Long Factory Poems
Long Factory Poems. Below are the most popular long Factory by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Factory poems by poem length and keyword.
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- In memory of the La Vegas shooting victims –
distant, so distant
was a smile on her lunar face
distant were the last year’s bricks
of the mouldy last year’s factory
distant are the colorful lights
of the ferris wheel we used to ride
distant is the white sand beach
where you turned into a strawberry cloud
distant is the desert mile
stifling in June as in January
distant are the missing kids
carried away from homes of misery
distant is that washed-up boat
spread across the dozen of cities
distant is the day I was born
that dog’s day of dog’s summer
distant is my skin from my body
my brain miles away from my heart
distant are the joys of youth
in a haunted chamber up in the attic
distant are all those faces
all those voices & their echoes
just the echoes
ever so d i s t a n t
I am the Boy Scouts who become
Official.
I am Charlie Chaplin film that
Makes you giggle.
I am the triangle shirtwaist
Factory fire.
I am Margaret Sanger the birth
Control supplier.
I am the Titanic sinks in
The ocean.
I am the Spanish flu
In motion.
I am the Red Baron takes
To the sky.
I am Rockefeller that
Billionaire guy.
I am the Coast Guard's first
Day on the job.
I am the first crossword
Puzzle to solve.
I am Tommy submachine
Gun in supply.
I am Mata Hari the exotic
Dancing spy.
I am the first Indy
500 race.
I am the Oreo cookie,
Can't wait to taste.
I am Mexico and Arizona
Become states.
I am World War One starts
To take shape.
I am the National Hockey league
When it was formed.
I am Daylight savings time when
It was born.
I am the international telephone
Line.
I am prohibition no alcohol
Or wine.
Turbo1904
I was walking down the sidewalk
of a big-box shopping center,
lost in my thoughts, as usual,
barely even noticed the thing.
Tucked back twenty yards or so,
I first thought it was a warehouse,
squat, and ordinary looking,
'Cavalry's Victory Church.'
No denomination listed,
just the name and cross to mark it,
a sad lump of steel and concrete,
cream-colored with no ornaments.
No spire, no tower, no bells,
nor statue of an ancient saint,
it had no sliding doors upfront,
could be a damn supermarket.
A grim feeling pulled me inside,
hoping here it would look better...
just factory carpets, few windows,
probably there due to building codes.
At least the pews are wooden,
if compressed sawdust is wood.
So many seats facing forwards
to a low, unadorned altar.
Just a cross to denote its job,
sans carvings and tall statues,
no stained glass playing with the light
while its images tell stories.
No pantocrator high above,
staring downwards from a big dome,
no gargoyles, looks a lot like
some high school auditorium.
I know the patrons are sincere,
and the Reverend does his best,
but this place doesn't inspire
or lift the spirit upwards.
Maybe it's a Protestant thing,
or fear of idolatry,
can't say. I only know that
nothing about this feels sacred.
Could it just be our laziness,
cheaper to build quick and move on...
or the money just isn't there
to inspire all who enter.
Perhaps it is a punishment,
laid upon us fallen sinners,
that He lets Notre Dame burn,
while this eye-sore continues on.
My Mate Pete, he loved to have a drink
and this led him to cause the world's biggest stink.
He used to work in a factory that made joke shop supplies
things like whoopee cushions, doggie poos and also googly eyes.
On the day in question, he was on the morning shift
but the night before, he'd drank a bottle of vodka which was a Christmas gift.
Later the next morning at work, as his body began to detox
he had a little accident with the products in his box.
This product contained stink bombs - the little ones made of glass
The whole factory immediately smelt like the inside of someone's ass.
"Abandon ship" was the cry, "Women and children first"
The smell made people puke, it really was the worst.
There was instant panic, which caused Pete to make another mistake
he then knocked over more stink bombs - a disaster as bad as an earthquake.
With all windows and doors sealed shut, there really was no escape
until Superman arrived, wearing his pants on his tights and his cape.
Superman burned a hole, with his heat vision, so the workers could be free
However, Superman made an error that nobody could foresee.
His heat vision caused some explosive material to combust
The factory then exploded, which caused a massive windful gust.
The stink bomb mushroom cloud then blew across the land
The Army were called in - so they could take command.
The Army plugged in a load of fans and blew the cloud across the sea
Poor Pete was vilified in the press, but he's still a friend to me.
