Long Discoloration Poems
Long Discoloration Poems. Below are the most popular long Discoloration by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Discoloration poems by poem length and keyword.
Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.
She started what would immediately become
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.
I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle tough
heavily stained articles of clothing
(after her weary cowboy husband
comes back home on the range
after a hot day rustling cattle)
think underwear of mine -
whereat even bleach
falls short of removing
stubborn noticeable discoloration)
such gusto similarly applied
to glassware or cookware caked
with crusty hardened food.
After washing wearable goods,
she squeezes the excess water
from saturated item(s)
and drapes still moderately wet garment
over drying racks
despite the availability
of clothes washers and dryers
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments.
Though she continues to threaten
with colorful epithets
never to wash my clothes ever again,
her words ring hollow
when some time elapses
and... guess what?
yepper, her hands slide down
into the behavioral sink
and I make sure
to acknowledge gratitude,
yet admit to falling short
of filling in the blank
(with a select response),
when she asks me
what will I give her in return.
Earlier in our
almost thirty year marriage,
we (I more so than the wife)
used to be conditional
and if asked a favor,
the immediate response
from yours truly (me)
just so happened to be
what do I get in return?
That Pavlovian feedback loop
occurred way before
my libido took a kamikaze dive,
into a suicide mission
a strong suspicion arises
(but I dare not utter
a premature ejaculation)
videlicet that being adverse effects
linkedin with one or more
of the nine prescription medications
ingested for mental health issues
such as anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and palmar hyperhidrosis
could be the only logical explanation,
and interestingly enough,
I breathe a sigh of relief
cuz all to often sexual fantasies
ofttimes filled every waking
and sleeping hour of mine.
Donning rubber gloves, the wife does washing of clothes and dishes...
(plus cutlery, pots pans, et cetera) in the kitchenette sink.
She started what would immediately become
a first and last generation tradition
(the spouse as washer woman
and scullery maid)
soon after we moved here
eight years ago come July 1st, 2025.
I trumpet her pioneer spirit
to apply elbow grease
(to tackle tough
heavily stained articles of clothing
(after her weary cowboy husband
comes back home on the range
after a hot day rustling cattle)
think underwear of mine -
whereat even bleach
falls short of removing
stubborn noticeable discoloration)
such gusto similarly applied
to glassware or cookware caked
with crusty hardened food.
After washing wearable goods,
she squeezes the excess water
from saturated item(s)
and drapes still moderately wet garment
over drying racks
despite the availability
of clothes washers and dryers
here on the premises
of Highland Manor Apartments.
Though she continues to threaten
with colorful epithets
never to wash my clothes ever again,
her words ring hollow
when some time elapses
and... guess what?
yepper, her hands slide down
into the behavioral sink
and I make sure
to acknowledge gratitude,
yet admit to falling short
of filling in the blank
(with a select response),
when she asks me
what will I give her in return.
Earlier in our
almost thirty year marriage,
we (I more so than the wife)
used to be conditional
and if asked a favor,
the immediate response
from yours truly (me)
just so happened to be
what do I get in return?
That Pavlovian feedback loop
occurred way before
my libido took a kamikaze dive,
into a suicide mission
a strong suspicion arises
(but I dare not utter
a premature ejaculation)
videlicet that being adverse effects
linkedin with one or more
of the nine prescription medications
ingested for mental health issues
such as anxiety, dysthymia,
obsessive compulsive disorder,
and palmar hyperhidrosis
could be the only logical explanation,
and interestingly enough,
I breathe a sigh of relief
cuz all to often sexual fantasies
ofttimes filled every waking
and sleeping hour of mine.
Memory-rejuvenating…
Though fading, they evoke exuberance
of childhood achievements, verily delighting
midst milestones of might, mercy and miracles
while emerging triumphant from falls
to gain high fives, surpassing Olympic medals---
Oh, that was me with my Mom and Dad, very supportive
after my Kindergarten speech, successful by their directive!
Nostalgia-refueling…
Albeit decades of storage, they assert
adolescence-propelled vibrancy
inviting me to yearn for sports exhibitions or
outdoor games and festive celebrations
where vigor, valor, and vitality prevail---
Wow, that was me with my siblings, fully dressed
as courageous cowgirl and cowboys, indeed blessed!
