Long Crammed Poems
Long Crammed Poems. Below are the most popular long Crammed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crammed poems by poem length and keyword.
You know you’re out of luck
When you hear the carbage truck
At 6 o clock in the morning,
with a new day barely dawning.
That sound of metal churning
Sets your tired brain cells turning
Why is it you feel ill at ease
Before Christmas festivities?
Then with a bolt you sit upright
You know what you forgot last night
It’s already bursting at the seams
And now it’s shattering your dreams.
Jump out of bed, scantily clad ,
This is your only job as Dad ,
You cannot let the family down,
So grab your paisley dressing gown.
Fly down the stairs and grab the key
Look for your slippers frantically
For you can only contemplate,
That sure and certain deadly fate,
That will befall you should you fail,
(And all the Christmas plans derail),
Because you did not remember,
For that one time in December,
That the refuse bin collection day
Has now moved to a Saturday.
The dog, in canine style reflection,
Wonders why a simple bin collection
Can cause this human agitation,
Stress and clearly consternation?
A dog though, does not understand
That the blue bin is already crammed
With paper, plastic, card and tin
And cannot fit any more therein.
So keep the date and don’t forget
Or you will soon live to regret
The bin is full, you missed the boat,
So please just make a mental note !
Sprinting stick legs carry my midday mission
Stiff breeze whips sand, removes thin prints
Bringing crammed crab, grabbed in precision
Urgent payps brief cease brings peace distinct
Assembled nest, scattered pebbles and shells
Ginger plumage scurrier is ever alert mother
Concaves place, away from encroaching swells
Secure dunes' hush is sanctity discovered
In salt hazed mauve dusk, we pace wary guard
Time arrived for tawny fluff puffs to be shown
Harsh beach to danger prone, threat imparted
Leaving nest safety is necessary, wider zones
Buffeted by their new found brilliance, babies float
Skimmed surface of sand, brisk, excited, whisked
Proud Daddy plover observes with deserved gloat
Dedicated duty rewards during moments like this
Written: 25th July 2020
Contest: Bird Personification
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Dad
I can't believe
Your here old man
You made it through the rough..
I love your
Laugh and chuckle..
For me that is enough.
But boy you've had a lifetime
And crammed it full of stuff
You climbed and walked
And cycled and taught
And shared to thrill
Despite your failing memory..
So deep those waters still.
You're table tennis champ.
You're youth club hero, nifty.
Fridays every week you did..
Until you landed fifty
You're Dad, and Grandpa, Brother
You've been Friend aswell to.. any..
A Husband, Leader, Teacher
An Uncle to so many..
You worked for forty years
Making chemicals for foam.
I'm very happy to have been
A member of your home.
And when it's all said and done
IF you finally get the call..
We'll spend our lives reminiscing
Of your story, to enthrall..
The ears of little ones
You'll never get to meet
They'll hear of your adventures;
All the stuff you'd like to eat..
Of your music tastes,
And passions, of adventures far and NEAR..
Of Singapore. And Germans.
Lost underpants. Of chicken wire and beer
But for this moment here and now
We sit with you and cheer..
You made it (phew)
And here you sit before us
At your 90 years plus two.
So Dad.. there are no words..
I've scribbled down a few
But really all you need to know
We're here because..
The one we love is you
Jinjagoliath
12th March 2023
A cool Autumn morning
we caught the bus
off at eleven
.without much fuss.
One & half return
our village Croft to Leigh
a birthday treat
from Dad to me.
Hopped on a
tram to Burden park
to see Stan Mathews
make his mark
Through the turnstile
at the town end
crushed &crammed
like cattle penned.
Mathews& Mortenson
versus Nathaniel Lofthouse
a joust no connoisseurs
could never grouse.
Wembly star Stan
still playing on at thirty eight
still making inch perfect
crosses on a plate.
Shimmy side-step
feint & dazzle
leaving the defenders
in a right frazzle
Our ageing hero
displayed all his twinkling skills
the complete pro
without modern-day frills
Most pundits considered
Stan as aged has-been
but no better talent
had ever been seen
Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
so some wooden spoons and a potato masher
with a spaghetti spoon and some other utensils
being what they are every day, stoically on duty
crammed into the unremarkable utensil holder
but one particular day when they and the light
decided to converse secretly with the universe
over an unknown coffee among chatter and din
bereft of sticky fingers, cast a phoenix in flight
majestically across the kitchen wall, the meal
was several seconds later that magical evening
and by another incredible zing, a conspiring
of the universe and other distant table waited
secret evening suppers, the bedroom pointed
to the lampshade upon a low lit ceiling behind
it became a robot warlord’s head ripped from
its body, circuitry dangling like vein and sinew
and then – hey look at this, said the universe
I wondered how many times the universe had
reached out but I was in too much of a hurry
and sleep was several seconds later that night
See you struggled by the blues,
Suffocating drowning eventually,
Where friends comrades pertly,
Sacked tortured left on vex,
Life still there never let it go!
