Long Check Poems
Long Check Poems. Below are the most popular long Check by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Check poems by poem length and keyword.
Whether you're white
or black, or biracial, or check "other"
love and accept yourself, because
despite your feet of clay, you're beautiful
and spectacularly unique.
Be comfortable in your own skin
but refuse to be a prisoner in it.
Be whoever you want to be
without worrying about...
what people think of you
Their opinion is irrelevant
Don't waste your time and energy
justifying yourself to anyone
Embrace your individuality
Embrace your foibles because...
they make you all the more human!
Writing Challenge 1, August 2019 - Just Write - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
Date written and submitted: 08/11/2019
Third Reign:
Her feeding heart and cold command
Enough to make you quit your band
Well, there’s only so much frostbite one can take
You’ve heard her bitter orders before
To leave your sandals outside her door
And go skating on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
I’d save all my lovin’ for you
If only I knew what you would do:
Let me loose or condemn me at your frozen stake
I’d be a martyr if I could
And stand where the burning saints have stood
On the altar of wood by the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
It’s like a prison in this room
With the cigarettes and hot perfume
Something’s got to thaw out our mistakes
But I feel like a fish in a waterfall
One of these days, I’ll sprout legs and crawl
Away from the banks of the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
We’ve been up all night on this powdery binge
I can still smell the lust that the wind drags in
It’s the only habit I’ve got that’s worthy to break
We could check into rehab and seal the deal
And feel what the super-celebrities feel
Or turn the wheel straight into the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
Her reindeer are bridled; her peasants are gauche
They are starving in line: she offers brioche
But winning their naïve trust is a piece of cake
They’d float to Alaska to polish her nails
Come back bloodied and tied to her sails
Back from a crusade on the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
The bar of demarcation is set
Once etched in the earth, it’s hard to forget
So stand where the poor young Confederates once did shake
When our scorched-earth policies have failed
And your Mason-Dixon address gets no mail,
Just surrender yourself to the Ice Queen’s lonely lake
From Sierra Madre to Branson, Missouri
A blizzard is coming, she’s showing her fury
to you – this is no false alarm, no fake;
Like the perfect conquest of the abortion pill,
like the simple saga of Jack and J---,
It’s a cold moment till the Ice Queen’s lonely lake.
Before beginning my search,
I realize there are many models,
its not easy for anyone,
even a savvy girl.
Does he make me twirl,
will it be a throw of the dice,
I check out his "sticker price!"
Does he have a warranty to research?
I check out all of his review,
and his history in the world,
his finances, any crashes?
I am no mystic,
although not materialistic,
I have no intention of falling,
for a lemon, always stalling!
Is he a shining example to choose?
I will give him a test drive,
for a drive in the country,
down a highway we will roar.
See if he overheats,
does he have a cozy seat,
Okay, so all good so far it seems,
oh, yes he is my dream!
Any weird on line stuff still alive?
Has he a lifetime warranty, free!
Perhaps he will rust out before me,
perhaps he is not worth the price.
Well, I finally decide,
hope I got one with pride.
If not there is a trade in,
possibility, and then again I begin!
Oh, are you the right model, guy for me?
I promise to take care, I do,
to caress you every day,
to keep you out of rain and snow.
We will go out often too,
I will never leave you,
illegally parked, never will that be,
part of your life, my shining Cherokee!
Except if we crash, then you are history, adieu?
_______________________
October 5, 2016
Rhyme
(abcddeea rhyme scheme)
Rhyming checked on Rhymezone.com
For the contest, If I Shopped For My Spouse
Like I shopped For My Automobile,
sponsor, Cindi Rockwell
Sixth Place
I Am a Time Waster.
I Love to laze away the day.
But I Am Happy. Yea I am A Happy Man.
I have time to appreciate the beauty of Nature,
Never in a hurry. I like to take my time.
I have time to spend with my loving pets.
Time enough to communicate with them, and to play with them.
Time to Feed them. Time to surf the net.
Time to write Poetry and read poems.
Time for Dominoes. Time to Lime. Time to waste.
Time to help others wherever I can. To help someone along the way.
Time to rescue an animal.
Time to hail a friend. Time to chat.
Time to check up on the cricket scores
Or Watch cricket. Time to enjoy a movie or a good documentary.
Time to eat and drink. Time to laugh. Time to joke.
Time to daydream and reminisce. Time to go to bed. Time to sleep. Time to dream.
Time to think of doin something else. Time to end this poem........this story.
Let the dog out
who needs his opinion?
You’re going to need elbow room.
Let’s talk editing,
start with the first line -
no,
start at the first word;
the human mind is not equipped
to produce brilliant ‘first words’.
Consider ditching it
and its associated adjectives,
trust me there will be adjectives,
if not controlled
they will breed.
Polish with an abrasive scrutiny.
Imagine you only have
$5 of original things to say,
be economical for if you overspend
the poem may have to be
de-loused for cliché’s.
Add polish –
mix with sweat, piss, and vinegar,
scrub but not too much,
smooth and slick makes for bland poetry.
Run it through a spell check – twice.
