Long Glasses Poems
Long Glasses Poems. Below are the most popular long Glasses by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Glasses poems by poem length and keyword.
in diagnosis of psychosis, his pincer glasses reddening his nose,
the professor’s leverage - his certificate upon his office wall - the know-it-all.
a fragment of his time spent examining inky blots - the bevel of distortions of a picasso-like mind. he derided himself for thinking his patient as a derelict, given his own raggedy suit, long scraggly beard. He tap..tap...taps his pen, thunking it against his papers...tap, tap, tap to the annoyance of this...ahem, derelict.
“I must find a resolution to your illness. This panic you feel when you step into my office,” he can never bring himself to look the stranger in the eye.
with the vortex of a sinkhole, his innards drop out, when the derelict calls out,
“Times up!”
in conclusion of his illusion until next week, he thinks to himself,
‘next time we show up clean cut. that will fool him.’ he takes the blots with him.
he must know the answers for next time. the derelict must be locked up and he must be set free.
6/11/2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Kai Neumann
*My original is 14 lines. Please don’t hold it against me if the poem runs longer on PS.
Got some rose-colored glasses
And they’re messing with my brain.
I’m not sure things are clearer
Or if I have gone insane.
I had thought I understood the world
And that I could trust my eyes
But I’m looking through these lenses
And I fear I’m seeing lies.
Got some rose-colored glasses
To correct what I perceive.
‘Cause for my entire life
I’m told I have been deceived.
I believed that I was well informed
And could not be surprised,
But I’m looking through these lenses
And I now don’t trust my eyes.
Got some rose-colored glasses
Now I cannot understand
How I made it all these years
With an outlook that’s so bland.
I’m uncertain, now, what to believe
All the what’s, the when’s, the why’s
‘Cause I’m looking through these lenses
And it’s like I’ve got new eyes.
Millennials are spring breaking
Boomers are hunkering down
Clowns are pointing fingers...again
No vacancy at the coroner's lounge.
Florists and pharma are stacking chips.
The panicked are dusting off prickly prayers.
The media is tossing frantic into the wind.
The government is shutting us down.
Not enough bleach or kits to go around.
The preppers laughing at the newly desperate.
The rich and the guilty have all been tested.
Poor men get no empathy and are laid to rest.
Under champagne glasses of tinsel towns.
Covid-19 is but a long prequel.
For much nastier things to come.
A wise old woman once said to me
"Death always comes in threes".
Somewhere in all this froth
I've lost track of myself
and no longer count the blessings.
“Time is a gift that most of us take for granted. We get caught up in our daily lives and rarely take the time to appreciate the simple wonders around us.”
Cheryl Richardson
"This little poem was not entered in any other contest : ~~The Poet~~
Take time to read.
Wonders indeed
Wonderful times,
Making Rhymes.
Sapphire dew drops.
Bubble as it pops.
Pink cotton candy
Fine French brandy
Sweet baby smiles
Beauty that beguiles.
Kitten’s gentle purr
Puppy’s soft fur
Time heals.
Church bell peals
Soft lemon scent
Feeling content
Brilliant sun rising
Oh, so mesmerizing.
Sun softly fading.
Lemonade cascading
Fresh air inhales
Spider web trails
Time to wonder,
Why it’s down-under.
Captivating looks
Mystery books
Lover’s letters
Angora sweaters
Connecting glances
Heaven sent chances.
First spring rose
Ribbons n bows
Sweet vine grapes
Red velvet drapes
Ornate Venus statue
When I look at you
Time of the essence.
In quiescence
Lavender snips
Smooth satin lips
Petite daisy chains
Cover when it rains.
Wanting to stay
Celestial visions play.
Pirouetting pansies
Goofy chimpanzees
Crisp linen sheet
Friends as they meet.
Time to wander,
Fields out yonder.
Poem of splendor
Caresses so tender
Soft tissue paper
Sandalwood vapor
Call of the ocean
Love’s raw emotion
Fading fairy wings
As my heart sings
Time passes
Fine crystal glasses.
Foam from waves.
Exploring caves
Child’s ponytail.
Pastels ever so pale
Ornamented icicles
Penny-farthing bicycles
Time flies
Kaleidoscope of butterflies
Golden flowing hair
Two sharing prayer
Secrets we can whisper.
Mornings getting crisper.
Fun rides at the fair
A hide-away lair
Dispersing lollipops
Peppermint drops.
Filigree carnations
Winning presentations
Waterfalls cascading
Fairies happily wading.
Cinnamon apple slice
Lucky roll of the dice
Camera flashes
Rain as it lashes.
Walking proud
Sings out loud.
Time to go,
Will miss you so.
Cabernet wings fluttering
in a house of mirrors.
The rotunda of cheers,
just below the lip,
above the murkiness
of a hospitality sip.
Double dip nights,
halfway through
conversation of the past;
the sate of emotional till;
tears flutter unexpectedly.