Keenly and accepted blues,
Shadowed on obituary parents,
Life squash perishable whole,
Kenning deep on heart chambers,
Troubled all except my soul.
Model’s death wept me real,
Mourned and cried night and day,
As thought next sun never rises,
For the tears flooded everywhere,
As a blues milked my veins.
There wasn't place run too,
For sad and blue mutual,
Ate deeply my muscles,
Thinned every part of me,
Left on road to die as rain drops.
But God pulled my shoulders again,
I listened and turned my wheel in
He blessed my top and body kneel,
Felt slim but full crammed,
And blues were then chased.
He brought joy on face again,
As he did when he paid the bills,
He glued the weak parts worn before,
To have a stronger bond over again,
With smiling cheek and moving jaws.
Turn in for hope is here,
He makes path where isn't,
On green pasture he brings his,
No regrets to whoever believes,
Surrender your veer he’ll blow your blues.
By Lucas Mkude poem
It was really a simple thing
Four chains holding a large plank
Suspended from the ceiling
A big blue swing
Summer at its peak
Heat touching 45 degrees
Cousins all crammed up
On a large blue swing
Listening to granny’s stories
The distant fan slowly whirring
Laughing and giggling at nothing
On a large blue swing
Plate in hand my brother would sit at its end
Pretending to drive an airplane
Never knew planes did not have steering
On the large blue swing
Sometimes when no one was around
I’d sit on it with outstretched hands
Barely touching both its ends yet feeling like a queen
On a large blue swing
With my favourite cousin sometimes I’d sit
Munching hot salted peanuts
Pouring out our deepest secrets
On a large blue swing
At noon in granny’s lap I’d lie
And listen to her lullaby
Soon asleep, without a worry in life
On a large blue swing
Like the swing her hopes never ran high
She spoke to me of days gone by
Looking beautiful, despite a toothless smile
On a large blue swing.
Today it is no more there
With grandma it slowly passed away
But memories still remain
On the large blue swing.
On my walk this morning…I noticed the child I used to be
who, it seems, has been sleeping all these years…decided to take a walk with me.
I said, “Hello!” to my young self…from a time when I was smaller…
He looked me up and down then said, “I thought you would be taller.”
Then he started asking questions…as a child his aged does…
“Was chocolate ice cream still my favorite?”…”Yes”, I said, “it was.”
Questions came out rapid fire…of things I’ve long forgot…
Sometimes he waited for me to answer…often he did not.
What was I doing in Florida? How did I get here from Ohio?
Do I ever miss the change of seasons or playing in the snow?
Did I become a football star? Do I still love climbing trees?
How are my brothers doing? Do I still eat pizza with lots of cheese?
Do I still like skipping stones on lakes and rivers and streams?
Am I still scared of the dark? Do I still know how to dream?
Do I live in a big house? Does it have a pool? Do I drive a fancy car?
Do I have friends…a family. Do I still makes wishes on the stars?
Why are there so many wrinkles on my face? Why is my beard so grey?
Even though I’m older now…do I still find time to play?
On and on his questions came…and as quickly as they flew past…
I did my best to answer them as fast as they were asked.
I can’t remember all he asked…so many question in one walk he crammed….
But his final question was, “Are you happy?”…to which I smiled and said…”I am”.
“Then I am happy for you.” He said before he jumped back into my dream….
“And I’m really glad to know…you still love your pizza and ice cream.”
Desperately I try and ignore it - but it causes so much dread
The flashbacks and memories of the lies crammed in my head
I don't understand why anyone would lie about love so long
Effectively breaking and shattering our every single bond
If you had intent from the beginning to crash all my emotions
Then why'd you speak of marriage and a family with fake devotion?
The evil and strategized game you chose early on to play with me
Occurred 'cause you refused to hear anything I told you - no belief
From day one you made the mistake thinking I was like the bad eggs
For 7.5 years blood, sweat, and tears happened day after day
Over and over you chose flawlessly to betray me and break my trust
You've wrecked 7.5 years so effortlessly for a small tiny taste of lust
There seems like there's nothing left of us - can't you see?
Because of false self-esteem and insecurities - you chose to punish me
Since the very first day, I've never seen us on the same page
Your words they cut and burn - they poison and they ricochet
You led me on many years making me think we'd be together - but we're alone
Yet you could've told me earlier that no matter what - I'd never be your home
LIFE an absurdity(HOGARTH)
a passion
of the ridiculous
the manner
of time
in
rapid moments
bustling streets
a metropolitan buzz
collision&
melodrama
of crammed alleys
excess
a teeming hell
perpetual fluctuation
yellowed mouldy
flamboyant
evoked higgledy piggledy
teeming&
tangled
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived