Long Condominium Poems
Long Condominium Poems. Below are the most popular long Condominium by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Condominium poems by poem length and keyword.
Condo Commando Landings
They came in shiny silver saucer shaped air ships
With cylindrical flashing red lights in the night
From Planet New Jersey
Alien space crafts…. I mean .… weather balloons, (according to NASA)
From many light years…. I mean… traffic lights away
Landing in Miami first with a thirst for power
They slithered from the… ‘Weather balloons” in zombie brigades
Heads tilted, drooling, snorting and looking for trouble
Your condominium community is their new headquarters
Condo commandos are here to stay
A cruel fiduciary species without any borders
Going from door to door
Giving owners & tenants lists of rules with magnitudinal orders
Millions of regulations, line item expenses, and assessments
You must fulfill….You will fulfill…you will comply or die!
“Resistance is futile!” They cry…. Or mumble…or moan
Or whatever it is the walking dead do
If you walk on pavements you will be fined
If you have babies they must return to the womb
No plants…. No flowers… No signs on your condos
And keep your doors closed at all times
Don’t think about crime. Don’t ask any questions
And pay your condo dues or be sequestered
Tableaus’
An elderly television speaks to her
in a deaf condominium.
Her garden is a cluster of cobwebs,
it rattles and spins as stiff
as the skeletons of the sun.
Her ears listen to the world
as it ascends into a fairy tale.
The dragons are back,
the good knights and the bad,
she recalls their fictitious deeds,
they ride again in her garden of bones;
those lovers that have succumbed
knit together more daylight dreams.
Outside her window
anxious gangs of newborn brawlers
via for the earths attention.
The clatter of arms
and the crush of concurrence
are hardly noticed at all.
From time to time,
F.D.R calls but his fireside chats
are a dusty furnace long unlit.
The condominium cools
inside a dark-stockinged twilight
then she, unseen and younger,
slips into another
of her timeworn party dresses.
Students everywhere feel a close relationship with summer. It develops early and you never lose it. It’s durable.
Le’ts poeticize..
It was a youthful summer of unblemished mirth.
In play, our youthful hours were freely spent.
We bore such idleness - we were indulgent.
Until Lisa confessed, she was less so content
and longed desperately for a ‘wholesome reunion’
with her love (Dave) and to resume that courtship in the same
fevered spirit as when they last parted, in Paris.
“Life’s complicated,” Lisa offered, at the end of our talk.
“So complicated,” I agreed.
It’s amazing how quickly a plan can coalesce.
ANNND, we’re back in Manhattan, at Lisa’s (parents) 50th floor residence.
I asked Karen (Lisa’s Mom) once, “If you own this (a floor of a building) is it called an apartment, a condominium..,” my voice faded on the question.
“A residence,” she answered after a moment’s thought. She’s a lawyer.
Georgia got too hot. Not to dwell on the grotesque side of girlhood - but enough sweat already.
Shakespeare (Henry IV) wrote, “sweat extraordinarily, if it be a hot day.” Yep, done that - for really.
In lieu of all our pains, we now want AC, high-end amenities, constant concierge services and stunning views.
We’ll be back in New Haven in nine short days - and back in class in eighteen.
Call 911, someone’s stolen our summer!
.
.
Songs for this:
New York City Serenade by Bruce Springsteen
New York State of Mind by Billy Joel
My room, which is in our school's condominium is miles away from home. All alone, I stay in this beautiful room which has one glass window and two sliding glass doors . On weekends, especially Sundays, it is so quiet here and peaceful. Neighbors are few, their doors are closed and many of them go back home. At first, melancholy was killing me. Finally, I've found some good diversions; which had extricated this feeling. In tandem with my household chores is sitting here in a balcony where a very fantastic view I see! Overlooking here are swimming pool, manmade lake, the flying birds and squirrels running and swaying on the branches of those tall green trees. So, I really find this balcony a perfect place to stay while silence engulfs me. In here, I play piano and paint; then, conglomerations of feelings I have as I write my poetry.
In Your Heart
The tall green trees are beckoning,
They can sense what I feel;
Those squirrels which make sounds and grin,
They've secrets to reveal .
Silence will never make you sad,
It refreshes your mind;
You can enhance your skills and pray,
In your heart, you can find.
Written: Sept. 1,2012
First Place Winner
Contest: My Quiet Place
Contest Judged: 9/17/2012
Sponsor Poet: Sara Kendrick
The air clings to vintage cherry wood, scalloped & ruffled as it curves, standing on robust intricately carved lions feet, crafted well over 100 yrs ago, living many years in one of Chicago's many stately red-brick row houses, now watching over me in my small condominium in the heart of Minneapolis where Grandpa helped my parents establish a life that would include room for Grandma & Grandpa to age close to their grandchildren & Mom & Dad, Sadly, Grandpa fell with a heart attack hurrying to find his neighbor in a bar downtown Chicago so he could attend his son's highschool graduation, Grandma lived a very short time here with us, but was encouraged to fly (her first nerve-wracked time) back to Chicago for her 50th. high school reunion, where she too, fell and died from a heart attack, anyway, these hardwood family pieces keep me rooted with memories of all the precious loved ones they served and hope for the future.
