Long Folder Poems
Long Folder Poems. Below are the most popular long Folder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Folder poems by poem length and keyword.
Unfulfilled little promises that my people made to me..
My mother vowed me to buy a heart shaped dollar..
But she didn't
My father vowed that he would buy own house..
But he didn't
My girl friend told she would teach me to ride bike ..
But she didn't
My best friend told he would offer me treat..
But he didn't
My partner told he would invite me abroad ..
But he didn't
I too made a promise but it's on tussle..
I promised to be a lifelong friend
To one of the girl who's posh trend
As our friendship grew high
I began to sadly sigh
I analysed her personality thorough
As I slightly disliked it though
Managed to stick and adjust
Not letting her aware that am unable to ingest.
But still somehow I promised to be her affable friend
despite knowing one day she is gonna force me bend.
I need to maintain distance mode
to prevent from fight explode
We all do promises for one or the other reason
Once given away your promises
Lock it in heart's folder premises
It has to be consciously kept
Later not distressfully wept
Before you make
For someone's sake
Not knowing if they're fake
You need to ponder
Then later don't wonder
Finally when it is made
It should be saved
Don't allow it to fade...
30-5-2020
~DEEPA~
Second place in the Contest.
Note1: *The promise poetry Contest*
Sponsored by Silent One
It's nice to know you still do
I thought that you had stopped
Many sleepless nights were had
I worried quite a lot
I thought of going someplace far
To let you be alone
While all the time I'd quietly
Be waiting by the phone
I know I'm too dramatic
Deleting things at will
But love you? I'm emphatic
Calm down my heart, be still
Patience, lots of patience
It's not an easy thing
To want my little bluebird now
And long to hear her sing
I'll follow what you're doing
I'll store my thoughts away
In a temporary folder
Marked, "Open Me Someday"
Please give me time, I'll get there
Though sometimes I might say
"Goodnight my J, I love you"
Just telling you, I may
It’s a great exaggeration
Which I never understand
Why is it deemed an immigration
To spend a week in their land?
Just to see their homes and grass
Their gardens and the trees
But it seems they cannot grasp
The idea that it’s me
Lil’ old me who’s not a nation
But an owner of my mind
Stamped by generalization
That I never need to bind
I might be their mean projection
Thrown into the litter bin
A distorted strange reflection
Mirrored in the darkened screen
Brought my bank account statement
But it didn't work this time
There was no source of savings
Application was declined
Got the letter in spam folder
Their email made my day
They protected their border
And for this I had to pay
So goodbye the V&A
Farewell, The Leaping Horse
There’s no place around to stay
‘Cause my savings have no source
I was silly, they were stupid
But the right was on their side
It cost me two thousand quid -
I think highly of mankind!
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
Form:
I pause at last~
a rare celestial event,
like a comet or a clean inbox.
My files stare back,
feral little gremlins
named things like finalFINAL2
and use_this_one_maybe.
I take a breath.
The universe holds still.
Even my husband is impressed.
Then~
a miracle:
I drag one folder
into another folder
and nothing explodes.
Suddenly I’m unstoppable.
A digital filing phoenix.
A desktop deity.
A sorter of chaos.
And all it took
was pausing long enough
to remember
I’m actually in charge
of this digital zoo.
living in snow-capped Boulder was Mrs. G. Golder
Her personality persnickety and colder
fourteen juicy pepper jack cheeseburgers would not hold her
Six candy bars too, Mrs. Molder whispered to my pal Soldier
Mrs. Molder was a snoopy neighbor of Golder
None of us ventured to guess which crone was older
Their birth certificates flagged inside a red folder
Kept by the F.B.I. in weather that was colder
What’s your guess? My sister asked, nudging my shoulder
I guessed Mrs. Molder, but my sister argued it was Mrs. G. Golder
To find the answer, we broke into the F.B.I. office in Boulder
Discovered they were twins; it was unclear which one was older.
Written: May 27, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
****************
Colorful crayons, the dreams of my choice,
Chalk, white, and red allergens hurt my voice.
Young hearts overflow with pristine lifetime,
While learning about our gone past sublime.
