Long Coat Poems
Long Coat Poems. Below are the most popular long Coat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coat poems by poem length and keyword.
Ice Fickle Earth by JT Curtis Feb 26th 2015
I don't know how long this
world is gonna last
As I read the daily news
things are moving fast
They say the Earth is warming up
And melting all its ice
Now listen very carefully
'Cause this is my advice
Drink beer while it's cold
And whiskey on the rocks
Have a slushy with each meal
Eat ice cream by the box
Take a cold shower when,
you would rather take it hot
'Cause no one really knows
How much time the World has got
Put a snowball in the freezer
So you can show it to your friends
When Winter now is Summer
And Summer never ends
Sell your skies before they're useless
And the big wide shovel too
'Cause things are getting hotter
This is what I'm telling you
Well, we know things keep on changing
And so shall my advice
'Cause they say when things heat up
The Earth turns back to ice
But chances are we won't be here
When it finally gets to that
But maybe you should keep around
At least one coat and hat.
Rumbles of boredom lead the mouth to eat
but then there are the unwashed,
the residue of the crumbling
and smeared. Greasy utensils
sneaking like sharks amongst the soaking dishes.
A need now to refresh this domestic pond
with chemical bubbles
yet hands are too dilatory
to be daubed by yesterday’s food.
One has to judge with perfect timing
whether to wash the plates or
leave them to poison the sink
for another hour or two.
The essential factors are smell
and guilt.
When the sludge of the once edible
blossoms rudely in an untidy kitchen
or the shredded rinds of a latent rigor mortis
coat themselves with the pimpled oils
of former slicks
only then is it time to reassess
just how peckish we are for leftovers.
The night air was frigid, and a shivering shell of a man wrapped in a tinfoil blanket made eye contact with me, his skeletal outstretched hand begging for coins. He was emaciated and in desperate need of a hot meal and a bed. I offered him my coat and asked if I could take him to a shelter for the night. His eyes widened, and tears slowly began to run down his bearded face. I helped him up, gave him fifty dollars, and had him put on my coat while we walked to my car. He told me his name and said I must be an Angel sent from God. I assured him that I was no Angel, but I did believe in karma, and that kindness done for kindness' sake will always come back to bless you manifold. His grateful smile told me he understood as he shook my hand, one man to another, like a brother.
god gave humans souls
and let his gift of free will
shape humanity
ON A CROSSROAD:
Here he stands on a crossroad,
In the eve of a strong cold,
Posturize in a long coat,
Imagining what's on the broad road,
And what's also on the small road.
Thousands of experients refusing to teach,
Whiles their moving mouths struggle to speak.
Should he take right,
Or he should go left?
He don't wish for an unending fight,
To have a future fixed to pains and heft.
Where he would only sit to contrite,
But he wish his heart will be cleft,
To present his legacy with forthright,
Without any unsettled debt.
Before he will be carried away by death,
And have a good sleep under the earth.
*
On
This
A blessed
Winter Day
Dressed for the
Holidays. A pure blanched
Vision awaits me so I reflect out loud.
Satin white angel hair snow, sleeps light on our street,
enriches the raw pines in a virginal base coat of flurries.
Families dressed for the holidays, lovely, quite the treat.
There are voices singing, travel soft on a passing breeze.
My senses are ablaze on this blessed winter day.
Children's faces bright red from play rekindle memories.
Remembering crafting sculptures, the element, like clay.
Snow fights, where we'd take refuge behind shrubberies
Lights energized, dance with the dark as their partner.
Colors, tints the nights complexion in a luminesce glow.
Smoke from pillow covered roofs make my heart flutter.
My days of improvised ice rinks, skating with the flow.
A holiday surrounded night ignites passions deep.
Making snow angels, pulled on a toboggan down my avenue,
Picking a frosted pine then wrapped and thrown into our Jeep.
Heading home with that years tree to dress and decorate anew.
But it is now and time to play in this our new frosting of snow.
With my two baby girls we use it to bake as if it were dough.
Life is different now, as an adult with my children, I go slow.
Savor every moment, their youth a gift, repeats like an echo.
03~12~2014
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: Winter Poems #1
Single sexy stuttering simple sue,
Loved lean laughing lisping Lou,
She spoke softly slow sentences,
Lou lisped loud without pretences!
Often were out on romantic dates,
By heart and mind such good mates,
Joked and laughed their whole time,
Spoke in stutters and lisped in rhyme!
Said she one day in romantic note,
How do you likke mmmy leather coat?
He laughed lisped “ you loos fo dood!
By that he meant ‘you look so good!’
Days passed,they were ready to wed,
She wanted him one day in her bed,
She made the bold move and asked
If hhhe wwwould stay for breakfast?
