Long Boxes Poems
Long Boxes Poems. Below are the most popular long Boxes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boxes poems by poem length and keyword.
I test the winds every day because I live in a forest
I am a pyromaniac, but I do want to prevent forest fires
Today the wind is calm; it is a great day to scare the neighbors.
I drag twelve boxes out, stuff two with paper and light it up
Fire is not a steady lover; she is a frenzied volcano
In minutes, she is reaching toward the sky in bright orange flames
I sit mesmerized, fascinated, not caring if there is a forest fire
My husband runs out of the house to stare; he is like the neighobrs
Fearful of my excited beast of a fire who is crackling gray and black now
Yet too scared of me to say a word, for I am a frenzied pyromaniac.
Garish and gaudy, a little bit nice,
Mrs. Claus’ pajamas on Christmas Eve.
Little bit naughty with sugar plum spice.
Garish and gaudy, a little bit nice,
Santa’s ho ho ho sleigh preparing to leave.
Those wayward reindeers, he cattle calls thrice.
Little bit naughty with sugar plum spice,
snacking on the pines — those peppermint thieves,
sticky antlers treading holiday ice.
Garish and gaudy, a little bit nice —
smart boxes and bows make children believe
and grateful parents are good with the price.
Little bit naughty with sugar plum spice.
A mischievous elf off the shelf named Steve
is pilfering cookies — they’re Santa’s vice.
One chill boss in a sled would not suffice —
the crazy entourage of Christmas Eve.
Garish and gaudy, a little bit nice,
Little bit naughty with sugar plum spice.
12/3/2020
Deck The Halls Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Joseph May
Checked with rhymezone.com
an assemblage of flowers are cascading in painted hues
all tumbling and weaving saturated in color and light
and I listen while my redolent garden murmurs for me
wait- I whisper till I finish my morn' prayers ...
my hair is a flowing pale river in the dew of morning
and my gown is diaphanous and gossamer in the light
as I meander lissome the labyrinthine of my garden
like a colored butterfly in dalliance of a place sumptuous
and among flowers soft as thoughts I am distant as an island
oh, a dying flower hangs her head as I stroke her withering petals
and the flowers sway and dance for me in utter happiness, and
from hanging pots vines are creeping, climbing and clinging
oh, the wildflowers overflow with joy threatening to take over, and
a tropical orange flame hibiscus for Buddha meditation inspires, and
herbs, herbs, herbs tangled, plunge from window boxes sublime
as trailing things soft as a spider web and planted with love thrive
oh, listen as mellifluous birds sing music for my soul and spirit
and clouds sail across the blue sky and my garden sighs ..
dappled and quiet ..
________________
August 12, 2021
Poetry/Imagism/dappled and quiet
Copyright Protected, ID 08-1380-465-12
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Brian Strand You Choose
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 08/12/2021
Cut metal sheet and two rings
in the marrow of comprehended made us
never know why
pulled out
by fluorescent uniforms and sore siren
from wrong side of road already seen was swept out
phone
cognition
answer
finally they began to disappear
someone put the film on
it's rolling
if mercy is constructed from excessive delayed condolences
she doesn't want to be baptised by your stones
stepped in the bathroom
turned the water heater on
there is too much to wash out
people
so many people
pale faces walking
headed boxes slide in silence
she believed
you'll leave one, at least that smallest window
open
they lied
you're not forgotten
This is how I am with clothes:
(Most won’t relate’s, what I suppose)
I purchase something that I like
(If it’s on sale, a lucky strike).
If in a store, I try it on,
Or if it comes from Amazon,
I grapple with the box or bag
To check the fit. (Return’s a drag.)
Then in my closet or a drawer,
I neatly place it, waiting for
The perfect time for me to wear it.
(Might be weeks or months - I swear it!)
Once it’s worn, it joins the crowd
With which my wardrobe’s been endowed
And rotates, as each day I see
Which outfit most appeals to me.
For years, most items I will wear,
But when they’re old or need repair,
They transfer to my country place
Where, in my drawers, I find some space.
To do that, other things must go.
I fill a bag of items, so
I have enough to donate to
Collection boxes (which I do).
Of course, some things I have to toss
And doing so is no one’s loss,
But maybe someone I don’t know
Wears something I bought long ago.
The way I am, I know is strange,
But at this point, I’ll never change,
Although, in logic that’s reversed,
I’ll wear the clothes I least like first.
7/29/16
Daily losses and profits
Withdrawals and deposits
Suggest to do your best and use logic
Constantly not just periodic
Below many comets
Moving faster than rockets
In any area considered cosmic
People working away outside or inside a office
Professionals or a novice
Products
Being packed and shipped through a thorough process
Scientists using microscopes, slides and droplets
To gather data whether or not expirementing with a coccus
Don't frolic
To be perfectly honest
You might feel lost, and rather thoughtless
But have a sense of direction if your on land by using the mosses
Be cautious
Think with a clear conscience
And follow through on any promise
A lot of human beings looking at anything religious with a fondness
Conducting ceremonies with liquids in golden goblets
While praying homage to a god or godess
One thing for certain is that it all is in motion and constant
Events and opportunities occuring at the same or a different correspondence
Live it up because we all get a certain amount of time and allotment
It goes for any lifeform whether or not it is or isn't aquatic
Many colors and composites
In and out, near and far from any province
Not to mention all these strains that are local and exotic
Grown close, or far away in the tropics
The news speaking of seemingly fixed topics
Some of which are rather ironic
Don't be idiotic
Why worry about what's in another's pocket?
