Long Folders Poems
Long Folders Poems. Below are the most popular long Folders by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Folders poems by poem length and keyword.
They’re everywhere, look around
“Go to the Moon or even Mars”
Attacking Middle Eastern towns
One day will take us to the stars
Starlink is child of the rockets
That learned to fly and not to fall
SpaceX is one with deepest pockets
Spacecrafts to do the cargo haul
Warheads that speed attacking homes
But when they’re shot, they burn to ash
They blasted billion-dollar dome
When wartime base was being bashed
Punks threaten us and bully them
Taiwan, Korea in crosshairs
Ballistic pieces, in a jam
Are placing world's state of affairs
Of talking heads' newfound fellows
Iran, Zion, Hamas, Ukraine
The silent killers lacking bellow
And from above they come like rain
Exploring space or waging battles
We know their names, cheer the success
They make the cams around rattle
While hit make fire, smoke and mess
The intercepts, all breaths are bated
Hurray, when blown to smithereens
But often leave us aggravated
When raging flames fill the screens
The cause of threats, the breaking news
Watch them on YouTube and TV
Incessant talk of war reviews
Attacks from air and at sea
Sneak into breakfast conversations
Or folders of White House reports
The pride of the entire nations
Mankind’s shame and pain of sorts
Becoming smarter by the hour
They’ll take the humans high above
Benevolent or evil power
Them missiles hatred spread or love
The rockets, how did we get here?
Produced and sold, or not transferred
Destroying states with sharpest spear
Successors of the Thunderbird
March 31, 2026
If time were the minted money of the world,
we’d care to safeguard our wallets every instant,
making sure the valued notes don’t fly away like seconds
through the extravagant course of the darting minutes.
If time were to turn into the legal tender,
we’d carry the unseen folders in our chests,
filled with currency as precious as the years we get,
that we long to live in affluence every wealthy hour.
Sunrise time would be morphed into prized fortune
with splendorous riches enshrined in valued moments.
The crypt of dawn would turn into mental locker
where the gold coin of each second we’d warily keep.
Time would come for us with gilded hours to be spendthrifts,
for giving it generously to a destitute lonely friend in need.
The rationale to rightly own the treasure of time
is to squander it on something that requires it most.
Born of Silicon and Oxygen, you hide in the Earth,
Formed in shapes sizes of dust and rocks, and heavy boulders;
Midst costly gems and stones and jewels, you have august worth,
Electricals and opticals intertwine your folders...!
Crystal and white and red and pink and green in their pure forms,
Like flowers and birds and beasts in various shades and shapes;
Prism-like pristine kaleidoscopic elegance conforms,
As glass, concrete, mortar, or jewel show perfect stapes...!
A proponent of optimism; you are a sign of luck,
Polished Prefabricated you perpetually shine;
With diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, when you are stuck,
The charm of your fusion goes beyond the enchantment line...!
Particles of the sun and moon and the stars in you thrive,
Fine alloy midst alloys, O quartz, fond feelings you revive...!!!
A poem based on relationship…”A girl in her own dreams”
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi :)
DREAMS - An Iota of HOPE
“Waked up 7 :00 am in the morning..
saw my beauteous dreams transforming..
ohh yeah..with a drowsiness yawning..
Suddenly I found myself refreshing.
Excitedly Gone near by emblazoned window..
Fearfully Viewed a gloomy shadow..
Suddenly he smiled at me through haze of smoke..
Like a fantastic sizzling coke..
Soothing music on its full swing ..
Like a glittering diamond in the ring..
He ought to give me red rose..
On his bended knees he bows..
He tickled on my pierced nose..
With which I got glaciatedly froze..
Like a tempting dark fantasy chocolate melting in the mouth..
We strongly decided and took a royalistic oath..
He Embraced his hand on my shoulders..
Which Got intact like file and folders…
Like the moon shines in the sparkling night..
Enduringly felt to hug him so tight..
Dazzling Eyes immersed in each other..
Tuned together like a romantic lover..
Every nerve of us conjoined together..
Because the love lasted forever..forever…
Suddenly a glimpse of sun came and shattered all my zestful dreams..
“”Ohhhh.. ohhhh No..Not again. Not again. No more illustrations. No one can dwell my heart like you. Please come back. No more dreams please..””
.
Yep this feeling arised at once and will be still till our last breathe. Lasting forever. Just forever..
We trapped in each other’s heart and now no one dare to break our love-life’s part.. Apart..
Love is the essence of life and it is measured not by the count of breathe we take..but by the moments we share together till our last breathe..
By,
Madhavi
My Quirk
A thing that bothers me the most,
the quirk that nags at me each day,
my study desktop capped with stuff -
its cluttered surface on display.
