Long Eyed Poems
Long Eyed Poems. Below are the most popular long Eyed by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Eyed poems by poem length and keyword.
It's funny, because I've vacuumed under your bed
a hundred times in the past two years
I've dusted the black bedside table
picked up your Scotch and Soda pants off the floor,
still jingling with belt attached
All of your belts and shoes are brown
My father told me as a child, that homosexuals
were identifyable according to the colour of their leather
- Brown meant straight - black equalled gay - simple!
It was an odd jolt seeing your face for the first time
Framed in slim silver, large laptop screen size photo
A typical care filled composition
Brunette, proud as puch five foot five, linked her arm
Through your blue shirt arm, her grin was relief saturated
She had to be a Christian, your family is devout Christian
Appearing 25, she no doubt felt a first sexual encounter
was long overdue
But catered for entirely by God's intention
Anyhow, Aaron, I'm sorry I digress, - you're a busy man
Hence I've never seen you on a Friday when I clean there
You haven't yet moved out of Mom and Dad's s home, it must
make it easier to keep life in order, avoid giving in to urges
1920's movie star you are, in glinted silver screen frame
Minus Charlie Chaplin moustache
Plus ten pounds, giving your face cherubic cuteness
Kewpie eyed expression unphased
jowls harking harmless ventriloquist puppet
Don't be upset
If I described myself it would be similarly unorthodox
Vacuum zooming (according to aggressive motor noise)
I gazed at your lax lipped purple tinged face
- it has to be the most obvious unspoken secret in your family
- Aaron, sweet child of God.
Your world won't have a bar of who you are
Your Mother had just returned to position a large vase
showcasing three dozen orange roses behind your frame
Plus a cellophane covered hamper of high end liquor
God, Aaron - your upbringing has enclosed you
aligned with their strict beliefs
You'll need to put that cellophane over your mouth
Wrap it tight around your heart
- You have a congregation to consider
you'll be alright
Tethered to that moment
She shed tears
That time when her unborn child died
Heaven’s love bestowment
Brought no cheers
Crushed, teary-eyed…Oh! How she cried!
Doctors couldn’t save her child
Her heart failed
Those awaited baby times gone
Dreaming of her, she smiled
Then sore wailed
‘twas hard, but she had to move on
One day, she’d bear more kids
She had hope
Her God would not leave her bereft
She prayed with closed eyelids
She could cope
Though she’d ne’er forget her heart’s cleft
08.26.2021
Form: Tri-fall
{The Tri-fall, created by Jan Turner, consists three 6-line stanzas, for a total of 18 lines. The rhyme scheme is a,b,c,a,b,c and meter for each stanza is as follows: 6/3/8, 6/3/8. This form requires little to no punctuation and can be written on any subject matter.}
For Edward Ibeh's "This or That Vol.6" contest
Church Lady Cat was a formidable, skinny, ugly wrinkly old crazy thing.
Never showed a smile, and certainly did not cheerfully hymn-sing.
We saw her at church, and knew she would come and get the money.
No man in town had ever called this old prissy baby or honey.
Blue eyed hag had a meanness that only arrives in the lap of skinny.
So homely, many of us made jokes that she could probably whinny.
She wore a padded bar under her lacy blouse and I pointed it out.
Brother let out a not-for-church stupid horrific dumb brother shout.
Mother gave us both a mean unmotherly look that meant “now be nice!”
In the sixties, she did not have to give us that look more than twice!
Church Lady Cat’s clothes were made of drapery material I swear.
Doubt she had anything but lead in her undersized kitty underwear.
Wore a purple hat with the cluster of marshmallow baubles of pink.
She was a blue eyed woman, who never walked with a slink.
She had dainty ivory gloves that covered most of her skin.
If they had covered her scrawny face, it would have been more of a win.
I thought she was the weirdest craziest person at church for sure.
Then I got a job at the grocery store, and met her other side, demure.
She was helpful and kind, and made me feel at home, became a friend.
Now I get in fights daily to defend her. Yes, sir. I will fight you to the end!
Jim had only glimpsed the gorgeous merwomen once
But he never forgot her gray-eyed stare
She had bored pinpricks through his surprised eyes
Was her hair real or imagined?
Jim recalled coral, starfish and pearls at her crown.
Had she been a mirage, or had she been real?
His boat returned to Dolphin Bay each year for thirty-six years
He hoped to get another glimpse of the beautiful siren
We old-timers knew the story
Jim had told it in every tavern and restaurant down the coast.
Some figured he met with the merwomen upon his death
Unsure, I sincerely hoped that this might have happened for him.
~ ~ ~
Is that the sun ...
Or an eye of the devil??
Blood red and squinting, hard ...
It's the sun, I can tell now,
A long cloud crimping its upper edge,
Horizon cutting the bottom.
But the devil it might as well be,
Come for his last laugh ...
Come to watch me suck my last, icy breath,
And wink his victory into the eventide.
But here's the trick ...
I'm not done - not yet.
Oh, I haven't long, that's true ...
K2 has broken my body,
And my life slowly seeps away ...
Out, onto the chaste white of this mountain.
But neither day nor devil will laugh last!
I will breathe on into the night,
And give my spirit up to the moon ...
