Long Comstock Poems
Long Comstock Poems. Below are the most popular long Comstock by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Comstock poems by poem length and keyword.
Good morning children! Rise and shine!
15 minutes until breakfast time.
Hurry up or you’ll be late.
David!! Do not say the word hate.
BECAUSE, it is not a nice word
No Sierra, we are NOT getting a bird.
BOY, you are pushing me.
One more time and I’ll put you over my knee.
Sierra!!! ShyAnne! Get out of bed!
Get dressed and brush your head!
No! Not five more minutes!! Now!!
Come on you guys, get in here and eat some chow.
ShyAnne that doesn’t match, well at least change your shirt.
Sierra! Stop! What do you mean your leg got hurt?!
So it just mysteriously hurts for no reason!?!
David no teasin’. NO TEASIN’
Are you dressed yet?
Why is your shirt wet?
Boy, you have toothpaste in your hair.
ShyAnne. Stop whinning. What’s not fair?
Breathe. Breathe. Big and deep. Breathe.
Sierra! Give it back! What ever it is…. Just. Give. it. Back.
What do you mean you can’t find your backpack?
ShyAnne, get dressed you’ll miss the bus.
No .. I’m… not… gonna… cuss.
Brush your hair. Well do it again, you didn’t get the back part.
No!.. No!…. No whinning. Don’t start.
No you can’t wear skates to school.
Idon’t know it’s just the rule.
Sierra quit jumping on the bed, what happened to your hurt leg?
NO! no skates at school!! It doesn’t matter how much you beg!
David! DAAAAAAAVVVIID!! Where is your other shoe?
Well son, I don’t wear them so I don’t have a clue.
Well ShyAnne, if you would have went to bed when I said, you woundn’t be sleepy.
What ? Who ? Who went pee-pee?
Sierra, you look like a clown, get that make up off your face!
Come on guys pick up the pace.
David go change you clothes.
It doesn’t matter which pants, just wear those.
15 more minutes, miss the bus and your gonna walk.
Child! Where is your other sock?
Yes!! You have to wear a jacket! It ‘s cold outside.
Well wear the pink one and don’t leave it on the slide.
Kisses. Bye guys. Have a good day!!
I love you!1 Be good. Learn something today.
Stop pulling your sisters hair and get to the bus stop.
Hurry up you guys! Chop! Chop!
Well Thank God there they go!!
I miss them already though.
Sarah Comstock
1-25-2010
Form:
Planting seeds of life - growing self awareness...
(Subtitled: kudos beloved Amelie Beth)
Dilly gents gal lore spellbinding
metaphorically exhuming, ferreting, gleaning...
insightful handy dandy blues clues
unearthing treasure trove motherlode,
(and father lode) eye opening discover re:
visa vis our family of origin ancestry.
Painstaking efforts undertaken
courtesy thee i.e. eldest sister
(age difference between her and yours truly
thirteen months and twelve days)
ye (figuratively) dug deep
within plethora of genealogical database
mine insight piqued
following genetic revelations.
Raw bits (nuggets - comstock
rivalling wealth of Croesus
sowed countless generations ago)
enlightened this protoplasmic broth heir,
(a biological composite dada
elicited factoids ginning
humongous, illustrious, judicious...
awareness, that allows, enables provides...
knowledge linking me deoxynucleic acid
with forebears, whose good n plenti
inherited characteristics, desires
(under the elms), mannerisms,
predilections, quirks, urges,
yearnings, et cetera contra dance,
flickr, golong, kindle, shutterfly...
within mine contemplative,
intuitive, reflective...soul asylum
explaining, informing, liberating...
natural inquisitiveness percolating within,
not necessarily to excuse
deleterious, egregious, infamous...
(hyperbole for poetic impact)
behavior (mine), nonetheless
delighting, educating, fascinating...
assimilating, bridging, semen ting
heritage invariably jumpstarting
dormant desire to acquire
increased comprehension whereby,
I experience surge to learn
greater familiarity affecting
heightened awareness, where
countless questions once incubated
regarding spiritual communion,
where lovely bones of mein kampf
feel linkedin with spirits
of thee dead ancestors.
Hence awesome accomplishment
piecing together (with assistance from relatives)
once puzzling enigma shrouding
past lives (not sainted)
comprising Harris family of origin.
Twas the night before Christmas at the Alberson homestead.
And all was well now that everyone was warm and fed.
It warmed my heart, truly a sight to see.
The lights and decorations sparkling on the tree.
So there we were, collected and gathered in.
With our neighbors, friends and all our kin.
Daddy and I, hand in hand, huddled together
Squeezing in tighter to shake off the chill of the weather.
Moma was in the kitchen tiding about.
Hushin’ and shooin’ the young’ens out.
Charlie telling stories of way back when to the children at his feet.
And poor little David, bouncing with excitement about to come out of his seat.
Under the mistletoe, Josh and Anna , already with child and working on the next.