Poetry books, card-making drafts,
some poem lines on scribbled notes;
variety of pencils, pens,
and spaces filled with filing totes.
Perhaps an empty coffee cup
and crumbs from lunch or tiny snack.
A cell phone charging, tablet too,
and sheets from folders not put back.
Computer, printer, stacks of poems;
scattered photos, mail not read.
Some bills to pay, and some to file;
this vision messes up my head!
It drives me crazy! But, I smile
and disregard my mind's complaints.
My picture-perfect desktop dream?
Perhaps in heaven with the saints!
Outside my study, rooms are neat;
most things in place and looking fine.
But in this wild space, I create!
My freedom to compose, design!
February 10, 2018
Premiere Contest: Quirks
Sponsor: Madison Demetros
He had a disorderly mind.
She had an ordered one.
She had cerebral files,
binders,
alphabetized answers
for every occasion.
He would come to her
with questions
like - what-do-you-call-it
and who’s-his-face
and whatever was the name of
some thingamajig or other.
She would calmly dig into her mental
folders, data banks and dossiers
and supply him the correct
precise response or comment.
He would hurry away
holding her answer tightly \
in his loose
fumbling, bungling
and forgetful mind.
Then she would happily turn
to her main purpose in life
which was torturing little animals
and laughing maniacally as she
listened to their screams.
Piles upon piles of dust and mold
Gather in a large closet up in the attic,
Where junk of memorabilia resides
Untouched for years as I scan the heap
Of treasures accumulated: a prom's corsage
At 17, shelves of dresses, high-heels that
Tell me now I have grown four sizes larger!
Paperbacks circa 1980, eaten by bugs
from a Literature nerd in grade school...
Journals theater souvenirs looking like
Fossilized antiques from medieval ages,
Along with broken Parker pens and oil
Tubes defying a frustrated artist,
With drawers of lace, beads, threads
As glue guns ( in yellow) stick on interior- design
Folders: then to reach out for music records;
Dollars saved in a jar as a novice in advertising:
Oh the thongs , underwear kept in cedar boxes--
A vision of dates with sleek metro princes,
Discoing on till they turn into wimpy frogs...
How chlorine scent jams my nostrils as I clear
The unwanted pile-- mounds of pile that
Stain my dingy face my hair a rocker's mop.
Die as I flood you with ammonia !
Not the keepsakes...but those stinking fungi!
3/2/2017
Unwanted Guest Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
In a museum, right there on the wall,
The name of the artwork’s displayed,
Along with the artist and elements used
And the date it was painted or made.
Yet some institutions don’t follow the script
And there are no labels or signs.
Instead, there are folders you pluck from a pile
For the info most signage defines.
It’s annoying to me, extra work, if you will,
Matching outlines and numbers to where
On the wall every gallery work has been hung,
For a plaque would be better off there.
Some museums are known for exhibits so dense
There is not enough room for a card,
But the one I just came from is spacious and spare,
So some signage would not have been hard.
"Listen closely," Rumple Stein
cackled, his yellow eyes
scanning the terrified faces
of the children huddled
around the campfire.
"A massive, hairy Bigfoot
stalks the foggy mountains,
sniffing the chilly night air for
a very specific scent."
"This towering beast
possesses a terrible, burning
fury against children who
refuse to do their homework."
"Because some kids don't do
their homework, the furious
monster swore to hunt down
every single lazy child."
"He tracks the scent of blank
pages and hidden schoolbooks
straight to your campground tents!"
"He wants to stomp slacker
kids to a pulp to punish them
for neglecting their daily education!"
He suddenly jumped to his
feet, throwing his hands high
as the wind howled through
the branches.
"And when he catches a lazy
student, "Rumple Stein roared,
"he crushes them with his giant
feet!"
The terrified children
immediately reached into
their backpacks, pulling out
their folders in absolute panic.
They frantically began
scribbling their spelling
words by the dim, flickering
light of the dying fire.
A handheld hardware is a manual mouse
Used to position or place a cursor
On a computer screen or flat surface
To be the user's item selector.
The pointing device performs an action
By clicking chosen function on display;
Allowing user to do the purpose
With much precision all throughout the day.
Cursor controller can move and pick text,
The icons, folders, and files are managed;
It walks in a pad or in a smooth desk,
Filled with wide wisdom, insight and knowledge.
An optical mouse works in distinct way,
Shining a bright light down onto your desk;
The effulgent glow comes from L-E-D,
As computer's view is quite picturesque.
The different types of the mighty mouse
Include optical, trackball, and laser;
Mechanical, ball, wireless, and others
Are a marvelous fine handheld hardware.