Long Files Poems
Long Files Poems. Below are the most popular long Files by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Files poems by poem length and keyword.
Dad was puttering around today
Playing with me
God we haven’t played in years
You know, Dad’s eighty now
I remember how he looked in photos at twenty
I remember the twinkle in his eyes
at my sons two year old birthday party.
We played computer, you see Dad it can do this LOOK
LOOK here it does this too!
I did so like kissing the top of his bald head.
So good to see that old comb-over long gone now
So good to smell the MY Dad smell of clean clothes and soap.
Your files need to be organized Dad.
You have them all glommed up in with the general documents files.
Know wonder you can’t find them, all the love poems to his dear heart Ruth.
I wonder if he remembers my wedding day.
He was so handsome in his tux that day.
I remember his smile then as he watched me
walk the white carpet in the garden by the mill pond.
Joy, now is that any name to call a dog [oops SHE doesn’t know she’s a dog!]
The dust mop of a pooch barked indignantly as, I took her Daddies attention from
her.
Had a dog once, Babe was her name, she was a huge sheepdog, we lost
our Babe when I lost my Dad for a long time, BUT he's been back along while too
now
Dad was sharing with me and I so loved it. Me, of course being his first girl,
sharing with me, his love and happiness with his last girl OUR Ruth.
Bothersome
The black kitten on my desks bookshelf
In my poetry meditation is small
Only as the poem
Undiscovered
And without
To push the book down
We will not
Only because you stranded me here
All the writing requests
Is simple socks
And travelling coffee's
Yet spectacles bets
Vetting my mystery netting
Tara took me to school
To find her bonnet
Tara Gendron and Kevin
Go to piano
Read Rupi
Rupi
Tic of knock
As sitting drop
In road tin say
Melting kettle lay
Hat and pat
Greatly treasure sap
Long in ago
Settle bets with go
Stepping Foot
The young limb
Clicks out of water
Grasping the dreary weather
Porcupine painful painting it's sun
The mirror of moon
Conquers the files sands
Landing in return of lust
Teaching the fawning shame
Wood plucking a feathers painting
The romance of wind and winter
Iceberg and seal
Feather behind harp
The foot eats the porcelain fingers
Building the painful yawn
Of concerts
The birds chirp invented from a voided life
Alone ousted without sound
Haunting of meaning
The flying fortress is found
To sound is sound and bound by ground
The harpsichord is hidden
In waters snap
Oh! Be ware whenever you answer your cell,
or land line phone. I received a call from the
Everett's Marriott Hotel. And did not answer
my cell phone. My personal friend, told me.
It is a place for prostitution. And I thought it
could also be a place for drug trafficking?
She told me it was how her problems,
and her daughters first started.
The hackers deleted all of her
photographs of her daughter's
youngest child. She had stored
in her cell phone.
The hackers hacked into her computer,
and had access to her files. They
tried to frame her daughter for
crimes she did not commit.
They tried to mess around with
her back ground check,
claiming she had a criminal
background.
They stole her car in the City of Arlington,
and messed around with it.
Taking all of her valuables out her
motor vehicle. Spreading lies
about both her and her daughter.
They tried to destroy the lives
of her daughter and her children
by spreading vicious and malicious lies.
Her grand daughters were both
sexually abused!
Her daughter arranged to have a date
with a man she found on one of those
internet dating sites. A child abuser,
and a wife beater advertised himself there.
You can apparently lie about your background
on those internet dating sites. They
probably can't check into the backgrounds
of people who post themselves on line
for dating services.
Love as always,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
January 29, 2020
Midnight is dwelling at
the Midnightboundary of two worlds,
With one encroaching on the other,
Fighting to cloak it.
Midnight is standing at the centre of a coliseum,
Amid so many voices,
Crowding the mind,
Flooding the thoughts.
Midnight is going through a cabinet of files,
Permuting and shuffling,
They keep going back to their former state,
Mystery spells the day.
Midnight is going on a voyage,
The waves beat vehemently on the boat,
The weather changes intermittently,
Sunshine’s hands are feeble.
Midnight is seeking answers in the sacred book,
It tells us to persevere but
doesn’t take the weight entirely off,
It beams its light on a road that seems endless.
Midnight is trying to decipher the writings on the wall,
They’re sometimes too blurry,
They're sometimes too inky,
They sometimes interface.
September 11, 2022.
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Poetry Contest,
Mark Toney.
piles of dirt in the laundry room
mounds of confirmations unseen by the most obvious eye
hallways with doors that conceal rooms that darkness cannot even define
when a love for someone twenty years younger in the memory files is physically expressed to one that has written stories that define modern philosophies,
the heart can become extremely ill from the exposure to the currents of the current reality driving the choices of said one to modern journies of necessity
colors can be faded
machines can simply malfunction
electricity can loose its spark
even generators can lose its generation
this is when the poisonous sport of dwelling can be acidic to the prime of a life so iridescent
running scared, in this case, inspires positive emissions
running from you, oh shining example, has been the missing piece to the reripened puzzles to my recent, radiant experiences
that being said, thank for being the hypocritical liar that have proven yourself to be....
Did I walk? Did I fly? I will just sleep.
I have done the homework of living.
I showed up with my heart on time, every time.
I have been both the architect and the weary janitor of my own days.
So why does the ceiling still leak?
Why does the warmth drain so quickly from the room?
The shaking is not from the wind,
but from having followed the blueprint for a shelter perfectly,
I still stand shivering within it
and the cold comes in anyway,
from somewhere I cannot name and cannot find.
Perhaps no wire is crossed.
No bucket left out that should have been brought in.
