Long Drinks Poems
Long Drinks Poems. Below are the most popular long Drinks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drinks poems by poem length and keyword.
mom and me liked to picnic in summer
we made toast and orange juice and ice tea
eating on a wooden garden table
the cold juice was fresh and delicious
and the ice tea was sweet and so tangy
we liked our bread just plain, not to toasty
I would bring my writing journal and pen
and I would imagine and dream in words
mom's flowers were the symbols of beauty
I was drowning in deep surreal truths, thoughts
the whispering breeze my inspiration
we talked of human existence, of art
our food and drinks an artistic display
I felt the words flowing from my young soul
mom liked my interpretation of things
I wrote of birds and sounds, I painted words
and I read out loud my writing, my art
while mom and me had our garden picnic
____________________________
April 12, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/ Ekaphrasis/the garden picnic
Copyright Protected, ID 04-662-694-12
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Standard contest, Ekaphrasis 01,
sponsor Giorgio, Judged 05/2015
First Place
Listening to you complain all day
Gives me migraines beyond belief
Good grief, could you just shut your mouth?
I wish we can go our separate ways – me, going north and you, going south
Ah, my pain empire…
Let me be independent
Let me go and admire…
The dominant neglect
And accept…that my sorrow is erect…
In the ever-changing coma
Of smelling your amusing aroma
Volkswagens and its vulgar scent leaves me breathless
On the lane of insanity – I popped the vein of vanity…
I’m feeling worthless and abhorrent more or less…
Staring into space…
I loath when people talk behind their backs…
Left to be a soft-spoken grace…
Silent as the grave, cooing like the midnight owl…
Hearing the werewolves howl while hearing you scowl…
Forever…young – a so-called blessing in disguise
Eternal…happiness…hope…cheer…faith… Hey, girls and guys!
That’s what we all need… not this horrifying greed…
Nourishing my heart, mind and soul’s seed…feelin’ sensual sensation in anticipation…
Trying too hard to stay away from sex, drugs and alcohol best I can, but I fail like a witchy snitch
Trying to do non-dirty deeds, but I’m picking up the weeds of temptation…
I’m not the biggest fan of **** and what it did to me…upset by subliminal images that bleed through my cranium… hypnotized by the devil’s song…
Angels’ halos,
Blow me kisses and hugs…
Don’t sweep me under rugs…
Or in the backfire…
You’re a swine, but you are fine, for you are mine…
I take credit for your pain…
Your pain empire…
Hard times zip through my fuzzy brain…
Sometimes, the clock chimes…it stinks…
We eat on sandwiches and drink soft drinks…
My good mindset has caught a dim train…
But, let me feel
You like no big deal
Observe me for poetrys’ sake
For, I lie here wide awake
Until you sleep in my arms again
Again
Again…
The sun is hot
The birds all flock
The boats convene
Revelers serene
The drinks are cool
They make you drool
The wind blows soft
White sails aloft
Sleek Dolphins jump
The water thump
Our faces smile
For quite a while
This is the life
No thoughts of strife
Our own cocoon
Our sun - our moon
For just this while
We live in style
But all too soon
We're not immune
From noise and sound
Our senses pound
Reality hits back
Our peace off track
And yet we smile
For but a while
Thoughts of that day
When we might say
The sun is hot
The birds all flock
The boats convene
Revelers serene
LIFE AND LOVE
Days Running Bleaker~
No more sufferings ~ Enlightening life ~
Uplifting Life ~
Thirsty life drinks desires ~
Life is precious ~ Life to live ~
Hopeful Life is Glorious~
Charm of Life ~ In Depth of Your Blue Eyes
As we met~ Beside The Fountain~
At the Park~ Autumn Leaving~
Crescent Moon Shining~
Shining Starlight ~
On Passing Cloud There Floats a Dream ~
The Memorable Moment ~ Sweet Heart ~
My Sweet Heart ~ Me ~ Mad in Love~
Come and Find Me in My Solitude ~
I am crushing on you ~ My love ~
My Yearnings !~ Burning in Fire ~
Sink and Sense ~Birth of Passion ~
Red Roses ~ A Garland of Jasmine ~
Aroma Roams ~
Come Dear ~ Hold Me in Your Arms ~
Love My Dear ~ You complete me ~
Never Let Me Go ~
I empty the night you rise the Sun ~
I am always right here ~
I am with you ~ We are together ~
Hello Dear~ Love And Dream For New Year~
Love you forever ~
07/05/19
Second Place
'Collaboration Of Your Titles' Contest by charles messina
To win the lottery, it would be a dream,
To buy the best things, I ever have seen.
