Long Homebody Poems
Long Homebody Poems. Below are the most popular long Homebody by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Homebody poems by poem length and keyword.
After much reflection and introspection I am making an alphabetical list of the things that make me, me. I'm sure there are more that I could add, but for now this is who I am:
First of all I am of the female persuasion.
I am AMERICAN by birth,
I am a BAKER of cookies and cakes (nothing fancy),
I am a CHRISTIAN by faith,
CARING and COMPASSIONATE by nature,
CREATIVE and CURIOUS,
DEARLY loved DAUGHTER (though my parents have passed),
DAYDREAMER extraordinaire,
EMOTIVE EMPATH,
FAITHFUL FRIEND (I'm a good listener),
FIRST-BORN child,
I am completely FALLIBLE,
GRATEFUL for all my blessings (God is good),
A GRANDMA to six greatly loved grandchildren (my biggest blessings)
I am a HOMEBODY with questionable housekeeping skills,
IMPULSIVE at times, but mostly cautious,
INQUISITIVE, always ready to learn something new,
KINDHEARTED,
LOVER of God, cats, chihuahuas (and other small dogs), music and chocolate,
I am MARRIED and the MOTHER of two sons.
NORMALLY NON-VIOLENT and NURTURING,
I have OLD-FASHIONED values (never going to change),
ORGANIZATION eludes me, (You should see my desk!)
OVERWEIGHT (pleasantly plump, maybe?)
I am a PEACEMAKER, a POETESS,
A QUIET introvert (is there any other kind?),
An avid READER (my Kindle is maxed out),
I am RIGHT-HANDED,
I am a SISTER, aunt, niece and cousin,
SAVED by the grace of God through Jesus,
I tend to be SELFISH (but I'm working on that),
I am SHORT in stature (I've actually shrunk an inch!)
TEA is my beverage of choice in the mornings,
The THESAURUS and dictionary are my friends,
I am UNDERSTANDING (but not always understood),
I am VALUABLE to my family and friends (or so they say),
WIFE to a loving, faithful husband,
I WORRY too much, (should pray more)
I love WORDS and WRITING makes me happy.
List Poem
Revised 7/11/24
A poem unlived
is a poem merely written --
sustenance our words
let the body digest with heartfelt
regurgitation – a poem unlived
is a poem merely written
as well as tasty center, a healthy chew
needs skin-like peachy, tickly sensation,
emotive mastication – best often
lost when discarding fussy peelings
also feelings
a poem unlived is a poem merely written
endless editing...crumblings tossed
our salads before the main course
heavily garnished
each poem with a dipping
thread link – we warm at
the lava lip...deep, glowing
convulsing start, long before the page is stirred,
shaken – ready for bubbly tip
a poem unlived is a poem merely written
the sea we sail both tranquil and rage
creation an unkempt voyage of possibilities,
a nameless work rocks back and forth
cradled it longs to escape wild fluctuation
and transverse,
seeking theme and form – sanguine
transfusion, repetitively jabbing for fluid release
we call upon the mariner, captain, surgeon of
ancient crafts -- muse of many incarnations,
sage, fool of countless courts – both wallflower
and dancer – homebody and restless prancer, where
we have been and yet beam
to go – uniquely fermented we uncork
for a spotlight blow, for grand revelation
introduced with a toast, a click, a sparkly
crystal glow
staging both our fond darkness and
light – an author preparing to take
literary flight
a poem unlived
is a poem merely written --
like stopped midstream
without a river flow, banks
turned away
tepidly applauding….
A stagnant sip before the
moved-by lauding….
Though poetically smitten
dearly kittened
a poem unlived
is a poem merely written...
Everybody knocks on Homebody's door,
Everybody said hi I'm looking for Somebody.
Homebody told Everybody that
Somebody went shopping with her cousins
Somewhere, Anywhere and Everywhere.
Everybody left looking for Somebody.
If Busybody was a gossip queen,
Then Homebody is a match maker,
Trying to find a match for Anybody.
Anybody who's sexy and sassy
and a walking wet dream.
But Homebody was more than a pretty face
being thick and sexy.
Both of then, were single and on the market,
Only Nobody was available.
Busybody told Nobody that he should
go out with Homebody,
But she can be a little bougie.
Nobody said that he's not picky,
that he'd even go out with Anybody.
Somebody knocked on Busybodies door
looking to have more than a few words.
Meanwhile Homebody was taking a shower
and then she put on some not for company clothes.
There was knock at the door,
Homebody yelled come in thinking it was Anybody.
And Nobody showed up with flowers and chocolate.
Nobody came looking for Anybody
He looked around and didn't see Anybody.
So, Nobody asked Homebody
if she'd like dinner and a movie?
Homebody found a reason to get out the house.
And Everybody is still looking for Somebody.
I am my father’s daughter —
quiet when it matters,
loud when it doesn’t,
loyal like a bruise that never fades.
He was a man of few words
and too many beers,
a homebody with calloused hands
who built his love from paychecks, plywood,
and patched fences.
