Long Brochures Poems
Long Brochures Poems. Below are the most popular long Brochures by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brochures poems by poem length and keyword.
Now Buxton is the place to stay when hiking in “the Dales”,
But your schedule’s shot to pieces if you’re troubled by strong gales,
On a campsite in the Pennines the wind was blowing bitterly
I confided to the warden’s wife, “Next year I’m off to Italy”.
So I asked my boss for overtime and accrued a tidy sum,
My girlfriend don’t like pasta so she didn’t want to come,
I planned to see some galleries and architectural sights,
I borrowed several brochures and I booked some budget flights.
I met a waiter in a restaurant on a vibrant street in Pisa,
He’d offer me a holiday if I were not a geezer.
Could I shake off the tradition or am I wedded to my gender?
It’s a fashionable mission. Should I let him call me Brenda?
I like the foods of Italy, they’ve tonnes of tasty meals
But would I ever feel relaxed in a necklace and high heels?
Oh I’d return from Tuscany with fond romantic tales
Of operatic ecstasy and tall Italian males.
People shed their inhibitions, often break their wedding vows,
Would he buy me splendid dinners if I wore a skirt and blouse?
Could I elongate my lashes and step out in jewels and finery?
Is it time to leave this closet and declare myself non-binary?
Should I use the ladies’ restroom or still hang-out in the gents’,
Simply tell the folks around me that I’m sitting on the fence?
If I walked into the barber’s shouting "Rid me of this beard!"
Would he relish my exuberance, or think me rather weird?
I’d talk no more of football teams or the merits of real ales,
I’d think about nutritious food and the colour of my nails.
I would give up wearing neckties and my slacks would be less dismal,
I might sit at a reception desk, though the pay would be abysmal!
I might alienate mates if I keep changing genders,
Should I book into a clinic? - no the prospect sounds horrendous!
I still prefer to lead when I’m dancing down at gigs
And I’ll be auctioning my wardrobe full of brassieres and wigs.
My local mosque has two approaches, men and women are divided,
They’ll soon need an extra doorway, for committed undecided.
Subdivided laundrettes are another implication,
I think I’ll ’phone that waiter and decline his invitation.
The love plan
You can’t plan for love; you don’t decide who you get.
You can want someone and keep their picture in your head
And you can know that the two of you would be good together,
And maybe they could be the one you need to be with;
But you cannot plan for love, marriage and kids.
The spark is either gone or it is lit.
If they ignite your passion and then your heart,
Then there is a chance it will never fall apart;
But if they are your other half in decades to come,
Or if they are someone that you once loved,
Only destiny can decide what is meant for you.
Love is a pin stuck in a globe;
A place you are yet to view.
Maybe it will be better than it looked in the brochures,
That drew you together in the first place.
Maybe it won’t work, or be replaced with an unfamiliar, or familiar face.
A person you may have imagined may suddenly appear out of the blue.
Anything is possible when two hearts attach
And there is no turning back once love is within you.
Love will burn so hard, that you are left feeling starved,
Of a desire to be anywhere other than in their arms.
It will change the person you are; alone no more.
Have you been thunderstruck by love?
Colliding stars which explode together to create a new system.
Hearts begin to beat a new rhythm.
A new way of thinking.
Be sure not to miss them.
The light that appears around the one;
The two stars are far away from being together,
Until they become a sun.
Then forever more they will shine a vision of happiness.
The best version yet.
The best version there is…
A lovers kiss.
And when they shine together, others shine,
Stars alight and align.
The original big bang,
Brought to you anew.
Love changes your view.
We were all dust and bones until we find home.
Built from particles and atoms.
Molecules gathered together and now we are together in this moment;
No longer alone.
You are Eve.
Let me be you Adam.
I wish you were love,
Because love is all I know.
(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Form:
I have never seen a flower blush when I took it's hue
and held it there a prisoner captive to my view.
I have always heard the song that's in the autumn breeze
playing taps in harmony with the forest leaves.
