Long Home made Poems
Long Home made Poems. Below are the most popular long Home made by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Home made poems by poem length and keyword.
When I was a kid, my county was 'dry'; meaning that alcoholic beverages could not be purchased legally. But there was always plenty of it, because there were home-made stills, and the next county was 'wet'. In my home, it was often seen in the refrigerator, especially on weekends. Seems my occasional stares and curiosity would never end until one day, looking all around less I get caught, I could resist no longer. One sip and I knew that I had never tasted anything stronger. I did not see smoke, but my head must have become a fiery furnish shooting flames from every exit point in my little body. I wondered how anyone enjoyed drinking such wild fire. One sip set my feet racing away from any future desire.
I never saw grandma drink; Mama, once in a while; daddy, every weekend. Some people did bad things when they consumed alcohol; daddy slept a lot. Seems he was nicer toward us, always saying, "I'm going out west where the eagles build their nest". I guess he only desired to go west when he was drinking, because he never moved.
Other than put my daddy to sleep, alcohol served no good purpose in our home. Strong drink consumption and smoking perhaps contributed to his early demise at 58. No, I think that alcohol was a curse and a terrorist that never did anything good in my community. When drinking, people were loud and fought like cats and dogs. Like fools, men drove their cars faster, or staggered all over town acting like clowns. We say that people get high when they drink alcohol, but seems to me they always go low, and sink to the bottom.
Alcohol is one of the greatest abusers; and it is unashamedly villainous. The opinions expressed are my own. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
10152017 PS Contest, Alcohol, TS *Proverbs 20:1
The generous character-carried-by them good-old-girls-and boys down-home country-copper-
roof-all filled-up-silos-wheat-turbines waiting ready outside the barn deer-skins pegged down
low the greater-story askant-of curiosity carrying the pureness of a child as to why... .
Smoked-up hickory-honey-bubbling bacon saged-up getta-gingerly-popping in the grease in
the skillets over the steadily-flaming-logs and-built-up-kindling ... .
Humbly growing up little farm-houses-rock streams-made by-the freedom-of-the-patient
hand-Bibles-on the-table in every-dwelling-place blessings of praise-that really gooey gooey
fudge-brewing slow... so-slow.
Cooked-up-apple and peach a plethora of assortments of berry pies cooling their lively smells
lifting up-and-drifting-about the grassy timber woods and hills in every available-window-sill
home made-ice-cream sweet-taffy-candy-moonlit-walks-with a real good friend-crawdad
hunting with my-Pa and Uncles cousins and Brother Sisters-Grand-Pa... . Stars parading along
on by with the sky's Moon-hovering-above casting the morning-stars-gentle, and-somewhat-
kinder reflection on-the-slumbering-land of crawler's... .
Our flashlights lights perusing cast-all-about searching-for-them... junker autos rumbling and
rolling off one distant-street-corner-easy childhood-days-rising up to greet-you laying-down
weighing in the balance-as the tender moments... ease-on-by.
Time my only vestige welcomed salvation, greater my safety-grace happily promenades-
about-the fringe-of the-day... . They ride-their-way-along-enchanted carried along churning
away-by the glimmering-crystal-streams motivated by-the-chipper woodland-winds... . My
faith, in-its relevance, emancipates.
Fragile, honest... willing... no time for resentment-innocence runs free now merrily skipping
with me across the meadow.
Gracious time the noble gesture freedom the-patient-journey-sown-of-humble yes the
truest divinity as patient-just yes-the devotion for all-through grace-made-open-my hope
remains willing-white cotton clouds captured in their lea way dancing two and fro remind
me even-more so... .
"Kill them with the virtues' of kindness" as my Father always said.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6rYPHmSzcE&feature=related
I never knew my mother father
He died when she was about five years old
He was quite an adventurous man
So there was a lot about him to be told
He was an Indian soldier in the British army
During the world war one campaign
He Came to Trinidad from India
And never return to India again
I don’t know how he met my grandmother
Or how their romance did began
Because my grandmother was born handicap
With Deformed feet and hand
But it must have been love at first sight
That moment must have been really great
I wish I had ask her about that moment
But I never think about it till it’s too late
I don’t even know the date or year
But they got married a little while after
She must have been really beautiful
And he must have really love her
They had one child which is my “my mother
Then my grand father died when she was five
He was taking her to India to see his family
But Got sick and he didn’t survive
I remember my mother telling stories
That her father use to tell to her
About all the places he has been to
And bout his time in the war
And about one time he and other solders
Was tired in the forest and took a brake
Think they sat down on a log of a tree
But it really a big fat snake
She taught her a lot at a very early age
He taught her how to build camp fires
And he use lift her on his shoulders
he gave her a lot hopes and desire’s
she told how he build her a chair
And he listens to her every dream
How she would spend all his time with her
And made her home made ice cream
And how he has so many stories
He use to tell to her every day
He would about his family in India
And he never ran out of things to say.
