Long Casual Poems
Long Casual Poems. Below are the most popular long Casual by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Casual poems by poem length and keyword.
Café Watch
Sitting in a café, watching life pass by.
People rushing into shops; important stuff to buy.
Groups of foreign workers, stopping, shaking hands;
Local people bustling by – can’t interrupt their plans.
Outside, a lonely busker tries hard to make a splash,
But in these post-pandemic days, so few folks carry cash.
Dads and pregnant mums-to-be battle kids and buggies.
Squalling children at their sides; prams piled high with Huggies.
Faces fixed on mobile phones; hand-held gods adored;
Devoted to devices that their owners can’t afford.
Lunatics on bicycles intimidate, unchecked;
Maximum discourtesy, minimum respect.
Fitness freaks in sandwich boards try to drum up trade,
But no-one wants gym membership – don’t want to be delayed.
Pretentious coffee drinkers sip their frappé-choca-mochas,
While obese men in football shirts spout nonsense about soccer.
Invalids and elderly trundle by on scooters.
Workaholics sit at tables, glued to their computers.
Market traders, thin on ground, do their best to trade,
Looking glum and hopeless at the pittances they’ve made.
People come and people go; things go on much the same,
Slipping in and out of sight within a narrow frame.
For casual observers there is so much to descry;
Whilst sitting in a café, watching life pass by.
Sometimes quotes are all that we leave behind... quote by poet
I told them I'm tired now
time stands still a casual acquaintance without breaths
death is not gracious just an unfaithful companion
sorrowful sombre soul slumbers
bound to uncharted waters I'm drowning..
loyal morning birds chant mournful melodies on repeat
strumming to heartbeats
mishmash medley of images reverberate repeatedly
regretful reminders
leave an emptiness behind
echoes float like ghosts..
I can hear a billion souls but I'm deaf free from those
bitter and remorseful ignorant uncultured
without realisation of words unspoken
what could have been should have been but was not
it's too late regret is an unfaithful belief
loved ones stare upon my grave shivers and silence
anguish and grief pain and relief
I'm paralysed
unable to rise
to wipe their tears and fears..
craving to have one more chance to make amends
to express my emotions to show greater devotion
it's too late nothing is immortal love we share only a memory
in times when my scent reappears smile that I existed
love with all of your heart..
I was never lost never found
misunderstanding led to impassive pretending
I became too preoccupied building walls
they failed to overcome and conquer
yet I was no fortress..
legacies left behind reveal with time
words written words unwritten surreptitious or controversial
unimportant for remembrance die with me
maybe grim reaper will listen...
Fancy zebra is led by a somber clown boy
He knows the presents had better arrive okay
There are spies in the woods; one throws out a decoy.
But the boy and his zebra remain on their way.
Where are the presents? Asks the sinister Roy.
He is not one who can easily joke, sing or play.
I do not know if this is a casual ask or a ploy.
So, I consult with my wise Uncle Jay.
I am not telling you what to do, I do not want to annoy
But I think that spy is trying to get you to stumble or sway
As I pass the guy who tries to act merry and say “ahoy!”
I merely reply, in my most strident voice “have a good day!”
The stranger asks, were you serious or were you being coy?
I pretend then I do not know English and reply with a bray.
Roy calls me names like stuck up widdle waddle and Fauntleroy
I do not care, and quickly leave his vicinity in a little sashay.
*Shape Poetry*
I
am the
strong, dark
man
in
my sometimes** life like dreams.
sh adows darken. It's me.
the dream is this figu re*
you s ee, in this poem y ou* r
ead. can't tell what colo r sh
irt, casual gear, or pro fes
S al suit. no hat, J
I O a dark being, U S
N i know it T
is me.
In this dream there
are three of me,
all dark but distinctive
personali ties. I se
e. they r epresent
my multi ple perso
nalities. do you
see me?
I am the third I think. no I
m them all, a savvy 1
withheld Until contest is over
9/8/09
SARTORIAL
I went through my clothes the other day
Yes, some are well-worn, others quite new
They represent styles from both extremes
Living, or once lived, a varied life it seems
Can one assume identity from such a view
Maybe clothing choices have much to say
Formal suits on hangers in protective covers
The smarter are even in the tuxedo fashion
One even with a strictly grey striped trouser
White shirts, a formality unlikely to arouse her
But the wing collars may suggest little passion
As stiff necks are quite rare between lovers
A few checked shirts, almost lumberjack style
With a couple of casual jackets, almost sporty
Several predictable business suits, of course
Useful for financial meetings at the Bourse
Almost a City uniform after the age of forty
Occasionally may even raise an ironic smile
Then there are several Caribbean floral shirts
And various T-shirts with a holiday destination
An old style raincoat bought many decades ago
It might still look good and fit me, you know
A college striped scarf reminiscent of graduation
The memory of those younger days still hurts
There’s a woollen jumper and a hooded anorak
Chinos and a pair of jeans that I’ve never worn
Knee rips and faded denim was never for me
With all those echoes of nineteen seventy three
I wish my current extra pounds were still brawn
But then clothes can bring all the memories back
Sittin’ in th’ saddle. Gotta soon skedaddle.
