Long Curly Poems
Long Curly Poems. Below are the most popular long Curly by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Curly poems by poem length and keyword.
For My Perfect Moonlight Love--
Outside...
Roses are said,
Violets turn blue,
Faith is perfect,
And so are you.
You stand out at night so
For you are, you are my moonlight love;
Orchids are white,
Ghost ones are rare,
Brace are curly,
And so is your hair.
Magnolia grows,
With buds like eggs,
Hours are long,
And so are your legs.
You stand out at night so
For you are, you are my moonlight love;
Sunflowers reach,
Up to the skies,
My look is thoughtful,
And so are your eyes.
Foxgloves in hedges,
Surround the farms,
Sections are thin,
And so are your arms.
You stand out at night so
For you are, you are my moonlight love;
Daisies are pretty,
Daffies have style,
A room is warm,
And so is your smile.
A moonlight is beautiful,
Just like you.
You stand out at night so
For you are, you are my moonlight love;
3/5/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
Sitting at the pub,
The one where I once dwelled,
Hoped for being noticed,
Praying it's not still there,
A smile of reflection,
The person sitting in the chair,
Not the same as she once was,
No longer a bar fly with curly hair,
I remember all of the voices,
Friendships I thought were permanent,
Alcohol, glasses clashing,
Lips loose and eyes gazing,
What a different life I live now,
Now sitting for just a glimpse,
To relax, to remember,
Old feelings and yearning blazing,
Progress unmeasurable,
Entering the same environment,
A brief moment feeling a lifetime,
Intoxicated culture is no longer social,
Though it creeps and festers,
To sabotage together,
What joy in letting go and relaxing,
It must be temporary or is woeful.
The Vegetable Garden
The garden beckons in the newness of the morning –
Soft earth giving up the evening chill
As long sunbeams kiss the soil good morning.
Straight lines of carrots with curly tops
Dig deep into the daylight hours
Reaching down to be, at last, raised up.
Radishes and lettuce rows sway in the breath
Of foggy summer dawns leaving
Glistening dew before the sun appears.
Along the fence green pole beans scramble up
On lattice twined with tendrils
Climbing first to glimpse the garden growing.
Hummingbirds and butterflies come each day
To gaze and measure growth unseen
Just the day before.
The season ends with tall tomato plants
Filling harvest baskets with their scarlet bounty
As September bids seeds renew in sleep.
The garden beckons, no longer filled
With radish rows or carrot tops
But promises of newly planted apple trees.
I love the stories my granny will tell
From a much more simple time
The way she met Papa and in love they fell
She worked at the five and dime
Then there's the one of her driving lesson
Flying down a winding mountain
Her mom needed anxiety medicine
Eyes were closed and counting
Pictures match the stories of the time and place
Her high school years occurred
Blonde curly hair and an angel face
The trouble that she stirred
Throwing pies at the boys outside the window
In her home economics class
Such innocent mischief, a tough row to hoe
Poodle skirts, long socks and sass
She was a working woman for American Airlines
Full time job and mother of three
Well put together and looking so fine
Photographs for me to see
I love how she dotes on the love of her life
Such a handsome man was he
After a couple of dates, destined to be his wife
The start of my family
Under the bedclothes with my torch
I live in a land of dream,
where a forest grows with curly trees
and a canyon runs between
My light shines out, just like the sun,
allowing me to see,
two mountains rising in the air
as lovely as can be.
Descending down the canyon walls
all moist with steamy heat
my mind and body nearly stall
my heart pounds out it’s beat.
This place I’ve travelled many times
and every time renew
my passion for this lovely land
with such a heavenly view.
When daylight comes I know I’ll try
to share this lands deep wealth,
but now my batteries have run dry
so I’ll go to sleep myself!
Ivor G Davies
Traditional Indian hair composition
of a girl gets attraction
being curly and long
and that's the criterion.
Inheriting my maternal gene
I was proud to have
this type and naturally
was granted to own beautiful hair.
Admired in my rural community
from very childhood boosting my vanity.
Finishing School got admission in City College.
Surprised to know that
most praise worthy modern style
is accepted when hair is straightened.
Being born and brought up in suburbs,
I neither have any idea about beauty parlour
nor could afford that much luxury.
