Long Expensive Poems
Long Expensive Poems. Below are the most popular long Expensive by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expensive poems by poem length and keyword.
...Eventually his lost child
grew up and turned eighteen,
and his ex-wife wed a doctor,
to whom she could be mean.
Bob finally had some life back,
but just about that time
his mother was put in a home,
Alzheimer's claimed her mind.
The care was hugely expensive,
and much to his chagrin,
she hadn’t saved a single cent…
so much for western winds.
He was fifty-three when she passed,
stress had taken its toll,
he worked and slept and not much else,
his every joint felt old.
With nothing left to hold him there,
and tightness in his chest,
he booked a week-long riding trip,
finally made it west.
He’d been riding for but two days
when his vision went dim,
clutched his heart and fell from his horse,
while riding western winds.
I saw it all, was his trail guide,
heard the man’s last words.
He said to bury him nearby,
it sounded quite absurd.
But knowing how long he’d waited
to ride the wild trails,
I relayed his words to a judge,
and finally prevailed.
We buried him out on that spot,
and though it seems quite grim,
I smile ’cause in the next world
Bob rides those western winds.
I made up my mind.
I'll not go there again.
The marriage institution
Too expensive to cater for.
I'll not marry again.
Once beaten twice shy.
They say.
I have believed what papa told me.
I was not too young for it.
I was not poor for it.
But never met her satisfaction.
I'll not marry again.
Were it not for my friends.
I could have gone nutters.
All my rights were her wrongs.
I loved her but....
Not an element of love left in my heart.
I won't love again.
A better leaf I thought I was turning.
But I was wrong.
I won't marry again.
Mama expect no grandchildren.
An adoption can do it right.
Let me follow my heart.
I won't marry again.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
To The women I love
-------------------------
Written by:
Männer si Léift
-----------------------------
"maintaining spatial consistency"
He tried to impress them with buying flying cars
buuilding "The Hillside Mansion"
3 custom Limos
He bought 2 Posh' Si Sports cars (rarest and most expensive car in the world)
he had horses
cattle
he tried raising ostrich
he owned a cactus leather plant
he made fashion wear and boots
he was rich wealthy and wise
until he meet her!
"Beautiful and smartmouthed"said one reporter
"suprising someone born so poor could
afford to be so dumb" said another.
"He has to love her: and maybe only he can" wrote
Tishtin Dale of Pretty People Magizine.
The return of actual paper news papers
was done using her as the first person in 20 years
to be one the cover. It din't flop
it was a great success to everyone
except those who dispised her.
When her goats and ducks became missing
people laughed
until they found weird things happening
around the world linked to
poeople who did simular things.
Aleins from Space had been taking these animals
said one sceintist.
He was found tied to a fence in a nearby city waken by strangers he told
a story of being telported and flying above the earth.
a huge chunck of gold
had been found in a very poor part of the city
and city leaders heard tale of aliens pointing sticks at mounds of dirt
and leaving the hot substance
there
only for people to find these large chuncks of gold
in the ghetto,
The claimers act of 2029 allowed these poor people to become super rich over night.
A story about a man flying without equipment
bending steel bars
they said he raced a locomotive
and stood in front of rolling boulders and stopped
them with his mere hands.
He took a steel building frame and used his eyes to heat it so he could walk through to retreive a lost kitten.
Preist and Preacher condemed him
while crowd gathered and jeered and whistled to him.
He used super speed to out pace lava, he
punched his way through granite so the lava
could flow under ground.
Jeolously reigned across the land and suddenly
men created machines and devices to challenge him!
Butterflies cover my eyes with beauty beyond my own desires
Overwhelming lush sweeps through my skin as if I had bathed in aloe or wore an expensive silk attire
The power from the sun rejuvenate my spirit
Heart filled with joy and mind filled with so much peace that you could hear it
Flowers start dancing every time the wind walks by
To the rhythm and beat along the riverside
My God, what a mighty love you are
Thank you for staying near me and not afar
In the dark, I fear not, for you are with me
You are the true guide and light to thy destiny
For my ways are not yours and that’s what makes you great
You gave the Gift to me for my soul’s sake
As I walk around this cold and rugged world
A light of your face shines out like the word
For you are not hard to find
Protecting me from all that’s unkind
So my life each day becomes new
In my view
In the beginning there was a lonely word but soon after
there was no room at the meagre hostel for the saviour
Sanguine hopes flash-flooded the sanctuary of hearts
sacrificial blood of Christ awaited to be spilt in vain
Spelt out the message of rusty nails corroding on cross
bones mounted the flesh ready for vanishing memories
Lest we forget Christmas it amounts to summits of wrappers
luxurious gifts opulent indigestion after a vainglorious feast
Reindeer and global delivery services occlude the notion that
taking stock is not about counting presents but reducing the cost
Jesus flashes from i-pads I this and I that please give me more
extra goods additional abundance mince pies and stuffing
Belching and flatulent Tim reaches for his heartburn medication
tastes uppers and downers sniffs white powder on bank cards
His wife smears the makeup she grabbed from under the tree
her new perfume a bountiful offering of disguised scented myrrh
No sense for frank frankinsence as she sniffs expensive fragrances
from benefaction bottle’s decadence and reduces benediction to myth
Gift wrap explodes from the fireplace in the mix of unopened packets
just after Father Christmas has made a lucky escape from the scene
Arson of gluttony self-inflicted suffering self-immolation of sorts
sorts out this unholy communion followed by smouldering mourning
The insurance company refuses to pay as they insist that the couple
had backed the wrong course of action in vile contempt of true faith
They however donate a beautiful bible of careful calligraphy
with gilded ornamentation bound in leather and lather of time
There are no walls standing for wailing when Tim and his spouse
and it remains to be seen whether they might find a mangled manger
To resume business as usual or take refuge in meaning and truth
when the word in the beginning had become a sorry blank canvas
18th November 2018
Contest Christmas Mourning
Sponsor P.S. AWTRY
Established in our acts of greeting.