Send it out upon the internet
with a light heart.
Some poets will already know all this
but sadly
many will not.
I no longer check under the bed for monsters,
I don't run when I turn out the light,
Or hide under my blanket when I hear a noise,
I don't run up the stairs, scared to look behind,
I no longer cry for my mom to check the closet.
Not because I don't believe,
But because I have found worse monsters.
At first they arrived in fury,
Cabinets slamming.
Feet stomping.
Voices screaming.
But that was only the beginning.
You see,
I could run from those monsters.
I found comfort in small spaces,
spaces the monsters couldn't reach me.
That was until I started seeing monsters everywhere.
Not only in my home but in the streets,
in the grocery store,
in the halls,
even in the people around me.
No matter what I did it felt like the monsters were surrounding me,
Suffocating me,
Leaving me no air to breathe.
As I grew older I began to realize those monsters weren't real.
The real monster appeared in flashing lights,
Bright screens,
Pictures,
Mirrors,
It turns out,
The real monster
Was me.
The monsters I had seen as a kid?
Those had been me.
MY imagination.
The monsters I had always seen all around me?
That was also me,
refusing to see the bad in myself.
And lastly,
The monster in the mirror.
It was my own reflection.
Each time I wake I see the monster grow,
Slowly consuming more of me,
Taking over everything.
My interests.
My talents.
My personality.
The things that make me really me.
I no longer check under the bed for monsters,
I don't run when I turn out the light,
Or hide under the blanket when I hear a noise,
I don't run up the stairs, scared to look behind,
I no longer cry for my mom to check the closet.
Instead,
I close my eyes and think of the monsters in my head.
As biology goes, I'm surviving,
a few aches and pains and a cough
and I check every morning when in the bathroom
to see if my bits have dropped off.
Now, father time knows where I'm living
and likes to make regular calls
which I know by the strands of my hair on the bedding
that have come from my head and my nose.
(Yes, I know what that last line should be, but it's a family website)
The condition called male pattern baldness
is feared by men everywhere
and even I've tried all of the creams and the potions
to try and save my bit of hair
A comb-over like Donald Trump has,
using all of the growth that remains
was still not enough to stop that awful tapping
from every time that it rains.
I even tried growing my eyebrows
as long as I possibly could
to comb them straight upwards and over the top
but that didn't look any good.
A hair loss clinic was suggested
so I phoned them and gave my details,
but I bought myself one or two different fedoras
quite simply in case all else fails.
Then the hair loss clinic gave me an update
which I wasn't expecting so soon,
they'd found my lost hair on a Camel's backside
in a market just outside Khartoum.
He calls me "son"
come here, lets learn
it's easy, you can earn
I will teach you all I can
life is easy, it's fun
all you need is a span
of ecstasy and swan
I got a poke
on Facebook, it's a joke
seems to choke
it's serious, it's a mock
but I still rock
you are free to stalk
I just need no talk
am not stupid am fine
come, let's dine
I don't do wine
it's just in line
with my principles, they are mine
you seem so foolish
it's out of hand, it's prudish
you need to polish;
out the sissy and sheepish
character; you are childish
sir I got no chance
tell me about renaissance
all you need is a lance
if irritated, vamoose to France
there, you will have no glance
of this silly Brance
for your sake, am brilliant for once
blueprints on freelance
check out, you got chance
I want to be happy, I really am
what's behind my pen, my right arm
scripting down lines that keep me calm
all for the sake of being firm
I got no issues, I don't harm
something destroys me, I let it sting
putting my emotions to swing
going about like a ring
sorrow hits, it grows
it's too much, no one knows
if you are keen, it shows
pain oozing out of my pores
it's life, it's a course
all I do is hold on of course
enough for now, it's rare
I will buy you lunch, I care
only if you swear
to live your life, and don't dare
bring this topic to air
A tribute to Poetry Soup's Emilia James
I don't like to be namin' names,
but check out Emilia James.
You'll find your poetic reward
in the tale of an ant and his sword.
She mixes words into cookie dough
until she's got it, well...just so.
Then, for her next funny feature,
we can enjoy another creature.
Her characters made me laugh
so hard I almost split in half.
I hope she makes up some other guys,
specializing in the smaller size.
From Washington to the Kremlin,
they're talkin' 'bout her tooth gremlin.
If all these cute guys aren't enough,
She writes about serious stuff.
You'll hear of Mother Nature's wrath,
and unsafe landmines in your path,
When you think, "it can't get better", bud,
There's Mr. Potato. Call him Spud.
We all possess a number, logged in a very special book.
We’ll never know the order, so it’s best not to look.
It’s just a reminder, of our place in line.
Enjoy the time that you’re given, and savor each sip of wine.
Each day do a head count, and check every bed.
Always say I love you, and make sure your soul gets fed.
Don’t take tomorrow for granted, reach out to those that you love.
Remember that number in your pocket, and thank the Lord above.
It could be today, or tomorrow, next week or in twenty years.
Our number will get called, but it’s nothing to fear.
Stop and smell every rose, enjoy your coffee as you rise and shine.
Follow these simple steps, and remember your place in line.