Long Expired Poems
Long Expired Poems. Below are the most popular long Expired by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Expired poems by poem length and keyword.
I was rushing a project, due at 6,
With a messy top, I couldn’t resist
Arranging trays with photos of my man;
Such thick debris, a whole clean-up began.
A jar of expired tea spilled on my chest
Now, this made me shake off a lunch hour’s rest.
My hands pulled out scarves, lotion, and fake gems
From a drawer filled with old beauty items!
Then, I checked a pile of discs that was needed
Yet my eyes found notes, memos never read.
By 4 pm, job mates helped me wipe out
Heaps of litter, junk mail pouring like spouts.
Oh deadline came while I froze on page 1,
Knowing the boss would demand a rerun!
Sara Kendrick's Today I Accomplished
5/18/2015
Sunny smile, beanie baby
Drunk and fuzzy, oh so gone
Binge on uppers, feeling hazy
Won’t even answer your phone
When you take them you feel better
Like a bird or star, so free
If we cut open your center
There’ll be jewels for eyes to see
Milk turned sour, by the hour
Numbers stamped into your skin
Bloom and whither like a flower
Limbs in needles and in pins
Sucking on it like a candy
It stopped feeling like it’s fun
Some cheap , nothing too fancy
Makes all of your fingers numb
Choke a girl out, what a cop out
Cops on your ass, flying heels
Crawl back to him, ask for bailout
You don’t practice your ideals
You were youthful when you knew me
In our house you were the child
Now your body’s all mildewy
Didn’t know you’d go expired
I am a brown and yellow daisy, called a black-eyed Susan, my name is Daisy
I wake up early every morning and open my velvety petals covered with dew
I dance in the breeze, waiting for the bee boss and crew to feed on my nectar
My little ones are just starting to sprout, I am hoping for a warm sunny day
My hubby was getting old and frail and dropping his petals, wilting over
He then suddenly expired by my owner, she quickly plucked him away
I think the strong, red rose wants his place, he is growing closer to me
He smells so deliciously fragrant and his thorns are magnificently prickly
Oh no, here comes my owner with pruning shears walking this way
Phew, I was almost stepped on, sadly she took my red rose away
Here comes the bees, buzzing around, my owner backs off, afraid
Ahh, a moment of joy, to feel the tickles and kisses from the bees
My littles ones all survived, still sprouting, ready to open up soon
We are mostly ignored and not picked until we are old and wilted
My worst fear is the huge loud green monster that I see weekly
It destroys my friends and sometimes cuts away my flower family
1/24/2021
Contest: Your 2021 N-A Choice' Poetry Contest
Sponsor: William Kekaula
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smashing! there she goes swaying her strut in red stilettos
with a lady gaga ’do, vamp gear and rockin’ diva blues…
"hottie P.D." that’s what she’s called.. ready to prance at
her latest night call, another gig for chilling a dish
at the flaming la vida loca bar: strictly for exclusive members
only, she ain’t on the list… hmmm,
sly fox down to two altoids and twenty bucks in her leased
armani tote. you guessed it right! she bats her long lashes
at the bomber’s gate; swooshes past the queue
using victoria’s secret model’s gait… what a RAAWWR!
surveying the lair, the sly destroyer skips no beat---
there’s her catch, a dumb-- looking frog, a sort of
prince dude. time for the bait, ready to down tons of martini,
tequila, whatever she won’t regret... ooh my, the vixen
slants a tyra pose caressing her mane smoothie smooth.
dumb frog approaches his " prey"--- that’s what’s lurking
on dude’s snail brain…” foxy lady, you beat the tar out of me!”.
PD coos,“ big boy, you better show me punk cuz i settle
for nothin’ less than a big score.”
flashing his platinum card on the deck, sly fox rattles off drinks
on top of the heap. whoa, a little bit of sweet talking and fast touching,
sly destroyer goes for the kill..“ an uptown throb you are,
smokin’ hon-- you care to bring your babe home in your
limo ,bimbo?” and frog croaks, “ wait babe, will bring it on!”
with another long wink, her last crime…hahaha, from PD’s
devilish voodoo blink, all she needed was a fancy hitch big time home.
sly destroyer whams it again! but wait.. frog is gone for friggin
30 minutes… turns out, the platinum card expired and stolen. drat!…
who’s the sly destroyer.. and who’s the flaky loser?
( just for fun!)
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--- CONTEST: P.D.'s " Inner Animal "
Times have changed at such a fast rate
With technology I don’t understand
I feel like an alien in my own world
Im so completely out of date!
Oh, for the simple days of little frustration
When the t.v had four channels and it was free
You had to physically turn the t.v knob
Disputing who’s turn it was to get up and change the station
When the family phone was attached to a wall
For the whole family to use
It was big ,clunky with a rotary dial
And all it could do was call
When a camera was used to take photos
That had a film roll inside
To take to the chemist to get developed
In either “matt or gloss” to pick up in a week or so
When correspondence was hand written or typed
Enclosed in an envelope with stamp then mailed
Music was played on a record player or radio
Dishes were hand washed and wiped
Now it’s all computerised
With passwords and codes
Beeping, flashing and telling you NO
Kept in clouds in the sky!!
I know technology and progress are a need
And one has to move with the times
There are so many positives and benefits
But I miss those uncomplicated , simple days indeed!
I want some chicken noodle soup. I find two cans in the pantry and check the expiration dates so I’ll be sure to open the can that will expire the earliest. First can—August 2026. Second can—February 2019. I stare at the second date in disbelief. I look at the date again, as if I can wish it to change. The date doesn’t change. February 2019. I take the expired can and set it aside for ecofriendly disposal. I open the first can and heat up my lunch. M’m! M’m! Good!
