Long Charlotte Poems
Long Charlotte Poems. Below are the most popular long Charlotte by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Charlotte poems by poem length and keyword.
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You make us move forward with your inspiration
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Small act of caring all which has the potential to turn a life around
Peter Duggan
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boddie, eric
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len carber
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Raha, Miraj
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Johnson, Megan
Graves, Allan
Ngo, Meline
Ramos, Tiffany
Rosenthal, Allie
Borghei, Niki
Tripp, Criss
Reyes, Thomas
Rajaratnam, Gunadevi
Braxton, Shanda
Barry, Stephen
Prophet, James
Titus, Luwi
Leach, Michele
LeBlanc, Michelle
maximax, nicole
Kwinana, Ndikho
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Brown, Verna
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Eve T.M.M.
Lin Lane
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Not For Contest
“Life is for the living.
Death is for the dead.
Let life be like music.
And death a note unsaid.”
Langston Hughes, The Collected Poems
Sorrow whispers through the silence
Creating feelings of sadness and grief
Light caresses from broken dreams
Of the moments spent sharing time
With reflections of hope, faith and love
Inspired by the God who gives us all
A promise of grace which heals the hurt
Mourning comes like a gentle rain
Splashing through the broken regrets
Filling the thoughts with melancholy
Desolation that touches the spirit
With dejection and misery that stills
The voice of happiness with a gloomy
Touch of despair that knows to weep
Lamenting the path that led to passing
Sealing feelings of anguish in glass like
Fear, wondering and wishing, remembering
All the laughter and love, the lasting light
Flowing through the darkness of night
Into the spirit of those who knew this life
Filled with so much joy, insight and courage
Wisdom will tell you to let the past go
Remember the good and forget the woe
But the soul who listens to the silent ache
Knows that this mystery of a heart breaking
Leaves no way to dissuade the memories
Memorials to one who gave so much love
From a heart that was filled with vision
Bereavement does more than break the weary heart
It deafens the voice of reason that tells you
To give into the joy that comes from above
Bringing down recollections of all that was
A part of this beautiful life – this light and love
The wonder of this life who gave so much
And will be missed by all who knew them best
Death destroys even the silent kindness
Gripping the spirit with a desperation that
Fills the thoughts with angst and anxiety
Feelings so pure they rake across crimson veins
Pricking the frail arteries of disillusionment
Discouraging the face that prays for relief
From this sorrow that we all call grief
Mortality embraces the spirit with a black coat
Of gloomy dread, unfolding the hopelessness
That lives within the foreboding of dismay
Which comes from the one who listens to
That evil onslaught of discouragement
Sprinkled across the mind of one who is afraid
This inconsolable heart will never feel joy again
Open Poetry 1 Contest
Sponsored by: Charlotte Puddifoot
January 23, 2021
Alison Alligator eating artichokes on a ant hill,
watching
Beverly Bear floating on a cloud over there,
which developed a leak,
drenching
Charlotte the twin headed elephant
up to their knees,
floating
Danny the dingo swimming past.
While watching,
Eli the iguana,
slithering over a leaf
sharing a log,
with Francis the frog looking over,
as Gwenda the goose flew overhead
into the gum tree,
where,
Helen the hermit had laid down her head,
on
Ivy the twinning snake,
who was always late,
slithered up the tree,
to give
Jay the monkey,
who was feeling funky,
a fright.
she dropped a nut on,
Karen the kite,
who was in flight one starry night.
As Lil the parrot continued to trill,
while
Marsha the mammoth grew quite still,
to much noise was making her ill,
gave her the shakes
and
Nosey Nancy the ant came up out of her mound
to see what was shaking the ground all around.
Olive the ostrich bent all her knees,
standing straight was making her sneeze!
Then
Penelope the porcupine trotted on by
to keep an appointment with
Quirky the quill,
she was the queen of everything,
she was quite mean.
pushing
Ruth the rambling rabbit into,
Silly sue who was a sea lion and lived in Sillyville,
and lived there still.
Alongside
Terrible Tonya the Tonga tiger,
who danced with,
Uncelet Uris who came from the north,
because of to many Tonga dancers rolling tires back abd forth.
Violet the vampire bat flew down to show
Wilson Lucille the very large whale,
how to stay out of jail.
she had a tendency you see,
to hang out with
Xantus, the hummingbird,
who lived on a yacht with a
Yak Zack ,
and stole yogurt by the lot.