Oblivion-renouncing…
Despite discoloration-attack
they keep on resurrecting every
family-bonding and faith-fervency fellowship
never to be buried in forgetfulness
along modern digital photography---
Oh, that was me with our clan, so filled with mirth
during big brother’s wedding, beyond royalty’s worth!
Throwback-refreshing…
Against complete fading, they deserve
restoration as precious treasures
recording jubilant events kept in the hearts
reinforcing occasions lingering in the minds
reminding goodness, greatness and graciousness of God---
Yes, that was me with loved ones, singing praises* to the Almighty
assured by His promise of eternal life and redemption toward eternity!
*Psalm 95:1 O come, let us sing unto the LORD: let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation.
September 18, 2024
3rd place, "Letters or Photographs" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Ink Empress; judged on 10/5/2024
I am small among fields of red flowers.
They look toward me and watch as time presses
its skeletal fingers into my limbs.
Yes, this is my body now: a startling
mosaic of death-colored discoloration.
Thumbprints corrode me like an oil spill,
such unglamorous stains. I am other,
not red—still alone, even among these
populous blossoms. They waver in front
of my eyes and sway like ghosts unafraid
even of death, haunting me, taunting me,
courageous though they are the picture of
transience. Life for them is set in stone
as summer (arcing upward from the spring
only to flatline in the fall), but mine
is a winter, refusing to betray
its ambiguous end. It begins to
click for me, why I am lost among them.
The agony of “other” almost brands
my throat closed—almost. You are not them,
it yells; yet with my blue-black arms outstretched
I waver too. It is I, I call out.
In graceful parentheses—it is I,
(the scared one). But for all my courage,
they cannot answer: dying keeps them on
a tight schedule, and the sun is setting
sooner and sooner now. I learn firsthand
that autumn is a study in endings
of all different shapes in sizes. Flowers,
for instance, have their brains blown out, losing
blood in scarlet succession; like soldiers,
they wear annihilation as a badge.
Mine is different—slower, protracted.
I have to wait; it does not come on cue
although these bruises are expensive too.
I pay for them just under the surface,
in currency death takes time to exchange.
22 June 2010
A Breakaway
For mankind has the power to think big
History puts them on the pedestal of their career
Aimless drifting until fatally engaged into a drilling rig
Raised a surface at the heart of the sea to exploit oil on its frontier
Oil wells at the deepest sea-bed formed million years ago
Also, a marine habitat that proliferates at the cold bottom
Rendezvous for waterfowl and aquatic mammals arrived apropos
To add spectacle to the blue water, as accustomed
The freshwater flowing in a cascade of sparks
The sea free access to an ocean while some in landlocked
Life on Earth comes in the seas and we proceed to embark
As ocean currents supply the heat energy round the clock
Many ritually unclean substances are passing into oceans
Adulterating the purity of water in its freshness
Oil spills from off-shore and tanker spread discoloration
Suffocating marine life and ingesting illness
Chronicling the ecological cycle literally affect the food chain
Stripping resistant to their organic structure and suffer
From the toxins of oil spill prevents water replenishment
Coating aquatic surface with stain holding tougher
A closer look at dead birds and aquatic mammals
Leaving a baleful mark on the waterways
Cleaning up the breakdown oil is costly and fatal
That I may see no more escalating sense of bad omen into the ocean’s forays
13th place winner to:
GULF OIL SPILL CONTEST
7/4/2010 Sponsored by Team PoetrySoup
An internal interlinking corroding pipe in an intersection is often assumed to be safe as cracks are not appearing outwardly so it would appear to be nothing was wrong. Unassuming looks. With no surface discoloration can disguise and harness not only inner truths but also conceal a past stranded in time. Is this the answer? It certainly allows for mass control. The serially adjusted sites swept over with sand and sea. Pipe lands lock people out. Very tall wires. A landscape unentered except for nomadic beetle bugs and birds from the aerial perspective. Great. No actually not great. The fortress weeds and reeds laugh with the sands at the mankind above. Whilst a spade is thrust in a bomb arrives. But not to say hello. Pictures in ashes. Palliative care gone. Unseen but seen. As arrival is predicted in a smoke by wrinkled weathered faces. And the acrid smells of an ancient sect. Orally transmitted. Good. And the dance of the eleven winds could entertain the flying serpents but the camels much prefer being entertained by a breeze blowing bubbles. Shush now for a shell is whispering great wisdoms to a two hundred foot stone who was yawning. Radiuses' ravished reached rabid rabbis'. And a dopey dog barking in a courtyard on a rope. Currant bun then? Squish squash. Xx anthropomorphic Z.
