Long Caren Poems
Long Caren Poems. Below are the most popular long Caren by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Caren poems by poem length and keyword.
Six relatives have I, all much like me.
The ones most common are WHICH, THAT and WHO.
There’s also WHOM. A formal dude is he.
WHOMEVER and WHOEVER I like too.
These relatives, with last name “Pronoun” are
quite important fellows, for their causes
include being descriptive. Each one’s a star
showing up to start adjective clauses.
Partial just to people is dear WHO,
WHOM, used less often, has a formal ring.
WHICH likes animals and things too.
THAT likes folks, animals or anything!
Having the distinction of universally
applying to people, the two that have this fun
are WHOEVER and WHOMEVER, but don’t forget me!
Unique am I. My name is WHOSE – the possessive one.
November 12, 2020
For Caren Krutsinger's Six Relatives Poetry Contest
Why do other people go into a store?
I have no idea,
But when I go in,
It’s a resale store, and I’m
There to buy something.
I don’t care if it’s a stuffed antelope
With an orange neon butt, and a grin
That makes me chuckle, and God forbid if
It makes me laugh, because
If it makes me laugh,
Into the cart it goes.
I usually fill up one red plastic cart, and
Check out, run back in, and
Fill up another cart, before
My daughters know I’ve started
Filling up their side of the car,
Amazing the clerks, but
Not my daughters.
In 1985, during a little
Weekly Saturday Caren wants to go
To all the garage sales in the state day,
I ran over a squirrel and we
All cried.
But we laughed again after
taking all of the furniture
And the bass boat out of
The car, to re-load so we could
Squash in a 9 foot giant stuffed lion
Whose big half-on head lolled out
Behind my headrest, waving in the
Driver’s window at oncoming
Traffic for a couple of towns or two.
My two youngest, happiest
daughters were
Laughing all the way home.
I think we sang too,
Leaving out all the words
I did not know, but at the
Top of our joyful lungs.
The 13 year-old daughter
was not with us, of course, as I was an
Embarrassment to her those
First 20 years.
What a great day!
A Caren Garage Sale
Frenzy day.
I live for those.
Of this, I've always wanted to write
How hard it is to grow up white
The very idea makes people uptight
Enough to cause a gigantic fight...
In this, the age of the diverse
There isn't much that could be worse
White skin's a plague, a veritable curse
It almost seems to be perverse...
So I've put this off as long as I can
Knowing the flames that it would fan
And how it would be roundly panned
If not utterly and completely banned...
Yet now's the time for a principled stand
This is the moment; here is my plan:
I stroll every day 'neath the sun in the sand
~ To turn my stubbornly white skin tan
September 05, 2019
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted To Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
One day, I decided I will beat Tom and be the first one to congratulate Potd poet. I kept my eyes on Potd screen, refreshing again and again. After a long time, I finally found who had got Potd. I clicked on poem title to be the first one to wish. Much to my dismay, Tom had already wished.
I realized I can't beat the expert
Next day I thought I will write ten poems. If Caren can do it, why not me? With 11 poems, I can even beat her. I sat searching for topics, finally found one. It took me one hour to write that poem. I was out of ideas, housework was calling me. I decided to quit.
I realized I can't beat the expert
Yet another day I thought I will write a funny Limerick like Jan, Tom and many others. If they can do it, so can I. I thought and thought but no joke would come to mind. Whatever I wrote, my son dismissed as not funny. Finally after many attempts he said, Mom it is not your cup of tea.
I realized it is not easy to be funny.
Yet another day I though I will beat Regina McIntosh by writing an awesome contest poem before her. I sat with a pen and paper, thoughts would not come. Whatever ideas came were not so good. After few hours, I gave up. By that time she has posted her prize winning contest entry
I realized I can't beat the expert
One day I though, I will write a sonnet. If Andrea can do it, why not me? It will be smooth flowing and awesome like her sonnets. I sat with Rhyme Zone and How many syllables on. When rhyme was in place, syllables went haywire. When syllables were perfect, it would not rhyme. It seemed like mission impossible. I gave up.
I realized it is not easy to write a sonnet. Certain tasks are best not attempted.
So here I am writing what comes naturally to me. Yes, it is free verse written in simple language
We have many experts out here, each with a unique talent which no one can replace. We are all unique in our own way.
As you write poems remember, your poetry has something special which no one can take away.
Fairy Doors
Look!
Hidden
Fairy doors
Open to magic
A realm enchanted
For children's eyes
Who believe
Magic
Lives
7-1-21
Contest: Ninette
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
A leaf, I sail dream on your life, the stream,
till I reach the sea, your touch I’ll retain.
If you go feral in flood, drown my dream,
I’ll save my heart, won’t let it break in pain.
On flow of passion afloat I’ll remain,
for in your lapping arms I’ll sleep again.
A bird, I fly in your azure, the sky.
When summer storm rushes on charcoal cloud,
if you let it snap my wings, make me cry,
with dry tears my welled emotions I’ll shroud.
In frail nest my longing will stay avowed,
for in your horizon I’ll sing aloud.
A pebble, I toss in your swell, the sea.
When tempest strikes, waves go out of control,
if you crush me, fling in sands of debris,
I’ll search for your sapphire sheen in my soul.
In its splendor I’ll again become whole,
on the shore of your heart I want to roll.
If you grind my heart I’ll spring a surprise,
plucking love for you from the dust I’ll rise.