4/12/26
Harvard, Princeton or Yale?
I'll take some courses by mail
Engineering or Mathematics?
I'm majoring in Acrobatics
Piano, Violin, Flute or Clarinet?
I'll play my music on the Internet
Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton or Dickens?
Give me a J.K. Rowling tale of Wiccans
Pheasant under Glass with Caviar?
Slice of pizza and fries with that, sir
Sparkling wine, Liqueur or Pink Champagne?
Make mine tapwater -- plain
Mansion or Penthouse Condominium?
A dreary shack, the bare minimum
Representative or Parliamentary Democracy?
Socialist Republic, where everything's given to me
Life offers you choices, let there be no doubt
The worst thing you can do is take the easy way out
I sailed an olive boat
into the center of the sea
alone
to find a cure for my loose heart
not the spring-back type, noble with elasticity
but leap-forward lecher-wild
binding to any skirted frame and drooping hemline
like friendly burrs in shrubbery lanes
sat in an olive boat
drifting mid-seas
unaccompanied but for Hope to land a cure upon my knees
to heal my lousy, narcissistic zeal
an insatiable human thinks like a possessed apiary
an overwrought dam
I tonsured my beatific locks
as bare as Samson
hoodwinked
by his pet Flytrap
tossed reflective surfaces, anything that would give my face
a way to self-seduction
safe in a roasted green-pea float
lost like dead at sea
to recover a voice that scarcely has been mine
its echo returns not
through bursting towns
busy at trade
hawkers cawing,
hucksters' crow delirious,
chattering cashboxes
traffic snakes wending
Nowhere do they end in time
always metal and rust
ferric towering towers, condominium pride,
noisome domiciles, toxic steel cages
barring the success of this voice~
the sound of your mind drowned inside the urban brawl
not a jot of space to reckon nor conciliate
blushing-rushing-golden consciences
an echo may not return to its sender then ~
a man with no name.
Human sparkle spirit runs the shine chasing you
We are poor yet we want penny for your thoughts
You bring war I stand here with raised hands and an olive branch
The clowns red nose strikes a pose stopped up congested
Aura color spectrum forget Me Not
~
Wishing wells hoping to be filled all the way through
Concrete grass stains on a basement condominium just bought
Embracing running together via a chance dance
Off the deep end tip of the tongue invested
Dead bodies melt-disintegrate physically rot
So that I am instilled installed compassion
Within my vision I'm blinded in rose colored glasses
Humanity viewed
11/27/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr ©
I am hooked deep inside my cavern-hanging host
replicating in cosy subterranean cell
night-time radar feeding my needful innermost
viral reservoirs overflow with gruesome gel
I slurp onto scaly creature, grimly scuttling
fissures unfold, revealing gory condominium
caged meal within a meal, proximity shuttling
re-absorbed, disturbed, unsettling equilibrium
I emerge, swimming 'Trojan' in moisture flowing
aqueous channel opening, internal organ-treat
indulged, engorged, rapacious appetite growing
coughed-up bipedal phlegm, damp cold air to greet
I am scooped again, adjacent cloth, nearby skin
bodies pressing, heavy breath, compulsive sneeze
defences haemorrhage, weakened corpses grin
death is killing me, wretched repulsive wheeze
I seep through porous mask and sweating gland
my time is spent, havoc wrought, no place to go
anti-bodies gathering, hostile hordes at hand
I am oblivion but still have many names to know
David was a Symbol, he was a king,
But Samuel was a prophet, who spoke for my Savior,
Barak is a symbol, he is a politician,
But Jeremiah is a prophet, who speaks for my Savior,
I do not look to Barak for salvation,
I look to him to symbolize a new beginning,
He is not the solution for my people,
Nor can he be,
Jeremiah, speaks truth to power,
And so he has my reverence,
Barak navigates power, and so he has my respect,
Barak cannot stop misogyny in Hip Hop,
Any more than Bill Clinton could address devil worship in Heavy Metal,
He is a man, he is a symbol, nothing less and nothing more,
But I love him, like I love the gangsta’s in my condominium complex,
For like those gangsta’s,
He is America,
For like Jeremiah,
He is America,
For like Hillary,
He is America,
And so let it begin,
This new beginning,
Symbols in symbiotic knowing,
But my Savior,
He is not just a man,
He is a high priest of an unknown order,
He is the alpha and the omega,
And it is he, that I serve.