Long Coats Poems
Long Coats Poems. Below are the most popular long Coats by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Coats poems by poem length and keyword.
Seems no one cares for "winter rains",
So white and wet and cold;
Drifting down so silently,
As we huddle 'neath the folds,
Of coats and scarfs and woolen hats,
And yearn for days of summer,
Complaining 'bout the wet and cold,
Of winter being a bummer.
The ice, the snow, the slippery roads,
Slow going for the traveler,
Are fodder for these transgressed souls,
And fuel their heated palaver;
But there are those who glory in,
The changes of the seasons.
The kaleidoscope of colors used,
Sets moods that give us reason,
To celibrate the time of year,
And it's exquisite beauty.
In nature things are balanced well,
And each thing has it's duty.
From mineral, plant and animal,
To the elements themselves,
We need them each and every one,
For life to go on well.
So don't complain about the snow.
It's moisture that we need.
It feeds the rivers, streams and lakes,
Amid the summer's heat.
It adds a pristine beauty,
As it covers trees and yards,
Feeding imaginations,
Of painters, scribes and bards.
Judy Ball
The Earth Awoke in White — Winter
Kevin Davis 2024
One day my air began to change—
A chill swept through my fields and range.
My creatures stirred, their work begun,
To face the cold that would soon come.
Crystals formed on tree and grass,
Along the roads they gathered en masse.
The snow—a wonder, white and cold,
Soft to the touch, a sight to behold.
Some creatures slept through winter’s call—
Bears and bats in slumber’s thrall.
Others stayed with food in store,
Warm and safe behind their door.
But children stepped from cozy dens,
In coats and gloves with booted friends.
They built snow people, carved with glee,
Snow angels bright with purity.
They built snow forts, their laughter rang,
While frozen winds around them sang.
And when the cold bit through their skin,
They hurried home to warmth within.
Winter brought school days, holidays bright,
Decorations gleamed through frosted night.
Yet quietly I waited for winter to thaw,
For new life stirring beneath my law.
Startled sprinkles twinkle and toll
The time ignores my grunts and groans
Everyday empties its force of roll
Cannons sound -- and mothers moan
Between the place where time is not
And heaven’s hell slams its door
Little men with giant heads hot
Are lost beneath the fluid floor
New nothings interrupt the waste
Of petty playthings -- argue -- lose
Experience coats with sugar taste
The salty melancholy muse
Perhaps -- possible -- should -- could -- can
“I saw it rise and fall alone”
Reaction time relative to man
Depends on tendered tailored tones
Wishes want thickness, color and cover
Design for moth and spider to loan
Answers are easy like lionized lovers
And time ignores my grunts and groans
November brings us winter skies
as we awake on colder days;
it may at times, grant a surprise
when snowfalls spread an icy glaze.
Trees, partly bare of Autumn's shawl,
show naked limbs as leaves are downed;
then, while the rest cascade and fall-
a red-gold carpet coats the ground.
This time of year, we celebrate
with feasts of food and drink- good cheer
when families, unite- relate;
Thanksgiving Day- we all revere.
Then, as we reach this month's demise-
that leads us to more holidays,
we bid November our goodbyes-
greet our December year-end phase.
November 12, 2021
Contest: November or December Quatrain.
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Birdsong clings to the oak, birch and pine as butterflies dance across fresh petals with delight at the sigh of nectar bees sip like white wine. ~ by Poet
Birds, in bright, brilliant apparel
Harbingers of the season
Delighting rhythms of laughter,
Gentle hope and sweet compassion
Breathtaking collections of the species
All wild and appealing to the senses
Of those who listen to the soft whispers
Wishes soaring across the tallest ridges
Bringing tales of grace and mercy
These whimsical creatures alight on trees
Landing at breakneck speeds, alive
Hidden beneath layers of vibrant feathers
Beckoning to the spirit who loves freedom
These rare caresses of God’s soft breath
Touch the heart with their mystical sigh
Murmuring abandon to the captive soul
Brisk melodies are crooned from behind beaks
Who whistle rich cries of enchanting dreams
Silencing the chatter of squirrels and beaver
With captivating tunes from the serene heavens
Blowing love throughout the saplings and shrubs
There is assurance that nothing can discourage
With faith from the One who lingers in the light
Embracing with passion, the character who cares
Bringing life to the heart of this natural world
These musical, sailing and gliding flocks
Designed to carry songs to the forest and glen
Reach out to us with melodies of kindness within
Blue, black and awe-inspiring hues of secret coats
Cover these happy, cheerful pleasures from the One
Who knows our needs and blesses us with these
beautiful flock of birds who sing harmony with nature
A Flock of Birds Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
October 4, 2022
I often ask myself what I'm wondering
What's the riddle that has me stumped?
How much longer will I feel this way?
Why am I forever riding swells?
