Long Foot in the door Poems
Long Foot in the door Poems. Below are the most popular long Foot in the door by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Foot in the door poems by poem length and keyword.
I’m not too sure will I make it
Confusing the day with night
My visions are sure they are naked
And see-through held up to the light
I’ve been thinking it out
Since that thief shut my mouth
With the words that he took to be true
He made off so fast
Couldn’t stop so he crashed
But too late I was wearing his shoes
I had to call up the doctor
I knew we would not have met by chance
But he said he was rather quite busy
And really tied up in his pants
I’m a casual liar
With a hypocrite smile
And I can’t get up from the ground
He said take some of these
Get up on your knees
Keep your loyalty profound
Lit up to take another hit
The swallow song had just begun
Threw away my senses so quick
Now I’d trade my eyelids for some
Couldn’t hear the clock
No ticking no tock
A timeless spell in the park
In the hours I had not
I was happy as I walked
Knowing shadows were not cast in the dark
‘Twas there I found Susanna the dancer
She opened the door well it was her place
Could see her wondering what’s he after
Is it a funny look or just his face?
Foot in the door wasn’t trying to sell
Couldn’t stand still
On no other shelf
Her creamy thighs opened
Without a noise spoken
That is all that I’m wanting to tell
CHASING FOOTPRINTS
Some feet are bigger than others
none bigger than those
left by your brothers -
that you tried to fill.
The foot that Dad
would put “right up ‘ur ****”
and the one Mom said
you must put forward.
The meter and feet
we poetically treat
in attempt to conform
to rhythm and beat.
One foot we must
“take out of our mouth”,
while trying to get
“one foot in the door”.
Footprints that litter
the sands of our mind
that cannot be followed
by looking behind.
The foot of the stairs
the foot of the bed
the footsteps of night
the footsteps of dread.
Huge footprints of carbon
Al Gore and his ilk
charging the cows
for the grass to make milk.
One foot on the gas
One foot on the brake
one looking to give
one looking to take.
So don’t judge the size
or the depth of the root
nor measure the soul
by the size of the boot.
John G. Lawless
submitted to – BIGFOOT (A Poet Destroyer contest)
The raw innocence of a first job interview
I'm sitting at a McDonald's
writing a poem. I save it.
My interest is piqued,
at a young lad interviewing
for his first job, presumably.
At first I see him dressed in shorts,
plain white t-shirt, and
slippers, and I then think of his
mistaken attire. He kept twitching his
nervous knees as the manager
looked over his application.
The raw innocence. There's
an exchange of dialogue. But then
I could see that the interview
turned into an orientation,
even laughter at times. So I
knew the young lad had his
foot in the door. Great. During
this time a smiling women catches
my eye. She's probably thinking
why I'm watching so intently at the
interview. She keeps looking
over at the interview, too.
I didn't put two and two together
until later. The raw innocence
of a mother looking on as her
cub leaves the lair.
connie pachecho
1/26/17
You say that I'm not a good wife,
but I supported you while you were in jail.
How can I not be a good wife,
when I stood by you when others would bail?
You know how to push my every button.
How to make me doubt myself and get mad.
You're the fool who will never realize
the loyal, forgiving, faithful wife you had.
Not many people will stand by a man,
who is an addict, has cheated and hit them.
I gave you a second chance with our marriage,
I was the fool who went out on a limb.
I never should have given you the first chance.
You didn't deserve to have someone like me.
Not that I'm beautiful or glamorous, just normal.
But you use women to get what you need.
You feed on women with low self esteem,
using your looks to get your foot in the door.
Well, I learned my lesson, though I love you,
You're a disgrace, and I deserve more.
I'm tired of you calling and playing your mind games.
You say hurtful things that make me cry.
Why can't you leave me alone, do what you do best,
Go get drunk, screw some skank and get high!
I don't want you in my life anymore,
No, we can't be friends and stay in touch!
You can't make amends for what you've done,
Its over, you've put me through way too much!
You'll never change, so why would I want
to even think of giving you another chance?
I did my time, I'm done, its over, Good-bye,
It didn't work for us, I'm no longer in your trance!
Just sign the papers, for once be a man
and do as I ask, I've given you enough of my time.
Go back to how you were when we met, using women,
not wanting to work, doing drugs and your life of crime.
Nigel is Britain’s most successful boccia player,
Having won eight major titles at the Worlds, Paras,
And so spoke out when Rio’s organisers, clever,
Refused to televise boccia’s intriguing blethers.
He says that boccia sports people need to get,
“our foot in the door” of live television coverage:
“I was disappointed in London [that] we didn’t get,
the media attention other sports did,” sacrilege,
which is frustrating because we [do] really want to,
showcase our sport. It’s very easy for me to say
boccia is fantastic. It’s brilliant, but unless [you know],
other people can get access to it, [okay, make way],
through the media, the wider audience are not,
going to get to know about boccia [sport straight].”
He refuses to retire so that he can get and pot,
“more publicity for the athletes in future.” Wait.
Born on 22nd May 1964 he’s an experienced man,
And won in Sydney 2000 a gold for the individual,
In Portugal 2002 two golds, Brazil 2006 he did can,
A bronze, then gold, silver in Beijing, he did angle.
I changed my heart, and mind, there's nothing you can say,
I've filtered through the jokes and insults, it's the enemy's game,
You've pounded on the door ignorantly, but you see, I have the keys,
And nothing can come into the room, unless I allow it to be,
I can hear you from the other side, throwing indirect remarks,
Did you think that if you tried to affect me, I would let you in my heart?,
When you switch up, which you have, I've got my foot In the door,
But the minute you start harrassing me, I shut it again once more,
Until you can get it through your head, that's not the way to love,
Don't expect me too much from me, because I've tried and it was never enough,
Unsatisfied with yourself, this back n forth game you play,
This has nothing to do with me, if you don't love me than walk away.
Four Wheels
I saw a stranger in a wheelchair.
At the gym shooting hoops by herself.
The courage to keep on going.
No care toward what someone else would be saying.
In a big room all to yourself.
Enjoying life, with no one else.
When was the last time you helped out a stranger?
New memories they would be thankful for.
It’s better to give than to receive.
On four wheels, she was being the best she could be.
Do you ever take time out to wonder?
How can the brave move forward?
Just doing her own thing.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Someone like them inspires me.
Keep on going to the finish line you see.
Don’t take anything for granted.
The wheels spin in so many directions.
Maybe I’m just observant.
Seeing someone trying on their own.
No excuses for me not to go to the gym.
All the hard work will pay off to be slim.
Just put your foot in the door.
Work your heart out and drop to the floor.
I didn’t even know her name.
If I skipped a day, I have no one else to blame.
The one that shot hoops gave her all.
I guess her favorite sport would be basketball.