Long Front Poems
Long Front Poems. Below are the most popular long Front by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Front poems by poem length and keyword.
Frilly lace and white petticoats,
Where did your young summers go?
Long ponytails and climbing trees,
My memories are all of these.
Now a woman stands, where once a child
Ran laughing, to me with open arms.
A woman stands, and smiles at me,
Still grins with impish charms.
Today you walked through my front door.
I saw a woman, not a child.
How proud I am to be your Dad,
But the memories still make me a little sad.
'Cause you don't need me quite so much,
But I'll always remember the soft, little touch
Of your tiny hand upon my unshaved cheek
And the way you say "Daddy" so very sweet.
Copyright Chula Fleming June 1, 1991
I always thought that twilight
belonged to those who are old
to hand that once held too much
and to stories long ago told
but now I see it's not so
twilight is at every age
when one world fades behind us
and another flips the page
I have buried deep some versions
of the girl I used to be
watch the rainbow fade to gray
then return brighter than the day
If I stood in front of younger me
I would say "it's ok to stumble some courage is handmade"
Do not let the bitter breeze
teach your heart to close
even the sun when leaving
remembers how to glow
so, if this is a twilight
left find me wide awake
still gathering the specs of light
that almost made me break
Italian recipes I do absolutely love
especially enticed with some spice
plenty of water at your side
cools the tongue with a little ice
Spaghetti Bolognese is my fav
brings one such Italia taste
takes you back to la Roma
such memories not want to waste
Sitting at your table in anticipation
eyes set with hand on the fork
the waiter comes to your attention
brings the wine unpops the cork
Next the finale the wait's over
the main dish is in front of you
breathe in the succulent flavour
it just looks absolutely beau
Lean beef, onion, garlic, mushroom, chilli
ingredients making it the real deal
of course not forgetting the spaghetti
simply superb stunning what a steal!
Ladies and gentleman
Breaking news proving
The great conspiracy theory
Was far from a hoax -
Early this morning Jack Frost
Guilt-ridden and repentant
Turned himself in to the authorities
Admitting to his gruesome crime
Jack Frost confessed it was he
who assassinated Sir Humpty Dumpty
By the great wall of China
in broad daylight in front of hundreds
of witnesses who never came forward to testify
The coverup seemed it would never be solved
The assassin has been apprehended
The long-term mystery has been solved
Though the motive remains sketchy at this time
It is rumored that there was a love triangle
With the international superstar Miss Piggy
AP: 1st place 2025
Submitted on June 27, 2018 for contest THE MYSTERY OF HUMPTY DUMPTY sponsored by FARAZ AJMAL - RANKED 1ST
the full train
is 5am morning
like a reminder
like an alarm
is time to woke up
is another day
of work
nowadays we need
not be force anymore
for work
the bills are the force
they are the Cain
they are the fears
of joblessness
so this morning
again
another rush
another full train
full like a can of Saladin
full of soul about
to hit another day
of circle life
the full train
is 5am in the morning
papa is already up
mama is preparing
the family break fast
she got to do it fast
if not he will loss
the full train
of common human
who only wake to
work and sleep for
another morning to
catch the train
the train of
morden slaves
the full train
the full train
is in every city
the full train is
in every country
the full train is
in every civilised world
more worst in the
third world countries
the full train is
always common
to all commoners
the full train is
never a new thing
to the poor
the full train is
already use to it
victim of low income
or depressed soul
no wonder when one
of it victims are feed
up of life
no matter how the
train is full they
still jump to end life
by self suicide right
in front of
the full train
homelands / husbands / playing house / strands
& strings of horses behind strangers lounging
un-belonging to Thebes of Sevens or women,
depending on how you slice matters, as a perspective
as a twisted bark of favors
sneaky is a wooden gift donkey at a garden gate
overbitten hinge with ten front teeth, grinning
hidden from you looking into it, questioning
its motivated patience rolling up in wait—
weighted with sweat-salted men huffing
inside an oaken belly chewing tight lips, they be-lying
trojan claims of apple cake philanthropy, a ready hoof
as a broken wood tooth busted off in breaching trollop
secretly hiding a picked body of men
beckoning their silent armies to bolster a side
there lies in its midst a flatulence of language
no fox lays a stake on the hole—
protecting its skulk in prevention of domestication's leash
as all before have done, better a murder
of crows than shifting troops proving
stud horses hiding should be stabilized
as leashing foxes having lost the lead
chasing a venery— manufactured hare meant for horse
plot-plottering hooves against his own wood
stoking a smoke-show inside a swollen belly
raking at the gates to get out of the agreement
of being,
for being part of the picked body, scrutinized
for pulling short to remain quiet at the dying chaos
of the rattling sounds from a losing side
NORA
Carefree-spirited, wild at heart she sped down the steep streets of San Fransisco
Racing heart torn to pieces pounding from her chest, even after a bottle of Cisco
Wiping copious tears, but the dam burst, the outpouring she won’t control
Deep was their love, despair had broken her and stolen her spirited-soul
No stopping the storms of thoughts, she cries out to the sky, we were a pair
The night you didn’t see her, but she saw you with her, was too much to bear
Off to her lover’s concert gig that night at the club, numb to the world
No need for a ticket stub, she’s cool, Nora is the guy in the band’s girl
She parks her motorcycle and removes something from the saddle bag
In a hurry to carry out her goal, tonight is the night, there’s no time to lag
Distraught, destroyed, defeated, and numb she strolls on through a crowd
Pushes her way to the stage, edging closer in front of him, the music is loud
Left hand reaches into jacket pocket, she places gun to head
My beautiful cousin, at only nineteen she fell to the floor dead
At my age it was so painful, I kept it inside, nowhere to run, hiding my strife
I didn’t want to burden my mother over a broken heart, so I took my own life.
