Long Chesterfield Poems
Long Chesterfield Poems. Below are the most popular long Chesterfield by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chesterfield poems by poem length and keyword.
Tippy toeing across the desert sand cracked Cement stepping stone road
We venture towards The blooming onion bonfire that Rises like a medusa’s hair in a galaxy fueled by the heat of a dying star
The raindrops roll down my china doll cheeks
Makes my hair glisten like candlelight hope diamonds
And the rain washes away my feelings of self loathing
This weathered couch so lonesome in a field of curious horses
Seats sociable strangers Intoxicated with vodka mixers and self pride
Under an umbrella a polish model speaks broken English poetry Cuddling into my side instinctively she acted sisterly
My body was their hurricane shelter and my arms kept them from harm
He slid in on the ancient couch to seek momentarily comfort from the soaking tsunami
Faded........floating on a wave of intoxicated insta-friendships that we made only in our kindergarten years
when we wore tiaras and over sized dresses wide eyed and gaped toothless
Imagining what greatness would become of us Superheros and Princesses
The bass of the stereos fueled masculine desires for destruction
They tossed the grandfather couch into the flames and became a beaming beacon of light in all the darkness the smoke spiraled as the fires creeping fingers consumed the skeletal remains of the chesterfield.
Twas cremated at the early hour of dusk
University was just the eclipse in our eye lids
Life is a wayward hurricane NASA plane emblazoning on a rainbow runway
spin yourself faster than a ballerina collapsing into the tutu frill.... brighter than a lantern fueled by essence of a thousand swarming fireflies
Our naiive youth is but the past, we left it behind in this catacomb laid to rest
Form:
Smoke Vegas
Ladies and Gentlemen
Hit it again Sam
Tickle that Ivory Joanna
Black velvet tuxedo suit
Tanned Brown Chesterfield Leather Booths
Polished studs out
Crooner poised spitting on the end of a Stainless Microphone
Either hand holding a smoking cigarette
And tumbler of Burbon Whiskey on the rocks
Dames in 1000 Dollar Frocks
Drenched in Diamond's and furs
Mistresses not wife's
Straight City Life
Bright Light's
New York City
Big Apple
No Sleep
Room's upstairs
Illicit affairs
He who dares
Them were the day's
Manhattan to Vegas
Stranger's Broadway Night's
Hollywood Stars
Town Cars
Red Carpets
The Golden age of Song and Stage
Old Blue Eyes
Frank Sinatra
Slow dancing with your Partner
Pressing up close and personal against her
Holding hands
Wishing the music would never stop
Times were simpler way back then
When girls were young ladies
At had to be home by Ten
And Marriage proceeded having babies
And young men wore suits
How i yearn for the crackle of a needle on an old record player
But that was all our yesterday's
And as the story goes
Not this old story again Grandad
Move on those times are gone
Put a C.D on
And don't you know you are not allowed
To smoke indoors
You may survived and fought in World Wars
But we are the snowflake righteous generation
So far above our station
You just can't tell if am talking through
My mouth or my bum
Livorno
The communist uprising in Livorno was a serious menace to Italy because that army sent tanks, not big tanks but big enough in narrow streets
At the railway station, I met a small woman with a big
suitcase, I offered to carry it for her; little did I know she lived outside the town; it was a burdensome walk on unlit roads
At the parvenue cafe, I met a woman I had seen before
Short black hair of dubious gender (let them guess)
sat drinking Pernod, smoking a cigarette that had the aroma of oriental express
I must have seen her before. Was it in Monte Carlo?
She beckoned to me to sit at her table
I had a cold beer
and smoked a Chesterfield and my arm was numb carrying the bloody suitcase for a woman who told me she was an actress going to Rome to star in an upcoming movie called
La Strada
years later Kristiansand, a town in Norway, was on a catering course
I saw the film, yeah, it was the woman I had met in Livorno
A sudden blackout that might have been caused by the Reds
the cafe supplied candles, that on a night of uncertainty
made the plaza romantic, the Monte Carlo woman had vanished, like a cigarette ad on the TV screen
A Purple and Cream (finely tuned) Bassoon
_____Glissando___________________________
She stood smiling eager to please
what could break his spirt
would be the same thing
to make most of us smile.
She had wore his jumper
his toque, slept on his chesterfield.
In the morning she put
on her runners
and took the Lorry to town.
a boxed ended lorry,
she was to appear
at the Amargosa Opera House.
I heard she was to sing. A great story
it got the conversation going.
They put a chesterfield in
the lorry and knitted poncho's
while in route.The Caribbean Guy stood beside her
I heard them sing they
were a marvelous bunch weren't they? Me belief was
he found her attractive as too she to him.
The photo of her in her runners and nothing else,
quite beautiful isn't she. They tossed
coins and bills toward her
whilest she lifted her gown
to amuse them. A rather lovely sort.
Sultry and alluring are words that best describe the
lorry ride. An evening of "Libretto & Themes".
Love sorted the bunch. Standing there in only a poncho
I proud and eager:making prompts for the night were
they would sing. I told her "Happy Birthday"
While we listened to an Orchestra mimic
the Neigh's of horses panting in the Desert air.
There they are
living within our hearts while
coloring our world like rainbows over the sky
they seem like bits of fluff blowing whilly nilly in the wind
pausing now and again
to take in moments of bliss, laughter and playfulness-
We love them
gently and firmly guiding these
tiny humans that live with our blood flowing through
their veins reminding us of our young lives formerly spent
reminding us of how the world
appears like a huge unknown
I smiled yesterday
when Rishi said he wanted to watch a dvd with all of us
on the chesterfield with a blanket over us
and then eating popcorn
Leela immediately agreed and we hunkered down
after dinner
grandparents and grandchildren
together again.
Christmas, as I recall, felt magical;
happily hanging up our empty socks.
Under the Christmas tree, where piles of gifts,
and we'd try to guess what was in each box.
Our entire house would smell of gingerbread,
pumpkin pies, cookies, and sweet-scented pine.
Waking to the smell of Christmas turkey,
we'd open our gifts: I'd rip open mine.
While Mom was busy preparing dinner,
Dad would take a nap on the Chesterfield.
Christmas carols played on the radio,
and home did not feel like a battlefield.
These precious moments in time tend to last,
childhood memories of a Christmas past.
A Love Story 2
Huelva and the Gulf of Cadiz, and it was August, and in the town
There was loud music and rockets in the air. I had met a gypsy girl
She wore a white blouse and a long red skirt. She wore no shoes, her feet brown and dusty.
Back then, I smoked cigarettes- Chesterfield-
They were supposed to be upmarket compared to Camel cigarettes.
Even then, I wanted to be different, a cook who could read
She admired my Ronson lighter; it was expensive, and no one on
The ship had a lighter that classy.
She clicked the lighter a few times, how she coveted it, but I was
surprised when she suddenly ran away. I thought she ran for fun.
She would come back: she didn´t. Later, I saw her; she was with two
gypsy boys, and I dared not say anything. I walked back on board,
borrowed a box of matches, sat in my cabin smoking and dreaming
of her beautiful eyes.