Long Intermission Poems
Long Intermission Poems. Below are the most popular long Intermission by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Intermission poems by poem length and keyword.
He worked at the local newspaper office.
I worked for his employer’s wife as a mother’s helper.
He had served his apprenticeship
and was now a full fledged printer
earning a magnificent sum of eight dollars a week.
My wages were three dollars per week.
Mrs. Miller found reasons for sending
me to the office frequently
and he was easy to talk to.
It wasn’t long before
he asked me to go to a movie
and I readily agreed.
Movies tickets at our local theatre
were twenty-five cents, usually.
The first movie we went to was called
“The Housekeeper’s Daughter”
starring Joan Bennett.
I don’t remember a thing about the story.
The next week he called again
and this time
the movie he wanted to take me to was
“Gone With The Wind”.
I protested that it was too expensive.
This time he would have to spend
fifty cents each on tickets
and the movie was so long that
there was an intermission
and I knew he would want
to buy refreshments, but
I didn’t take much persuading
and we went all out for that
evening of entertainment.
This time I did remember the story.
From that evening forward ,
he was a daily caller at our home
and my mother did her best
to keep him fed.
Most of our dates were merely
a stroll down town and back
as we had no car.
We heard on the radio that
Major Bowe’s Amateur Hour
was coming to a bigger town
about thirty miles away
and both of us decided we would like to
attend that function.
Money would be a problem
on our wages, so we decided
to save up for it.
One of us bought a dime bank and
we each put any spare dime we could,
into the bank.
It held five dollars.
We managed to have
five dollars worth of dimes
by the time the big day arrived.
Dad lent us his car
and off we went.
I don’t know what the tickets cost
but we had enough to buy them
plus enough to
indulge in an ice-cream soda
at the big town soda fountain.
1940 was the year our story started.
In March of 1941
he left for Detroit, Michigan
where he had heard he could find work
at a decent wage.
He sent a telegram
that he’d found a job
at $50.00 a week.
He had a minister and marriage license.
I had never been away from home before
but I traveled to Detroit and
we were married in July of 1941.
Honorable Mention
.
"Intermission: Ad Infinitum Lux Vitae"
Intermission
I wait
You call
I have loved
I wait
Lux Vitae
I have loved
Through the Storm
Lux Vitae
I have loved, to love You more
Through the Storm
You call, Open Door
I have loved, to love You more
Ad Infinitum
You call, Open Door
I walk with You through the Storm
Ad Infinitum
My Love is always Yours
You walk with me through the Storm
The Waiting Room calls
Intermission
(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)
for "my" Georgia,
who is entirely her own person
The inspiration for my poem -
This "Pantoum" is about Birth, Life, Death. There are all sorts of "Waiting Rooms", in this Life and the next. Of course, this is my belief. The reader may interpret Birth, Life and Death distinctly separate from my belief.
Georgia, the 'True' inspiration for your name, below. x
"I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at - not copy it. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me - shapes and ideas so near to me - so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn't occurred to me to put them down. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe"
"Marks on paper are free - free speech - press - pictures all go together I suppose. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"To create one's world in any of the arts takes courage. ”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
"Anyone who doesn't feel the crosses simply doesn't get that country.”
- Georgia O'Keeffe
Artwork, Georgia Totto O'Keeffe (November 15, 1887 – March 6, 1986)
“Ram’s Head with Hollyhock”, 1935
https://www.georgiaokeeffe.net/ram-head-with-hollyhock.jsp
Trent Reznor/Atticus Ross
"Technically Missing"
https://youtu.be/EBaa0k1y57w
"Politics is a dirty business. If you are going to 'write' policy, fabrication is not advisable, make sure you have ALL the true facts in front of you and that TRUTH is delivered by whatever means necessary". Quote, Leanne Lovejoy-Burton to daughter, Georgia - April 2018.
Author's note: This is an epic length poem that will have to be split into parts and will be serialized in successive posts.
Part 2
act three
in the third act delirious
the laws of physics etc.
he coughs his lungs out
in wheezing jets
internal combustion is internal combustion
his bed of wheels begins to roll
first one wheel then the others
cough cough cough
his wheels roll the length of
NEURO WARD 4's corridor
to the NEURO elevator
and its NEURO music
by now familiar to you
as that song in the head
cough cough cough
3 2 1 doors open out
upon the concrete parking lot
out to Lucille the Oldsmobile
they recognize one another
why no one knows
this is an orphan's tale
composed with the licensed use
of Orphan Guild secrets
raised on the back seat
suckled by giant oranges
weaned on foot long hot dogs
at the nation's roadside
Musella my injection!
