Long Cans Poems
Long Cans Poems. Below are the most popular long Cans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cans poems by poem length and keyword.
When my muse is busy dodging fire and brick
how can it scribe beautiful things.
With pepper spray in the eyes
batons and viruses whirling overhead
balls of anger and hate wanting to lay me into R.I.P.
How can it see pink horizons glazed with songbirds
or morning suns sprinkling silver sprigs over lily ponds.
For now, my muse is smashing baseball- apple pie and Chevrolets
smothering smiles-putting on yet another game face.
Bolting riot gear into heavy metal bones-chewing cans of mace,
etching cracked skulls and caskets onto burning pages
for now-this is the way my muse is gonna roll
until Uncle Riot and Auntie virus head for home-
They catch our eye, those dented cans
that stand out clearly from the rest.
Yet something says to stay away...
they may not pass the 'okay' test.
Though, most the time, the food inside
should surely be okay to eat,
our senses choose a perfect shape;
reject when standards do not meet.
Just like those cans can shut our mind
to flawless nutrients inside,
we cringe when we see 'dented' shells...
assume, from them, we need to hide.
The outer part of anything...
a can, a book, a house...a heart,
does not disclose the joy within...
is just the wrap 'round the best part.
Sandra M. Haight
~5th Place~
Contest: Dented Cans
Sponsor: John Lawless
Judged: 01/15/2018
Poetry is moving as an opera to me.
It brings some, to your very soul’s gate!
Some poets only pen for a witty fast laugh.
I don’t think life is a bowl of chuckling human gaffes!
Some will never comment to you.
So what?
Make this not a popularity zoo, poetry is not akin to showing off
brand new shoes!
That is called “egotitistical blues!”
True friends are not like a bag of apocalyptic popcorn!
Spitting philosophical gems like a freshman, all over a college dorm.
All kinds of poets show poetical talent here!
Some write way too long, some only write short.
Then, there are also, humble deep philosophers.
Find those few who make your heart purr.
Those that make your heat in your blood stir!
Read well known poets each day.
This is a must_ a learning foray.
These are just things I learned, since being here.
Beautiful poetry really brings me to tears.
Cliches as comments, meaningless, should be
banned, sounding like empty tin cans...roll both
Empty and cold in this poet’s heart and hands.
Be specific in comments or comment not.
Don’t reply as “ I am in a hurry” snot!
Comments are surely not homework, that’s a sin.
Reply with your soul,this is not a children’s game to win!
“Oh, but they won’t read me, if I don’t comment?”
Then become a sincere soul, a dazzling, artistic grommet!
11/2/2021
when it states in the Bible that God helps those who help themselves
He's not talking about doing just anything to amass personal wealth
He's basically telling you to get up off your behind
and do something productive that's positive in mind
be it a job, starting a business or just collecting cans
it's about doing something commendable with one's own hands
for there is nothing better than doing something that's constructive
for it makes you feel good about yourself whenever you're being productive
so do something for yourself, for the planet and for your fellow man
for that is what God had in mind when He devised His master plan
so get up, go out and do something to earn a living but do it with joy
because if you're not working for the greater good you'll become the devil's toy
Original blue- haired Alice rewrote the story
Wearing a gown she constructed from linseed
With lace sleeves cut from a summer shawl
Possibly her grandmother’s favorite garment
She popped roses and pearls into her stiff sixties hairdo
Finding hairspray to keep them there was a trick
There are only six cans left, and hard to find
Ebay is selling the last two cans for $2500 each
An evil Cheshire cat appeared.
I wanted a Cheshire dog, she said.
The cat refused to go, citing poetic license
So blue-haired Alice ignored it
Not easy to do when it kept waking her up
Gnashing its loud angry teeth when she was trying to sleep
I will sit here in this teacup and behave lied the white rabbit
Who contributed to the annoying night noises by chewing carrots.
Much Ado About Poo
We purchased so called “big boy pants”
complete with all their “cans and can’ts”
thought potty training a big mistake
till the day he yelled “I made a snake!!!”
