begins it's sojourn westward which signals the end of the day...
It is the time at which I run..
The boardwalk outlining the southern coast of Jamaica's shore ,stretches for miles and miles..the ocean splashing onto the boardwalk a fitting backdrop..
And I run, as I run myriad of thoughts cross my mind..as that Diana Ross classic of the 70s asks..
"Do you know where you're going to, do you like the things that life is showing you..do you know'' I ask myself that time and time again...Life has certainly taken me on a journey..the ups ,the downs ,much like the proverbial rollercoaster..at times you feel you have things under control, then the ride begins..hang on!!
And I run..I have always fostered hopes of becoming my own entrepreneur again..who knows ,maybe the adage, age is just a number applies here...
And I run...
And as I run the sweat begins to run..and run freely..
But as I look ahead to where I am going..I remember how far I have come ..and the question hovers ,are there regrets..?
And I run..
The home is to be renovated this year.. something of a Spanish vain..grills, pond maybe..lol..
Look at me ..Paul the designer..
And so I run..
My right knee ,just about bombed out...after the miles and miles..mile after mile..but I continue through the pain..
Car,after car passes ,sure they do not see ,nor do not care of the soul , running in the now dark..
I pass my halfway point, a coconut vendor is packing up his daily sales,I stop, quench my thirst ..
And run..
The ocean seems calming a serenade to all runners.the lights from the city flickers across the bay..like little fireflies..gulls joining in on the concerto...it calls, have you ever listened..? tempting, seductively..
As I run I pass cars parked, couples doing their thing..lucky guy!!
And I run ..an aeroplane thunders in..vacationers arriving for the summer.. My run has paused ..I turn , I look..I have like my life, trodded a very long way..and so I breathe..a deep breath..and resume..
From whence I came..
"Pink Pink Pink"
Cathy and I were fair feathered friends
two femme fatales with similar blends
lying on white beach, absorbing Sun rays
as our kids built sand castles on warm Summer days.
every evening we strolled on the Boardwalk for fun
her cutsy twin daughters; my rammy five sons
as soft breezes laced sundresses of pink
we sipped on refreshing snow cones icy drinks.
after the children were snuggled in their beds
with visions of dreams dancing in little heads
Cathy and I sat 'neath moonlight on wooden deck
suddenly she was sobbing as tears streamed down her neck.
quickly to comfort her emotions so strong
I instantly inquired, "what happened? what's wrong?
she received her report from yearly breast exam
diagnosis stated bluntly from recent mammogram.
this petite little lady was so frightened inside
a worried single Mother for her daughters, if she died,
so we laced up our sneakers and walked for the cure
she began her kemo and for three years endured.
Cathy constantly smiled and would not be defeated
her race for life would soon be completed
remission occured and all took a deep breath
a shining example for a quality quest.
then one cold Winter morning she felt intense pain
her heart beating fast, she collapsed in vain
she was so brave when the news was so bleak
in the hospital room we all started to weep.
though the cancer returned Cathy was in peace
her first grandson was due to be born Christmas week
she never relinquished her positive vibes
with great inner strength she vowed to stay alive.
to hold her new bundle of joy in her arms
her last wish was granted for her bracelet of charms
Cathy closed her eyes one snowy Christmas Eve
baby Dante born early for she so believed.
each Christmas we hang pink ribbons on the tree
and sing her favorite caroles out loud and with glee
her spirit lives on and her courage, we remember
a celebration for Cathy every festive December.
*For P.D.'s Contest.
*A true story of my best friend, Catherine Villari Litton.