Like a box that cradles bright, varied pens,
Transforming basic scenes with vivid stems.
Shades of jade, azure, lavender, and gold,
Turquoise whispers like oceans, calm and bold.
Purple colors absorbed me as a child,
Soft blue calmed all the troubles of my mind.
Yet I shun the red; the shadow it casts,
Recalls too well the echoes of the past.
Same as how crayons fit in their holder,
I give each dream its special space folder.
My daughter gifted me her project.
She made for her school. A living place;
With pink construction papers. In a manila folder.
The floor and the shelf were made with lots of ice-cream sticks.
The bed was also made with ice-cream sticks glued with glue gun.
It had a collection of colorful buttons, just like petals.
Lots and lots of colorful beanbags to relax on.
And pleasantly, it had a square window.
A rare glimpse of a deep blue sky!
I see a tree from the window
In the dining area, an oak tree.
With solid branches, green leaves.
When sunlight reflects on those leaves, birds chirp,
Squirrels hop and play together on the tree branches…
I feel I had tasks undone that I should have
Wrapped up yesterday. Painful emotion.
That old oak tree will always be there,
Beside the window unless there is a need,
To cut down the green leafy branches, age-old memories.
I see my daughter playing with her long hair, untied. Smiling.
I see tiny birds on the tree branch. I see beauty and colors.
7/20/19
"I'll be your Joker"
Still a registered voter
Signed up to be an organ donor
And finally became a car owner
I rarely use a controller
When it's time, I'll man up and buy a stroller
As well as panels that are solar
Near and far from areas that are polar
Doesn't matter if I ever get a Range Rover
Or Roadster
I'm barely ever sober
Always been a loner
And stoner
3 months away from another October
If you want to be my Harley Quinn, I'll be your "Joker"
Not no poser
Where are you Scully? This is agent Mulder
Anytime you want, I'll be your shoulder
To lean on
From here to way beyond
For eons
Where's my Marge? I am Homer
I'll be your rock over and over
Since I've gotten nobler
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
I've seen it so much, I could compile a folder
Life's one giant rollercoaster
It's really revving my motor
All these women giving me a b***r
And then the cold shoulder
As if I am an ogre
I remain a soldier
Drinking high end coffee, no more Folgers
Getting wiser and older
Becoming bolder
As the world gets colder
I'm not feeling dolor
Just multi tasking, while a fire continues to smoulder
Maintaining my composure
Finding closure
Getting closer
To greatness instead of being mediocre
I enjoyed the work I did with several growers
As well as trapping some gophers
Occasionally I'll partake in poker
Even though I'm not the best hoaxer
Once or twice I used a fire stoker
When it came to Mary Jane, I was a doter
A fan of it's fragrance, it's not what I'd call an odor
I consume some products made by Clover
And am usually in places considered remoter
It's time I get a toaster and holster
I don't really need a Flame Thrower
Or to get my face on a most wanted poster
Suit yourself if you want to wear a boater
Or choker
Houses in continual foreclosure
Not always wise to go for the price that is lower
Someday my mind and body will be slower
And one day it'll all be over
10-4 over and out
And now you know, what i'm really about
Not just by word of mouth
As they say don't look a gift horse in the mouth
Regardless of if you had your doubts
By: Dalton Ogletree
I will always hate the colour orange. Consider:
Last meeting was on promoting sales of necklaces,
The folder given was orange.
Going home was a one-lane affair,
An orange sign stated, “Works Ahead”.
Orange traffic cones lined the lane on each side.
Arriving home I found my wife had installed orange curtains.
By this time I began to have some shivers.
Dinner began: orange pumpkin soup with orange buffalo wings.
“Come dear have some orange juice laced with orange vitamin pills.”
Opening TV and orange Garfield appeared.
Even the Cheetos and Utz Cheese Balls were orange.
Turning to a book what do I get?
A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess.
That’s when I began to really hate the colour
For even the goldfish had the same colour.
“Is it possible in this world it’s all orange?”
My wife thought about that and said:
“Oh no my dear, there’s salmon, carrot, coral, titian….”
Disgusted I left the house towards a verdant park.