Long Fire extinguisher Poems

Long Fire extinguisher Poems. Below are the most popular long Fire extinguisher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Fire extinguisher poems by poem length and keyword.


Flash Photography

He appears in a photograph of his life
there are no faces, nor anyone
who lived in a memory.

Images develop.
That long table was a smorgasbord
where he left only bones and crumbs.

There is a mirror on a transparent wall
behind it old men listen to lounge music 
as they play cards.
 The gamblers have his personal details
written on the same pocket notebooks
they keep score on.

Under the beer stained carpet 
is an underlay of his history
he has seen the foot traffic come and go
his prints are everywhere.

He takes pictures, needing not to look at them
they were after all, all the same
just different venues, furnishings, landscapes.

Cigarette butts stuck into sand buckets,
line the walls of a diffuse composition
the place reeks of long nights 
inside a nicotinic mind.
He photographs the cholinergic receptors 
of his autonomic ganglia.

The exit is that way,
the door next to the empty fire extinguisher.

When he goes out
the fresh cold air burns all the negatives
in a Box Brownie.


Battery Life

My battery is running out. 
Does anyone have a charger lying about?
I would be lying. 
If I said I wasn’t spying. 
A charger on that chair. 
I bet it’s something they could spare…
My laptop won’t make it much longer. 
I need to hurry and charge her!
So I borrow the charger and plug it in. 
I hope they don’t come back and see this sin. 
But then, there seems to be smoke rising up…
Is that from my laptop?
There seems to be an issue with my laptop shaking. 
And the fire my laptop is making. 
I grab a fire extinguisher and start to spray.
The library remembers the incident, to this day. 
When I caused a fire and a scene. 
And asked “what do you mean?”
I guess I used a bad cord. 
A new laptop, I’ll need to afford. 
Just because my battery was running out. 
But now, I have more to worry about. 
The firefighters have left. 
I am a little bereft. 
And more than a little ashamed. 
Using a bad charger that shall not be named. 
But what can I say?
I had an essay. 
Now my laptop is a broken eye sore. 
And the library has banned me once more.
Form: Rhyme

Empty Platform

The subway platform is empty,
posters, the occasional bench
a fire extinguisher in a locked box,
over-stuffed trash receptacles,
the usual graffiti.

No people, the strangers you travel with,
all those commuting shadows
that you hurry by -
an absent factor that keeps you
looking over your shoulder.

You hear distant movement and chatter,
of people on other adjacent platforms,
hear the rumble of a train approaching,
Normality is over there.

Here there is a lack of such sounds,
loudly a void shouts through,
an empty bottle of vodka
rolling toward you.

It's not late or early,
yet the emptiness reverberates,
the tunnel whistles,
as air is pushed along it,

but it is the vacancy of footfalls,
that spooks you most,
that and the death rattle of the rails.

True Democracy In Action Slam

When the definition of Democracy

Comes negated at both the cost
and price of freedom of speech

And being told what we can and
can not say or do

That to me then becomes an 
overreach and abuse of power

Unless you let it be known to the
voting people and general public
as well

And after doing that so to notify
the editors of the dictionary and Wikipedia

But don't waste your time telling
the so called free press or media

They never let the truth get in the
way of a good story and print and
go to press on behalf of there pay
master's

It's the reason why fake news has
flurished is the scourge , bane
and curse and is so prevalent today

A modern 1st World problem 
invading our brains from all
directions with subliminal
messages

Otherwise why would would
corporations make such large 
election contributions or feel
the need to advertise

Beceause at the end of the day
they are businesses after all

And who but they expect bang
for there buck and a return on
there investment

There are two side's to every
story and the truth is often 
somewhere in the middle 

Sadly for all of us we only are 
told or given one side's version 
of a story

And the truth is buried  
middle deep in small print
underbeath the staples

Binded hidden from prying
eye's like a fire extinguisher
encased in a glass red box

With the word's written on it
break incase of emergency

When plausible deniability is
the only excuse that will do
and make any sense at all

When you have just used
up the last of your Nine lies 

And it's now a minute to the
bewitching hour of ten

And as the age old saying goes
why on earth should or would
we wish to choose the question

The news and what we have been
told if it wasn't true surely that 
would not be allowed 

Otherwise that means it must
have been green lit by those we 
placed our trust in and voted into positions of power

And who on earth of us would 
rather prefer not wish or choose to
believe 

When the lines between a lie
and reality have now become so
blurred  

We simply no longer can not
distinguish bettween them

Wash My Trash

This was how it went down
                Just before my countdown
                I was sent in a lockdown
                And was seen as a downtrodden
                Caressed and scourged
                How did i get down?
   