act four
in the 4th phantom of the opera
the tank hits empty
his lungs flat and black
as a piece of big rig recap
in desperation piles bricks on seat
heaves bricks back onto concrete
salutes au revoir to the mirror's horizon
and rolls onward
propelled by what is equal
what is opposite
according to St. Newton
the law of the motor
what goes in must come out
seriously Lucille rolls
upon the concrete gridway
steering herself autonomously
everything left to chance
we now know any nightmare
propelled by what is equal and opposite
will roll through the divider
and off the bed-road
Musella vacuums up the glass
and sorts out the tubing
our fugitive lays low by his radio
signal up full
awaiting the footsteps
and stethoscope of Tex Amphora
the archaeologist cowboy surgeon
took my case in a bar stool wager
betting on flesh made perfect
the fool the angel
5 minute intermission
they taught me how to act
onstage I mean in stages
strangers said I'd grow out of it
friends said I'm gonna die from it
there comes a time in a youth's youth
when he discovers
that the machinery on the interstate
can play the sound of skidding wheels
on a Steinway
so
a much needed musical interlude then
acto sexto
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
http://tinyurl.com/nhfk6dr
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.site11.com/
Oh, We Can Instant Replay A Recorded Movie Reel
But That's Not Even The Same Point In Time's Flowing Field
When Its Live Action, No Rehearsal & Reality
Time Does Not Repeat Itself - Like Our Errors In History
Each Iota of Time Carries On Individually
"... See There It Goes, Ooops There's Another, Look At Time Wink!
Every Movement, Every Action, Every Touch & Every Eye Blink
Even Every Stillness & At Every Thought We Think
It Is Faster Than Our Heartbeats
& Time Has No Twins, Nor Repeats"
Time Is A Magnet That Attracts To A Point
Time Makes Sure That All Occurrences Are Joint
Time Pulls & Pushes Us Into Position
(I Told You Time Is An Interval Thru Intermission)
From The Place of Conception Time Goes On & On
From A Place of Concealment - Time Had A Home
To A Place Far Away, Time Continues To Roam
And To Those Left Behind - Time Is Gone
Time Is A Rate Exchange & A Scheduler of Life
Time Is The Hugest Pie That We Try To Cut With Knives
Every Generation Endeavors To Eat Up A Slice
Yes, Time's A Precious Commodity Worth A Ransom Price
And Time Is Of Such A Tremendous Amount
That We Must View It In Parts To Bravely Number-Count
& I'm Afraid We Can't Calculate The Total of Time's Sum
'Cause We Have Never Found Where Time Started From
(Not Even When The Universe Begun)
So We Repeat It On Our Calendars, Clocks & Watch Faces
It's A System That Allows Us To Try To Find Time's Embraces
The Revolution of Planets & Night Sights Up In The Sky ...
Has Time In Every Formula As It Steadily Speeds By:
Mathematics Must Use 'Times' To Multiply
See, It's Only A Matter of Time
Before The Dark Gives Way To Day
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before All Wrongs Yields To Right of Way
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before A Gift Wrapped Box Is Opened
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before A Written Word Is Spoken
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before Youth Gives Way To Age
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before A Reader Turns A Book's Page
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before Lovers Share Some Token
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before Winter's Hold Is Broken
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before Grape Seeds Turn Into Grapevines
It's Only A Matter of Time
Before Same Grapes Become Fine Wines
(Part 2 of 3)
Written & Copyrighted ©: 9/9/2013
by: MoonBee Canady
A Trip to the Opera
By Elton Camp
According to what I very often hear related,
Opera you should attend to be sophisticated
Just the same, it’s nothing I’ve known about
But I finally decided I would give it a tryout
How much different from a movie could it be
So I picked out one at random that I’d go to see
The very first thing that caused me some dismay
Was how much for the ticket I was forced to pay
I decided to go early so it’d be easy to find my seat
And what a bunch of snobs there were to meet
I figured tank top and shorts would be a disgrace
But you should see how they dressed at that place
Man with tux and woman dressed in a long grown
In my suit, uneasily it was that I looked around
Except for being old folks, I’d think they come from
Dancing at the very most fancy high school prom
I went in and found my seat to keep out of the way
As others came in, I listened to what they had to say
They spoke of libretto, aria, cadenza, and verismo
I hadn’t any idea what those words meant, though
But finally the curtain went up and the opera underway
Then I found I couldn’t understand a word they say
It seemed like some foreign language they were using
Ones who speak English they should’ve been choosing
Other folks there seemed to thing that it was just fine
But I wondered why they had to sing every single line
Not that I had anything against hearing a good song
But hours and hours of it was, for me, much too long
The story they were telling seemed awful complicated
That I had spent my money to come I certainly hated
And I wished that I’d eaten supper before I went there
But none of the others about any food seemed to care
I began to wonder when there would be an intermission
I need to go to the restroom, but did I need permission?
