Long Caramel Poems
Long Caramel Poems. Below are the most popular long Caramel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caramel poems by poem length and keyword.
"recently scenes of early life have stolen into my mind, like breezes blown ..."
Quote by _Samuel Taylor Coleridge
A sweet October caramel morning.
Your strong will entrance was a blessing gift.
The fresh leaves danced with pleasure, adorning.
A sweet October caramel morning
Chimed laughter, as wind chilled winter-warning.
Precious memories details of you, shift.
A sweet October caramel morning,
Your strong will entrance was a blessing gift.
10/3/2022
Writing Challenge - Past Memories - ''T'' Forms Poetry Contest.
Theme - past memories
Sponsored by: Constance La France
When I was a child everyone’s mother on my block corrected me.
Every adult in the neighborhood watched me vigilantly, carefully.
Watching for me to do something wrong,
So they could call my mother.
On the way to school I sometimes took a risk,
Knowing full well I’d get a spanking when I got home.
Sometimes it was worth it.
On a daily basis, I was called to a variety of porches to apologize.
This was the 60’s
In a small Iowa town.
It’s the way it was.
None of us questioned it.
One Wednesday Mr. Joe
Came out on his porch
And yelled, “If you don’t stop dawdling,
You’ll be late for the bell!”
We did not know what dawdling was,
But my sister and I ran to school,
Sliding into our desk seats seconds
Before the bell rang.
Mr. Joe had saved us from
Staying after school with the teacher.
We started waving at him every day after that.
“We are going to play hooky” I told my twin sister one fine day.
We were on our way back to second grade, after a hot bowl of
Tomato soup with a zillion crackers, and an ice cold milk I refused
To drink because I hate milk.
When Mom’s car pulled up
My blood ran cold.
My sister started screaming and
Ran right to her.
I was much more difficult to catch.
Neighbors ran out to tell her where
I was hiding every fifteen feet.
I got switched all the way
Back to school,
And decided I hated
Neighbors.
No child could have been
Snatched by a stranger
In my home town in
The 60’s.
They would have had him
Down on the ground under
A sea of knees before
He finished his first
Sentence to us kids.
We were loved, protected, and raised by everybody.
Watched as closely as caramel candy at Christmas time.
**ICE CREAM SUMMER NIGHT**
Let’s go barefoot, when the stars come out tonight.
Sidewalks and streets, still warm from the sun’s delight.
Stop fretting, the sidewalks are really clean.....
Don’t forget, they are our natural grounding machine!
Look at all the cats, looking up at the full moon.
Whatever,are they thinking_I ponder the city of Rangoon!
I am starting to drool for raspberry toppings atop of vanilla!
Can I lick your caramel one, I know how it soothes ya!
Peace, serenity, joy are hallmarks of our town.
Existing here,well....impossibly hard to get down.
The cerulean light rays, peek at us from stars above.
Where everyday and night, we celebrate our blessed love!
***********
6/21/2021
To become one
Even if moonlight is broken
and wild flowers wilt
beneath a stolen sun
lost in a twilight song,
sung in off key silhouettes
along a choral reef
drenched in caramel pages
of forgotten ink...
amidst an ocean’s marathon,
waving to popsicle patrons,
melting your heart
in every sweetness now
clinging to shirt tails
of written directions
leading away
Even if they take your hand
in cotton candy promises
and merry-go-round whispers,
those of endless phrases
of love’s poetic mist
gathering about your eyes,
enticing your smile
as if they are owed it…
hear my pleas in truthful cries,
teardrop wishes
flowing steadfast feelings,
beyond any rose petal stanzas
or peppermint verses
of unfelt meanings in
penned deception
luring you…
and walk with me,
so I may show you a place
among the hidden forests
and daffodil daydreams,
where you will know
my love is real,
where affection’s map
leads to a wondrous
treasure of happiness,
where the moon and stars
dance pirouettes
in tempo with
our hearts…
where we may
invite eternity
to become one…
with us
Good night Soupers
Have a great weekend
See you again on Monday
you say you
love the moon
but it’s the stars
you gaze at,
as you stretch
your petal-like fingers
to flaunt magical phrases
across nocturnal nights~
stealing their
fragrant florescence
within forsaken
liquified lights,
to make them an
unseen reality
worth reading,
as your charming words
woven with
wisteria wishes
protect them
from invisible ink,
that has been
burning empty pages
from fiery flames,
oblivious to the
tangerine truth
not every twinkling gem
can grant your wishes
to flicker caramel gold…
perhaps, you should
see the sacred
scriptures in silver
within lunar spheres,
how she carries
perfumed pain,
whilst remaining faithfully
as a fairy goddess;
beacon of hyacinth hope
when you were
in your
island of ignorance,
speaking the
lyrical language
of dimmed dreams in
sentimental silence
so don’t question her
wounded skin reflecting
confined absence~
nor blame the
sizzling sapphires
with her name sewn,
in vibrant violet
within the crystalline
cage beneath
crooning seas
she was never guilty
of lethal love
nor were her
emerald emotions
manipulative games
designed for
ephemeral pleasures~
she, was in
need of a
sublime rhyme
that can set her
healing heart ablaze,
reignite reasons to relive
promises made amidst
inevitable distance
but if pain prompted
a voice
you’ll feel her
bleeding soul
and her aching sight;
she’s seen so much
of what the dying
leaves and
falling season
could do,
yet, the wind
never revealed
secrets of the
sunflower crescent,
for her tale was never
meant to be
told to the weak~
trees with torn twigs,
too afraid to translate
heartbroken hymns
and eager to place
lambent labels
on wilted weeds
and faded flowers,
unaware of the raven runes
flowing in fickle flares
within their
stone cold skin.
