Long Crepe paper Poems
Long Crepe paper Poems. Below are the most popular long Crepe paper by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Crepe paper poems by poem length and keyword.
We all had homemade dresses for prom; well, nearly all of us.
This was back in 1970 while black and white Viet Nam War photos were on TV
Every night, we saw such sadness.
Prom was a reminder of childhood.
Back to the Bibbity Bobbity Boo of Cinderella.
We girls were wearing empire waist dresses.
It was the style, little bows at the top of our hair.
We were fancy poodles, primping in our two inch heels.
Not high ones like our mothers. We had already fallen off those.
Traded in our hip hugger bell bottoms that magical night
For dresses in chiffon, polished cotton, and satins.
We were so shiny, it is a miracle a murder of crows did not carry us off.
The boys had on their best suits; not tuxes.
We were in a small Iowa farm town.
Many of the couples would marry two weeks later after graduation.
I remember how hard the junior class worked to make it beautiful for us.
There were tin foil stars and crepe paper streamers everywhere.
A strobe light, and music piped in from the folk heroes of the time.
Peter Paul and Mary, Mama Cass, Simon and Garfunkel.
Sometimes a song by Cher or Bette Midler but not as often.
The food was fantastic. The company wonderful.
Our first semi-formal dinner. I have never forgotten it.
In one way it was like middle school which we called junior high.
The boys stood around talking and laughing, and the girls danced like mad.
It was such an innocent and fun time! Taking the Viet Nam War,
And the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King
Out of our minds for one magical bibbity bobbity boo night.
May 1970. A memory that uplifts me to this day.
The last time I spoke to some of my classmates.
As a few were sent to Viet Nam after graduation never to return.
I.
---
Paulette knew he'd love the present and
Excitedly watched as he carefully took the box
And opened the lid to reveal, her heart inside
Crepe paper surrounded it, gently holding an
Echocardiogram of her love for him
Only last month, she was wheeled into the E.R.
Now, the doctors said her prognosis was good
Edward pulled the strip from the crepe nest
And, alternated between it, and Paulette's smile
Realizing that many years of her love lay ahead
To wrap him, full, in life's greatest gift
How could he adequately express his happiness?
II.
---
People oft lose their lighted sight
Each winter solstice that annums around
As days shrink some benevolence cooled
Credit given where credit should not be found
Economy trumps our brotherhood's cards
On the holiday morning, when all is spread
Near tree, menorah, prayer rug, symbol iconic
Equal time, regarding the desolate neighbor
As joys of family and friends ring the room
Reaching inside ourselves can we reach
To express the love our God implores
Helping to remember, peace on Earth
III.
---
Pomegranates and oranges sluice sweet tang
Even as members gather and sleepily greet
Adults sit, small children excitedly flit about
Carefully examining tags, boxes and stockings
Eagerly they plead with eyes for permission
Once you were that young too...that magical
Now you point and sip tea or coffee, and smile
Every generation brings its own traditions
As a talisman to the next's memories to come
Rife with sentiment, are day's mellow memories
To ancient minds in some far future times
Hardly believing that all those years transpired
© Goode Guy 2011-12-10
"God bless us, everyone" - Tiny Tim
for those unfamiliar...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Acrostic
Sheila dressed carefully, greeting first love in fits of anticipation,
Amid glittering disco ball promoting twenty-fifth year class reunion,
Drum master is at play, thumping Sheila’s traitorous heartstrings
Heart seizes brain’s logic. Goodness! There he is now!
Exposing her heartfelt imagined playoff,
Lifetime daydream of being saved, is rapidly diminishing
Hyena laugh from stage left startles. Room regains color
Crepe paper reality slaps her when face offs begin.
Who are these people? They look old. Did they graduate with her?
Happily ever after daydreams dissipate rapidly. He has not looked this way.
He is a classmate who can barely stand, apparently drinking heavily.
Indisputable reality climbs onto Sheila’s back, grinning wickedly. Mean.
Blatant truth hangs onto fat bellies, sneering over belt buckles.
He is no longer her true love who got away, just a sad alcoholic of a man.