Later, I tell my wife about it. “Uhg! Now I’ll have to check the dates on everything” she says as she heads toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to do it now” I offer. “No, I’ve already started.” I smile and nod, happy that she’s so diligent. Less than an hour later she reports that she threw away several items including the salt. “Why did you throw away the salt?” “Because it expired in 2022.” “Did you taste it?” ”No, why would I taste it? It expired,” she says matter-of-factly. I chuckle under my breath.
Hours later I ponder over my personal expiration date. I recently read that the average male in the U.S. lives to 74.8 and the average female lives to 80.2. Since I just turned 70, that’s quite a scary thought. Of course, I also read that a “70-year-old man has a 54% chance to live to 90 if he doesn’t smoke or have diabetes, has healthy weight and blood pressure, and exercises. But cutting out exercises and becoming more sedentary reduces the chances of reaching 90 to 44%.” Meditating on what this might mean for us, I smile and offer a prayer of thanksgiving.
mindful of each day
thankful to the Creator …
soulful chicken soup
On the road and you’re flirting with disaster,
A liar, a creep, a thief you will master.
When you indulge in your drugs it calms the brain,
You panic when you realize you are to blame.
It helps you deal with who you are,
Running from self you don't get far.
It steadies the nerves and calms the inner turmoil,
It's a ritual, a burning of the Mid-Night oil.
You’re in deep you can't break the grip,
You see yourself going down like a sinking ship.
It kills all that is good and leaves you with no hope,
It's a vicious cycle when you choose the dope.
It starts with denial you claim your fine,
Where you stand now you don't have much time.
Jails, institutions, insanity and death,
A revolving door when you play with METH.
Constantly hustling and you’re on the hunt,
The life of a drug addict, is this really what you want?
In your disease it's dark you have no sight,
After the dark comes the light.
When you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired,
Your dreams shattered and your hope has expired.
It's time to get off this ride, here is the reason why,
The price is your life when you’re out there getting HIGH.
[ [ [ [ ..... ] ] ] ]
frozen with pain she woke to find daybreak
slumped on her crumpled bed again, laid back, cast
aside from god knows what, an unbecoming haven.
at least, this time, this bed was hers and hers alone,
dimly broiled by smells of yesterday gone
stale, drooping limbs to vaguely unbecoming souvenirs.
no longer wrestling fires but lighting them,
hope drained from flesh that craved for expired lotion
crush-boned dreams mocked her unbecoming senses.
she backed off tears that asked how this all happened,
plunging into her heart’s junkyard searching for answers
from wounds buried in near burial of an unbecoming night…
copyright (c)
.......................
For P.D.'s "Collaborate with Me"
Eyes surrender to the amber of the morning light
Beguiled and stagnate is the mind from the somber of the night
And again begins the whispers of the voices from ago
And to its torment colorless ignites the thoughts that flow
Questions rise to surface though elusive as the wind does blow
Blood stained hands equate the sign of death as all is lost
It stands the hairs up on end as fear bears all the cost
Lying motionless for days and weeks and even months on end
Waiting in this silent pain in hopes to love again
Watching velvet clouds race by across the azure sky
Blank stare against the landscape and still no answer why
And in all that’s been accomplished and in all the failures cost
Full circle now the consequence is all that has been lost
Approaching near the apex of the mountain of life's climb
Bittersweet divided thoughts in a life that’s out of time
There is no chance to love again, no chance to be reborn
And no hope to gain the strength from that which has been worn
Stagnate is the heart that cries empty like the hollow
No chance to mend regrets and the transgressions that soon did follow
Kinfolk rejection looms especially from the seed
The fractured Soul begins to cry and the heart begins to bleed
No tears left to cry from eyes that cannot cry
For there's no one to embrace as now the heart does sigh
One journey down and one to go as darkness fades the light
And fear and sadness sets the tone as it’s time for final flight
So throughout all this imperfectness the fractured Soul cries out
No options left to make amends or to go a different route
And so the time has come to silent tortured mind
The heart no longer beating has been extinguished at its prime
For hope has since expired and the grave be cold and deep
For it is what it shall be from the life once sowed and now reaped.
the bittersweet silent story of my life age
fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast
in indelible (yet never washed out) beige
indistinguishably linkedin, when counting
the last three of seventy somber orbitz,
signify torturous custom made cage
whose darkening shades of gray
housed a weakened Harriet Harris,
an ashen corpse lay
no doubt a grown changeling dust play
a cruel trick, and soul of me mum didst slay,
so...tis with great difficulty aye write this poem today
cathartic to brush off self denunciation,
an albatross that dust way
heavily incriminating, ostracizing this mind of mine,
recurring every year comb May fourth a line
codifying, delineating, earmarking,
and doth likened
to elementary school Boyer
as in Henry Kline
no less painful reflection plus unavoidable,
hence this middle aged man lets feelings incline
toward self expression this anniversary
revisiting re: deign
upon memorializing general up beat
defiance at death of thine late mother,
where disease rabidly did eat
ting her til she expired,
this singular married heir
set himself a writing fete
wordlessly mouths never expressed greet
unbeknownst reeders gleaning my sentiments heat
ting recollected adieu bid prior,
whence she angrily wanted to meet
that accursed nemesis
against healthiness and repeat
cherished apothegm,
that existence offers no second act
as she relinquished slipping tenuous weak bract
leave ving ever fainter grip upon cracked
pommel of mortality, an immutable fact
thence black knight denounced, pounced, hijacked
trounced unannounced, vanquished, lacked
motive to rival nixed, extinguished sputtering pact
fast fading joie de vivre unspoken,
where death rattle racked
personal def tone accentuation tracked
subsequent self castigation,
excoriation nearly whacked
me to Timbuktu rebuking extolling bless
sing experienced from
this sole son for thirteen years, aye confess
when the inimitable Harriet Harris