I love the smell of rain that brings the springtime into bud
and swells my love of nature into a teeming flood.
I celebrate the cycle of the daytime into night
and find an equal blessing in the shadow and the light.
I've always felt affinity for all created things
and surrender to the pleasure that their beauty brings.
And though I could spent a lifetime sailing drops of dew
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've often sat myself by gentle mountain streams
and overflowed the dams that were holding back my dreams.
I've breathed the scented forest on the mountainside
and washed away my sorrows in an evening ocean tide.
I've laid down in a meadow and debated with the moon
and spent some quiet moments on the surface of Neptune.
I got married to a zodiac with one of Saturn's rings
then spied a super nova and went on a cosmic fling.
I've run away to nebulae in galaxy brochures
and bathed in scenes of wonders on distant planet shores.
Every cosmos in creation could parade before my view
but I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've never seen a tree once withdraw it's shade
and deny a creature the comfort of its aid.
I've never seen any anger in the sun at noon
when it burns relentlessly on the desert dune.
At sunrise I take an oath to live with all my might
and reinforce my gratitude each and every night.
I could spend some hours riding on a crystal flake
drifting wildly in a gale mindless of my fate.
Many times I've been through trials of wind and rain and snow
then sentenced to the splendors that the seasons show.
And though I've searched throughout creation, I must say this is true
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I have never seen a flower blush when I took it's hue
and held it there a prisoner captive to my view.
I have always heard the song that's in the autumn breeze
playing taps in harmony with the forest leaves.
I love the smell of rain that brings the springtime into bud
and swells my love of nature into a teeming flood.
I celebrate the cycle of the daytime into night
and find an equal blessing in the shadow and the light.
I've always felt affinity for all created things
and surrender to the pleasure that their beauty brings.
And though I could spent a lifetime sailing drops of dew
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've often sat myself by gentle mountain streams
and overflowed the dams that were holding back my dreams.
I've breathed the scented forest on the mountainside
and washed away my sorrows in an evening ocean tide.
I've laid down in a meadow and debated with the moon
and spent some quiet moments on the surface of Neptune.
I got married to a zodiac with one of Saturn's rings
then spied a super nova and went on a cosmic fling.
I've run away to nebulae in galaxy brochures
and bathed in scenes of wonders on distant planet shores.
Every cosmos in creation could parade before my view
but I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
I've never seen a tree once withdraw it's shade
and deny a creature the comfort of its aid.
I've never seen any anger in the sun at noon
when it burns relentlessly on the desert dune.
At sunrise I take an oath to live with all my might
and reinforce my gratitude each and every night.
I could spend some hours riding on a crystal flake
drifting wildly in a gale mindless of my fate.
Many times I've been through trials of wind and rain and snow
then sentenced to the splendors that the seasons show.
And though I've searched throughout creation, I must say this is true
I've never seen a universe as beautiful as you.
This is the tale of a girl named Jana,
grew up watching badass women on screen,
was inspired by their strength and their pluck,
the way they cut through bad guys in each scene.
In middle school she started martial arts,
she moved through the belts to become the best,
in high school she put on exhibitions,
and many to her great skill did attest.
On college fields she kept up with her art
as intensely as she did her studies,
they held her up as an ‘empowered’ woman,
to be envied by all of her buddies.
The administration encouraged her,
she was a poster girl fit for brochures,
professors claimed she could beat anyone,
that no woman or man could long endure.
A feminist professor plugged Jana’s talent
one morning in an intro-level class,
most of her students just nodded blindly,
but one let out a harsh, belly laugh.
Twas a future engineer who cackled so,
said,”I’m sure her skills bring her the highest score,
but I gotta think fighting against a man
she would experience nothing but floor.”
Now the student, who went by the name Rick,
caused quite the stir with his candid remarks,
professors and students jeered his outlook,
but Rick just blew it all off as a lark.
Jana was the maddest of the outraged,
and decided that she must prove herself,
she claimed that she could defeat any man,
then challenged Rick, who she planned to whip well.
