Long Cards Poems
Long Cards Poems. Below are the most popular long Cards by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cards poems by poem length and keyword.
Why won't you let me in?
I have something for you that will surprise you.
Don't you believe my words?
Is everything a curtain to you?
Curtains hiding more curtains?
Would you break if my curtain handed out business cards?
Business cards that read, "Inside: more curtains?"
Would that revive your jaded, helpless face?
What if I painted my curtains?
Wild colors! Fantastical animals!
Cut shapes into them casting shadows.
What if we shared the same curtain?
Not recognizing the other curtain as our curtain?
What if there were no curtains?
And we knew everything, at once?
What if we like our mysteries?
Our surprises? Do you wanna see mine?
Do you? I bet you do.
*this poem was inspired by windows
“Let’s go!” Penney urged, leading the charge through the newfound exit. They raced through a short hallway that led to a room filled with oversized playing cards and whimsical drawings that seemed to come to life. Brightly colored flowers swayed as they passed, drawing laughter through their anxiety and step-farts.
“Incredible!” Gus gasped as various cards spun in the air; some were even singing in harmony. “What’s the riddle we have to solve here?”
Suddenly, a chatty card with a top hat bounced towards them, wearing a cheeky grin. “To escape, dear friends, here lies your test: Solve my riddle, and you’ll be blessed...by a sadist", it whisper-trailed.”
“What’s the riddle?” Penney asked, kneeling to meet the card’s animated gaze.
The card puffed out its chest and spoke: “In a million colors, I shine so bright. I mark the end of day and the beginning of night. What am I?”
Penney’s mind raced—could it be…? “A sunset!” she shouted.
With a delighted twirl, the card exclaimed, “Correct! Now hurry, for Michael draws near, and the time to escape is quite clear, foe the hunt is *****!”
The walls began to tremble with an excited energy, and a door at the far end swung wide, revealing bright light. “Go, go!” Gus urged, nearly dragging Penney toward the opening.
As they burst through the exit, laughter followed them, a juxtaposition to the looming threat of Michael. What greeted them was a hallway of mirrors, each reflecting a distorted version of themselves—heightened excitement, fear, and a sprinkle of madness sparkling in their eyes.
“We can use the mirrors!” Penney said, repurposing the chaos. “Let’s confuse him!”
They darted in and out of reflections, giggling like children as they prepared for Michael’s eventual entry. With cleverness and agility, they utilized the mirrors to multiply their images, creating illusions that might just be their ultimate escape plan.
The Home Goods store is packed with stuff
That no one really needs.
It’s kind of like a garden filled
With bright and cheerful weeds.
You stroll the aisles and start to pluck
Some items from a shelf,
Each one designed to make you buy
A present for yourself.
A fish-shaped plate, a speckled bowl,
Some baskets of bamboo,
Plus pillows, frames and placemats -
All just waiting there for you.
A separate section carries food,
Like chocolates and snacks,
While cards and wrapping paper fill,
With toys, adjoining racks.
Some furniture is worth a look -
A cabinet or chair,
But better snatch it up because
Next week it won’t be there.
It’s fun to spend an hour
In this store, without a doubt,
Though guaranteed you’ll leave with things
You sure could do without.
The cards of life, of many sorts, to each has been dealt.
The honey of bees is sweet, but their stings are also felt.
No one ever promised that life would be fair.
Hopes and plans often become a nightmare.
Drifting dreams seem to float away downstream,
evaporating before your eyes like hot vapors of steam.
But from the massive blast of volcanoes, the lava flows.
The rain falls; hurricanes spin; and the wind blows.
Then, the lava hardens and afterward, islands are born,
upon which a healing and lovely Rain Forest grows.
From life’s excruciating pain, we too, like a Rain Forest,
can grow to become persons most beautiful and dearest.
You and I, like a Rain Forest producing seeds of many sorts are now providing medicines of lasting hope and positive cures
2ndContest 2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 22 Poetry Contest, MarkToney(03042019); 07302016 PS Contest, September Premiere, Brain Strand
Valentine's Day recalls smirks and giggles
when Cupid's arrow struck lovers in love.