Finally to tired to tired to chat anymore,
Alison, Beverly, Charlotte, Danny, Eli, Francis, Gwenda, Helen, Ivy, Jay,
Karen, Lil, Marsha, Nancy, Olive, Penelope, Quirky, Ruth, Sue, Tonya, Uris, Violet, Wilson Lucille, Xantus, and Yak Zak
fell asleep on the floor.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
“This circus is falling…”
It’s circa 1997; I’m in Charlotte, NC
It’s a 13-week consulting gig, my longest ever
I come home every few weeks
Long days at the customer site
A hostile environment;
they don’t really want us there
A server vendor is trying to make inroads at a bank
I’m there working for the vendor
After a long day, a swing by Harris Teeter:
pre-packaged dinner and beer
“The big top is crumbling down”
And so is my life
Evenings are spent
hunched over a laptop
in a dark 1 bedroom efficiency
Programming late into the night
Until the eyes are too tired
And the beer has run out
Music is a constant companion,
most of it, soulful, sorrowful, some upbeat.
Counting Crows, Matchbox 20, Sting
“These train conversations”
Are truly passing me by
No coworkers here.
No family here
No interactions with anyone outside of work
Just a call home early enough in the evening
that the words aren’t slurring too badly yet
“And I don’t have nothing to say”
Just ache
I want to be home
I miss my wife
I miss my kids
I miss my dog
“You get what you pay for”
They are paying me well
I’m getting all the overtime I want.
I am piling away the money for a nice trip to St. Thomas
For all of us
When I get home
And I don’t care; I just want out
“But I just had no intention of living this way”
Warp forward to today
Life could not be any more different
Life is wonderful, life is good
I have purpose
I have meaning
I have family
I have love
I know and am known by God
I’m working out in the barn
I’ve hooked up the old stereo
I see the “August and Everything After” CD and I fire it up
I set it on “Raining in Baltimore”
“I need a phone call, I need a plane ride
I need a sunburn, I need a raincoat”
And for a brief flash,
I am back at that dinette table
Alone, in the dark
And terribly lonely
When it is uplifting, music causes our spirits to soar
But it can put you right back
in a particular place
In a particular time
And that’s not always a good thing
“But what would you change if you could?”
Uh, August and Everything After…
click.
————
Quotes are from “Raining in Baltimore” off the
“August and Everything After” album by Counting Crows
DREAMS OF YESTERDAY AND TODAY
Leaves falling during autumns years
they bless my ribbon memories of how it was
childhood shadows brown like withered grass
for now am old and soon shall breathe my last..
I sit quiet to travel on bygone days,
on the streets before, I have ropes to play
blend of dolls and bubbles also made me gay
but the child in me still yearns to pass these ways.
From curves of mountains to nations across the sea,
to journey more, I ask God to direct where I'll be...
I passed a plant its leaves swaying with the breeze,
years fold, the same plant is now a fruit-bearing tree.
I view the puffy-feathered skies and its blue,
I smile each breaking dawn for it's silvery new.
I tackle each task fast and through but before I knew,
hours gone and done, I finished some-- I missed a few.
When evenings globes of wordless speech shine
allowing me to run, run into garden of dreams,
of childhood once supreme but they shoot away
in flutter flash on life's fluctuating stream.
I hugged my knees to stop my tears a while
remembering decades when my body is still a child.
I keep the tears to my chest as I go by,
if only, good times replay... I want them again.
Each bulging grin that rise unto east horizon,
Each satellite, modelling slow on her turning points
in stellar of green, and her clouds of powder white,
I quench my thirst drinking the beaming tides.
Down earth, I linger to verdure adorned of rosy blush
even from the arch where the gentle winds is seen
to dwarf liquid curls that roll near the shore,
I dreamt yesterday and still am dreaming today...
Twenty years ago, blooms and fruits hang on vines
so fragrant, so fragrant were those days of mine
Now no more; their traces I could not find;
Today, I need to make more golden memories
etched to time as later, I'll be leaving them behind
And if someday, one wanders in my lifes forest
despite blowing winds and thunderstorms,
like the tiny plant, may I be that fruit-bearing tree.
___________________________________________________________
Open Poetry Contest - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Charlotte Puddifoot
~~~3rd place~~~
OLIVE ELOISA GUILLERMO
9:15 pm, July 11, 2015
Waking up in my room,
My sanctuary,
My piece of mind,
Yet all I see is red.
The dream, the scarf, the woman,
The mystery of each.
She calls to me,
I feel within my heart,
All the feelings and emotions,
Never felt before.
I hand grandfather the picture,
He sees nothing and tells me,
The message is only for you and,
Any female descendant,
Only they can see the picture.