Posted : May 16, 2019
Contest : Urban Sonnet
Sponsor : Emile Pinet
Rhyme : checked on rhymezone.com
Syllable count : 10 each line
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
June 19, 2020
Contest : Write A Poem About Enthusiasm
Sponsor : Caren Krutsinger
The Smidget Puggily learned Transcendental Meditation from the prettiest Guru. she’d ever seen. His hair and beard, perfectly coiffed, made him appear so brilliant and enlightened. He had the gentlest smile and positively exuded holiness. Not one single wrinkle or piece of lint, ever appeared upon his turban; he was perfect, in her eyes. Puggily had the most difficult time; emptying her mind; all she seemed to ever think about was him. Nevertheless, she managed to become an enlightened one. Coupled with her Smidget brain, it would not be long until she too, became a Buddha-mind; all thanks to her fantastically, wonderful and prettisome Guru.
Breathing in the light
Enlightenment is just a
Tiny Breath away.
Written 2-29-19
This poem is based on this definition of Smidget:
A completely cool individual who knows everything.
Contest:”The Smidget Puggily and Her Prettisome Guru Poetry Contest” sponsored : Caren Krutsinger
Here are six tales of six relatives of mine
Now all have passed in the passage of time
Mostly seen through the eyes of a child
Poetic licence used for I’m no Oscar Wilde
~~~
Aunt Ada and Aunt Edie were a scary pair for me
Ada wore a real live fox fur dangling from her neck
And as a child I really thought this is where it slept
Of course it was not breathing as the poor thing it was dead
But nothing could convince me ~ for to me it was asleep instead
Edie was Ada’s companion or that is how it seemed
Much smaller in stature she walked behind Ada
Who strutted ahead when her mind it was set
Each day Ada dressed in her Astrakhan coat
And walked to her ‘bookies’ where she placed her daily bet
~~~
Another scary person whom I only met the once
A cruel step mother came to stay
When I saw her face I ran away
Her face was pointed
Her nose was too
Her countenance a paler shade of blue
And with her came her daughter too
A spookier pair I never knew
From whence that day the day they came
Their names we never spoke again
~~~
My dearest Grandpops ~ loved him lots
A character through and through
He wore a black beret perched upon his head
With a loosely tied dickie bow draped round his neck
A master magician with his performing dog named Win
Performing caricatures by his favourite Dickensian
Wishing he was here ~ passed in his 84th year
Wanting many answers to questions unasked
For the young have no time for to stop and to hear
When young, one can be so selfish I fear
And that is the reason I wish he was here
~~~
An uncle in the navy spent months away at sea
Like Father Christmas he returned ~ I sat upon his knee
His knapsack overflowed with gifts for family and for me
Exotic lace and silk and dolls and fancy fans and herbal tea
Ivory figures large and small he'd bring from a foreign land
He would sit for hours spinning yarns of the Orient exotic and grand
~~~
his visits stopped so suddenly no more gifts were sent
to this very day I have no inkling where my uncle went
Written 15th November 2020
Contest Six relatives
Sponsor Caren Krutsinger
FIRST PLACE
Contest ALL YOURS POETRY
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
If you saw me today -
not that "once upon a time"
17-year-old woman child
whose summer-fresh face you caressed -
would you still love me?
I like to believe it was love
that gazed back at me then
with those dark shining eyes.
If you saw me again, would your eyes still shine, and
would you still love me?
We took our separate paths.
Sadly, I know not where yours led
or if you still breathe the air of this earth.
If our paths were somehow to cross again,
would you still love me?
If somehow we met
and were free to be again
what we could have been then
had we not let it just slip away. . .
would you still love me?
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Any Poem You Want to Write 180 words or Less ' Poetry Contest
"Dammit - I take your advice seriously!" Puggily said,
Squeezing as much water as she could from her tiny red pinafore,
(Looking rather embarrassed and dejected).
Twinkles, her prettisome guru, still could not speak a word,
As he/she, (gurus are asexual, you see), rolled on the grass, laughing -
'Laughing' being an understatement - clutching his/her stomach in hilarity ...
"Oh, gosh, my ribbies are gonna split!!" roared Twinkles, "Make it stop!"
But Puggily was not amused, her furrowed brow deepening ...
"I do NOT see the humor in this situation!" she said, shivering in the breeze,
(Smidgets are small, impish creatures, but they have a fierce sense of pride) ...
"Your wings are stuck together!" Twinkles roared, now turning red,
Puggily spinning on her toes, doing her best to dry out ...
She was also turning rather crimson, though for different reasons,
Her anger rising, along with chilly bumps on her skin.
"You might toss me a towel!" she cried, but Twinkles was lost to laughter,
Rolling and giggling, trying desperately to catch his/her breath.
The guffaws continued on for a good twenty minutes, then started to relent,
At which point Puggily had partially dried her diaphanous wings.
But when she tried to use them they just made a wet raspberry sound,
And this, of course, set Twinkles to laughing hysterically again ...
"Great Floppy's Flidgeon! You sound like a fart!!" Twinkles howled.
Well, poor Puggily had had about enough, and turned to leave ...
"Our hour is UP!" she yelled back over her shoulder, tossing a doubloon.
Normally she'd just fly off, but her wings were still too sodden,
And she wasn't about to make any more raspberries for Twinkles' amusement.
"It's just a saying ... a colloquialism!" Twinkles forced, between gasps ...
He/she never thought she'd take him/her seriously, you see.
As she disappeared into the purple mushroom forest, Puggily yelled back,
"Well, the same to YOU, then - go jump in the lake!!"
She strained to hear a splash,
But the only sound was Twinkles ...
Roaring with laughter.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Smidget Puggily And Her Prettisome Guru" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.