Stop it
Those actions just may be catastrophic
Near and far from environements considered toxic
Fossils found and remaining that are small or colossus
Meanwhile evidence is put away on shelves in boxes
By: Dalton Ogletree
In a city of shadows and faded smiles,
where tears flow beneath slow eyelids,
lost souls seek refuge,
people frozen in their own chimera,
aged too soon by the fear of change,
as life's tectonic plates collide,
and they sway in a cradle of illusions,
believing eternity unfolds beneath their steps.
Under the gray sky of forgotten promises,
hide the shelters of the mind, bunkers of thoughts,
where they retreat, trembling, afraid to lose
the fragments of peace they've buried deep.
Time passes like a dream, without noise, without echo,
and they, prisoners of routine, slowly pour
their souls into crystal glasses, sipping
from an eternity that does not belong to them.
But what are they, these strangers to sun and wind,
if not ghosts in cloaks of comfort,
with hearts enclosed in cardboard boxes,
believing the world will stop to wait for them?
They build walls themselves with bricks of silence,
and love turns into a cold wind,
carried far away, in days when the sky was clear,
but they have forgotten to see, to feel, to be.
In the silent night, when stars disappear,
questions are born like butterflies, from the cocoon of fear,
and perhaps, eventually, they will understand
that life is not a straight path, but a journey
through labyrinths of dreams and desires,
where only the brave find their way to the light,
but until then, they remain, dreamers in shadow,
longing for an eternity they cannot grasp.
They packed their picnic basket s and journeyed towards the sun, with boxes of liquor, creates of beers and a drum fill with carbonated soda; busloads of them, drove down the slopes, with dug out boats and makeshift floats.
They traveled with the band, guitar and key board fold up in their hand, with cymbals and steel drum resting on their shoulder; they braved the heat and cross the street.
They were all in a jubilant mood so they set off to have fun in the radiant sun. Hundreds of them landed on the beach in the sweltering heat and pitch their tents. They stare at the distance as the ferocious waves wash against their feet.
Big ships start rolling in, and the carnival boat began to sing, the music was pounding and the people were dancing and chanting to the rhythms. Some were waving hand kerchief, and handmade flags, people of all races colors and creeds mingled together while the big ship cruise towards shore.
The ship came to a sudden stop and several small boats ferried the people towards the shore. Their bright colors blended with the sun drove their passion to the extreme and so the party began.
Meanwhile the band on the shore, sets off a different score and the people went wild stirring their soul to the extreme. Drunken men sprawl out on the beach, hugging the sand with a bottle of beer in the other hand while the unfaithful woman walks around entertaining the men without gown.
The beach party was in full swing and people continue to pour in; boat loads and the ship loads of people crowd the shore. I noticed something strange from a distance; blood was washing around the side of the ship, the exact spot that that destiny was walking in. It wasn’t a gun man or a family man; it was a school of shark that surrounds the boat mauling the passenger in their throat as they leave the boat.
The blood thirsty sharks mauled twenty-one people to death without a shot fired or an action discovered. No shouts or scream not even a whisper was heard, they all died silently in their dreams.
The carnage took place in the middle of the sea and the sharks slowly pulled the captain’s body to the bottom of the ocean..The beach party continues in full swing and the light on the beach never grows dim.
"She turned to the sunlight and shook her yellow
head, and whispered to her neighbor, Winter is dead. "
Quote _A.A. Milne
Waiting for the Aspens to put on their emerald gowns,
oh, I have been busy preparing my garden space;
so ready to say farewell to all the faded browns,
ready to plant seeds and to Spring totally embrace !
My sweet window boxes are full of earth just waiting,
hanging baskets are dangling in anticipation;
waiting to create my Spring garden is frustrating,
but, soon I will be the envy- for with my creation !
I will have herbs and Sunflowers and Nasturtium in one box,
and boxes with nectar wildflowers for butters' and bees;
I will have purple, yellow and pink blooms and Phlox
and baskets will be cascading jewels in the breeze !
______________________
April 26, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Getting Ready For Spring
Copyright Protected, ID 04-1451-105-26
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Spring Rhyme 8-12 Lines
sponsor, Tania Kitchin, Judged 05/14/2022
First Place
The toy boxes empty, and yesterday's thrills
Are buried together in mountainous hills
I still so remember the virgin land sweet
They deemed it would hide all that treasure discrete
And way back, I think around bout '67
Began hurling trash there,
Now a hill mounts toward heaven
Many a purchase, many a thrill
Couches, and washers and toys in that hill
Purchased with sweat and such toil of a brow
For loves sake, for Holidays purpose allowed
All of that love, so much hard-earned cash
Forgotten, forsaken in hills full of trash
And so in my lifetime I watched the hill grow
Blocking the sunset that we use to know
A million sweet scents from that desert once rose
Now the air smells of refuse, and much trash disposed
As Christmastime comes with her visions serene
The lights in a twinkle on the evergreens
Casting our eyes to the dear Saviors Birth
May we remember God's gift of our earth
Repurpose, creating our gifts for loved ones
A gift of an Earth to our future grandsons
A gift of clean air and pure sparkling waters
To all of creation, and our future daughters
A pure wish for merry, though we've less cash to spend
The truest of love lasts beyond our lives end
Merry Christmas is coming, may we choose to pay
It forward for Earth's sake and much brighter days