Endlessly lost on a familiar path
The same brown bricks I've worn away for years now
Forever searching for a new meaning for a tapped out source
Forever chasing a certain nostalgic high
There wasn't much to see outside that window
Couple buildings, a road, people clutching their coats
It was the first time I'd seen this land enshrouded in darkness
And as a cold breeze blew, I lost myself in warm food
So I've walked that same path a thousand times
So much so that it's lost all meaning
A world of infinite potential was lost in familiarity
Forever searching in a world of lows
When the destination is so far away
It's easy to lose yourself in the journey
Creating fantastic endpoints and starting lines
Pushing back anything that reminds you it'll end
I claim these bricks as a throne of memories
As my destination draws nearer and I've given up on this land
No longer a realm of bright innocence
Forever lost as a tomb of jade
And thus I sit on a throne of ice
Firmly attached to the past as I've ever been
Summer heat and winter chill
The two muses I eternally draw upon
Forever lambasting what summer has dealt me
Forever reaching out to what winter stole from me
Finding purity in old pain, and sins of ancient saints
Forever my Kingdom of High and Low
Olive was vibrant and deliberated in awe in front of her wardrobe
Should she put on that glorious fox pelt for the night’s Hunters Ball
Surely it had to be politically correct and she would claim her place
In the hearts of those killers she had to write about for the Morning Post
But she decided for something less tainted and went more en natural
The emerald dress with a shade of sage and chartreuse trimmings
Loosely woven to show off her figure and pleasing for the crowd
After all she was a woman of firm beliefs and tantamount beauty
A lime stola for the stage light and forest green to harbour her bust
Moss and pine reinforced buttocks and myrtle sap silk to cover her crotch
You can’t wear that honey it’s near translucent and far to risqué
Its my nature to reveal what is out in the open and easy to see
A statement so please now hand me that praying mantis whip
Covered in bio-degradable material the reporter put on mascara
Jade eye liner and mint lipstick made from ground clover and laurel
Front page she thought and a tad androgynous for a man’s taste
But Olive was a seductress in name and ready to dance for her cause
They will be bilious with sheer envy when they undress me tonight
Her garments were made from hemp shamrock and cyan feathers
A bit of sea weed and a shiny perlemoen belt for modesty’s sanctum
Octopus ink dotted around the little sea horse brocade ready for the kill
Let’s find out who is the wolf in sheep’s clothing and who rules the party
It is not over until this lady sings to the crude fanfares of animal cruelty
My malachite shine will torture those bigots and hypocritical beasts
And a bit of irresistible irritation has to expose their cunning bushy tails
Before I put muzzles on their hounds and phallic antics and beat my retreat
The headline in the paper read Predators in Read Coats Impaled on Spurs
And a photo showed a foxy young woman presiding over her fallen prey
05th December 2019
When you watch how astonishingly the world moves on
From the fall of one iroko to the other,
How, one minute, eyes fill up
Like an overflowing river,
Then the next, mouths that stood agape,
As if to swallow death for swallowing their hero,
Drown in strong liquor,
Does it remind you of the vainness of striving?
When you look at him there in the box,
Still, in coats he cannot feel,
Nostrils an invitation to flies,
Do you see the essence of this hustling?
That a man who was made without permission to be made,
Who came into this world out of the merriment of two genitals,
Spent his breath chasing emptiness?
If the purpose of living is to die, // why celebrate the birthing of a death?
My mother roasts the plantains and dips each finger in oil.
I watch her joy as she passes it round, the celebration of a newborn,
Ya Ya Nkem eh, Ya Ya Nkem!
Ya Ya Nkem eh, Ya Ya Nkem!
Waists twirl through the compound,
An orchestra of loud voices.
The old man steps in, his kettle,
Carrying more prayers than wine,
“You shall wipe our tears and lead us well,
Cross the oceans we could never dare to;
Lord, hear us!”
Last week, Awung and Alem were lowered,
And in a day or a week,
A dirge will outdo these songs of delight,
For a new grave is born!
Those Amazing Cats
Oh, those amazing cats with their smooth coats
They go uppity up up they go downdy, down down.
And they bounce around 'making the loop as they' pounce
here and there sometimes catching a mouse somewhere in the house
getting their exercise running back and forth until they need a long rest
They purr when they are happy getting hugs and comments
As they get stroked, they talk to their people once and awhile
and they never get poked rocking the boat only when they get soaked
shaking the water all over the place
They stand up and smile wanting a hug looking innocently cute
as they ask to be taken home then snooze on a lap all curled up
in a ball and the car pulls out then departs making someone happy
whose feeling blue- they are perfect companions, and they are really
wonderful roommates.
out on the hungover gray moor
having morning coffee with the old man of the sea
we say nothing in this silvered wooden shack
lots of coats to put on, it's all very humdrum
the boat cuts through small yapping wavelets
possibly never to return, but of course we will
the mind vaults vast arenas in this place
we pass the westernmost cape on the continent
we lower the killing nets
waiting, trawling, smoking, it's a cold day
at this moment, the universe is so small, enclosed
like one cloudberry, in a much bigger bunch
all exotic fish we find like
two species of endangered turtles
even a few angry sharks
most of it unidentifiable by-catch
at the end of the day, what a haul of slime
all these words stinking in the shrinking twilight
regurgitated without end, coins without face
cliche, our deity, ready for blood sacrifice