Perhaps the only thing left is to wait
for a different season,
to watch the light change at the window,
to lay down the tools. Not in surrender.
In exhaustion.
I walked. I ran.
Perhaps I must simply sleep for the right time,
and hope, against the grey at the window,
that a better day is a real place,
and not just another name for the patience
that files you to the place where the nerve is.
-Kind of an almost forgotten song in my files... written in middle school and edited in 9th or 10th grade- can't remember. First time writing a song for the guitar. It was brutal! xD -
There’s something sick inside these walls
I gotta get away from here!
These empty people lead me nowhere
I hope you hear me when I call
Cause I won’t waste another year
And you know no one else will care when
I’m gone
As the faces leave my mind
It’s only you that I will find
Until the traces are left for dead
All the heartache left behind
I’ll face this world alone
I’ll take the only path I know
Your heart was my abode
And now I take the Mercy Road
Mercy Road…Mercy Road…
So you left me for the world
When there was nothing left of me
And every day is getting harder
I hope you’re happy in this state
Cause I sure as hell am not
Before you leave and turn away
Watch me rot
As the faces leave my mind
It’s only you that I will find
Until the traces are left for dead
All the heartache left behind
I’ll face this world alone
I’ll take the only path I know
Your heart was my abode
And now I take the Mercy Road
Mercy Road…Mercy Road
Driving down the Mercy Road
It’s the only path I know
You’re gone, and now I hate this way
Cause now I drive it all alone
What’s really going on during this “Shutdown?”
Well, this is an idea of what is possibly going on.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Who is Humpty Dumpty? (It begins with T and rhymes with Dump. Now put them together and you get Dump T…)
Lil Jack Horner sat in a corner (Waiting on the Epstein files to be released)
Jack and Jill went up the hill (Capital Hill to protest)
Lil Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet (Minding her business)
Hickory Dickory Dock, the mouse ran up the clock (Time is ticking. When will this shutdown end?)
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jumped over the candlestick (You gotta be quick to avoid deportation)
Lil Sally Walker sitting in a saucer (Filing for unemployment)
This Lil Piggy went to the market (But the high cost of groceries sent her right back home)
Mary, Mary quite contrary (Yall already know who is the most arrogant, contrary, male version of Mary)
Lil Bo Peep lost her sheep (And her job due to mass firings related to this government shutdown)
Wee Willie Winkle runs through the town (Running away from ICE)
There was an old lady who lived in a shoe (Because affordable housing is not so affordable)
The wheels on the bus goes round and round (Just like this government with all the finger pointing and name blaming)
A sailor went to sea, sea, sea (Away from the Ugly BBB)
London Bridge is falling down (This country)
Rock-a-bye baby on a tree top (Poor baby, just trying to sleep in peace)
Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard (And because her snap benefits were cut, it was bare)
Hush lil baby, don’t say a word (Sounds like a Republican)
If you happy and you know it clap your hands (Don’t think nobody clapping right about now)
It’s raining, it’s pouring, the old man is snoring (That old man tired, he been so stressed worrying about his social security benefits)
Take me out to the ball game (For a much needed distraction from all this chaos and dysfunction), I’m over it!
Politics hypnotizing us
Despising between left and right
It’s dividing us
The stakes are high
News stations frightening the nation with lies
Don’t even know who to trust
This environment is wild and vile
No explanations, can’t even lie with smooth slyness or style
This nation has its own president under hot trial
Five thousand mentions on the Epstein files
Still bombing other countries
We hardly even know
It’s not about politics no more
We’ll be fighting with stones and sticks
The day the United States regains its self control
Even in the parties themselves there’s no immunity
The discontinuity literally as soon as we see
Power under the pressure
Like a pirate guards their treasure
Where’s unity amongst Cornyn and Paxton?
The constant tug of war between dozen of PAC sums
Even for me,
Even some dems, my own allies agree
That I can’t use a bathroom in peace
Without accusations of indecency
And when I go to church, my own religion
It’s like all eyes on me for my considered decisions
I don’t understand the despise on me
To all the haters and indecent sayers
I’ve heard you all before now let me be
Investing billions in elections and zero in love
Love’s no longer on the ballot
It changed to being tough
And I don’t know about you all
But I’m tired of being tough
People saying empty threats and empty bluffs
We respond by acting strong and acting buff
Every slur they call me is a cuff
When does it stop, when is it enough?
Our founding fathers tolerated so we could stand together
Now the consequence if whether
Red or blue wins,
If your opponent wins never,
Unity looks severed forever
Besides voting in November,
How can individuals do better?
I wrote my school board member a letter
Asking to her represent me better
She never wrote me back
Must’ve been return to sender
Or I betcha it never made its way on her desk
Probably was thrown out with the rest
Cause its contents would have her discontent
This poem isn’t even a call to action
It’s more like just telling you I pray to God
That we cut the abstract factions
And see each other equal under law
Our dissatisfaction has already become our own saw
Because we scratched it in half, and with our own claws
An uncertain afterfeel
Rolls inside and bides
Like a tape recorder reel
On the floor unwinds
Meet your Lady Aftershock
Be her truest slave
Take her down to the docks
For the random wave
Slams the door, the draught bursts in
Papers scatter to the sides
Applications from the screen
Texts with seals and signs
There’s no memory to feed
Files are kept alive
Fictions growing fast like weeds
Shuttering your life
The damp wind keeps blowing on
Through the dusty streets
Shades of poplars hanging low
Over the empty seats
Lady Aftershock walks in
Busy on the phone
Wheel of fortune starts to spin
Blues of Mr.Gone
Lights go dim, the evening goes
Like most evenings do
Morning comes, the daylight glows
But there’s nothing new.