Wings of quietude,
coalesce inside the glass,
humoring an aunt and niece.
Chasing away this insect-bird,
this apparition of Green Valley.
Kin covers the glasses
with smiles, lips and palms.
Harrowing moments attach
themselves to memories,
cleverly; the moment itself
vanishes, or does it remain
an infinity ring,
a nimbus of forever light
and love in a holy place.
Whatever you do, stay away from those three!
As a new girl, this was often said my many to me.
But they look rather sharp I argued, looking their way.
They wore cat eyed glasses, and seemed merry and gay.
They are a girl squad and it is closed I was told.
Warnings got dire, dark, dank, mean, kind of old.
I approached the cat-eyed squad and asked to join.
Sure! They agreed. We’ll pick your name, and they tossed a coin.
I became Sassy, a cat with attitude galore.
I loved being their comrade, who could want more?
As for the naysayers, I never played with them.
I was happy with my gang, full of happiness and vim.
Liberty's free with her smiles
as she sashays down the aisles
Lord knows she must walk miles
specially on the slow days.
She’s so easy on the eyes
midst these posers and their lies
always takes me by surprise
to find she's still here.
Just a butterfly in the wind
never quite sure where she's been
can't go back and start again
though she'd sometimes like to.
Like that Monarch soaring high
someday she’ll touch the sky
l just shake my head and sigh
and have another beer.
Back home, she's had a row
with her new for always beau
too fast or else too slow
both leave her lonely.
Till another comes around
to her dazzling smile bound
but his feet stay on the ground
and she flies solo.
Just a butterfly in the wind
never quite sure where she's been
can't go back and start again
though she'd sometimes like to.
Like that Monarch soaring high
someday she’ll touch the sky
l just shake my head and sigh
and have another beer.
She asks if I like her dress
and I always answer yes
but like most here I guess
I'd rather see her naked.
Even when she dances close
there's distance like a ghost
we raise glasses high and toast
another time and year.
Just a butterfly in the wind
never quite sure where she's been
can't go back and start again
though she'd sometimes like to.
Like that Monarch soaring high
someday she’ll touch the sky
l just shake my head and sigh
and have another beer.
__________________________________________________
An older poem from another time. As much a C&W song as a poem - I hear steel guitar and ........
Just a second -no, wait
it's the hours of the day,
sixty minutes plus fading in the fray;
no,
it's the weeks lost in the months,
actions and escapades debunked,
then again, maybe not,
more like the months turned into years
passing quickly through laughter and tears;
better yet,
it's the decade of the years that slipped away
trivialized by work and play,
with memories mixed and confused
forgotten and bemused
gifts and blessing misused;
it's a lifetime hurried with goodbyes,
rose-colored glasses that forged its lies
with every step we laughed and cried;
take me back a moment in time
to remember and recall
to know and appreciate -
we had it all.
sometimes i sleep so long i forget to eat.
i think it’s supposed to hurt like bruises blooming purple on my skin,
so i press my thumbs against the moons under my eyes like checking fruits for ripeness.
my room has began collecting things:
half-drank glasses of water and trash spilling out the bin.
my teeth fall off every night in my dreams.
june creeps in quietly and it comes in every shade of blue.
i numb myself to avoid every thought but you.
i keep leaving my curtains closed the whole day
yet i ask myself where are the sun rays.
i just keep hoping this will all just fix itself.
while you’re out there living your mornings im drowning in my own dread.
maybe tomorrow it’ll be august instead.
maybe tomorrow the rotten fruit will be dead.
When I was young I thought I was cursed
I wondered why my creator was angry with me…
I thought that I was flawed because I needed glasses just to see.
I hated wearing glasses…feeling like I was always in disguise.
At the end of my nightly prayers I’d always add…Please God, fix my eyes.
It’s amazing isn't it how much we grow as our life rearranges?
How, not only does our body…but our whole perspective changes.
Because as I grew up…much to my surprise
I began to see the world through my ever-changing eyes.
It was as if I learned a lesson my eyes always wanted me to see…
How I was actually blessed…and there are those less fortunate than me.
My eyesight changed when I became a teacher…
about my faulty eyes…I no longer cared
when I found myself teaching a student confined to a wheel chair.
And those glasses I once hated…all of a sudden…I didn’t mind
because they helped me show the world to a student who was blind.
I taught children who couldn’t walk, who couldn’t see…who could not vocalize…
I imagine they would have all been happy with my set of faulty eyes.
Today in quiet moments…to that young boy my attention drifts…
and I wish I could go back and convince him…he was born with other gifts!
Perhaps I wold have been a little less self-conscious, less anxious…less high strung
If the lessons my eyes taught me when I was older…I had learned when I was young.
Now when I say my nightly prayers…I suppose it comes as no surprise…
at the end I always add, Thank you God…for blessing me with these eyes.