Sweetie, we have to go home to London.
Everything will make sense I promise.
The planes tail has union jacks,
Grandfather who am I ?
Flags on the limo, the plane and,
Now going thru the gates,
To Buckingham Palace.
Then I feel her in my heart,
Showing me hope, pride and,
Royalty in my blood.
I step out of the limo and,
The guards kneel as an honor of,
Welcoming me home, whoever I am.
I see the Queen and I start to bow,
No child, you bow to no one.
But your the queen, your majesty.
No Sophia, I am your grandmother.
My blood runs thru your veins.
Your 5th Great Grandmother was,
Princess Sophia 5th daughter of,
King George III and Queen Charlotte.
Sophia was raped by her brother,
Jealousy of a father's love to Sophia.
Sophia sent her daughter away.
Sophia never married but lived by,
Her neice, Victoria the future,
Queen of England.
When Victoria became Queen she sent,
Her cousin to America to be safe.
I gave the picture to Grandmother,
She said yes that's Sophia,
Our grandmother.
You were named after her.
Your title is Princess Sophia,
Princess of Kensington where she died.
We have your ancestral home ready.
Grandmother, look and we see Sophia,
Holding the red scarf in her hand,
As she puts it around her neck,
Smiling and she disappears.
A servant hands me a box,
I open the box and see the red scarf,
With tears in my eyes,
I put it around my neck,
Feeling Sophia hugging me,
Welcoming me home.
The history of Sophia and her parents
King George and Queen Charlotte,
Is a true story. Sophia was raped by her
Brother she had a boy not a girl,
I changed that part. Also the son stayed
In England. Sophia neice was Victoria,
The future Queen of England.
I had a dream of a simple red string,
That guided me to a mystical cave,
And my imagination took it from there.
The moment winter softens into spring and all is melting, the first flower is the
white snowdrop poking through the snow, quickly followed by johnny-jump ups.
They are so cute and delicate in my patch of garden, they just pop up everywhere.
Here and there are bright patches of loveliness.
snowdrops touch my heart
jump ups where you least expect-
they say hello spring
And then come the drifts of bulbs planted in hopes last year. The flocks of crocuses,
daffodils, and tulips all a pleasant mingling of color. Some even grow on my lawn,
I blame the squirrels for that. The whole garden is wild and dripping with flowers,
but just for awhile. Those bulb beauties fade away as quickly as they came.
so fat and healthy
growing like musical notes-
so soon withering
Oh, the harmonious hues of summer, the painted daisies in their pretty dresses,
and the purple irises all fancy. And near the back fence, the sweet yellow meadow
rue amongst the lace white lady's mantle. Soon come the day lilies and the blue
phlox, and just beyond the fence a lilac tree brings lovely scents on the breeze.
such a pretty view
from my big kitchen window-
I look thoughtfully
Fall has come and the garden is beginning to fade. It is a rough passage, cruel to
see the menacing weather confuse the flowers. Oh, how they struggle to survive
the cold rain and frosty nights. But the strong still bloom till the very end.
A single delicate rose is a gift to behold. And then the garden sleeps.
pushing the limits
each flower must fade in time-
garden memories
And under the snow the garden dreams. Beneath the earth it sleeps, as the winds
howl and drifts of snow cover everything white. They sleep. And I also have dreams
for my garden. I make plans for next year, for new flowers to plant among the old.
Winter is a time for dreaming, planning and wishing.
perhaps bell flowers
or maybe blue corn flowers-
oh shasta daisy
___________________________
October 29, 2015
Poetry/Haibun/Garden Diary
Copyright Protected, ID 15-721-996-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Creative Haibuns, sponsor,
Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Third Place
"Mamma?"
"Yes, Charlotte?"
"Will you arrange for the church?"
"Charlotte, you come to tell us you're getting married
with the wedding only two months away!
Take time, have a think, reconsider.
We could wait a little or even call it off for the time being."
"You'll arrange for the church?"
"My girl, he's just not...just not what we believed him to be!
I, too, was deceived. Now I discover not only
does he drink alcohol, as I had suspected on several occasions,
but he plays cards!
He has been seen at dance halls and taverns!"
"That's the gossip, you mean, Mother?
I thought you didn't agree with gossip!"
"Girlie, girlie, look at where you're going!
He's a boy, not a man! What sort of an example
will he be for your children? What sort of life will you lead?
You really should not be thinking of getting married yourself!
You don't know the first thing about sewing or cooking
keeping house or looking after a child.
You were never interested.
Your father and I won't be around
to pick up the pieces; we have our own work to do."