The fancy cars, and exquisite meals,
No need to hunt, for the Christmas deals.
All the money that you ever would need,
The certainty of food, for mouths to feed.
To win the lottery, you have to agree,
The best thing to happen, to you or me.
The things you could do, with a lottery win,
The friends you can help, your partners and kin.
But never forget, your good old roots,
Whilst you’re wearing, them thousand pound boots.
And riding around, in that fancy car,
And drinking them drinks, at a private bar.
You are still you, no matter the change,
Even though your account, will look quite strange,
To have enough money, to help who you desire,
You now have the money, to be a home buyer.
Don’t throw your old self away in the bin,
Just because of your lottery win
Money isn’t everything, though it would be nice,
To eat some caviar, instead of beans and rice,
To drive that car, and not walk to work,
To go on holiday, that would be a perk.
A dream it is, for a lottery win,
I wouldn’t know, at where to begin.
But at the moment, I will just keep trying,
I’ll make a list, of the things I’m buying
I am a cliché
A soul walked along the water
The winds yelling cliché cliché
A dark soul was on the other side waiting
The winds yelled again cliché cliché
The two souls met inside this cliché
Of dark poetic solitude
They ordered drinks and black roses
In the cafe of clichés
From the skies appeared an Angel
Looking down upon this earth
At the clichés of life
The angel too walked in the bar of dead souls
Immediately she realized
I have walked into a cliché of dreams
The most terrible of poem and verse
Attacks my very, my very, yes oh yes, my very soul
Then it dawned on this angel of the evening
That he too is a cliché and somewhat confused
The three of them in the darkness of life’s parodies
They downed some shots and spilled some blood
Slightly inebriated one looked at the other two?
He demanded what the hell is a cliché anyways?
The darkest of souls, replied, I think is Spanish for friends!
This narrative my friend is a poetic rendition of the three amigos
Touché
Ops
I mean cliché
My Lobster means it too
Cease the moment and love unfolds
Stay within and time is still
A thousand swords swing against a single bladed spear
A surviving champion feared has the advantage
How long can his strength hold out
Slice and slash, lunge and pull a hundred dead before you
Shaky swords gleam in the scorching sun
You sweat but they bleed a hundred more fall
Like a haunting ballad of death, beauty in motion
a single soul as machine cuts and slaughters
a wall of human flesh the thirsty ground drinks blood
My enemies have come for my people
an invasion of a force too strong
Refusing to surrender, refusing to betray
a hundred more fall
Bewitched and stun are his foe
admiring his skill and technique
his will and his strength, raw courage
He fights for freedom of his people, for a love he never speaks
to a Queen he swears complete devotion
Down they fall a hundred here a hundred there
Around and around he swirls his mighty spear
the blade so sharp their blood so red
and again a hundred more are dead
How by heavens can he go on
The lord of his enemies lower his hand
two hundred archers shoot a shower of arrows
He swings high his bladed spear a hundred arrows
cut in half and a hundred foe shot down dead
A young princess in shiny armor aims her bow and shoots
her arrow pierces through his chest as he stops cold
Hunched over and held up by clinging to his grounded spear
Whats left of the swordsmen too afraid to approach
Amongst the circle of dead he lifts up his head
his life bleeding away, the mighty warrior screams out
My Queen lives, she is free and breathes his last breath
The princess in her armor of gold approaches him
across the field of death she reaches the mighty warrior
His head bowed his body stands, his hands death grip on his spear
His blood spilled onto the ground she knows he finally dies
My Lord, My Father he is dead, shall we feed his corspe to the dogs
No. He is honored by fire, burned onto a mountain of his
slain enemies, flames roar high, as his spirit ascends
into a realm of peace for a taste of Nirvana
Hitler accidentally bombed his nephew's house
In Liverpool, so he joined the U.S. to fight with the Allies
A blue whale's tongue weighs more than an elephant
Now aren't you really glad you tuned in?