And store-bought cards filled with sweetheart scribbles
bordered by hearts and cherubs from above.
In my youth, we'd all decorate a box,
with a slot cut in the top of each lid.
And sealed tight with imaginative locks
that ensured all cards got discreetly hid.
Valentine's Day heralded the start of spring
but as winter wanes, anxieties climb.
And thinking thoughts that puberty can bring,
we would fantasize about love sublime.
Laughter's oft-heard sharing cards with a friend,
tacky tokens, painting love surreal.
And yet, we'd stare at them for hours on end
wishing those sentimental cards were real.
(Quatrain)
2/14/2015
Yesterday, a glint in Father's eye,
unborn, my life journey's start, is nigh.
Today, it's all unknown.
Bright lights in the delivery room
will replace the calm of Mother's womb.
but babies are born like flowers bloom,
and I'll be on my own.
Soon, I'll grow up to be a man.
I'm not sure how, don't know if I can.
I feel like I'm alone.
Placing cards in bicycle spokes,
I can't talk about it with my folks,
but acorns grow into mighty oaks.
Soon, I'll do it on my own.
Am I ready yet to take a wife -
to make a commitment for life?
I've got feet of ice.
Though she had me from the first hello,
can we be happy, I just don't know -
but, together, oak and ivy grow,
and we'll make something nice.
Do I know how to be a dad,
more involved than the one I had?
Am prepared for what's in store?
Can I stay up all night and hear him cry?
or answer one hundred questions "why?"
But an eagle teaches his chick to fly,
and soon my heart will soar.
Like everyone's, my life must end.
It's more than I can comprehend.
Is it like walking through a door?
I guess I don't know; I'm pretty dumb.
If it's like sailing from a seashore, mum,
I'll loudly break a bottle of rum
to echo the silent shore.
Twists and big turns in the name of real love
Either it will mend or break a heart
If this feeling of love, its author is God
Involved persons then must render their part
He logs more on oceans and she on land
Friendship to sweet soulful romance, began
No phone-lines nor e-mails nothing advance
With only black pen and paper on hand
Both of them, grab take that one lifetime chance
Thirty five years now, they are on love dance
Skin gone sag, wrinkled. Hair now thin and gray
Holding hands while walking like good old days
Romantic dinners. Roses. Gifts and cards.
Hugs, kisses... "I love you", their darling say
Ageless enduring in embers of time
Blazing better within embers of time.
written in iambic pentameter by:
olive_eloisa
1:18 am
April 04, 2014
__________________to my parents.. :) Praise GOD!
CONTEST: EMBERS OF TIME
SPONSOR: Gail Angel Doyle
1ST PLACE, praise God .. :)
WHAT A BLESSING HAVING AN AEROSPACE ENGERINEER DRONE PILOT FOR A GRANDDAUGHTER 8 CHILDREN 26 GRANDCHILDREN OUR MEMORIES ARE SO PRICELESS MY HOME WAS BROKEN INTO IRONICALLY THE THIEVES CLONED MY PHONE TRIED TO DELETE MY LIFE CRAZY STALKERS THEY WERE OLD PHONES 7 OLD CELL PHONES ALL THE DATA SAFETY STORED THESE OLD PHONES I KELP FOR MY MEMORIES BY GOD GRACE SHE WAS ABLE NOT ONLY WAS SHE ABLE TO RESTORE MY PORTRAITS KEEPSAKES SHE WAS ABLE TO UPLOAD THEM TO OTHER DEVICES THIS WAY I COULD DELETE AND MAKE SPACE FOR NEW ONES ESPECIALLY WHEN YOUR STORAGE IS FULL USING YOUR EMAIL ADDRESS YOU COULD CONTINUE TO STORE WITHOUT LOSING IMPORTANT MEMORIES AWESOME WITH A MEMORY VAULT OUR MEMORIES ARE SAVED IT'S ALSO GOOD WHEN BUYING A NEW PHONE JUST UPLOAD THE OLD GALLERY TO YOUR NEW PHONE WHO CARES IF THIEVES BREAK IN CLONE YOUR OLD PHONES MY HUSBAND PHONE WAS EASY