Long Garages Poems
Long Garages Poems. Below are the most popular long Garages by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Garages poems by poem length and keyword.
A listless wall-clock tocks.
Pedestrians sleep-walk to their garages,
strung out nightwalkers arrive home
to unwind main springs.
Neighborhood cats want in and dogs out.
Pet-free I arise
to pee.
Hung upon marshmallow bones
I roll back onto the perspiring mattress,
Its pillows are still drunk on mind-fog.
The slamming of distant doors
tweaks fine ear hairs.
The clock stops to rethink the notion of time,
hands flop out of its face,
those hands will never reach the floor,
not until bare feet repossess the rug,
nor until my toes can hack their way through
its pile weave jungle,
only then
will the wall commence to tick,
and a thick-tongued world clock in.
A picture
Behind the mountain, as seen in this photo
I lived, in a small village, for 31 years
The hillside of the mountain only had a few farms
narrow tracks fit for sheep and mules
The houses had narrow entrances because
the people were not of tall stature and lived modestly
and believed in God
The men didn’t live long, and the women usually
went on living twenty years more; the reason for this
I blame the Medronho, which is imbibed too often.
The hillside exploded one-day building activities
for people (tourists) to find Portugal a beautiful
a place to live and get old.
Only when people get old do hanker
for the country, they came from and sold out
that was good for real estate, and prices went up
so much so that the hillside became a sought-after place
almost posh, with garages and newly asphalted roads.
When driving to my home behind the mountain
I had to drive around, but now it is possible to drive over
the top and down, which is good for those who like heights
But it must be said, the old road was more seer friendly
Nevertheless, the mountain is charming in winter light.
PS. The phone was not charged
Arson murder of 9 persons after the content of the tailor shop was stored in the garage Ciro Gargano his business Partner fireman gene Kalinowski the great cover up resulting in many more arson murders back off me with terrorist threats my prayers are with the fire captain who perished in that garage I’m totally reminded of Gargano arson murders 9 people died I have no fear of your intimidation very sad when city officials working for a wannabe crime boss covering up his arson murders doesn’t matter who you send to light the match set the blaze lives are taken I know what you did how you hide behind the undesirables to set blazes in garages trash cans tailor shops Fbi warned me my life would forever be in danger today my Chicago flag is hung in memory of all the lives that persished in your fires
Great transitions became part of human experience
after we gave up on daily nomad lifestyle,
perhaps too bohemian
to have ever actually existed
out of nutritional nurturing choice
As contrasted with necessity
of drought,
floods,
pestilence,
famine,
chronic wars,
climatic absence of healthy peace.
Great transitions
are choices,
positive more than negatively motivated,
to move from one habitat
in space and/or time
to another
that feels more promising,
worthy of trust,
a potential celebration of interactive beauty,
holistic balance,
resilient health,
aesthetically resonant wealth.
Great transitions
have their inhale stage,
before the moving Team appears,
which includes hard and soft decisions
and indecisions,
memories,
and rude reminders
lacking acquisitive memories
about where did all these properties come from,
external
with their internally complementary feelings
of way too much stuff
in my cluttered life,
Happiness to be bringing warm memories along
and sadness to leave so much cold
and neglectful waste
behind the dumpster
And great transitions
also have their less famous exhale stage
after the moving Team
moves on
to facilitate another household's preferably Great
but sometimes Traumatic
Transition.
Great transitions
in second stage
open one box at a time
to reload new closets
basements
attics
garages
sheds
shelves
entertainment centers
dress drawers
treasure chests
jewelry boxes
safes
mailboxes
kitchen and bathroom drawers
cabinets
medicine cabinets
CD and DVD racks
soundtracks
shoe racks
pot racks
wine racks
over the door hat racks
behind the door spice racks
tool racks and peg boards
hangers
umbrella stands
coat trees
bird feeders
pantry shelves
under the oven drawers
armoires
desks
hutches
book cases
curtain rods
picture hangers
linen closets
nightstands
pillow cases
guest beds
Great transitions
never die
they just fade in
to what remains of yesterday
Sufficient for this new age
of rebecoming
habituated
co-acclimated
seeking a healthier climate,
a wealthier place
for healing uncooperative
lack of felt resilience
To survive
and hopefully thrive
into our next Great Transition,
inhaling into recycling lungs,
exhaling out into greener
more resonantly resilient
Great Earth Habitat.
Of them our rulers
To the pauperised people.
Of a kingdom surrounded
By millions of the “Almajeris” .
Of looters in power up towers
Thinking not to leave forever.
Of the Northern cabals
With donkey years in power,
Of them with the stench of the “Almajeris”.
Of the Bush –Pig with the
Hyenas on the Rock
Of them the gluttons and the greed
Of them that devours our resources daily
Of them the Southern vultures
That condemns us into misery.
Of them that worn for millions
Toga of millions of poverty . . “Almajeris”
Of them the Urchins who
Made us suffer amidst bounty.
Off them the Predator millionaires,
We shall seize power for the millions
For the time to wrestle and dazzle
To yank off the toga of the “Almajeris” is now.
Alayande Stephen. T
1.05pm
22nd of July, 2006
On our way to Kaduna NCP/NCC Meeting
Precisely at the one of the garages, we saw it happened
NB-The word "Almajeris" is an Hausa Language from Nigeria used for the
wretched ,tattered looking young children in the Northern part of Nigeria. Kaduna
is a State in Nigeria.