They took a leisurely stroll amidst the gardens of the Ferndale Park
Nora’s auburn braided hair resembled the clustering of cedar tree bark.
With their smooth silky lustering texture, flickering golden highlights.
As sunlight filtered through the branches, twigs and leaves, it ignites.
Aunt Olivia and Nora walked away hand in hand up the busy dirt trail.
It’s not the last time I’d see Nora, but this memory makes me wail.
I gazed at the night sky above me watching the clouds rolling by, everything was quite around, and for the first time I had a glimpse of where destiny is bound.
There is something magnificent radiating from above, humming with the graceful heart of a dove; it is walking with boots on the ground with the eyes of eagles looking around.
I walked along the town hall with a message that is so tall listening to the musical sound, and the culture running up and down the town.
The traffic was moving in particular rhythm and the solitude of man bound up with a grin, for the first time I could see the consciousness of mankind searching for a new meaning above the highest ceiling.
I was prepared for this task that would lift the heavens out of the dark and so I embarked on another mission to the moon.
We have been working in the woods for many years, wrestling with the wind and building models to stay alive while we try to fulfill this bountiful sacrifice, our hearts are with us and the heavens is above we glide through the trees and settle with the breeze
life began to take on new meaning oh what a wonderful feeling. Wisdom propels us along and we starts to sing a New song. The timing is right so we decide to roll the dice.
A whole new world has lit up in front of me and the universe is embracing me, two hearts meet under the tree bound together in the highest degree.
We climb the heighest mountain together listening to the howling wind and the message that is embedded within. The testament of truth is wrapped up in a message spanning from our youth, two different ages, two different grades but the passion that merges our soul will never be broken when we grow old.
The cord of love ties us together and the call to duty assembles us, the mind with its multitude of thoughts rises from a pinnacle, looking for a solitude that is floating in midair.
It is strong and deep and it never dies; it draws fresh water from the ocean and fills the heart with a great devotion and somewhere between those trees you will find solitude with the wind.
BACK STORY
Me and my dad used to work as a team on the Trolley Buses for Manchester Corporation, out of the Hyde Road Depot. Dad drove, and I was his offsider, collecting fares, and keeping order on the bus, like making sure people did not block the aisle, or go past the stop they had paid for. and no one was standing up if there was room to sit down, also making sure people upstairs did not bang there feet on the floor. General Spoilsport eh. In the second part, Moses was a big African fella, and his offsider was a little red headed Irishman, they usually had the run in front of us, and tried whatever they could to get us to go ahead, and take the load off them, timetables did not bother them much. I always told dad,
if it comes to a fight, I will take the little one
Trolley Buses
By Robert (Bob) Moore ©
I used to work on trolley buses, up and down Hyde Road
My dad he was the driver, and I controlled the load
Move along the bus I’d say, there’s room for 2 upstairs
that’s where you were allowed to smoke, in those days no one cared
Leave from Piccadilly, the 210 was our bus
Keep eyes on the timetable, it meant a lot to us.
Ardwick Green and Belle Vue, then on past Debdale Park
Hyde would be the Terminus, then turn and head right back
Sometimes a petrol driver, would try to make some cash
With overtime on trolleys, but sometimes they were rash
They’d forget about the trolley arm, and try to overtake
They’d see us wave and shouting, and realized “mistake”
It was all too late of course, and the sparks would start to fly
The arms were bent and waving, and the power it would die
Then swearing and apologies, and laughter close to tears
Then back to depot on batteries, for the ribbing and the sneers.
Moses was an African, his offsider was a Mick
They tried to get us to take their load, with every dirty trick
We pulled into Hyde one day, they had their trolleys down
You should be in front they said, and take the load to town.
Dad did not bat an eyelid, we’er on a break he said
you’ll have to wait 10 minutes, before we go ahead
they knew they could not wait that long, they had to make their run
so trolleys up, and off they went, we drank tea and watched the fun.
unrhymed quintets
Short-sighted sorts are better left unsaid;
but I’ll let you in on what I mean;
near-sighted neighbors are just plain nosy.
At close range they can read the bottom line.
Blind-sighted beings must guess at what's there.
Far-sighted folks focus on distance
and can see the buds on the trees
in the front yard from the back forty.
Short-sighted sorts, well I don't want to say;
Fore-sighted fellows can see ahead what is not.
Know-sighted kindred? rudely arrogant
looking down their long noses at others.
You-sighted yahooes? they’re somewhat selfish.
Insighted icons claim they see through you;
short-sighted sorts? self-explanatory.
written 28 April, 2016