Now Rick wisely chose to ignore her crap,
because in truth, he could see no good play,
Ii he won then he had beaten up a girl,
and if he lost, he’d be covered in shame.
But the denunciations continued,
and the college sided with Jana’s cause,
so Rick agreed to a proper match-up
in a ring, obeying all the state laws.
Jana seemed thrilled, and set to training,
and at least half the school said she would win,
her opponent was fifteen pounds overweight,
she was faster, and better trained them him...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
The Cinematic Film Treatment as a stand alone element
in the aesthetic revolution we are now not witnessing
At the Core is Decor
An intense psychological thriller about ruling class oligarchs wearing chic swastika armbands revealing the clandestine boulevards of hidden influence upon the minds of pleasure seeking urban multitudes who, out of a vague translated and transferred and transliterated and egomanaical sense of guilt over the pain we cause our mothers in childbirth, worship a vague sense of nature's horrifying beauty based upon magazine pictures and post cards and travel brochures, and who are additionally incapable of analysis in the analytic sense, which renders their dreams of apathetic comfort and endless romance novel spa fantasies ephemeral if not a little fishy in the suspicious sense, and yet recently discovered by an anonymous banjo strumming whistleblower to have been run as a psychological warfare operation with the collusion of seedy motel owners in white silk ties with no conscience, who figure all the angles in a grand game of financial Hide the Braunschweiger and cartelized total control of all transshipment of global food commodities with a geopolitical acumen that can only be accounted for by a deeper study into the pathological dimensions of human mentation, which may well conclude that all of humanity is the victim of infant trauma, often instigated wittingly with a feral stratagem of cognitive shrinkage and pre-frontal inhibition; knowing that stupidity pays in so many ways if one is mentally dissociated enough to embrace and prolong the tradition of crippling the instrument of salvation that we generally, if not ignorantly, if hopefully, if not ruefully, if necessarily, if not tragically, if laughingly, refer to as mind.
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
The lone coconut tree that dared
to lean towards the sea,
gave shade to her friends while
playing on the beach.
Running half-naked so natural
to those blossoming teens,
mother's lagoon fishing straddling
the sea so blue and pristine.
Water glistening on her bare breasts
with ti-leaves as a skirt,
father hunting in the bush,
tanned and muscular without a shirt.
Other than a t-string,
he was completely nude
culturally, he was fully dressed
in a traditional tattoo.
Then the missionaries came!
Pagan worshippers too many
idols, so they said
And their One true God
Did not condone her ways.
Erotic moonlight dancing,
the young's cultural right but
like nakedness, was labeled
the devil's own delight.
They cut her hair and
she woke up wearier,
found everything foreign
was then superior.
The young's wild spirits,
broken like tamed fillies
brown skin covered
from head to their Achilles.
Mother's long tresses
made to hide in a bun
head to toe dressed in cotton,
in the heat of the sun.
Father's tattoo was a mark
of the devil's blood rites.
Respect meant wearing suits
with matching ties.
Many years later traditional dress
covered all except the face.
Confused why bare flesh in a hot place
could be such a disgrace.
Then came the tourists,
lovers and sun-seekers to paradise.
Beaches were the destination;
brown,tanned skin the ultimate prize.
New trendsetters, a see-thru blouse,
a bikini top and mini skirts.
Worst of all were the logos
"God is Dead" on their t-shirts.
They swam in near nudity
and lovers embraced on the shore.
Oblivious to bold writings in brochures,
of things banned in Samoa:
"Please respect our Culture;
Sunday only for God to be adored,
No Flesh Exposures and do your Kissing Indoors."
My wife and I share a passion for travelling, the world we love to see
We travelled through France and Switzerland and we're now in Italy
Day one was a trip in a cable car to the summit of Mount Baldo
The views from the top were amazing of Lake Garda down below.
Day two we visited Verona, a city of great architectural beauty
And it's where Shakespeare was inspired by Juliets famous balcony
We saw great works of art showing statues, of Roman mythology
Churches now outnumber them after their conversion to Christianity.