Mom’s Night Before Christmas
T’was the night before Christmas
Downtown stores they were packed
Shoppers looking for deals
Bargains bound to attract.
My mother navigated crowded streets with care
She put off Christmas shopping until Christmas Eve
Knowing the sales would still be there
She would check off her list – this she believed!
Every year, the same game
This her habit, her tradition
Christmas Eve shopping – her claim to fame -
Like a wise woman on a mission
All parking lots said no room in the inn
Garages full, nary a spot in sight
But mom didn’t worry, slowly she grinned,
She knew the secret for parking this night.
Singing Silver Bells, her favorite carol,
With visions of gifts purchased, just in time,
She wore her mantra like festive apparel
“There’s always room at the head of the line.”
Lo, and behold, what appeared
One parking place at her favorite store
Quickly she zipped in filled with Christmas cheer
Ready to finish her holiday chores.
There’s always room, her holiday legend,
One she passed on to me, thankfully,
When finding a mall space I look to Heaven
“Thanks, Mom!” I say with Christmas glee.
Miracles happen at this time of year
In positive thinking believe
A star in the sky – a Savior appears
All of life’s burdens to relieve.
12-6-22
Contest: T’was the Night Before 3
Sponsor: Joseph May
Every year on Christmas Eve my mom would drive downtown to do her Christmas shopping. With every garage and parking place taken, she would, every year, find a place to park in front of the door to her favorite store!!!! Her mantra lives on – “There’s always room at the head of the line!” Perfect for the belief in miracles at Christmas!
Look at you haven't you done well
With your custom built library office which smells if rich mahogany and many leather bound book's
Isn't it amazing what money can buy
An entire room of book's for the ignorant and illiterate
A country mansion and more cars than garages and bespoke suits and watches than day's in the week
With a trophy wife in check to adorn his arm
And blessed with everything he ever dreamed of
He still remained unfulfilled
As all the money in the world could not buy the 1 thing he craved left remaining
None of which he owned was earned
His wealth his house his car's his freinds his wife
At the end of the day it was all inherited
And therefore worthless
I felt small like a little mouse
walking the rooms of this large house
Rooms were spacious ceilings tall
painted colorful were the walls
Though some had paneling wall paper to
some stenciled with scenes of nature and cherub
Ceilings were works of art, like a cathedral divine
some coffered ceilings or wooden beams refine
Windows from floor to ceiling flooding sunshine in
drapes heavy and dropping pushed to side ends
Grand stairs like in a Hollywood scene
elevators in the main house and wings
Fireplaces enormous and plenty used a whole tree for a log
bedrooms so many with ensuite and crystal doorknobs
Powder rooms seemed peppered everywhere to please
pocket doors enormous but glide with ease
Floors of marble or finest wood and design tiles
rooms for every occasions in this place somehow
A room to sew one for crafts and even one for gifts
A library, study, a theater, gym with weights to lift
Parlors, living, drawing rooms always a place to sit
Game room, playroom, hobby room, one I forget
A great kitchen and a spice kitchen and one for prep
Breakfast room, nooks, a grand dinning hall to inspect
Pantry for Butler, dishes and food
with every device and gadget you could ever use
Closets and storage and corridors for maids
was this a house or palace somebody made
Porches, patios, balconies and a veranda or two
garages, a carriage house, a guest house never used
Basement was an industrial center to make the house go
with every contraption for comfort to make the house flow.
Attic like a village of servant rooms and common areas to share
The grounds to expansive to even care
How long did someone once live here
now the large house to big of an expense to bare
So shutter and empty it will now be
A giant ghost standing defiant without a need.
We want bigger homes
And a smaller family.
We want mountain tops and
Flowers in the valley.
We want more convenience,
We have less time.
We all have our hills and
Mountains to climb.
We want more degrees,
But no common sense.
We want things to change,
Yet, we are on the fence.
We want more knowledge,
We have less judgement.
We have more crime,
A glutton for punishment.
We want more experts, yet we
Create bigger problems.
We expect what we plant
To blossom.
We want more medicine,
But we're less healthy.
Everyone is getting fat,
But the wealthy.
We have been to the moon
And back.
We have lost our way,
On the wrong track.
We built more computers to
Hold more information.
To make conversation, we open
More lines of communication.
We want more quantity,
We get less quality.
We want equal rights, yet
Deal with equality.
We want a variety of fast foods,
We have slow digestion.
We want the first date
To pop the question.
We want to be taller,
We are short on character.
We want to meet new people,
Yet there is a barrier.
We want more profits, yet we
Have shallow relationships.
We want more friends,
But we have fewer partnerships.
Our garages are full,
Our homes are empty.
We want it to be colder,
We become more sweaty.
Turbo1904 ?
Who will be first to climb the dawn light?
Daybreak stretches its gray tendons
to high windows,
dim reflections foreshadow
strings of geese -
all is a leaving.
Some wake up in cardboard boxes.
Some drive ahead of themselves,
the overheated skid backwards into empty garages.
Cops in Irish pubs drink whisky
with black morning coffee.
The night is slow to die.
There’s a virus going around they say.
Some wake up dying,
some night-walkers go home
to their daydreams.
The town will wear a different mask for a while,
on the freeway rubber rolls to elsewhere.
A limp light gutters,
shadows run low, scuttle into dank corners.
A last skein of geese has passed.
I am at my window watching,
some concrete cells are empty,
some watchers will not sleep again,
not before the next gasp of night
steals their breath away.