School marm says she’ll tattle. Sheriff wants a battle.
Kissed her on the cheek jes’ to git a li’l peek
at her widow’s peak ‘cause she’s purty an’ petite.
Gotta hankerin’ to git off ol’ Buck and sit
a spell afore I quit and have a chaw to spit.
Cogitatin’ and bidin’ time afore ridin’
down that canyon hidin’ lest I git a chidin’.
Starin’ out blinkin’, doin’ some proper thinkin’
‘bout the stars a twinklin’ and my heavy drinkin’.
My casual, carousin’ rife, hidin’ from the strife
of settlin’ down my life an’ takin’ on a wife.
Soon I’ll fergit the threat, fergit my social debt
I don’t wanna sweat dirt jes’ to pay a moral bet
farmin’ unfertile land, or workin’ for the man.
Druther take a stand and work as lonely cowhand.
Might as well admit it, I’m a social misfit.
Don’t wanna submit it, or give up an’ quit it.
Searchin’ but cain’t seem to find comfort in my mind.
Guess it’s ’bout time I recognize I’m doin’ jes’ fine.
The Apology
And yes, Joan, was there a time I said there could be a tomorrow?
And when did I say our love would last forever?
Want the moon? It’s yours! The sun? You can have it!
Only that I would be a joker fulfilling a role that doesn’t suit me;
I am what I am. Loving life is wonderful.
Please don’t look at me as if I were some cruel beast,
Scheming and stalking prey for the feast.
We never seem to agree; our wants and needs are different.
For what it’s worth, I’m sorry if I misled you into believing
We were sharing. I wasn’t taking advantage of the situation.
I am caring, but I was naïve and too immature to take that leap.
I couldn’t feel your feelings. Your look was casual,
Without expression, and now I see the hurt in your eyes.
No wonder you despise me: the loathing, the hate,
And I am ashamed for being so mean
And treating you carelessly, without remorse.
There were memories, Joan, intimate and personal,
That I will cherish, and I did make you smile.
And now, after all is said and done, the distance grown,
I apologize.
I sit, listening to the whisper in my breath,
shaping my expressions is safer than meth.
A voice among others, I am poet progenitor.
Do you see what I have wrought?
Heavens to metaphor!
As originator and instigator, I wordsmith
like a predator,
a panther ready to pounce,
an enchanter you might denounce.
Do you fear what I have brought?
Heavens to metaphor!
Finding fluid flourishes like jewels,
writing often without rules.
The singing cantor of candor,
A traveling troubadour
you never asked for.
Do you like what I have taught?
Heavens to metaphor!
In these days of isolation,
tenderness must be no aberration.
Here my casual parlance dances,
offering intimacy new chances,
for all your cares it enhances.
Do you welcome what I have sought?
Heavens to metaphor!
It was a clear, beautiful evening
The sun still ablaze, a tad too brilliant,
Playing out its last moments,
The sky, a ruddy glow of luminescence!
I was stationed on a park bench
Lazily watching the stir and commotion
The park was alive as usual
With the young and the old- a motley crowd
The children’s park was equally vibrant
With excited noise, the young on swings n’ see saws
Near a slide, I watched two small kids;
A girl of about seven and her little brother
The girl had already gone down the slide
Seeing his sister’s adventurous ride
The boy too began scampering up
But with each step, his courage seemed to fail
And the higher he climbed, the more timid he grew
The thought of sliding down from such height
Totally unnerved him and he sat down gingerly
Wondering what to do, hesitant to take the plunge
His sister stood waiting at the foot
With hands spread wide and coaxing him to be down
But the boy remained unmoved, totally confused
The girl with patience, continued to coerce
After a few minute’s pause, mustering courage
He at last gave himself a wild push
The slide came down crashing in a second
The impact almost knocking the girl down
But she managed to keep both from falling over
How like the little boy, we too rely on others in strife
For their encouragement to do the hard things in life
People need help, with generous souls buoying them up
So why not use our words and gestures to lift someone up!
If a casual word of ours can make one life brighter
Speak such words to make laden hearts lighter
Let us all strive thus to be party to a new ministry
Of lifting others and watch the wondrous mystery
Placed Fourth
Jan.3.2022
Encourage Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Regina MacIntosh
Harry Potter is in the world to stay, a wonderful read that entranced me one day.
A casual conversation with a daughter led me to buy the first book on a Thursday.
I read for eight hours, entered a whole new world, and sighed deeply, often in fright.
I was the last one to check out books two and three in the bookstore that Friday night.
I happily went back to work on Monday after a mere three and a half hours sleep.
The profound effect these books have had on me and thousands of other kids go internally deep.
Reluctant children who had not read a book willingly before,
Were lined up to buy the Harry Potters; the line went out the door.
When the first movie came out, we were all in a line.
I was number eight and felt the movie was pretty darn fine.
However, there is nothing that compares to reading a really good book.
When your imagination takes over and keeps you hostage, totally on the hook.