Day three we went on a speed boat trip on the beautiful Lake Garda
Then had a walk around the town of Sirmoine, and ate some tasty pizza
Of course the day would not be complete without tasting some gelato
Every flavour you can think of, it's ice cream in case you didn't know.
On the fourth day we went to Venice and we were pleasantly surprised
St Marks Square, Rialto Bridge, Doges Palace and The Bridge of Sighs
Lots of narrow passageways that leads to many a little square
Words alone can't convey its appeal you really have to be there.
On the fifth and last day a scenic trip up the Dolomite mountains
We saw scenic alpine images and drove through villages with fountains
Swiss style chalets dotted the hillsides that added to its great charm
Scenes of utmost tranquillity that gives you a feeling of inner calm.
Day six and its time to head back home, and we travelled through the night
Through Switzerland then Calais in France, to catch the ferry at first light
Then just two more coaches that will take us nearer to our home
My wife is looking at brochures for next year, to see where else we can roam.
Written on 9th October 2022.
There is a state of mind known as woebegone
In which one feels like an addict on methadone
The more one tries to feel upbeat
The more one suffers mental defeat
And the mind plays on like a gramophone.
8
The boys outside the bar appeared rapscallion
Their actions were downright reptilian
Every time a girl would walk by
One would let out a loud cry
Acting just like an overheated young stallion
8
There was an old lady from New Jersey
Who recently moved to Poughkeepsie
She met this old fart
In a local Kmart
And the two proceeded to get quite tipsy
8
Roger was smug and a bit of a grandee
Others viewed him as somewhat of a dandy
The girls giggled and downright snickered
Because they knew he sought entry to their knickers
But alas, with buttons and zippers he just wasn’t handy
8
Bobby was well known for his generosity
But also known for his excessive gulosity
He would take you to lunch anytime
But always state “what’s left over is mine”
And clean the table with the utmost ferocity
8
There was this old man from Toledo
That liked to parade around in his speedo
The old ladies would giggle
Watching his sagging butt jiggle
But it did little or nothing for their libido
8
There is this retired gentleman in south Buda
Who would like to vacation in Bermuda
But his poem book didn’t sell worth squat
Now he’s stuck with who knows what
As he reads travel brochures in his pad in south Buda
8
There is this Colorado guy in the Springs
Whose Windows computer does unusual things
The damn screen turned permanently black
So he went out and bought a new Mac
Now he doesn’t answer when his telephone rings
8
Form:
A small paradise island,
In the Caribbean Sea,
Rain comes once a year,
Sure does sound like ecstasy.
It’s not in travel brochures,
And there is no airport here,
The population’s seventy,
Not all of them appear!
A cabin on the waterfront,
No need to lock the doors,
A haven for a writer,
Whose life needs a little pause.
The laptop on the worktop,
Shouting out for a new chapter,
No internet to access,
Without finding an adaptor.
The wine bottles are chilling,
To go with the evening meal,
A fish caught just this afternoon,
Does so much now appeal.
No television to tune in,
The Radio not clear,
But nobody is caring,
When they see the lifestyle here.
The preface and three chapters,
To be finished by July,
It’s not on track but soon he’ll be,
Inspired by the sky.
He’s got his tan researching,
While he lay there on the deck,
But sometimes he gets word blind,
It’s a real pain in the neck.
But then he thinks about this life,
That he’s always desired,
He thinks about his characters,
He’s soon again inspired.
No pattern to his writing,
He just scribes when in the mood,
He pauses for a drink or two,
Of course when he needs food.
He said he’d write a masterpiece,
That’s still what he intends,
But for the length it’s taking,
He will have to make amends.
Another chapter finished,
To the publisher conveyed,
No reasons or excuses,
Why again he was waylaid.
Now on the final chapter,
His conclusion due next week,
He’s finishing the epilogue,
Now on his winning streak.
He sends it to the publisher,
Who says he has no equal,
They say “we love you, please ensure
You’re quicker with the sequel”!