And thought he died when she was five
She remembers every thing about him
Some thing that she will never forget
She carries with her forever within
My mother says I look like her father
And sometimes she looks at me and sees him
My grand father was about six feet tall
With muscles, very handsome and slim
And though my grandmother was handicap
She just captured his heart completely
This proves when the magic of love comes
True love knows no boundary
Now they are just apart of our history
And their story was of a time before
I’m writing from recollections’ of my memory
I wish I could of remember and write a lot more
DOWN A STORM DRAIN GONE FOREVER.
There was once a wicked, jealous old human,
Who lived in a house down the lane,
Not far from us,
Ugly and mean sounding, couldn’t tell
If man or woman,
Was narky to the neighborhoods children,
Including me,
We discovered this human was woman with
One large bosom!
She lived on her own, no children or husband,
Or even a pet,
She always wore the same apron, her hands always
Hidden in this grubby apron,
My friends decided on a bet,
That she had a gun and would should shoot,
Us all dead
Why else would she always keep her hands
In her apron we said!
We could never have guessed the truth
About this apron.
One day we saw two young girls laughing at her
She was furious, fiddled in her apron
And immediately,
Upon doing this, the girls fell, and each
Broke a leg!
We couldn’t believe what we had seen, I noticed a
Hairpin on the path, going back, very sharp,
And then another and another,
Each one, a different color.
Obviously someone was throwing the
Used pins away,
In a very careless way!
I have to find out what is in her apron pocket,
I said to my friends, so early the next day,
We all met
Behind her house, I was chosen to be
The pickpocket,
So I crept along the bushes outside her house
Waiting for her to have her afternoon snooze,
I saw a locket around her neck which was open
And from it peeped bright colored
Hairpins, she was asleep,
With one eye open, I thought I could see
Her eye socket!
Terrified I stretched out my hand, put it gently
Into her apron pocket,
And pulled out a tattered faceless little doll,
Home made from potato sackcloth,
A voodoo doll, screamed James,
He was certainly not wrong for he played
A great deal of TV horror games!
She obviously pricked the voodoo doll
With colored pins,
Every time someone annoyed her, she would one
Day pay for her sins!
As quickly as we could we ran to the nearest drain
Down the street and dropped it in, it fell silently
And disappeared, gone forever,
That woman was not sane!
The next day early we walked towards her house,
The house was empty and the horrid old witch gone,
We breathed a sigh of relief as we watched
A new morning dawn!
Contest: Down a storm drain, gone forever,
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Date entered: 2019/03/02
Midst the mulga and the gidyea out beyond the old Paroo
runs a road which leads to Yowah and a great place it is too.
Where the populace is smitten by an urge they can’t withstand:
Its the lust to find the queen of gems, beneath a timeless land.
With her tantalising beauty and her taunting, twinkling eyes,
Its the radiance of this desert child her lovers highly prize.
Suitors come from every walk of life, from countries quite diverse
and she keeps them courting tirelessly exacting quite a purse.
And the charm of her charisma casts a spell they can’t escape,
so they’ve built a little township there amid that red landscape.
Quite relentless is their quest to toil, a constant ritual,
and they love their leisure moments like their Opal Festival.
Chris and I were asked to join them and present our bush verse show
through the festival proceedings and replied, “We’d love to go.”
First we entertained the children at the school there for a spell
then our host, Gwen Burney, took us for a tour that went down well.
We were shown the local opal fields and dug for Yowah nuts,
then we lunched and watched some golfers sink some rather dubious putts.
But the opal bug had bitten and we sought a licence out,
for we planned to do some noodling or at least just poke about.
But the torture of the digging with just handpicks proved too tough
and we chucked the towel in quickly as we’d simply had enough.
Down in spirits we decided to search out the mulberry wine
there at Roy’s, not far from Gwen’s place, which was said to be real fine.
After scoffing down a sample we were feeling mighty good
and old Roy was sympathetic to our plight and understood.
He produced a bar and shovel and a bottle of his brew,
then we headed back to noodle with our outlook all anew.
Well we dug and sipped and dug and sipped, oblivious to pain
and the next two days we carried on and did it all again.
We were up each morning early and sat cracking all our nuts,
though our hands were full of blisters and a mass of little cuts.
We were both now surely smitten and could not resist her will,
for the bug had surely bitten and we talk about it still.
Yes, its tantalizing colour and its taunting texture’s fine
and we’re flamin' well addicted to Roy’s home-made mulberry wine.
Dear Santa,
As you may well know,
it's tights and not stockings that are all the go.
So, with no stockings to hang on the bedstead,
would a pair of my bloomers be OK instead?