                I wouldn't say
                But i would if i could
                I only slept for few seconds
                Just to wake in a fine bondage
                With someone feeding me with 
                Pottage 
                Of course the one i trusted
                
                So i told you about me
                And you hated me for being me
                Whose fault is it that i grow?
                While i called you "my person"
                You pressed the button
                 And the dragon was unleashed

                 Well not this time
                 Because i woke while you slept
                 Took the fire extinguisher
                 And defended myself from the fire
                 Poured by your dragon
                 It had burned me enough

                 I wasn't shock when i knew 
                Its you
                But i felt pity for your actions
                Because i defeated the nightmare
                Kindly read the letter i sent you
                "Dear Ex- trusted one,
                Do Wash My Trash"
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member reelection

I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction

We’ll trust old men
to make big decisions
elderly men
of compassion and vision

Men who were there
when the work was done
when we went to the moon
and warred in Vietnam

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

One who launched a murderous insurrection*
Another who can’t even follow simple directions

They will grasp what needs to be done,
our land will be free and efficiently run

We’ll trust old men
who think with precision
to keep us safe
with complex decisions

Men who were there
when the work was done
promoting corporate advantage
and environmental damage

A glorious age is at hand
we’ll be safe in those trembling hands

I’m so excited about this election
about America and our direction
.
.
Officer, Brian D. Sicknick was murdered by rioters, beaten to death with a fire extinguisher. 113 other police officers were injured trying to protect our capital on January 6th, 2021.

Big Daft Dave

Big Daft Dave
With his smiley round face
Has left this life 
For a maybe better place.
I'd not seen him
For many a long while
But I'll never forget
His why me smile
Or his great 
Infectious grin;
Dave was never slow
At getting them in.
Too late I heard
He'd just recently passed
But he'd remained a card
To the very last.
 His cremation arranged
To the nth degree
The minister said,
As it was told to me,
When asked if he would like
Any Effects put in his coffin
He apparently said
Put a fire  extinguisher in
Humour me
For pity’s sake
Just in case 
You’ve made a mistake
Big Daft Dave
Always loved the absurd
As he showed with those few
 Almost final words.
I can see him now
With that big daft grin
At a heavenly bar
Getting his round in,
And wearing  all the while
That great big daft why me smile.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member BUTTER MASALA CHICKEN

Beware, timid taste buds—this dish looks bold,
Under the creamy sauce hides flavor, not fire.
Tomatoes whisper sweetness, butter sings softly,
Turmeric and friends merely gossip—not riot.
Even those who think ketchup is “too spicy”
Realize the panic was greatly exaggerated.

Mild curry perfumes the air like a warm welcome,
And naan bread stands ready as a tasty shield.
Skeptics take one cautious bite… then another,
And suddenly their plates look mysteriously empty.
Laughter follows the discovery that “spicy”
Actually means “please pass me more.”

Chicken swims happily in buttery clouds,
Hearts melt faster than the sauce in the pan.
If your tongue survives mayonnaise, you’ll be fine.
Come bravely to the table—no fire extinguisher needed.
Keep calm, chew slowly, enjoy the adventure.
Every bite converts another spice-nervous soul.
Now who said flavor had to be frightening?
© Jay Narain  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Acrostic

Premium Member What They Really Meant To Say --

‘The food’s a little spicy’ ~
   Is there a fire extinguisher in the house?

‘She’s got a figure to die for’ ~
   Somewhere under those layers of flab.

‘He’s aggressive, and that’s what I like in my salesmen.’ ~
   A bull in a china shop looks like a ballet dancer next to him.

‘Grandma plays a mean game of hearts.’ ~
   She leads with the Queen of Spades. 

‘One thing about my sister. She sure is talkative.’ ~
   Her ears have disappeared ever since she grew her hair long.

‘I think the boss has ‘a thing’ for oldies.’ ~
   He blasts Led Zeppelin’s ‘Immigrant Song’ over the intercom all day. 

‘When she sees Scott, her knees turn to mush.’ ~
   That way, her knees match the rest of her body.

'I'd say that rookie is a 'can't-miss prospect.' ~
   If he misses even one practice, he's off the team for good.

‘Your teeth are like stars, Zelda.’ ~
   They come out every night.

Slam Whatz the Point of Getting Old Slam

In reality i should be fat

With the amount of Birthday Cake

In ever increasing cricles i now consume

And i should keep fire extinguisher by my bedside

Because of the amount of lit candles my age doth now denominate 

For i now celebrate a birthday what seems like every other morning 

I could not wait to turn 16

Then waited an age to turn 18

And eternity to turn 21

But now that i am in my late 40's

Revising age has thus taught me

Time is burning up exponentially

And more and more i now miss 
the simple things

Like having the lung capacity
to blow out more than 30 Candles
in 1 single blow

My once upon a time
To do List 
Has now become a
Bucket List

And No 1 
At the Top of my List

Is no more Birthdays
No more getting older
Stop all the Clocks

I am as old as i ever wished to get

Live fast die young
Leave a respectable corpse 

Unless by some Miracle

By my next Birthday i am a Millionaire

Then I'll do a few more Year's

Champagne for Everyone

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