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.
Whittled skittled Bazball skint
Belittled lost the glint of Clint
Have a dig make my day big hint
Whatever they say never skinflint
In every stint we will always sprint
Hope dope blueprint trope's mint
The jibber jabber about the Gabba
White knights or ghoulish frights
Stagefright day night under lights
Highlights or more foolish flights
In the ascendancy have that tendency
Heresy or do they deserve clemency
Jealously let them preserve their legacy
Lose again barricaded in the Embassy
Stokes blokes smokes with their high jinx
Ben’s mens sneaky kinks find the chinks
Bazball minx in sync with cheeky winks
Glasses clinks as fans sinks their drinks
Nearly boys ploys bring us back from the brink
What do you think ..will our envoys annoy shrink
Another pity ditty in a sweltering city.. sh**ty stink
Or blink ignore the noise....spurred on by the slurs
Purrs like the Psychedelic Furs..joys of Pretty in Pink?
Charlie the woodchopper of Fremont
began to build his new home,
it had to have an elegant dome
with a golden trim glittering at night.
Charlie couldn't afford
a Victorian mansion and settled
for a modest ranch with small rooms
and a patio with a sliding door;
there, apple trees swayed
and stranded cats played...
Brawny, the dog, guarded the house's windows
from that armed intruder,
Charlie's rifle was ready to make gunshot fumes
and scare the thief wearing his stolen trousers!
Charlie lost his adorable wife
to a car accident, she hit a tree head-on
while being distracted by a deer
driving across a wet road in Denver;
since then he lived life in strife...
a widower who refused to remarry
and break the matrimonial vows;
what he has left now is a cocaine addict son!
Charlie spends his time reading the Daily Review
which is one of the newspapers free to senior citizens,
and he often wipes off his reading glasses that look new,
but taking them off he loses the perception of things;
his days are long and sad, he wishes he had
a companion, but Leonor cannot be replaced
by anyone...she smiles at him from a portrait
he painted himself on a wood plaque and it seems real!
Quite a few times he has wept and tried
to deal with his unbearable pain, but only prayers could!
He only listens for Leanor's voice that has a ghostly sound!
narcissistic negativity in higher learning.
nods of forget-me-nots, knots in shyness
satisfying unconfidence - look at me,
don’t look at me, pass by, stop...please.
brat in me left for a funeral, fuming dissonance;
meanwhile friends thought I was dead, falling
off the precipice of this world, woe is me;
shame...I should feel shame at sharp turn
from reality - negativity my play.
the dead fell into me, he was condemned
to die an untimely death from pot, “they say.”
poor lot of the dead, drudgery of debt —
undefiled, dallying not with love nor hate.
i hated the solo seat next to this strange, pudgy boy -
he was only a boy, a barbizon actor - parting was such sweet sorrow,
he left the Globe Theater.
my bland diet of diurnal tides, wicked flow
of upset and woe, dictated by me -
for eternity i think not;
the shredmonster to grind the grandiose
conjecture of a silly girl’s thoughts,
thoughtless and lost.
now i know every life counts:
the drowned, the blood-ill, the poisoned
and the one-way erasure.
every moment counted - the countless counting
in math class, the superb poems i kissed or
absentmindedly missed, hysterical history
superciliously rendered to simple ears,
later pierced with inlaid gems — truth.
what is truth, asked by ages past - past my prime,
prim and proper squeezed through butt cheeks.
we must laugh, not just in the dark but in open places.
tear the pieces of my heart, the decor relentless
however i see through arbitrary glasses, classes
taught by God. i pray don’t break me. fragile glass,
shards sunken in — buried in the ocean sand.
my personality could split in half, in quarters —
behind the shed. negativity relishing, nodding.
positive i will not end up this way. my vocabulary
shan’t never be small, again i shall pour out
pages and pages of potential balm.
moisturizing at my age necessary — when you’re a child,
chilblains are myth. catharsis
chitter-chatters better with false teeth and assorted feathers.