Form:
After injection,inhalation,or ingestion,the first symptoms to appear are muscle spasms.They appear very quickly after inhalation or injection within as few as five minutes and take somewhat longer to manifest after ingestion,typically approximately 15 minutes.With a high dose,the onset of respiratory failure and brain death can occur in 15 to 30 minutes.If a lower dose is ingested,other symptoms begin to develop,including seizures,cramping,stiffness,agitation and hypervigilance.Seizures caused by poisoning can start as early as 15 minutes after exposure and last 12–24 hours.They are often other adverse symptoms, including hyperthermia,rhabdomyolysis,myoglobinuric,kidney failure,metabolic acidosis,and respiratory acidosis.As poisoning progresses,tachycardia(rapid heart beat),hypertension(high blood pressure),tachypnea(rapid breathing), cyanosis(blue discoloration),diaphoresis(sweating),water-electrolyte imbalance, leukocytosis(high number of white blood cells),trismus(lockjaw),risus sardonicus (spasm of the facial muscles),and opisthotonus(dramatic spasm of the back muscles,causing arching of the back and neck)can occur.
Note.Chemical Drink,Drugs and Injection Game.
She is eighteen and tattoos are the latest rage." I'd like a tattoo please" she asks. I see a young girl in a messy ponytail and wonder if she'll pick something gaudy, then I will have to oblige.
The boldness of youth
can appear so uncouth
yet reveal so much truth.
"I want a tattoo of a winter vine. One that won't fade with time" As the machine begins to “buzz” the armature bar hits the coil and I begin to work. Stretched on her upper arm I notice the discoloration of skin, a slow petering bruise.
Eyes color of snake
she is all heartache
I take a break...
"Why did you choose a vine?" I ask, as the coil tattoo gun soothes her ears. "Last memory of my mom is from a trip to the winery. She told me the sap sinks into the roots and the vine falls asleep until the next year.
the tendril climbs
this is her time
not mine
From her handbag, fifty old crumpled dollar bills. " How much do I owe?" she asks. I say " No charge." She smiles and then leaves, as if on cue...
be sure to tell your doctor,
and tell the pharmacist too,
everything, every ache of head,
every salty-smelling scent
every painful bump,
every discoloration underwent
if you have had bitten lip syndrome,
if you experienced excessive tears
or had feelings of dizzy giddiness,
or felt the envy of your peers
if you've ever had the symptoms
of a broken heart or just
fell into a lovers schism
or ever thought hard on priapism
be sure to tell your trainer,
your friends and your confidant too,
that love and life just might be fatal
not to approach them nonchalantly
say the daily dosage is important
the timing too is vital
to avoid reactions inadvertent
and have prognosis of good survival
say on your lifelong loving quest
nurture your natural proclivity
be sure to get the necessary rest
and balance your diet and activity
don't take in too much sweets
and don't worry about the stress
live life and love it complete
is the finest print I can suggest
© Goode Guy 2012-08-08
Just getting ready to open the door,
an old door with six panes of glass
filling the upper half of the door,
like six frames of distinct pictures
into the world.
Wanting to step outside and take a deep breath
of this warming spring morning,
but noticed one of the panes was different
than the others, distorted slightly,
like old time glass.
I took some time to look at the pane,
to find a slight discoloration of the glass.
All the window panes looked out onto a porch
and a backyard with trees just starting to leaf
and a few daffodils that were announcing
another spring was arriving.
But that one pane, with a differing hue
provided a slightly yellowish tint to the yard.
It made the daffodils even brighter and
the yard more sun drenched than it was.
It was, like art. One small sliver of the world
but it drew me in to take a deeper look.
I was reminded of the satisfaction that is found
by enjoying the small, unique things in life.