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.
Don't overfeel, don't overshare,
putting a sign up on the door of your heart says BEWARE!,
if our weight can be measured by physical numbers and degrees,
why not our souls? would this be so hard to believe?,
hearts changing,,,its shifting, its crumbling our earth,
our land is reacting as if it's giving birth,,
shifting off balance by mass gravitational pulls,
as a whole, the caution grows, fear paralyzes the move,
"Leave it to Beaver" left the building,
now "Gi Joe" paints the ceiling,
can't we see?? why don't we see??,
locking the gates of "Willie Wonka's Factory",
faith in love diminishing, as the tears stinging my eyes,
so hard nowadays to share without judgement,,can't you see the love in my eyes?
Mother bartered me to an Englishman.
His tribe made televisions.
In those days
televisions were wooden vehicles
crafted out of electric fans
and the spare parts of flying saucers.
Later he became an overseer
of sparky factory hands.
Once while waiting outside for his shift to end,
I jumped from the cross-strut
of a tall billboard. When he found me,
my leg was broken.
'Look what your son has done now'!
"Superman made me do it."
My exiled Irish mother shrugged.
She had entirely forgotten herself
since her surrender.
I liked the Hospital;
African nurses coddled me with plump pink palms.
It was there that I first learned to play a sick piano;
ears pressed into drumming wood
while the blind piano tuner
(a wandering Jew), tapped its hollow bones.
For days I kept
an infirm Steinway under my pillow -
dreamed of fret-sawing crotchets and quavers.
When I returned home mother had found a priest,
and again her native religion began to spook her,
though she still spoke to me in a language
only Superman could hear.
I told my boss this was a job I didn’t relish
Reports so far deemed this Elfin war rather hellish.
Troops had crossed the border and entered the valley.
So far we didn’t have a death or injury tally.
I entered the tavern, only a mile from the enemy line.
The locals seemed relaxed and all seemed fine.
I sat at a table with three burly men drinking beer.
They didn't seem to mind me being here.
Introduced myself as a war correspondent.
After I ordered them all another beer they were very respondent.
Eager to tell me what they knew of the Elfin war.
At that time, I didn’t realize what I had in store.
I urged them to go on and tell me much more
Soon others in the pub, heard the tales and began to chip in.
First hand accounts of fighting they saw, I hardly knew where to begin.
Seems the fighting was very tactical. The rebels would advance to attack,
The allied Army was ready and their weapons would force them back.
Evidentially a local man, a sergeant of note, was injured by a blast.
He wandered in the way of a hand grenade, on his patrol as he passed.
Most stories were of artillery fire being heard in the morning hours.
Patrons of the tavern didn't seem too perturbed about the rebels powers.
Confidence reined in the army from what they could see.
The publican joined us with a round of beer saying these are free.
”Laddy, I am sure you’ll want to mention this home spun brew.
The best brewed beer and everyone loves it, your readers will too.
It’s called Ellery Tavern Lager. We make it right here in town.”
“He’ll only be interested if the mongrels burn the factory down”
I was feeling light headed, lost count of the number of beers I had.
Went to stand up and realized I was feeling rather shaky and quite bad.
My trusty tape recorder, had some good stories for me to write.
Wandering out to get some fresh air I took some photos before night.
In the forgotten space
Between the house and the garden,
I embroider silence.
I have no need of needles,
No bobbin, no loom.
Invisible threads, in a warp and weft
Weave a spiral of paused doom.
Silken knots as tight as a heartbeat,
Entomb the morning dew,
Like tiny moonstone cabochons.
There's no thrum of the factory,
No mill.
My needles are neither hammered nor rolled,
Nor polished steel.
In that space between sky and ground
where vibrations hold no sound,
I just weave,
And I wait.
Quite still.
Oh! The suspense!
With a patience and precision,
My thrill is one of detain and restrain.
My signature -
Why - it's my gossamer ligature.
The heaviest sound lays us to rest
Tied to the steak and eats our heart out
Composure fixed to the evening sky
Swivel the scenery then throw me away when I am colored dead
Let's all pose then fall down the well together
Understudies for the part we weren't meant to play
Courage for cowards in the rewriter's chair beating the around the rose bush
Sink thirty thousand feet into the shoes too narrow for human feats.