Found and sounded in a meeting.
Manners present, kindness sown.
Etiquette of which is shown
Throughout a standing or seating.
Extending common courtesy
Is most ideal for you and me.
As we converse and project,
Understanding and respect...
Mutual, they both should be.
Some folks have an attitude,
Seeing them come off as rude.
True that first impressions last...
Food for thought - spoken to cast
A fishing line inside a mood.
Questions which I ask of you...
Nowadays of at least two
Within a group, does etiquette
Play the part of a silhouette...
A shadow in itself, played through?
Sometimes seemingly forgotten,
Its techniques are doomed and rotten.
Some people serve this reminder.
Etiquette still plays a binder...
Mental candy to its cotton.
The simple use of a serviette.
Mindfulness of a cigarette.
Please and thank you go a long way.
The making of another's day
Could be complimentary yet.
Undergoing formal handshake.
Gratefulness in what we take.
Others' needs in front of yours.
The offering to open doors...
Sometimes, left ajar to make.
Avoid behaviour apprehensive.
Choice to not voice the offensive.
Proper usage prevents storms.
Demonstrated in its forms,
Etiquette is not expensive.
A wooden carving of a regal and grand horse stands,
outside to greet and usher customers into the dim.
The windows are a cluttered chaos of assorted things,
all beckoning and charming me to venture in.
The light is dappled and the corners lost in shadows,
aisles are narrow and navigation is so treacherous.
I like a box of odd books, some new and some old,
wondering why someone let these perfect gems go.
Most of the merchandise is too expensive for this girl,
but sometimes a treasure is awaiting my contemplation.
One mismatched plate, perhaps, or an old poetry book,
I love to ponder jewelry flamboyant, garish and gaudy.
The entire store is filled with odd, mismatched things,
I visit an ornate dressing table each time I visit there.
Imagining that it resides in my very own sparse room,
it is a journey into the unknown each time for sure.
_____________________
June 21, 2013
Poetry/Verse/The Door Is Open
Copyright Protected, ID 06-487-555-21
All Rights Reserved, 2013, Constance La France
I was an odd little girl. At a very early age writing, and seeking out nature. I
loved to wander libraries and art galleries, while other little girls played with
dolls together. A loner, lost within my thoughts. I grew up to be a bit eccentric
and offbeat. My style of dressing is whimsical and unique to me. I love
seeking out vintage. The key is to not wear too much at one time! My pose
and mannerisms are quiet and gentle, people have commented on how calm
I seem. I found my Zen a long time ago. I do yoga and meditate each day.
Something about me is my need to know what is going on in the world.
I watch the local news, the Canadian news (yes, I am from Canada), varied US
news, and the World news each morning. Only then can my day begin! It is an
oddity I think as so many do not listen or read about the news. I like to read
books but not on a Kindle or on the computer I want, must actually hold a
book, I love the feel of the pages in my hands. I collect old books, well old and
fragile anything. A beautiful vase or plate with a chip perhaps found in second
hand shops. I do not need an expensive antique to satisfy my need for "old".
Well, that's the oddity of me, a whimsical, unique and a bit offbeat girl.
the forest quiet
the sound of soft snow falling-
I stop listening
_____________________
February 7, 2018
Poetry/Haibun/'This Quirky Girl'
Copyright Protected, ID 9985-61-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the contest, Your Favorite Poem Written In February
Sponsor, Laura Loo
Third Place
In the fifties, sixties and seventies eighteen-year-olds left home.
They did not come back either. They were “grown”.
They either went to college, the service, trade school or to war.
Some went into matrimony at eighteen.
Today’s eighteen-year-olds stick around longer.
They like the conveniences at their parents’ home.
They like internet; it is expensive.
They like having a phone, also expensive.
They do not care about being independent.
They like being kept.
I know a woman who said “I will never have grandchildren.”
I said “You don’t know that.”
She has two sons. They are forty-four and forty-six,
Still living at home. Neither ever left.
They sleep all day and play video games at night.
She does their laundry, provides their meals, and pays their bills.
She is too busy to have grandchildren anyway.
My uncle is dead.
Funeral or no funeral?
He was a blue baby; born dead.
Oxygen did not get to his brain in time.
The doctor worked on him too long.
He had multiple mental, social and emotional challenges.
He was sweet talked into a very expensive pre-paid funeral
by a cagey greedy funeral director with no morals.
He signed a contract.
The family could not get the contract annulled.
I have not seen this uncle for fifty years.
He was in a group home for most of that time.
Four people are attending.
I will not make the fifth.
I loathe the funeral home director.
Not relishing spending, one second trying to exchange niceties.
Update
His funeral was not attended by four.
Only two showed up.
That is two more people than he would allow to visit.
The last few years of life he was afraid of people as well as electricity, lightning, thunder, electrical cords, knives, brooms, and sixty other things.
Sadly the two who showed were not speaking.
One being a non-vaxed non-masked niece.
The other being a masked niece wearing a mask.
They both telephoned me to complain about the other.
I truly am glad I did not attend.