Cats will cover up their load
horses drop it in the road
birds can do it while they fly
dropping it on the passersby
people do it in their homes
in rooms – complete - with useless tomes
chronicles of endless strife
missing pages - used to wipe
whales do doo-doo in the sea
where grinning people also pee
bears – they have no cant’s – they have no ‘shoulds’
they just do it in the woods
people on the other hand
think each movement something grand
ritualize the where and when
each plopping splash – a perfect ten
why must there be so much ado
‘bout when and where and how – we poo
John G. Lawless
7/26/2015
Broken Seashells,
canvasses of lobsters
tossed ashore by waves
are an open cemetery
with endless laments...
as green seaweeds
decorate them morbidly
if they were flowers!
I look around this beach
not frequented by a wanderer;
the strong stench of fish
is too unpleasant to sensitive noses,
but it's the perfect dinner
for those hungry gulls that swish
and land on their corpses!
Beer cans and water bottles
not disposed in nearby bins
attract rats with extreme hunger
and finding little, they chomp chasing after
the mackerels wiggling on the scorching sand;
oh, they happily feast on them and hiss...
keeping away the squeaking seagulls!
This abandoned beach once was
as pristine as the bluish water,
nobody littered it and people
walked barefoot seeking their favorite spots,
not getting cuts on fragmented seashells;
then hurricane Sandy came and left it desolate...
no souls returned to their homes,
and it became a ghost town forever...
and the few who stayed carried fright in their guts!
“My Deepest Passion”, is just three cuisines away
For over forty years, cooking in a restaurant, my forte
I can do an “Ice Carving” of a swan landing in a lake
I can start from scratch and build a five tier Wedding Cake
I’ve used exotic spices, from a hundred different lands
Pick fresh produce from a garden, I’ve never opened cans
I have Saffron flown in from India at $180 a gram
Escargots from Niece, France; where I also order lamb
With whisk in hand; a frying pan, a little wine and roux
I don’t believe there’s a creamy sauce; I don’t know how to do
I love to teach my students the beauty of Culinary Artistry
At Graduation they start their careers and take a part of me
Three cuisines, to master, to become a “Black Hat Chef”
But ill health is telling me I don’t have a lot of time left
From a short order cook to a teacher of the Culinary Art
I Live my dream, a dream that is deep within my HEART
As Executive Chef of a five star resort for the past eleven years
“My Deepest Passion” has kept me going as my retirement nears
Three more cuisines and I become “Black Hat Chef” number eight
The third in the U.S.A. a life long dream come true; if that should be my Fate
Inspired by Amy Green’s Contest “ My Deepest Passion “
Dedicated to my number One Student Kenny Potter my Protege
there is an open door in a rundown building
with peeling green paint on the walls
and worn wooden steps going up
into the darkness . . .
many garbage cans are overflowing
and I see lots of broken liquor bottles on the ground
also a child's broken pink bike has been discarded
and there seem to be hundreds of cigarette butts littering
I am shocked to see a needle syringe at my feet
then, an old lady in rags is passing
with a shopping cart full of junk
and greets me politely, "Hello, Miss, God Bless!"
______________________
March 06, 2023
Poetry/Imagism/the rundown building
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1529-678-06
All Rights Reserved, 2023, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Upto You Again
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged03/08/2023
Wedding wines - rather champagne shines
and bubbly breakout of blushing bride.
Groom with giant heart, gracious, grateful - grips
her hand with his handsome wholeness. Helps
his lovely lady into limousine, longing for her lips.
Laps leaping, longing, leaving the crowd’s “so long!”
Cans chiming cheers. Crowd chuckles at car’s rear.
“Honeymoon here we come!” Coreen casts a shameless
glance at Glen. His green anticipation, Gable-debonair.
Goosebumps and gorgeous view - grand peaks
of her bosom buddies, brimming with lace and brouhaha.
His eyes - riveting, reveling, robust, ruddy and willing.
~
Throbbing thirst, thistles ‘neath terrycloth, while he waits.
Anticipation hurts - artfully, agonizingly. Her appearance
in nascent negligée, nearly naughty, nearly a no-no,
but not, for they’ve tied the knot and into a knot they go.
Get’m tiger! Tongues tangoed, trip to Timbuktu, tipsy
and top-see and no toodaloo - a forever frou-frou.
Silk surrender, sliding, suspend her, satisfaction in space.
Stirring, sipping, inhabiting each other, sensational and sweet.
9/2/2022
Anniversary Contest
Sponsor: Sara Kendrick