"What would you know about it?
We have fun, mother! Do you know what that is?
I'll tell you: it's what you've never had
in your entire life! And where has that got you?
all this working, praying and thinking!
Have you ever really laughed? Out-loud?
No? Never? Not even a smile? Never?
Don't reach out to me with those rough hands!
Suffering and sacrifice all the way, every day!
Oh, yes, I see it; we all do.
We see you think it makes you better!
No, Mother, not better, just poor,
poor and pathetic, that's where it's got you."
"Very well. Just don't think you can come to us
with the hungry babies or the black and blue!
You will not come back here whatever the circumstances.
You imagine white dresses, big houses, fine clothes,
like those picture shows of which you are so fond.
We don't have money for a church wedding."
"But we were there for every cleanup, every choir practise,
every study group..."
"Charlotte, we are poor people."
"How dare she say that to me!"
There was a new potato that had just been harvest born
On opening his eyes a rooster crowed its horn.
He had grown rather quickly and grown rather strong
But that's when his feelings started to feel wrong.
Mr Potato had noticed he was feeling very sad
Sometimes it felt like, he was going slowly mad.
He was feeling confused and didn't understand why
Deep down he felt rotten, he just wanted to cry.
He discovered a big chip on his little shoulder
That grew too heavy to carry as he got older.
Then there was the urge to pound and to mash
That got quiet messy but made a tasty hash.
He gave a brill roasting when he felt mad
That was either good or extremely bad.
On the days he was fine he felt chirpy and crisp
Those were the days he fancied going for a dip.
When it was too hot he felt rather boiled
And when it was cooler he liked to feel the cold.
His skin went more brown when he got baked
His spud-kini gave him wedges - for goodness sake!
Mother Nature felt sorrow for this confused spud
So she sent a gentle breeze that felt like a hug.
It was important he knew, he is valued so much
He smiled and listened when he felt her soft touch.
"These feelings that you feel are normal you see,
For you are a potato these feelings come naturally.
Your loved by so many and desired too
Your the stable in diets and great in a stew".
"Your the star at every vegan, society social bash
In soups an as a bread, your the main in creamy mash.
Your the star on the topping of a shepherds pie
Your famous world over, a very popular guy."
"You feed so many people, the rich and the poor
Your popular and wanted, it's you they adore.
You come from a large family of sisters and brothers
You have royal connections you will discover."
"The farmers will feed you and keep you warm
Your important to millions you have texture and great form.
King Edward and Charlotte, Maris Piper, Desiree
These are just a few from your large family tree."
He felt happy to know that he had a purpose
And easy to grow and there was even some surplus.
Feeding so many, especially the poor
He was now ready, to go through the kitchen door.
08.09.23
he is a god
given hap
piness in
my life
before
he could
even speak
english he told
me his very
first German
joke and where
he learned German
is beyond
me and i must
say he is in no
way part of my
gene puddle
deep and or from
the shallow end but
enough said for these
now are his words:
guten morgen
......... freeman
telling him there
is no rhyme for
the word orange
his reply, "door hinge"
what's a blind German?
a na zi
don't make me go
Japanese on you
me asking at dinner
why everyone else had
Japanese chopsticks
but i was eating with
Chinese? He replied:
Loser!!!
him meeting his math
teacher for the first time
wearing a t-shirt that read
"Three Out of Two People
Know Nothing About Math"
finding a sword
in a pawn shop
in Charlotte
in a back
corner
with his
star symbol
and hearing him
yell "This is mine" and
i replying,
"Not until
i pay for it"
another time at dinner
him now having taken
German classes
naming all of the
colors and me
not remember
ing that gelb
was yellow
so i asked,
you know
all these
words
yet
you
can't
use
them
in a sent
ence? which
he replied Ich
bin gelb and so
as we laughed my
wife didn't get it at all
knowing he never missed
a day of school in his life
me, walking downstairs
asking him what was up
him telling me i've got
to catch my bus and
me telling him the
time that he already
had missed it and then
him feverishly asking if i
could drive him to school? but i pre
pared him for the thought that
took the backpack off his back and
then telling him you're going back
to bed though he fought it a bit
he did it and went back
to school the next day
he and i
laughing
when we
found out
the politically
correct name for
his up bringing for the way
he was raised him was a "free
...................................range child"
me waking him
guten Morgen
wie geht es Ihnen
sprechen das Deutsch?
and him emphatically re
sponding Nein
i know
he's not
one of
mine in
the bio
logical
sense
but i
as my
wife said
that her and
i were meant
to meet so that
i would meet her
son
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