I'll sew up the legs so that there is more space,
can't have my gifts falling all over the place.
I hope you don't mind, as my wine you consume,
please try to be silent when entering my room.
I'm a light sleeper and at my age, which is quite a pain,
if I lose too much sleep, then it addles my brain.
You may kiss me sweetly if I'm in deep slumber
mistletoe on my pillow, plus telephone number.
I promise to leave you a home-made mince pie,
though the pastry's gone soggy
'cause the onions made me cry.
Myopia means recipes I really struggle to see
though onion in mince pies' is a new one on me.
But the pies are quite tasty as I'm sure you'll agree
and if you're still hungry, then have two or three!
There's a drop of fine whisky which you may try too,
bought by my late husband circa 1952
'twas in an old bottle I found in the shed
my hubby drank most of it afore dropping dead.
I think you're so special, dear old Santa Claus,
now here's what I would like you to leave in my drawers:.
1. A pretty box - so I may store my false teeth so neat,
so I can find 'em when I gets me something to eat.
2. A walking frame 'cause I am liable to fall,
and falling, alas, does you no good at all.
3. Some California Poppy, as supplies now seem so short,
if this scent can't be found I will smell like a horse.
4. A pair of big knockers, for front and back door.
A warm cosy nighty, don't need see-throughs no more.
5. Get me a back scratcher, please, if you can,
I can't scratch that itch since I lost me old man.
6. Also an emergency underwear kit,
as nowadays there's times when I don't quite make it.
7. If you have a big dog, leave it in the back yard,
I'll treat quite kindly, if me it will guard.
Thats all the gifts on my Christmas wish list,
but I'll settle for more Santa, if you insist.
I haven't been naughty for many a year,
when awaking, I expect all my gifts to be here!
Merry Christmas!
Looby Loo x
* * *
Christmas 2020
Little adobe house on 160 acres
She grows flowers. I grow corn
Tomatoes, watermelon, etc.
Peace, love, hope, and joy
Grow themselves
Porch faces orange blazes
Draped over the rugged Mules
And a barn owl hoovers over
An old water tank with a bunny
In her talons for her
So-ugly-they're-cute hatchlings
Ladder leaned on it
to climb up and see 'em
Brothers and sisters drive from town
For Bible Study
Every Friday night...
After the Word there's coffee and treats
And men load up the truck
Armed rabbit assassins
Patrol Charlie's alfalfa fields
While back at the house
Women laugh and
Children play
Extra rooms
For friends who want to
Spend the night
Saturday mornings
Coffee and bacon waffles
In Charlie's pond across the road
Bass to catch
Beautiful, glorious days
Last night I dreamed
That in this economy
Where shelter's scarce
I was back at the ranch
With a hundred millenials
All of whom, knew me
The adobe house was remodeled
Terracotta with green and red
Lots of black wrought iron
Railings, fences, and gates
Rooms added onto
Big as a mansion
Dirk came to weld more iron
With his crew
And I was trying to make everyone leave
Then I went out towards the pond
And got lost in a huge coal field
A stranger appeared and I asked
How to go back to the road
And a sheriff stopped me with his gun
We, (well it felt like you)
Took his gun from him
But you wouldn't let me shoot him
And I didn't
I woke up... missing all that we had
Your home-made bread
Love by the fire
After kids went to bed
It was incredible
What we did
What we made
What we grew
Our little boys in their cowboy hats
Playing under the giant cottonwood
Our big sprawling porch every evening
Watching the orange purple fire
Spread itself over the valley
And fade into embers
Sparkling the big black night
Like those sunsets, we raged and died
Time after time after time after time
Until we didn't
My dear, sweet,
Warm, loving,
Beautiful
Ex-
You're still so good to me after all
Praying for your family
In that little old church
Where I lost my faith so long ago
Quit being the man you used to know
Something I still believe in though
And always will
Cloudless the sky over beautiful water,
Sunlight at dawn as the day starts to break,
Open the blinds to let in the new day and,
Smile as the sunshine confirms they’re awake.
Croissants for breakfast with strong filter coffee,
Shower and dress to prepare for the day,
Get out the tourist guide, plan their adventure,
Join with the locals to make real their stay.
Walk in the countryside on a long ramble,
Visit a vineyard, high up in the hills,
Sample the product at end of the visit,
Several glasses, mop up any spills.
Boulevard cafes or old fashioned taverns,
Famous for seafood to try for their lunch,
What will their dinner be? guessing it’s chicken,
But not seen the menu, it’s only a hunch.
Shower for dinner, they’ll put on their glad rags,
Her in white dress, him in shirt and blue tie,
Orange juice, soup, they were right it’s then chicken,
Followed by cream on home made apple pie.