12/5/2020
Contest: Catharis
Sponsor: Silent One
*Shakespeare
The Girl I Used To Know
I know what I wanted to say
The words were there
My mind thought out just what to say
They have been there so long
But, when I see you they disappear
Other thoughts take their place
Memories of you from long ago
When you were in my arms
When my eyes looked into your heart
And I saw you for who you really were
Tee shirts, pony tails and thick framed glasses
You are no longer the woman I kissed
The one who owned my heart and soul
Over the years you changed
Your face and hair became too beautiful
Your body became a statue of a goddess
Flawless, perfect beyond belief
You chose diamonds and designer gowns
Your choices ruined the girl you used to be
You became too good for a poor country boy
A boy from the wrong side of the street
But you know that this boy never changed
I still remember and dream of you
However, I will keep my words hidden deep inside me
For now I will just look at you and remember
When you were just the girl I knew a long time ago
I am cleaning out my junk drawer
It's been on my list to do
My junk is over-flowing
It's now long past over-due
Inside is my collection
Of things I sometimes use
Bits and nails and thumbtacks
And a dozen odd-size screws
There's a hammer and some pliers
And a pair of worn-out snips
Rubber bands in many sizes
And a load of paper clips
Two broken pair of glasses
That I should have thrown away
I put them there three years ago
Swore I'd fix them both one day
A dull blade pair of scissors
And an un-used long nail file
Pens and pencils and two note pads
And an eraser, look-like crocodile
I keep finding things inside my drawer
That I swear I've never used
This junk has left me addle-pated
Oh my God, I'm so...(((CONFUSED)))
'Form J- Just Write Me A New Poem' Poetry Contest
Sponsor Constance La France
3/22/2022
You start to look through another pair of glasses
If you lacked any experience, life has offered you classes
You learn from your past failures and successes
You've become wiser while your heart has grown restless
What entertained you before, now irritates you somehow
Things that made you laugh, you shake your head at now
You now see the pitiful state of each generation
You're no longer too busy to enjoy God's creation
The questions you asked in the past are now asked of you
Youngsters are now coming to you asking what to do
Different ones are coming to you for loving advice
Helping them not make the same mistakes twice
As you get older it seem to benefit you and others
When it comes to experience its like you play the mother
They gather beneath flickering neon,
in narrow alleys where the pavement remembers rain,
where glasses clink like distant thunder
and the air smells of sweat, stale tobacco, and old promises.
A woman’s laughter, cracked and sharp,
spills into the room like broken shards;
a man leans on the bar—his elbow’d sorrow
ordering another round, trading hours for oblivion.
The jukebox—wounded, nostalgic—
grinds out a song of ghosts and faded dreams.
Bartender’s hands shake between bottles
as shadows press against the windows, watchers wanting in.
Walls scribbled with names never spoken—
with hearts shattered, hopes pawned.
Outside, the city coughs, writhes in sleepless neon;
inside, time stands still, drunk and defiant.
We are all believers here—
in the altar of amber liquor,
the hymn of poured whiskey,
in the communion of husbands and strangers.
Midnight cracks open like a broken mirror—
edges sharp, reflection distorted.
Beer calls; gin beckons;
the bouncer counts bodies, not sins.
And when the music fades,
when the lights cut low—
they linger, some to forget, others to feel everything
in the hollow between heartbeats.
Had I not seen you closely I would have missed the truth
You and I share the cup teeming in the pink of the youth
The waiting nostrils inhale the flavour of the black coffee
Both of us look into the mirror and look for the poppy
When the stars arrive at the red and green study window
We though oceans apart form the flame to melt the snow
The fun and wisdom that play out in the owl's circling eye
In our poem we incorporate them in a way they never die
You excel in painting the vampire and the luncheon guest
I widen my eyes with wonder and rue at my hollow chest
We've the same wavelength as we raise the standing wave
Our wine glasses cheers as the keen ocean kisses the cave
With the fragrance of the foliage we love to fill our lungs
We love the lurching moonlight as on our lips it comes
Isn't the lamp more eloquent as we walk the same passage
Leading to the poetry of the bonding and the grey breakage
____________________________________________________
May 9, 2018 // Art
I look at the world through rosy glasses
It helps me tolerate the asses
And as each new day passes
I am happy to be here
The glass I see is half-way full
I think diversity is kind’a cool
Mix up genes in the human pool
And let prejudices disappear
I like staying optimistic
Even if it’s not always so realistic
Being otherwise just makes me sick
I hope my meaning is quite clear
So, if you must wear a frown
And see the glass as half-way down
I don’t want you come’n round
Unless you’re wanting to be cheered
The pessimists are down the hall
The realists don’t exist at all
The fatalists wait for the call
They all think I’m kind’a *****
But, I am happy to be me
You get exactly what you see
This, I hope, I’ll always be
For another 50 years
Old as I Feel
Kevin Davis 2025
I hear people say, “You’re only as old as you feel”!
Then why do my bones ache and is the pain real?
I think I am my age right now, but I think I’m twenty,
I just can’t do what I used to do when I was aplenty.
Now I park in handicap spaces, and roll on lidocaine,
Walk with a cane or an umbrella even if it doesn’t rain.
I take so many pills that Carters has nothing on me,
Wear glasses to read the largest text and also just to see.
But none of this puts a damper on me enjoying my life,
I accept my restrictions and embrace being without strife.
I get up each morning with smile and a hearty “good-day”,
Ready to face whatever comes without any fear or delay.
So, if you are like me, you believe “I am as old as I think”!
And there is nothing in my mind I cannot do, so I don’t blink,
And miss a single moment or worry about what is to come.
I love my life and all those in it, so glad am I it’s still not done.