There are two hundred million insects for every human
Wouldn't have gone camping if I knowed that!
We weigh slightly less when the moon is directly overhead
Due to the gravitational effect
Too bad the moon doesn't shine all day
100 lightning strikes occur worldwide every second
Stay indoors!!!
Humans grow about 8mm every night while asleep
But revert back to their normal height the next day
Oh so glad, otherwise we'd spend a fortune on new clothes
250 people have fallen off the Leaning Tower of Pisa
Guess they leaned a little bit too much
1 in 28 American school-aged children
Have a parent in either state or federal prison
Holy crap! A really great example to follow
A single healthy human male produces enough sperm
In two weeks to impregnate every fertile woman on the planet
Uh! I volunteer my services... no charge!
Although gold is a heavy dense metal
It is generally considered non-toxic
Gold flakes may even be ingested in foods or drinks
No wonder restaurant meals are so high
Pope Francis once worked as a bouncer in a Buenos Aires bar
“Doing God's work?”
Mozart wrote a canon entitled “Leck mich im Arsch”
Which loosely translated means “Lick my deriere”
Nuff said!!!
Woke up to a new life in Egypt
I was young not more than seventeen years
Adorned with gold and precious stones
My body was in the shroud of silk and jewels in my hair
I sat on a throne as a Queen
My name was Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile
During the day I lay on the silk cushions
and dozed in the shade of palm trees
Beautiful men and women kept flitting
around me with all sorts of temptations
Fed me all sorts of fruit and cold drinks
When evening came, it was time for romance
As Queen I had many to choose
My choice was of course:
"The greatest men of Rome"
Julius Caesar and Marcus Antonius
Why choose one when I can have two?
On a long journey down the Nile with
my love Julius Caesar, I was forced to
make a choice.
But a choice one must take...and the
choice was that I gave birth to a son
and Julius Caesar was the father
My love life was not popular
my husband was killed and I
was no longer popular
It was no longer a life of happiness and joy
No, it was war and national mouming
and I would not live anymore
18.03.2012
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
For six days, the sky has opened its palms
over Awka, over Nnobi, over the red earth
that drinks and drinks and never says enough.
Today, the rain began in the dark,
while the moon hid her face and the rooster slept,
and now the sun has risen, bold and bright,
yet the rain refuses to go.
It pours like a promise kept,
like the voice of the ancestors
speaking from the clouds,
not in anger, but in abundance.
The sky is a calabash,
and it is not yet empty.
This is the season of the yam,
the first fruit lifted from the ground,
offered to the gods who remember
the taste of sweat and the smell of new soil.
Even in Nnobi, where my people dance
with white chalk on their foreheads,
the rain joins the celebration—
not as a stranger, but as a kinsman.
Let it fall.
Let it soak the thatch and the roads,
let it fill the streams and the song of the frogs.
The yam is fat beneath the ground,
and the rain is its midwife.
This is not a flood; it is a blessing.
This is not a delay; it is a rhythm.
July has passed its baton to August,
and the rain has not forgotten its duty.
It falls on the market women
who spread their wares under zinc,
on the children who splash through puddles,
on the elders who nod and say,
"This is how it was in our time."
So let the sky be bright and the rain be heavy.
Let the new yam be eaten with joy.
For even the sun knows when to bow
to the water that gives life.
And we, the children of the earth,
know when to raise our hands
and say thank you.
For Awka, for Nnobi, for the rain that knows its season.
Chukwuemeka Ezeulukpu