He feigned a surprise with a smile,
He pretended about it for a while,
Then with a lisp he said “Yef, I fould!”
With that he meant “Yes! I would!”
That night together in love cocoon,
He opened all his heart to her soon,
To ‘suck’ with her was always his dream,
So she promptly took him out for an ice cream!
For those in love who stutter or lisp,
Here is a message, short and crisp,
If you want to say something inviting,
Do communicate your love, in writing!
Written 09/august/2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
It Sucks poetry contest!
Dear Papa,
Sad, my siblings and I,
Never got to meet with you;
You left us too soon,
Out in this cold, dark and unjust climate;
Out in the deep ghettos and jungles;
In the hands of conmen and wolves
In sheep's clothing;
In the hands of those
Who have turned a house of refuge
Into A den of thieves
With no proof of roof
Over our bruised heads
The fence you mended
Has caved in
Your old, durable coat
Of many colors
Has frayed at the edges
Refusing to be mended
Father,
If we had known
When the thief
Would stealthily saunter in,
We would have guided our loins
Now,
Men have lost their fate
A good name is no more precious
Than gold and silver
Even when there is a way
There is no more will
Men have rolled up their
Goat skin mats,
Tucked away in rafters
To be fanned by smoke
And feasted on by rats
Men have hidden their drink horns
Refusing to tap wine or commune
Feigning to be temporary
Rather than contemporary
The glories of yesterday
Have been washed away
By memories too battered and faint
To remember your charge
Staten Island is being renovated
But they feign ignorance
A grave yard is more presentable, appealing and serene
Than our back country
Dogs now feast on fellow dogs...
Father, please don't look back in anger...
A child's hand is not scaled
By the hot piece of yam bequeathed by his mother;
Only a man who has not been
To his kinsman' s farm assumes
His father's farm is bigger
Mandiba,
Tomorrow is pregnant
We do not know what it will bring forth....
Today is here, alive with us
Our hope lies in the fidelity
That one day,
Perhaps one day, we Will get it right;
Smile and call you Mandiba
To The Lady I Will Be
You're going to look at me and think
"What in the world were you thinking"
But best believe at the time it seemed right
Loving so hard and holding on tight
You're going to look back and wonder
"Why didn't you do this instead"
But trust me, the repercussions would've been outstanding
You know, for being a clown at every instance
You're going to be high valued damaged good
Pretty ironic, isn't it?
That's because you will always contradict yourself
Always wanting what's best for them, never for you
Yet cry and hopelessly yearn for the favour to be returned
You're going to be an artist
Not of pen and paper
But of flesh and bones
And your wrists will be your gallery
You're going to be so broken, future self
I'll not sugar-coat and sweeten the lemon
But you're also going to be loving
Broadcasting the pure heart you tried to hide from what you thought was venom
You're going to find someone you won't hurt
Someone who will know you for every piece
You're going to be loved a million times
For that's the number of all your cries
You're going to fall in love one last time
And you will feel alive for being in the lime
From each of your broken pieces
True happiness will overflow with peace
Dear future self, our past and present were disasters of nature
Or probably of our own doings
We do reap what we sow, after all..
But then again, we own no field and have no show
Love is your happy face,
Shows me your noble grace,
Love is the breadth of you,
Love is the length of you,
Love abounds your whole,
Love is your gentle soul,
Love is your giving,
Not expecting receiving,
Love is the tall of you,
Love is the all of you,
Love is what you treasure,
And give with abundant measure,
Love is the sum of you,
An aura and hum circles you,
You must have a magic wand,
For you have me spell bound,
Love is your wrap around arms,
Chasing away hurts or harms,
You ask what should we eat,
Tonight, wanting it to be a treat,
Love is offering me your coat,
When you think I am cold,
Love is your warm embrace,
Within our place and space,
Love you have showered me,
You show it it so naturally,
Our love is humble and true,
For both of us, me and you.
I stand with my café- surveying my living room clutter.
Oh sigh! All the beautifull wrappings and boxes just garbage-
I go get a huge green bag and soon all of it is gone.
All the anticipation is gone,
this Christmas is but a memory,
the decorations once lovely,
look just a little forlorn,
time to put them away.
Frosty and Santa sure look sad,
or is that me!
Outside it is snowing- big fat snowflakes are drifting down,
and suddenly I feel like going for a winter walk and put on my coat,
and my boots, hat, scarf, mittens and step outside. Oh delight!
I am lost in a sea of flakes
I feel renewed and tranquil,
peace is music to this soul,
and the clock of time rolls on,
time to put this year away.
And I am distant as a remote island,
lost in my thoughts!
___________________________
December 24, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/The Next Day
Copyright Protected, ID 16-860-602-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, The Day After Christmas
sponsor, Anthony Slausen
Sixth Place