Unrecognizable, flipping her daydream into a solid nightmare.
Throwing themselves into each other’s arms tonight is laughable really.
Sheila’s dream Prince Charming is not coming, for he has turned into a frog.
And not a pretty one, quick to anger, not the sweet boy she had known.
The love of her life pretended not to remember her. Surrounded by self-walls.
She turned to her husband Jim and smiled. “Let’s dance,” She said.
The lonely boy who had been pining for his lost love for years laughed.
She is uppity now, he told himself. She is nothing like I remember.
Daydreams up in smoke, with all of his other dreams and life goals.
This would be his last reunion. He watched his dream princess dance.
"Where flowers bloom, there is color, beauty and fragance, adding joy to life"~ By Poet
My garden now presents a lovely scene
So colorful with flowers unfolding their immaculate petals
And greeting me every morning
In varied shape and size and in sparkling shades
Among them are soothing little white flowers
Which open themselves at night in the lunar light,
Sensual red roses, multi shaded orchids
Flowers of pastel hues, colorful adeniums
And jasmines on creeping stems,
Intertwined and inseparable
Which send out a spray of heady aroma
When the gentle breeze sweeps past them
There are Bougainvillea’s of red, purple, and orange shades
Reflecting the iridescent colors of a setting sun
Rightly called paper flowers with their light weight
And lack of softness and synthetic appearance
These flowers, like torn pieces of crepe paper
Fly about with every sweeping wind,
Landing down scattered here, there and everywhere
Inciting mischief, but causing no harm
Pentas of lavender and white shade are seen
Nodding at butterflies wishing to be kissed and wooed.
Along with flowers grown in pots and soil
There are lovely water lilies in my little pond
Flowers brighten the indoors and outdoors
Lifting our mood and giving us immense joy
Oh Lovely maidens, you are one of a special kind
You bloom and smile for everyone to enjoy
But aren’t you there in my small garden,
Staying regal and proud especially for you and me?
the very first time I saw you
you totally captivated my heart
never had any idea or single clue
but I’m already in love with you since the start
just your name is such a beauty without a doubt
I could hardly believe that you’re real
until I’ve finally touched and held you one by one
falling down from those wand-like branches as in hail
carpeting the dark green bermuda grasses on the ground
with all my zest I gathered you gladly all around
your big round petals shine so bright like a brilliant sun
my faint notion that you’re a hand-made crepe paper
now has passed its way and finally gone
all I wish, when I dance you’ll adorn my hair
I’ll be proudly making you into garlands for a special affair
in my eyes, you’re one of the emblems of royalty
in this beautiful kingdom and lovely place
while local and foreign folks are all enjoying their stay
you’re providing them an atmosphere with solace
in your yellow color is a shaft of light for peace
Supannika, with my piquancy I am taking you home
to introduce you that you’re such a special kind
a radiant flower to float on water will lastly bloom
most especially I’ve a great idea in my mind
you’ll be a wonderful gift to my loved ones on Valentines
Written: Feb. 10, 2012
Second Place
Contest: Simple Title
Judged: 3/9/13
Poet Sponsor: Greatest Poet PD
No one told us, in the straightforward language of streets and desires,
That life would keep pushing us forward, like an unrelenting wind,
Even when we're too tired or too defeated to get out of bed,
That sometimes the days could be so heavy that the air becomes a burden.
No one taught us to hide tears under a mask of indifference,
To laugh with sarcasm, even when the soul is torn apart,
To step forward on roads paved with compromises and unfulfilled desires,
An inner city where every corner is an explosion of passion and regret.
We grew up with stories that ended well, like dreams too sweet,
Where everyone smiled and rested under a crepe paper sky,
But life doesn't wait, it continues to unfold, cruel and splendid,
Leaving us to learn how to go on, even when the heart is a battlefield.
Perhaps that is true strength, not glory and applause,
But finding a way to move forward, quietly, like a poet among words,
Even when no one sees, when only silence listens,
A poem of the heart that refuses to stop, a verse written on the walls of an inner fortress.
And maybe that's enough, to keep moving,
Step by step, with a heart that refuses to yield,
To find beauty in every breath, even when it hurts,
A magical, melancholic poem, written by our steps on the vast canvas of destiny.