Calen on the couch , sending out a very merry text.
Pandora and her puppies, in the corner barely made a sound.
As sweet little Elizabeth bobbled and bumbled around.
Sierra sat next to the Christmas tree with a pile of presents below.
And ShyAnne watched from the window, at the falling snow.
And brother John had traveled three days by bus,
But was well and glad to be home with us.
Ricky tried to round up players for a game of shoes despite the cold.
For he had a hot streak he meant to hold.
Dian wished us merry Christmas by phone.
Wished us well and was glad Ricky and the girls weren’t alone.
Skyla and Cherish sizing up the presents, guessing what was inside.
Though no one said a word, no matter how they pried.
After the food we moved on to the real fun,
As the presents were brought out one by one.
In the blink of an eye, in just a flash
The presents were unwrapped and before us sat a mountain of trash.
But the best present of all this year was mine,
Sharing Christmas with family and loved ones here in Mill Creek 2009.
Sarah Comstock
12-26-2009
Form:
The working Class Hero
From town to town, all across this great land,
You can see the work of a laboring hand.
Not many know their name,
But in my eyes they are heroes just the same.
From driving a nail to driving a stake.
They have pride in what they make.
From construction to demolition.
They are part of the working mans coalition.
You can’t buy a membership to get in.
These are hard working women and men.
They’ve paid their dues, by the sweat of their brows.
From the factory work to pulling up dirt with plows.
These folk get paid cash , by the hour.
Around here its done with man power.
They have calloused hands and tired feet.
They work on through the rain, sun, slow and sleet.
They know there’s no shame in a job well done.
None of these folks have ever worked for fun.
Covered in grease and their knuckles are scarred.
Ain’t a one of them scared to work hard.
They are the kind who work through the pain.
These folks have never rode the gravy train.
They know the job isn’t done until it’s done.
They are the ones who are up and gone before the sun.
These people won’t do it unless they can put their name to it.
They know it is a dirty job, but someone has to do it.
They pour concrete and haul hay.
They know what it means to put in a honest day.
They are the ones who are the backbone,
They are Americas cornerstone.
I am proud to be one of the few,
We could use more like me and you.
A few more hours and I’ll have put my day in,
But don’t you worry I’ll be back tomorrow to do it again.
Even though my paycheck won’t ever have more than a few zeros,
It’s okay because I know I’m one of the working class heroes.
Sarah Comstock
6-15-08
Form:
Verse one
Now you know I ain’t one, to give way to complain’
But it’s been a long hard week, only one day off and it’s rainin.
And ther just ain’t no fun in livin like this.
Because there so much of you that I miss.
A gentle look, a soft touch and a tender kiss.
I miss those days and I miss the sunshine.
Chorus
But on a slow quite Sunday, with nothing better to do.
The rain that ruined my day, saved me and you.
The rain fell down, thunder crashed all around.
And the heavens poured the answer right out of the sky.
We figured out how to get back to the heart of you and I.
Made us open our eyes and face the pain.
Because we both were needing more than just the rain.
Verse two
Now you know it too, were alive but were dying.
The truth is that the life were livin is lying.
We’ve been at this for far too long.
With all this fussin’ and fightin’ goin on.
Getting’ mad, givin’ up and cussin’.
Goin at each other and a fussin’
Holdin on and tryin, sayin’ sorry and cryin’
Verse three
Now were both too tired to fight.
And it doesn’t even matter who’s right.
This just ain’t no way to live.
Some where some one has gotta give.
Some one has gotta hold on istead of holding back.
Learn to bend before we crack.
And take each others hand instead of takin a stand.
Verse four
Let’s get back to where we were before.
We’ll have everything we did and so much more.
We’ll make it better this time I swear.
This will be the greatest love two people ever share.
Sarah Comstock
1-12-2010
Form:
There is abundance in all our lives,
The trick is simply to open our eyes.
For when you open your eyes to what you have,
Instead to what you have not.
You will find that what you have is a lot.
For we all want, and we want for that something.
In hopes of a feeling that having might bring.
But what about when that feeling is worn.
And the new fancy clothing are old and torn.
When the new truck, becomes old and doesn’t run as good.
When the paint is chipped and there are dents in the hood.
When those new shoes are old and broken down.
When the pretty new dress becomes the tattered gown.
When the new sofa has lost part of it’s stuff.
The new carpet that is stained and lost its fluff.
All things wanted dearly when new.
Want and waste, we are all guilty, me and you.
But when time wears them out, they are discarded to the wayside.
Tossed out, and without a thought carried to the curbside.
Then it is onto the next item for which ever it is we want.
Sitting pretty in a storefront window just to taunt.
In wanting there is no complete satisfaction, only temporary content.
And all too often the value of an object, was not worth what was spent.
It is the theory that the grass is greener on the other side.
And we want because we feel we have been denied.
All too often so many people think the other side of the fence is the only place green
grass will grow.