Wine with their dinner, they’re charging their glasses,
They had gin and tonic their aperitif,
Already they wonder what’s tomorrow’s dinner,
Will it be venison, pork, lamb or beef?
The dinner completed, a port or a brandy?
Or just filter coffee to wash it all down,
Only ten minutes to walk to the centre,
So now for a stroll to the centre of town.
Traditional bars full of tourists and locals,
A drink in a couple, it starts to go dark,
Chatting with bar staff about local venues,
Tomorrow they’ll go to a close water park.
Hand in hand stroll up the hill to the hotel,
A swift nightcap then in the nice hotel bar,
Up to the room to reflect on the first day,
And all the things that they’re enjoying so far.
Undress now for sleeping, the blinds closed til morning,
They lie down together and switch off the light,
The first day of holiday now is completed,
They’re so glad they came as they’re kissing goodnight.
The door locked behind them, their night is their own now,
The start of their holiday as they’d desired,
He holds her as she falls asleep on his torso,
His choice of this venue seems really inspired.
They swiftly are sleeping while leant on each other,
In love in this beautiful holiday place,
Tomorrow exploring more parts of the landscape,
No wonder they both sleep with smiles on their face!
When I grew up there was no such thing
as microwave or t.v dinner's they hadn't
even been inverted yet
Come 6 o'clock we had to gather round the
dinning room table for evening meals and
parentally enforced family time to talk about
our day
To feast on such culinary delight's mother
used to burn as home made chips frozen
fish finger's and a choice of either tinned
baked beans or spaghetti hoops
Then when we're finally finished Dad would
go into the living room switch on the t.v
and watch the news
After that he would read his paper in order
to switch off and we would then get to watch
whatever was on 1 of the oh so many other
4 t.v channels
Only 1 singular t.v in the house shared
between our entire family permanently fixed
in the lounge.
And 1 singular telephone in the corner or
if you had one an entrance hallway
Both of which we're actually luxury's not
necessity dependant on if you could afford
to the bill and licence or electricity
And we weren't poor what we we're as
children was a little something called
happy and we'll adjusted
Which got me thinking about just how
different and far removed that time
was to current present day
Using the age old means of comparing
Apple's for Apple's regarding different
childhood's
To me growing up as a child what an
apple was or meant was bobbing or
ducking for at halloween , keeps the
doctor away and at it's best when it's
covered in sticky toffee candy
Fast forward to today the only Apple a
child knows comes in i - pad , pod , phone ,
watch or 4 in 1 form they carry about there
person constantly for companionship so
much so they can barely take the time to
talk or barely loook up
The same type of Apple that God warned
Eve all about not to try and eat for fear of
being kicked out
Because once you do there is no chance
of ever going back or a return to Eden
It's a place that only exists and can be
accessed by means of logging into Window's
or typing it into a search engine to look up ,
how exactly do you spell that is it
Bib-lol
Or by drinking how ever much Cider it
takes in order to pass out or forget
Reality is the new nightmare
So how do you like them Apple's now
No chatter patter, I'm alone in a lonely house as winter arrives
My thoughts fly to you as you travel afar in distant regions
You still write me letters, though with fewer lines
Yet, they are filled with music for my soul
You took care of all my needs before you left
You even stocked the house with wood for our bonfires in garden,
But of what use are they without you and our little hearts?
The wood lies bundled quietly in the store waiting for your hands to untie them
Solitary fires bring no warmth, I dispel with such an endeavour
Memories of children and us around our evening fires warms my heart
There was laughter reigning all around
Neighbours heard our peels as loud guffaws rattled their windows
They smiled at us the next day as it cheered their hearts, too
Scrumptious hot food was savoured
While jabbering endlessly till midnight eerie hours
Now when I return from work I unlock an empty home with cold walls
The overhanging roof almost engulfs me to madness.
I wake up to misty-foggy mornings with the temperatures dipping
I keep myself warm to retain my good health
You were always worried about my health with the seasonal change
The days at work pass by, it is the dark cold evenings that leave me lonelier
The cold quilts dampen my lonely spirits further till eyelids drop
I miss the warmth of your arm as I snuggled closer
It gave me protection and made me feel wanted
Your presence in your office at home made my world complete
Now the chair is lifeless before a clean dusted table
The office that was priceless has lost its value and
There is an empty vision in an empty room which waits for its master
Hot cappuccinos our nocturnal addiction is sans aroma
We were a couple of few words but our silent eyes told stories
Quietly we walked down the lake with bird-food in our hands for our migratory guests The orange shroud of the vanishing sun imprisoned the lake waters lapping the banks. I've stopped going there without you
I read and sometimes sit alone in our barren garden that
Awaits your return to bloom in springtime
Life all alone without a loved one is a loveless life.
December 12, 2015
Contest: Favourite Love Poem
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron