Long Front(a) Poems
Long Front(a) Poems. Below are the most popular long Front(a) by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Front(a) poems by poem length and keyword.
Defeated by Time
By: Tom Wright
2/8/03
His perch, a wagon seat high above the highway.
Directly in front----a four up; directly behind------a chuck wagon.
I've often wondered, what portion of life,
"Wagon John" has spent looking at the north end of a south bound mule.
What occupied his thoughts at sunrise,
and if it was always a new day's adventure.
Surely days came when the mere thought of another twelve hour day,
and unbearable heat were too much.
Was it always the adventure of the open country,
and what might lie beyond the next rise?
Did he just travel, or was there a clear cut destination?
But this is as it was,
Now, through the hourglass of life, whose orifice seems enlarged,
days are hastily escaping.
Moments ago it was spring, and life was young and crazy,
packed with innocent dreams.
But now, trees he once climbed no longer stand,
He's left frail of limb, and oft without steady hand.
His companions, dogs, mules, and Sugar foot, his mustang.
He dares not venture far from his steady supply of oxygen,
and his visions consist only of those glimpsed in his rear view mirror.
Though I have known "Wagon John" but for a few years,
the fellowship that we shared and the bonding that I felt,
money could never purchase.
Readers note; Wrote this story concept five years ago. Have an additional fifty pages if interest spikes.
The Charcoal Man; Part One
Cohen & I were sitting in class whilst Mrs. Knooman picked up a withered piece of chalk we had never seen before. It had what appeared to be a sigil of a red eye on one side and a man without a face on the other. Was scarily eery. But I don't think Mrs. Knooman noticed.
She was a piece of work that woman. A right slag if you ask me. Hates her job, most likely her life too. Pretty sure her partner walked out on her when they couldn't bare her nonsense any longer. Honestly felt somewhat sorry for the broad.
I started bickering with Cohen as Mrs. Knooman turned around, after finishing drawing a circle no wider than a ruler. ''You halfwits need to pipe down before i decide to front a story to social services about how your families beat you.''
As me & the enitre class shrieked at what this woman had just said, the chalk seemed to...Churn, it was almost as if it was dissolving into the chalk board..But the board yet remained. Mrs. Knooman was in such a sudden rage that she hadn't even realised what was happening.
The chalk was gone on the board now, only leaving behind an outline of where the white tracing once was. It looked peculiar though, almost unsymmetrical to the touch. I was definitely right about that too..Because just as I and the entire class had noticed, a hand emerged from where it seemed crooked. The tips of the nails had just been sharpened, they were blacker than the blackest charcoal you could dig from the Earth's soil...And they just kept on seeming to grow.
I was stunned, there's a damned hand coming out the chalkboard. Cohen started screaming like a child. Right as he did, the hand shot out what now seemed like a doorway and opened it's palms to reveal eyes as red as thick flowing blood. Mrs. Knooman stopped yelling and turned to see this handeye looking directly at her.
Part Two Continues-
I met an old man in Atlantic City, in a library by the shore
Through the glass, the ocean shimmered, he couldn't ask for more
He said he'd been retired since his wife had passed away
His kids scattered across the land, it was hard to fill the day
He spoke about Dobbs Ferry library, there sunset paints the sky
From balconies he watches as the Hudson drifts on by
Outside the Hudson Highlands library, a castle on the height
Inside, portraits, paneled wood, and windows with golden light.
[Chorus]
So he goes from town to town, in libraries he finds
So many worlds to enter, and peace to ease his mind
He explores the future and the past, the stories don't grow old
But me, I watch the TV sitcoms, letting time unfold
He liked the New Haven library, where the homeless sometimes sleep
The librarian wakes them gently, though it makes her heart weep
He's been to New York's grand palace, with lions at the gate
In Greenburgh a local sang Western songs, folks danced, it was great
[Chorus]
So he goes from town to town, in libraries he finds
Echoes of a world gone by, and peace to ease his mind
Myself, I watch old action movies, but suspense won't take a hold
Sometimes I feel lost, sometimes I feel cold.
[Bridge]
The Detroit Public Library gave him a pleasant surprise
The city has seen better days, but that place deserves a prize
Built with Vermont marble, Italian trim, a building meant to last
In front a River of Knowledge Mosaic that connects us with the past
I felt a bit of sorrow, his hobby made me fret
I said, "In Atlantic City, there's excitement you can get"
"Come with me," I told him, "There's a place that we can go"
He smiled and said, "No thank you, son, I'd rather take it slow"
[Chorus]
So he goes from town to town, in libraries he finds
So many worlds to enter, and peace to ease his mind
While I sit and watch the reruns, letting time pass by
He finds the temples of the past, a learning kind of high.
He said "I'll stay in these cathedrals of what we used to be
To each his own, before birds flown, on priorities we disagree"
He turned back to his book again, beneath the painted dome
And in that silent moment, I knew he'd found a home.
I start to discover and explore..
I have known someone by worldwide end..
We start to chat..
exchanging informations witout VAT or Bath..
How could i know will be this close..
Sensitive enough to feel..
In high or low pitch tones..
In mere exchange of words..
sometimes, no need for much words..
sometimes, no need for much a do's..
though in thousand miles, never has a chance to meet: eye to eye..
though in rows of months, never once has a chance to talk front a front..
There is that chemistry, between negativity and positivity: a neautrality, ..