HIS PHONE HAD ONLY DUPLICATE PHOTOS OF ME WE RESTORED THOSE AS WELL OH WELL SO IF YOU EVER LOSE YOUR PHONE YOUR DATA IS ALWAYS THERE I GUESS THATS WHY FBI AGENTS COPS CLONE CELL PHONES ALL THE TIME SORRY STALKERS EVERY PORTRAIT HAS ALREADY BEEN STORED THROUGH BACKING UP NEVER LOSE A MEMORY AGAIN KEEPSAKE MEMORIES VAULTS THE SHEER HORROR OF BEING HACKED YOUR PHONE IS CLONED THE HACKERS CAN SEND TEXT MAKE CALLS DESTROY HUMAN LIVES MY STALKERS WERE CORRUPTION THEY HAD THIS POWER TO EVEN SEND BOGUS TRAFFIC TICKETS REEKING HAVOC ON MY DISABLED VETERAN SO PROTECT YOUR FAMILY IT'S THE BEST THING MY FAMILY EVER DID THE HACKERS WOULD CHANGE YOUR EMAILS MY STALKERS ACTUALLY USED HER BLACK FACE TO OPEN MY PHONE WE REPLACED THOSE PHONES WITH UNHACKABLE ONES SIMS CARDSVAFTER SIM CARDS SHE WOULD BREAK IN GRAB OLD PHONES SEARCHING OUR DESK FOR PASS CODES EVEN BANK CODES ACTUALLY ATTEMPTED TO DEPOST A CHECK FRAUD WASTE AND THE TELLY HACKER CLONING DEVISES IS VERY SCARY SHE TRIED HACKING INTO GOVERMENT ACCOUNTS IT WAS A HORRID ATTACK ON DISABLED AMERICANS I RECIEVED THREATS BLACKMAIL EXTORTION TODAY WE ARE AWARE AND SAFE WITH DATA LITERALLY
New Hampshire Has Spoken
©2012 C. Brent Cloyd
Romney is choice of the republican elite
With thirty-nine percent he’ll be hard to delete.
Paul’s crowd is excited and nipping at his heels
They’ve made monetary policy issues real.
Huntsman says third place gives him a ticket to ride
So on down to South Carolina he will slide.
Gingrich has fallen and he is madder than heck
His story is about the cards in Romney’s deck.
Santorum is still smiling and is headed south
Will his message relate or is he just a mouth?
Perry did not know he was even in the race
Betting on the Palmetto state to save his face
The worker bees, are a hardy bunch,
They wake at four, and prepare their lunch.
It’s off to the mines, for another day,
To stir the pots, and earn their pay.
Their hard hats on, with small yellow lights,
Standing in line, to work into nights.
The start of the mine, is a wondrous hall,
Golden in colour, in the shape of a ball.
They tie their laces, and put on their braces,
They put on their goggles, to each of their faces.
Clocking cards out, the shift will begin,
As they enter the mine, the queen lives in.
Down a tunnel, of ember and gold,
Honeycomb walls, oozing and old.
Their brown honey sticks, are ready in hand,
A uniformed line, like a marching band.
The floor is sticky, with oozing honey,
The reason they’re there, to make their money.
One by one, they enter inside,
A room with pots, that honey does hide.
They get their sticks, place into the pot,
Of liquid gold, that’s still quite hot.
They stir the honey, all day long,
Whilst singing an ancient, working song.
“He he, ha ha, it’s off to the hive,
The place which where, worker bees thrive,
We stir the honey, to make our money,
It’s the thing that keeps us alive”
Delivery arrives, it’s the pollen bees,
They’ve done their picks, of flowers and trees.
Into the pot, they add the dew,
Of daffodils and hydrangea, to name a few.
A secret ingredient, will come at the end,
As the mixture thickens, their sticks will bend.
It’s nearing the end, of another long shift,
A siren is heard, their morale will lift.
Sweetness of honey, will fill the air,
As the bees do dribble, they want their share.
The shift then ends, clocking cards out,
The manager comes, “home time” he’ll shout.
The bees are done, for another long day,
One of the bees, will always say.
“Down to the pub? For honeysuckle beers?”
Worker bees go, for a long awaited cheers.