But I believe my side of the fence is just fine, there is much less grass to mow
Sarah Comstock
4-16-2010
Form:
barbwire fingers and razor blade kisses i touch you're face and kiss you're neck its never
more then once for fear that you will leave and never be seen again. when you found me i
was whole and you hollowed me out now a shell i can't be with out you i was there standing
and we danced to the wrist-cutter fun land ,you took me to the hustlers hide out and we
watched the masses you saw your self and we left to the sounds of a nation dying under
your curse i am the one who ignited the enlighten to be all they could be in a world of
self hate and when the rum spilled you found it was not your own I'm your toy and your my
pet now we watch the world burn and the cities fall to giant shadows full of hate and fear
when you find what i found you will be the next victim of your own hand you have no choice
but i don't want to let you go and you leave and its just me now i have you next to me i
wish i could see what will happen next but you are leaving now and there you are catching
a bus to the next lost soul in a hideout no one can find even for the first time you find
you shell and you refill it to the beat of body hitting the wall is you mind you're doing
it right in my eyes you see what it really is and you find what he was looking for and
never told him he's still looking and i have seen what you wanted no I'm yours and i don't
want it any other way ...........
john comstock
The gods of oil have reigned downed their wrath,
For which we have not begun to see the aftermath.
For thousands of miles balls of tar will wash upon a virgin beach.
It will be felt around the world, every place that water will reach.
And every land and all men will feel the devastation.
In a disaster that has an unknown rate of acceleration.
Take this warning to heed,
In this epidemic, our children will pay for our greed.
And their children will toil under the sun,
For the things we have and have not done.
It seems foolish to me that we can put a man on the moon.
But can not keep crude out of a Louisiana lagoon.
And we will be mocked for our ignorance by our sons and daughters,
For blindly poising our own waters.
BP’s offshore drilling,
They never worried, they were making a killing.
I want to know where was the plan of action,
Will we all suffer the burden of their infractions.
So, we all wait while BP try.
And every minute , every hour, more peoples livelihood die.
And were losing ground, hand over fist.
Peoples lives are at stake, because the waters can’t be fished.
You only thought the unemployment rate was high before.
Now what of all the people who made their living on the gulf shore.
What do we tell them about their live retrieval.
Tell them to stand in a line marked,
Unemployed by environmental upheaval
Sarah Comstock
6-6-10
Form:
Luella Bufkin
1872 – 1891
Do you remember me?
Does anyone remember the Bufkin girl of Comstock Street?
I was the girl who read her Bible every Sunday
In the forgiving shade of my father’s Elm Tree..
Maybe not.
Because I died young… way too young.
And I was a smart pretty girl too.
No one ever knew I spent many waking moments alone.
Alone and staring into the parlor room mirror
Staring into my own blue eyes;
Imagining they were the eyes of my galloping Knight.
Eyes I had hoped to use
In capturing the “devil” by his tail.
I knew how to cook and sew
And clean house and milk the cow.
I made the butter and the bread
And my mother always said
”Now Luella, don’t forget to add the yeast.”
I cleaned and scrubbed and scoured
And even cut the firewood on occasion.
It was all I knew;
My life with rags and strong soaps;
One continuing, unending back-breaking episode
Of hardwood chores
And ever-growing laundry piles.
And it was a brief,
Oh so painfully brief life,
Of cleaning, praying and… dreaming.
I wanted to go into nursing
And find a suitable man to be my Noble Squire.
But my kidneys flamed up and I started to pee blood.
Come to my lonely grave sometime, my friend.
I’m off in the corner here.
Forgotten and covered in the ivy.
I lie here in my casket in the dark
Please visit me here in the shadows,
So I can hear you breathing.
Make no doubt, it was not something just given.
This good life that I am now livin’
It is one that I have earned.
Mostly through the hardest lessons learned.
Worked from daylight to dusk,
And at night rocked cryin’ babies who fussed.
Done things I didn’t know I could do.
Somehow we always managed to get through.
I’ve poured out my heart and tears,
Kissing their heads and quiting their fears.
I’ve poured out my own blood and sweat.
I’ve worried, stressed and fret.
Spent sleepless nights over a sick baby’s bed.
Rocking her and stroking her head.
Busted my butt, and broke my back
To get a step ahead and pick up the slack.
And I’m trying to show them the way,
One gets mad and the other whines.
But you fit it in between dinnertime and deadlines.
And so you see, it runneth over my cup.
The laundry and dishes, pile up.
Trying to make ends meet, it’s just day to day.
Getting it all done, you just find a way.
But it’s far better than the life I had.
They are a little ungrateful, but I guess I’m glad.
They’ve never been with out a coat,
Despite the whinning of it’s so cold.
And no they have never eaten food that
They had stoled. No, they have never even
Missed a meal, true hunger they will never
Feel. No they don’t know how good
They have it, it is true.
And I pray to God they never do!
Sarah Comstock
12/12/10