There is that binding faith, between Islam and Christianity: a desire for love..
Who can ever tell..
Who can ever judge..
Unexplainable..
Undeniably, just amazing...
deeper than the oceans depth..
higher than mountaintops..
precious as like diamonds..
longer than sands of time..
we are friends..
F - R - I - E - N - D - S..
by: olive_eloi
4:02pm
23/10/2013
dedicated to: friends
Keep joy in sight with heart that knows,
Note that true eye that sees all things;
Opt to find light with love that shows,
Work to feel high in all time flings.
Be one with soul that lives true zest,
Etch deep a cause that springs to life;
Yield mind made whole by poise of fest,
One with the force that strings all strife;
Niche poise that sums a wonder dear,
Dance happy feel as charm now stakes.
Sense what must come to purge all fear,
Hurts now reveal the cast not fake;
Observe the place where change works reach,
Words front a face most strange to each.
Leon Enriquez
07 August 2016
Singapore
My Covid hat had a mask on the side.
A mask in the front, a mask in the back.
Each mask had a message. Something sassy.
Something that said Goodbye 2020.
Something to say glad you’ve died 2020.
My Covid hat had a syringe on the top.
It was loaded with vaccine and a tiny tear drop.
The tear drop for Cindy, Harry, Elk Boy and Bean.
Four friends I used to have, who will no longer be seen.
I have aluminum foil rabbit ears on the top and side.
It has a bit of fur, and a headstone for my neighbor Clyde.
My Covid hat has a video of six or eight missed games.
And another video of a child who calls all his friends names.
They do not know, for they have not seen him in weeks.
This Covid hat is smirking at me. It has a smell that reeks.
A smell of death, medicine, wet contagious droplets in the air.
I wear it proudly, but go nowhere, so no one doth care.
Old Lord Harry put up a good front.
He hid socks in his pants as a stunt.
But, his Lady swore
as argyle hit floor
that no organ was found to be blunt.
6/17/14
It seems some did not get this poem so a wee bit of 'splaining is above for all you Desi Arnez fans.
Definition for
FRONT - noun the side or part of an object that presents itself to view or that is normally seen or used first; the most forward part of something. [i.e. the front of his pants]
FRONT - noun in a military sense the front is the FIRING LINE
FRONT - a fake or false personality
This poetic devise is called a double entendre [a play on words]- a word or phrase open to two interpretations, one of which is usually risqué or indecent.
ORGAN - is also being used this way - The human ***** is an external male sexual organ - as well as a musical instrument made of pipe
ARGYLE - a pattern composed of diamonds of various colors on a plain background, used in knitted garments such as sweaters and socks.
or ARE GUILE - someone who is sly or cunning
even the word BLUNT has another meaning here since a BLUNT sword would be of little use
I dance his Caribbean music i wrote lyrics to his tropical beats harmony we met after night classes business and real estate funny how we met i was dancing in front a giant picture window of a pool room to find him and his vagabond shoes staring in the window nothing interrupted my dancing his eyes begged for more as I finished he waited till the end of my set when we finally embraced he bought that pool room to impress me making it into a Caribbean bakery funny life is i mean i never knew when my killers arrived he'd be right there embracing me with so much love saving my life everything planned out like delta force I mean 6 weeks I watched a gunman seated guarded my front door he never left waiting on my hitmen to emerge I complained who was he it was after a string of break ins on the island my poetry I contacted the fbi who wants me dead it was a group of Jamaican females filled with envy outside usf they plotted my death declaring I was an informant a rat from up north telling the gunman to kill me my body guard went into action why i was in hiding we shared two children we hid from the world here we were my death plotted he guided the violence from my front door saving me and his children from these domestic terrorists I'm in total awesomeness of God's love for me our song is the sweetest song heard all over town never forgotten bodyguard embracing me that day that way my assassination was courageously intercepted
The black earth just below the moss.
It's headiness held down.
On top a carpet green and soft
The comfort of a crown.
To walk is just a hop of heart
A bounce a joy away.
To feel it is to just relax
A comfort I'm to play.
A passing look, a fervent scene.
A tree-line standing tall.
Upon a hill; a mound of earth
A feeling that I call.
The Northern Star above the frost
to guide my lazy eye.
Where home is found and I am part
of never ending sky.
A walk between a ledge of trees
My compass fresh Pine air.
To come out in a swamp of dew
Reflections that I care.
My home a little cabin further.
Walls of racked up logs.
Out front a hound dog tied to feed
an appetite of hogs.
A smoke puff from a chimney top
A signal someone's home.
A maiden in an evening gown
A wife if not a poem.
My life in Northern Canada
has brand me with it's scent.
For those above it's parallel
No time's been better spent.
Blue Jays and Black birds and half a dozen squirrels.
Sprinkled with Sparrow's, it's become quite a world.
Occasional Cardinal to add a little spice.
They seem to all be getting along fairly nice.
The neighbor, he feeds them plenty of food.
It seems it is working, they've become quite a brood.
As long as the house is buttoned up tight.
They're not a problem, I sleep fine at night.
Out in the front, a chipmunk does play.
Scurrying around and having it's way.
A Robin or two might ruffle their feathers.
I wouldn't change a thing if I had my druthers.
It feels like I'm blessed to have such a mess.
Nothing to do but enjoy it, I guess.
God certainly does have mysterious ways.
How he shows us his love in these warm summer days.