When I'm with Pete now, he's not allowed to drink
cos I don't want to live through another Apocalyptic stink.
Buying Rubies
I spent my day shopping for Rubies
to buy gift for my daughter sweet Sophia
while on tour in the city Bangkok.
Went to the biggest Gem Factory in Asia.
That was the last day of our tour
Obviously, small amount of dollars left.
Asked for the gem in lowest price
They showed four tiny rubies set in locket.
I told frankly about my limited budget
I was attracted with the descent design
and I did not want to lose the locket,
as I was assured that gem was genuine.
They made attractive discount to satisfy the tourist
Yet total dollars were not enough.
I told my inability and was about to leave.
No alternative, situation turned tough.
They insisted and repeatedly requested
not to refuse their discounted offer.
I opened my purse and overturned.
Including coins short fall of forty dollars.
I decided to come out of the factory.
They packed the locket and handed over with smile
I did not ask any favor but that was the result.
How much margin they keep counting profit in their style?
.
07/27/20
Eighth Place
'First Line Prompt-3' Contest by Julia Ward
As a child I was warned
that if I looked at the light
for too long it would send
me blind and yet
the stuttering flash
and eerie blue light
from an arc welder
that crackled deep inside
the factory would tempt me
to steal a glance into
its bright, menacing core.
Mystery and danger lurked
in the cavernous dark that waited
beyond the door. The gray brick
building was windowless and wore
no signage. The locals simply
called it ‘the welding factory’.
I would pass it every day
on my way to school,
look into its depths to see
spectral figures fluoresce
then dissipate into the dark.
Men in hinged metal face masks
and leather aprons would emerge
into daylight from out
of the factory door to have a smoke.
They looked like visitors
from another world stepping out
from their alien craft.
Their art was a kind of sorcery
stolen from the sun
or the devil.
On weekends
I would sometimes sneak around
and find bits of bent wire
and metal tubing with black
blisters growing out of stubs.
It was treasure for a boy.
I wondered what they made there
and stayed alert in case
some creature emerged
from out of the dark
with its red glowing eyes,
the same that sometimes
tormented me during those long
nights of panic and delirium
and unheard cries.
What the paper said
A newspaper I sometimes read is not happy
that billionaires dabble in politics
the paper is partly right; especially if the rich
The person who thinks about it is not liberal.
People who are successful in relative youth
tend to inflate their importance, ask what
do I know how to fill my time in service to my
country, even though they know it is about
themselves and well-being to use their
business acumen to benefit for the state
and at the same time, give them importance
on an international level
Sigh a mogul is not an intellectual, his vision
is narrowed as his business talent that does
not include the mass of people who might
have other interests, say about quality and
social issues that have no visible outcome
but nevertheless benefit those who are of
a modest talent
A billionaire should not brush them off as a
hindrance to their view, life is more than
running a factory and meeting people who
are in awe of the wealth
I just bought a kitchen timer
Sealed inside a plastic shell.
When I tried to get it open,
I did not fare very well.
First I slit it with a steak knife
But I didn’t get too far.
If I sliced my hand instead,
I’d probably end up with a scar.
So I then switched to a scissor
Thinking it would cut right through,
But I really had to struggle
As frustration grew and grew.
Next I grabbed two jagged edges
And I ripped the thing apart;
By this time I’m sure my blood pressure
Was soaring off the chart.
Surely there must be some packaging
Requiring less drastic
Measures to uncover what is waiting
Underneath the plastic.
For I’m sure I’m not the only one
Whose struggles to unseal
Something factory-made in China
Turn into a real ordeal.
What we sacrifice for cleanness
And to stop a thief from theft
Leaves the rest of us consumers
With not one nerve that is left!
He will never save the world from alien invasion
Win a medal for outstanding bravery
Play a sport for his nation
Save a child from a burning building.
But what he really wants to be his child’s super hero.
Fly a spitfire in a battle
Climb the highest mountain
Sail the high seas as a pirate
Pull a body from a burning building.
He craves to be his child’s super hero.
Ride a race horse in the grand national
Swim the English channel
Or run the London marathon
Defend your honour in bare knuckle boxing.
If that would make him, is child’s super hero
But he is just a dad who works in a factory
No claim to fame or acts of bravery
No bulging wallet, adoring crowds
No friends who are super stars.
But he will do his best to be his childs super hero
as he is his dad