He didn’t say much,
but he never let us go without.
We all worked with him —
held tools before toys,
learned to measure twice, cut once,
and use what we had
to make what we needed.
He handed me a hammer
like it was a promise.
Taught me how to build things
that wouldn’t fall apart.
And somehow,
that became a kind of love too.
He taught me the stillness of fishing —
how to listen for the pull,
how to wait without wanting too much.
He showed me rivers
the way some fathers show their daughters cathedrals.
And when I stand near water now,
he’s the first name that echoes back.
His anger could shake the walls,
but his lessons still hold:
Don’t waste. Don’t lie.
Always bait your own hook.
I used to sit
in the passenger seat of his silence,
learning how love doesn’t always speak,
but shows up every morning
with boots on
and something heavy in its hands.
It's hard to admit that I was in the wrong
Everything you said was right all along
You told me everything I didn't know
I should have believed you when you told me so
You saw exactly what I couldn't see
You saw the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation,the deceit
I clearly abandoned a earth angel for the enemy
" Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me "
I did you so bad I did you so wrong
Thinking I'd make you a side piece and string you along
Trying to have the best of both worlds having my cake and eating it too
I'll have the reckless party girl and the homebody, wifey material girl which is you
So much time has passed I just disappeared like I never met you
But still look at your photos and can't stop thinking about you or missing you
There's really no great excuse for treating you this way
I just hope I can make up for it some day
If I reached out to you will you care to hear me
" Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me"
Proud pirate flag, peacock, pumpernickel pie,
Perfumed prairie pinwheels, paper two-ply.
Happy hanging homebody having healthy hi.
Heaving hitting heartfelt Harry hopping high.
Ballooning blissful blossoms beaconing blue Babe,
Luxurious lumberjack licking lemonade.
Merry mashing marshmallows mysteriously made.
Fine frolicking French frankfurters fearful and afraid.
It is fun to throw some alliteration into a poem like this.
My brain is laughing at the silliness, it’s like a gentle kiss.
So when you think I have no more ideas, I am simply out.
Make a list of P words, or K words, and give a little shout.
Your ready muse will be happy that you are writing anything down.
It might not make any sense at first, but it will stop a little frown.
The thing is to keep the pen moving or the fingers across the keys.
Your muse so excited, when you make cute little poems like these.
If I were famous – wanting to remain unseen
I’d have a secret way to leave my house.
While I’d sneak off as quiet as a mouse,
I’d have a “double” leave by limosine!
My house would have a pool inside and out!
My rooms would be so lovely and pristine
because I’d have myself (without a doubt)
a trusted staff to garden and to clean.
I’d use my money for good causes, and
I’d travel in the comfort of my jet.
Despite all that, I wouldn’t act all grand,
for never domineering could I get!
Perhaps a movie critic I would be.
I’d have a screening room. Friends I’d invite
to view new movies in my house with me.
At Oscars, in attendance I would be.
Though famous, I’d be like I am today -
still down to earth and working with my mind.
A homebody most likely I would stay,
and always I’d remember to be kind.
March 16, 2021 for Joe Sandler's If I Were Famous Poetry Contest
My Aunt Bea loved her retired life,
walking around with a hair sprayed
salt and pepper gigantic beehive,
always having a buzz sound in her head,
Her friends wondered what crazy
medicine she'd been spoon fed,
they could understand having a dog for a pet,
but having a bee is what got them upset,
Aunt Bea claiming the bee loved her beehive,
that he made a nest in there and that now he thrives,
said he helps her out by giving her buzzwords,
her friends just shook they're heads
thinking this is just absurd!
Aunt Bea informing me the little bee easily gets airsick,
that why he's a homebody who rests inside her beehive "nest",
I just smiled knowingly, knowing my Aunt Bea's
always been a lover of insects and a tiny bit eccentric,
all the while thinking, guess its better than a pet tick!
brown eyes that sparkle in the sun
inspires me to take turns i thought
i would never take
i thought surely that there must have
been some kind of mix-up in God's Master
Plan
however i never questioned or challenged
his logic, meaning, or purpose
instead i just go with it and let the unsung
art of presented discovery overtake the
homebody philosophy which was my norm
when i just let go my eyes became saucers
of surefire delight
there were times when i had to pinch myself
and wear green for personal reassurance
now i live life happily with my head in clearer
clouds
instead of searching for a temporary escape, i
now search for the second, third, fourth, fifth
take and beyond.....
Yesterday I thought of going to the gym
for a minute considered going for a swim
then I remembered I had better things to do
convinced I could come up with a thing or two
Today I was thinking again of going to the gym
but soon gave up on that reckless silly whim
instead stayed home to bake a chocolate cake
planned our supper and thawed a ribeye steak
Tomorrow I'll likely consider going to the gym
but save myself the trouble and just pretend I'm slim
afterall life's too short to waste it breaking in a sweat
while cocktail glasses await to be filled with somethin' wet
AP: 1st place 2025