Fourth of July was a day that we gathered with our cousins.
Sharing a picnic lunch, eating watermelon and hot dogs.
The adults ate hamburgers, but who wanted those?
We had chips for salt, and gooey cupcakes for sugar.
We would go uptown in the morning to either be in the parade
Or watch the parade which was a bunch of kids on bikes with crepe paper.
We were in it when we were young, and our parents dressed us up.
When we thought we were too old to be cute, we made fun of others.
After lunch we would run back up town with as much money as we could.
Because there was a carnival there, and the rides were magnificent.
We would scream bloody murder from the tilt-a-whirl,
And our brains would be scrambled as the ride snapped our necks.
It was the best day of the whole year, better than Christmas.
Because we lived in small town, USA, in the middle of Iowa.
Even Santa Claus could not rival this carnival day!
In the evening there were fireworks. Everyone came out and watched.
It was a magical day, a marvelous day, the best day ever.
I have such fond memories of that day, and my cousins.
One who is gone now, and soon the other will be gone also
I will soon be gone too, so I enjoy these memories now while I can.
Creating the canvas with silken thread
Each day with different colours weaving
On whitest linen in smallest stitches
The complexity of life I’m living
Red jelly and custard birthday parties
a childhood spent in lonely play
Crepe paper hats and satin costumes
Kite flying on a windy day
Sunshine yellow of early teen years
Pop idol screaming in the park
Hot pants, boas, and minis and maxis
Cow bells, music, moon walks in the dark
Shocking pink in early womanhood
living dangerously on last tube home
first job jitters, first date delights
while family snaps to monochrome
Rich dark purple of dreams destroyed
Bleeding wounds traced in crimson thread
Tear tracks, pills, and Empty purses
Disillusioned, discarded, life filled with dread
But then the scarlet of surrender
The blush of finding first true love
Warmth of babes, new lives beginning
The tangerine joy of motherhood
Now the lavender skein is needed
As the empty phase begins
How my coloured garden sows those
Wild brown wrinkles on the skin
The final years with wizened fingers
forging murals bittersweet
‘til only the blackest thread remains
the tapestry will be complete
amber skies announce autumn
black bats and black cats
costumes line the sidewalks
Dracula climbs out of his crypt
elves, faeries and brownies dance the streets
Freaks are getting on their freak
Ghostly ghouls and goblins chase princesses
Halloween parade is in rare gear
Ideal night for trick-or-treat
Jack-o-lanterns proudly sit
Knives focus in on the pretty ones at hand
Leave some candy for me! Says my aunt Fran
Monsters appear out of the October mist
Noisy neighbors watch from inside their house
Orange and black crepe paper in store windows
Pumpkin pie with whipped cream is in my frig
***** creatures zigzag in and out of walkers
rambunctious teenagers scare the little ones
spidery webs are dangling from many porches
trick-or-treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!
Under the bridge scary ghost stories are being told
Vim and vigor oozes out of every Captain America five-year-old
Witches cackle as their green faces wander the streets
‘xtravagant costumes try to one-up the rest of us
Yellow-eyed cats miss nothing
zinging in and out are goblins carrying large sacks
Our Garden
In my mind’s eye,
I see you still,
Standing still in our garden,
Motionless,
Deep in thought.
So what were you thinking?
The seeds we planted together,
Grew strong,
We tended them,
Fed and watered them,
Gave them shelter and support.
We watched anxiously.
Now they are strong, gloriously confident,
They no longer need our tender loving care.
The scarlet poppies, petals as fragile as crepe paper,
Grow miraculously strong on delicate stems.
The marigolds, like a cluster of brilliant suns,
Know their power.
The trailing lobelias explore exuberantly
And will not be contained.
The seed of our love we also planted together,
Tended with the same loving care and understanding,
And at first a willingness to forgive.
But in time, as it grew, it too needed protection,
From sudden tempests, sudden frosts,
And tears that felt like rain.
Desperately we provided support and protection,
But it was never enough.
The seed which at first had grown so joyfully,
Now withered
And died.