Back to factory settings until you can learn how to sing let alone speak our names
Caution tape leashes the struggle bus in gear on your best days
One step further than slipping up on a Monday, blue and battered
I wake up to the sight of the out of boundaries shred to pieces
Water for the pills stuck in swallowing fashion
Wings tied to the bed abstract as ever
We dreamt of the rise and fall of the house of us
Blueprints of further disappointment with marble inlays to hold onto this moment
Shock jocks of jealous siblings gnashing at ankles going home
Nostalgic for chaos and that bitter root
I didn't know that I was this obvious
Innocence donated with and without the will to live
I had a tragic car accident
Best friend passed away
Told to be vegetable in bed
Persevere through the struggles of life
Was in a manual wheelchair
Power wheelchair
Walker
Quad cane
Finally the regular cane
Persevere through the struggles of life
Walked down the street
Tripped then fell
Walked through College buildings
Tripped then fell
Persevere through the struggles of life
The almighty God, over looking
Heard people’s prayer
Told Jesus Christ to assist His people
Persevere through the struggles of life
Sometimes I see people whisper
Sometimes people converse
Sometimes people give inspiration
Persevere through the struggles of life
The almighty God, over looking
Heard people’s prayer
Told Jesus Christ to assist His people
Persevere through the struggles of life
Saw my childhood friend
Ate at Cheese Factory
Felt different
Turned out to be different
We’re all happy, conversing, delighted
Persevered the struggles of life
Almighty God, overlooking
Heard people’s prayer
Told Jesus Christ to assist His people
Persevered the struggles of life
A friend was inspired
Dreams to be an inspiration
For people to have perseverance that requires courage
For courage is the rarest quality of an individual
Persevere through the struggles of life
To have perseverance requires courage
Overcoming doubt and fear
Paralyzes spirituality requires courage Achieve perseverance in human spirit
The almighty God, over looking
Heard people’s prayer
Told Jesus Christ to assist His people
Persevere through the struggles of life
Leaf, mostly green, sometimes coloured vary
in size : broad- long -short, supplies chlorophyll
to make food for plants, act as food factory
in the sunlight ! Basic needs to fulfill.
Even thin slender green Leaf in the Sun prepares.
food with help of chlorophyll, being smart.
Green leaf is thus responsible to care
to cook always remaining alert.
Green leaf in Sunbeam is the cook for plant.
Plant supplies food stuff in turn
to every living being to enchant !
No worry, food cycle smoothly to run.
A leaf whether in garden or in woods :
Under sun always prepares food.
Stepping Lightly
Watch how you walk, my Brothers -
You tread on Sacred Ground.
The Thousand Eyes of Justice
Are watching all around
You may think you go unnoticed
While you hear no other sound
But the fall of your own footsteps
As you pass this way alone
Are heard by things unseen
Behind every tree and stone.
You may think that no one sees you
As you desecrate the land.
You may think no one is listening
As you discuss Development plans.
You may assume it never matters
When you turn good earth to sand;
But the debt is growing fatter
With each working of your hand.
Step lightly, step lightly
You don't want to trip and fall.
Step lightly, step lightly
If you don't want to lose it all.
Watch where you step, my sisters
There are Watchers in the Wood.
Take heed how you treat the forests.
Your intentions are understood.
You may never give back what is taken
Without changing it in some way -
What goes missed tomorrow
Brings dawn to a different day.
Step lightly, step lightly
You don't want to trip and fall.
Step lightly, step lightly
If you don't want to lose it all.
You may think the fields are empty
As you tread them underfoot.
Or that the skies are blinded
By the darkness of the soot
That pours from every factory
Settling on your Gucci boots
An account is being tallied
In the leaves and clouds and roots.
Step lightly, step lightly
You don't want to trip and fall.
Step lightly, step lightly
If you don't want to lose it all.
Watch that heavy tread, my Brethren,
You don't know who's there to hear.
Stay your heavy hands, I beg you
It's for all of us I fear.
Have a care for what you don't see
The anger you don't feel
Gathering all around you
Deaf to all appeal.
We all think we own the wonder
We trample though each day.
We stumble and we blunder
Never called to pay.
We may find ourselves answered in Thunder
For how we threw it all away:
If we don't wish to be torn asunder
We must hear what small things say.
Step lightly, step lightly
You don't want to trip and fall.
Step lightly, step lightly
If you don't want to lose it all.
Sounds of a Day in the Past
Cherry Creek was a thriving small town
Children played on swings up and down.
They screamed with delight and why not?
Today with no school, so homework forgot.
How they laughed and frolicked and ran,
All cares forgotten, catch me if you can!
The swings were well-oiled and so no creaks
Could be heard, but happy they enjoyed their leaps.
Not far away, parents and singles formed a march
Protesting against chemical factory built beyond the arch.
Sounds of a Day in the Present
Cherry Creek is now a ghost town
And all the rusted swings are down.
The chemist factory spoilt their fun.
Children in Cherry Town were none.
So many died from deadly fumes
All protests covered in all newsrooms.
But to no avail, for protests fell on dead ears.
Parents left to other places shedding tears.
The only sound you hear is the wind
No swing moved, empty all rust lined.
But I forgot the sound of money,
The factory simply insults me.
A divine blacksmith didn't forge winged hearts of gold,
to soothe the burn of others.
Nor mold my body into a scratching post chant.
Where others can shed their dying dream ghosts.
I was conceived from the sable fingertips of Dali.
Flint-hearted, with a sheen of midnight black matches.
Straddling devil's dunes, in an upside-down desert...
My heart wields a wicked chain, with selfish yellow teeth.
It billows like an old factory,
discharging microscopic monsters,
easter island heads
the bones of carbon and oxygen
a pure oasis of death...
Ride these ragged flanks
eat the melting clock
roll the chipped-toothed dice.
Turned from flower to flamed-out rock...
If you want.