*written for my daughter Erin's birthday, to be sung by her boyfriend and his band(??)
Rolled up to the street light and there she sat
Rappin ' 'er fingers to the beat on her dash
Where did she come from, hidin' in the world?
How could it be I've never seen this girl?
Sportin' a cigarette 'neath the sleeve of her top
Bumper sticker says she's a fan of SlipKnot
Smiled at me as I rounded the curb
Had to get a second look so I threw it in reverse
Shouted out a tune to me as I caught her eye
No doubt about it she's just gotta have a guy
(chorus)
Don't know what she's doin'
Don't know if it's right
Don't care I'm gonna stare
While sittin' at the light
Is she thinkin' the same thing?
Is it love at first sight?
I'm gonna get to know her if it takes all night
Chocolate eyes and caramel hair
She's a beauty in the making
And I just gotta stare
A captivating smile like she knows what's up
Wanna show her I mean business
And she's gonna make it tough
Light turns green and she's takin' off
Don't wanna lose sight of her down the block
Wanna take her home
I grab my phone
Snap a picture of her
Before she's gone
(repeat chorus)
Mosaic mahogany memories
Shatter like silver glass within me
Reflecting red reveries
Of all that could be
And never was
Yet somehow cutting
Inside my mind bleeds dreams
Scents of lavender lamenting
Licorice tongue licking
Me with promises you never keep
Though skillfully you lead me on
I fantasize about these lily lies
That ride ebony eyes
On onyx moonlit nights
I remember golden hope
You slide like a diamond rope
Around my neck
Instead of around my finger
I linger in memories
Engaged in warm embraces
That never really were what they seemed
How can you miss
what you never had
Be it a kiss being rich
a mom a dad
Someone who really cares
Who will ride through
The bowels of hell and back
To create caramel memories
Sweet enough to please you
And then act on them
Creating a playbook
From one look in eyes
That have lived and died
For love or the memory of
What could have been
A baby was born with carotene skin and left
on a Senator’s doorstep in Washington.
This neonate’s pigment was reddish orange,
bright too, unusually garish.
How will we label it? The lawmakers fretted
when the Senator took it to the Capitol Building
to try and find it a home.
It is not black, not white, not caramel, not pink, not yellow.
It is not an albino, it is carrot-colored.
How will it pay taxes? A Senator married to an I.R.S.
agent wondered. “It will not be able to fill out a W-2 properly.”
What will we label it? The senators all worried, crowding around for a look.
“How about you label her baby?” a visiting four-year-old child suggested.
Rocky
Rock is not a racehorse,
he is a tiny Billy goat.
He thinks he is much larger
than he really is.
One day,
he will be all that he believes
he already is.
That will be a good day,
for Rocky.
Rocky is the color black
with very long hair.
It is soft and squishy to the touch.
He had horns on his head,
but they were removed.
Now he likes scratches there,
and cries sometimes.
Rocky is still a baby yet.
He is on the baby bottle.
Three times a day,
I am on my way,
to make sure his belly stays full.
Rocky will eat hay and oats,
and tin can boats when he is older...
but not today, no way.
Then...
Lucy came to live with us.
She is a goat-like Rocky.
She is brown like caramel,
and round like the sun.
It mirrors her disposition.
She is happy and sweet,
and Rocky loves...
to smell her feet.
Life is getting busy here,
on the Iris Acres.
It is a place,
to be quiet,
and watch the flowers grow.
Maybe Tomorrow Night?
by Odin Roark
Early last night
thinking got heavy.
Uncomfortable feelings crept in.
The mix was,
I don't know…
Revealing, I guess.
How much?
How much is one person supposed to carry?
How strong this body thin?
Have I not hammered enough nails,
untangled enough twisted synaptic vines?
When will it be finished,
this lean-to in the forest of high-rise expectancies,
these mindscapes where insomniacs of abandoned conscience
meet persistent awareness in flames?
Is there only sitting alone on empty subway cars
careening through express stops,
where ghosts of ancient ether float suspended,
waving their giddy hands as the blur passes,
where the burning midnight oil insistence
searches for better light,
illuminated dream signs,
visions that never cease?
That was before I reached the last stop,
climbed the stairs into midnight darkness,
listened to my cacophony of silence,
pushed through that familiar door,
straddled my stool at O'Riley's,
made my pencil write,
while five and dime glassware
became faceted crystal of my dreams,
sloshing melted memories about,
elbowing their way into napkin after napkin,
crossed out words after crossed out words,
caramel river after caramel river,
finding my liver oh so accommodating.
Later last night,
I found my perch atop the familiar railing.
You know,
the same one as before,
and before,
and before,
studying the arc.
Did you know water runs deepest
when you know it's really the right time?
And they keep telling me two-hundred feet
allows plenty of gravity to collect.
But…
They've got me in this awful green room again.
Took my pencil.
Gave me a crayon.
Black this time.
Words don't care.
Curls and lines.
Paper doesn’t care.
Late last night,
they said I had to stay awhile.
Again, you know,
‘til I convinced them, again
that I'm all here,
all together,
just a little lonely,
no harm.
You know,
I'm thinkin'
there's gotta be another way,
you know.
Better than making you up all the time.
Maybe we could meet,
you and me.
Coffee.
Nothin’ fancy.
Just...
Maybe early
tomorrow night,
before my believin’ gets heavy again.
Maybe?
Sweetheart?