That pale companion that has seen me through,
That has painted romance and joy and peace on my existence,
And watched over me since childhood,
When it promised me its allegiance and love.
Yes, it is only the moon that will claim this weary spirit, mine,
Not the cold or the wind or the devil-eyed sun ...
Or this brutal and beautiful peak.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Select E Any Form Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
Words hang from rafters in cobwebs of silence
The candle flickers on a window sill in pain
Locks with no keys stare into closed chapters
The poet’s unhinged mind holds its threshold
Floor boards creak without pace like a ghost
Out of step a lonely sandal slips into motion
As slumber refuses to claim yesterday’s dreams
The clean sheet of insomnia stares into nothing
Reaps restlessness where slumber should reign
A script of smudged ink and unfinished business
Dances under the weight of dried tarnished ink
He counts sheep into flocks of thunderous clouds
All of them black howling at a camouflaged wolf
A bloody pelt seems hung and quartered at night
Scraps of thoughts tease the bleary eyed writer
His resolve is crushed under cover in discomfort
The crumpled feather pillow protests the squeeze
Merely suspends for a moment tar oozing out
Onto a slope passed so often it cannot keep track
Of meaningless journeys for no particular purpose
Direction leads straight to the pointless lack of return
Wide awake and yet tired he removes the blindfold
Unplugs his ears and touches the relentless void
And yet he hears only a crescendo of white noise
Has visions of tombstones veiled in ivy and scorn
Presses the surface of an underworld of confusion
Tears skin and recollects scars and wounded remains
I am no one but who I am and have failed to become
At last the inkster finds relief in an illusion of sleep
Engages in nightmares and apocalyptic resurrection
Grasps a few hallucinations and deluded images that
Give him some resemblance of control over chaos
Becomes his own metaphor and pictures escape
Hopes that the one way street is not a dead end
Loses himself for better or worse and begins to write ...
Black-Eyed Peas for New Year’s Meal
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Gee Whiz please!
Gotta have those Black-eyed peas
Mammy and Pappy always
Said, “Eat Black-eyed peas
And you will have plenty of monies
The rest of the year and live in ease.”
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Play a little ditty while cooking those
Black-eyed peas
Cook them with bacon, or ham bones
Fatback or hog jowls
Serve with a
Side of collard, turnip, or mustard greens
And golden brown sweet cornbread please
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
Mammy and Pappy always
Said, “You can live with a little passing gas
On New Year’s Day
To enjoy having plenty of monies
The rest of the year and live in ease.”
Black-Eyed Peas
Black-Eyed Peas
I’m going to freeze
If I don’t eat Black-eyed peas
On New Year’s Day
12/29/2016
People are tembling, let’s just watch,
Others are watching, let’s just watch.
In us dwell a crowd of cowards
Who stand lips sealing, let’s just watch.
Blank eyed as most of the crowd gape,
Their pain is pleading, let’s just watch.
Whose light let us watch all this time,
The last lamp’s dying, let’s just watch.
In place of books in bags, students
Stuff stones for pelting, let’s just watch.
Dreams that were ripe to realize,
In fire are scorching, let’s just watch.
Miscreants sure, we’ll keep watching,
Are now closing in, let’s just watch.
__________________________________________
Ghazal |13.08.2023|apathy, indifference, lack of concern
Based on a Gujarati Ghazal by Bhavin Gopani:
Pie Eyed (for The Night Before Contest)
Twas the night before Christmas and I’d lost me house
I had to get home and sneak past me spouse
She’d sent me to purchase a dozen mince pies
I never expected to meet with the guys
So kicking and screaming got dragged down the pub
And entered the draw for a hamper of grub
If I didn’t win, she’d find out my sin
And my Christmas dinner would be in the bin
Had a few beers and then a few more
The tannoy announced it was time for the draw
Yippee, I won it, but didn’t win big
I opened the basket and had a good dig
About as much use as a bucket of dung
Biscuits for cheese, soup, pilchards and tongue
Checked out the clock and resigned to my fate
I staggered off home in a right wobbly state
Not finding one’s house might seem rather bleak
Perhaps I should mention we’d lived there a week
And then there it was, front door open wide
I nipped up the stairs once I’d nipped inside
Then I found the bedroom door slightly ajar
My wife’s standing there in her panties and bra
But then I thought, ‘My wife ain’t got shapely thighs’
And that’s when her husband punched out me mince pies
So blackened and bruised, with my own doorbell rung
I suffered the wrath of my wife’s wicked tongue
28 November 2018
The Night Before Contest
Sponsor - Joseph May
An historical voyage into deep blue yonder,
Frigid icebergs waiting in distant fog.
Backlashes the blue Atlantic Ocean,
immortal dreams of Rose and Jack Dawson.
"I am flying" ! , she exclaimed to the blue-eyed boy,
as their euphoric kiss electrified the briny air.
Pounding in the couch, laid the nude blue sapphire,
as our souls got seduced in dazzling desire.
Snuggling in warm breath of red rose petals,
he succumbs underneath a cold blue sky.,
A blue moon love story...
Survives eternal time, in silent stealth....
Death drowns all, the flash of arrogance and wealth.
11th January,, 2019