My best friend Anya was habituated
to go for facial and new hair set up
at least once a month and every time
requested me to do once, just as a trial .
Yet I have never been tempted.
At last one day she offered a gift
for hair setting in parlour accompanying her.
But I took decision
not to get any obligation.
She assured, no question to oblige
It's her pleasure
Coz the parlour offers
her free gift for any friend
once a year,
as she is a regular customer.
This year she is choosing me.
I agreed : So a girl started to care my hair
After washing and drying she took one hour
to set my hair style -
After completion of setting hair
she held a mirror in front of me
making me totally upset.
I was stunned and shocked to see
my hairs are completely straightened !
I couldn't recognise myself .
I yelled in anger
' Why have you done this to me ?
My outstanding pride of curly hair
has been lost forever.
I never told you to do this.'
She apologized and said
'No modern girl likes curly hair.
It's her discretion to satisfy me.
But no cause of worry,
I will regain my natural hair composition
after a fortnight.
I was relieved after two weeks,
regaining my natural curly hair
in glaze and glare.
After that I never dared to visit a parlour.
I am crazy with excitement,
Dizzy with anticipation,
I have seen your scan,
You will meet Gramps and me
For we are all family.
It will be somewhat soon,
I will buy a big pink balloon.
Your little foot is showing,
Your hair I think will be dark and curly,
Your mummy has nurtured you
From the moment you were conceived
Confined and safe within her womb.
Your dad ready to welcome you, delighted,
Can foresee his elation.
FOR MUMMY AND DADDY
Enjoy this little bundle of joy for time and
Age march on so quick, soon it will be
Her first birthday celebration,
Her first word, and don’t forget her pride
When she comes to mum and dad with
Her potty to show you her first poo.
Just have a small peek at her nappy,
You might need to change that too.
Both mom and dad, beautiful and bright,
Your little girl will be the apple of your eye,
As you tuck her into bed at night, either one
of you, with a loving thankful sigh.
THE LEARNING OF A LITTLE GIRL
My little daughter had a cute curly haired doll,
her company she couldn’t think of parting at all.
She made her arms the cradle for her to keep
even when with her she went to bed to sleep,
the only time the doll was out of her loving sight.
When she had turned over her doll one sad night
a tragedy struck, for in the morning she woke
to find the slender neck of her doll she broke.
Her cheeks were flooded in a torrent of tear
I tried but no words I could find to console her,
not even my assurance to buy her another new,
no doll could replace the broken one, she knew.
Without a doll the little girl remained with a broken heart
for she learnt how much the loss of loved ones could hurt.
October 1, 2018
Did you see that sweet little puppy,
So cute with curly hair?
Or how about that big Shepherd?
I can't pick one, it's not fair!
That's a darling little kitten,
I could dress it, that would be fun.
Aahh look at that ol' boy,
He looks lonely, is he the one?
There are budgies and colorful parrots,
Mice, gerbals and a fluffy brown bunny rabbit.
There are canaries that don't stop singing,
Even a cockatiel who has a bad habbit.
Over in a dark spot, coilled up, is a snake,
It's not as big as the lizard there,
And a salamander posed very still,
And the chamelian does'nt move a hair.
I go in every chance I get
Because I want a pet of my own.
But I can't decide which is the one
I want everyone that I'm shown!
The trumpet player is Wayne,
his passion for music drives him insane;
next door lives lonely Cassandra...
no, she isn't favorited by Charma!
Her days are spent in prayer...
oh, would a devoted Catholic nun refuse to hide her hair
that was curly and auburn?
Oh, it flames and waves like red leaves in late Autumn!
Cassandra has dedicated her life to Christ...
reminding all that they would return to dust;
she likes to sing and very rarely recites the rosary,
and singing she gathers crowds below her balcony!
Going to school I stop by to hear them,
such a gift is only given to some, ask Sam
who is the young pianist at the local church of martyrized Saint Stefan,
he praises them more than those saints in niches painted in pale brown!
Don't we resemble them in many undeniable ways,
expressing devotion for an ideal and deep love for the God of holiness?
Where do we find extraordinary individuals who sacrifice
all to get to Heaven through great strides keeping from the games of dice?