Finally I decided that about going I no longer could stall
Then found the restroom line extended plum to the wall
When the opera was finally over I’ll admit that I was glad
Because I never had expected it to be anything like that bad
I guess it’s because I’m a country hick brought up in the hills
But I sure found that going to the opera didn’t give me thrills
"I am no more witch than you are; and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink." —Sarah Good, July 19, 1692, before her execution during the Salem witch trials
I tell myself it's an accident, hurting this man, making him bleed. The Impala is hot; I’m sixteen. It’s 1989, and drive-ins have wired speakers encased in cast-metal boxes tethered to poles sunk six inches deep, spaced at intervals wide enough to fit a family car.
late summer hits
We hook the heavy speakers inside the lip of each rolled-up window. It’s barely intermission before they fog up—I’m pushing off my date, yelling stop. We haven’t even gotten popcorn yet. He pulls me toward him, I yank back—each lurch of Impala brings loud thuds of protest from the speakers pressed against its glass. Then a sharp crack—windows shatter, spraying piles of safety-grade diamonds into our laps. That **** goes everywhere.
starlings screech in surround sound
Cold night air rushes in with the collapse of glass. I smell the salt and tang of heat-lamp nachos, remember I’m hungry. He sits gravestone still, calls it an omen. I laugh out loud. Look at the mess you made, I say, running my hands through the shards, fingers reflecting like stars in the light of the big screen. What will I tell my parents is all I can think.
murmur south for food
He turns his big eyes to mine and calls me a witch. As if yelling stop, stop is the problem, a spell that conjures small gods to break windows—throw hell-bending elbows as hard and unforgiving as his wedding band glinting in the dirty cup holder.
fall is beginning
He drops me at Taco Bell, six blocks from my house. I shed a trail of fractured glass the whole walk home, tell myself they're white sapphires when they crunch under my soles, already rehearsing my side of the story.
feathers green now gilt with gold
The next morning, I wash the rest of the night from my hair. We both tell different versions of what happened, cut different details, people, in and out of it.
invasive species
In the span of a moment
A word of caution
Destiny alters
Those fragile components
In a moment a seed
Comes forth to fruition
Or it dies with no one to grieve
No pause nor slight intermission
In the span of a moment
Fate awakens
Mysteries that seemed unimportant
Ones that had rested perfectly dormant
In the grand scheme of life
Those moments seem trivial
A roll of the dice
But they are really indivisible
For the human condition
Is fragile at best
On guard to vague contradiction
In the constant it heeds it's rest
In a moment you can catch
The gleam of an eye
A flash of anger subdued
Or a clarity replaced by confused
The tiniest speck of time
To a life interrupted
Forever can find
A heart too corrupted
To trust in another
Or even ones self
Much more when those moments
Cluster and swell
In an instant your eyes
Can behold perfection
In the passing of time
Reveals a cruel deception
Moment by moment
We fall or we stand
Trying to control every component
Its like holding sand castles with only your hands
Yesterday everything seemed perfectly right
Today my love, he went away
Like ocean waves when tides crest high
The mornings new landscape gives way
I cry with every forsaken moment
The moments by my side he's not here
I've already endured the many moments
All those that turned into years
At times I want to go back
To what was before I met him
The level of empty contained in the past
Was fuller than his presence rescinded
There is no exaggeration
That without him I cannot breathe
In this lies the danger
When he became the fabric of me
My true love I gave only
to one other this way
He held it long after he passed away
In truth it paled if portrayed
In moments such as these
I want to scream
No matter to whom be displeased
Cross valley and mountain it's rivers and streams
How long my darling
how many more moments
For something so right
To feel so wrong so alone
For what is lonelier
Than a moment alone
A timepiece which knows no hour
In the span of a moment unknown
Me
W?rdz sp?ld k?'r?kt 'v?rs?s f?'n?t?k'sp?l??
alternately titled fun with phonics
'?lt?rn?tli 'ta?t?ld f?n w?ð 'f?n?ks
analogous when like first learning how to spell American English words
?'næl?g?s w?n la?k f?rst 'l?rn?? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
I thought to feign not knowing how to spell American English words
A? ??t tu fe?n n?t 'no??? ha? tu sp?l ?'m?r?k?n '??gl?? w?rdz
and quickly realized the daunting task,
Ænd 'kw?kli 'ri??la?zd ð? 'd?nt?? tæsk,
thus sought magnanimity, gratuity, courtesy...
Google search (phonetic transcription of words) to assist me
Ð?s s?t magnanimity, gr?'tu?ti, 'k?rt?si..
'gug?l s?r? (f?'n?t?k ?træn'skr?p??n ?v w?rdz) tu ?'s?st mi
Words spelled correct versus phonetic spelling
(the latter appended after poem concludes).
Thus now begins feeble attempt
to render rhyme for no reason
appended with phonetic translation
mainly as playful tease zen
synonymous imagining teaching
said exercise to eager children
reminding readers that young
and restless with spotty attention
hear spoken word while in utero,
post natal, subsequently when
he/she parrots parent(s) and/or
guardian, a more deliberate yen
arises to acquire greater cognition,
intuition, question (quest ja hen)
quickly devolving into faux ken
barbed riotous laughter analogous
trying wits of patient comedian/
comedienne resorting quite often
to repetition, remonstration,
reiteration... which frustration
might necessitate taking ten,
or so minutes of intermission
mindful mentor praises pen
ultimate verbal adroit ability
earning healthy treat for recitation,
perhaps recipient exceptionally
eager to advance passing golden
milestone able, ready, and will len
to tackle writing correct spelling,
whence learning to hold pen(cil)
(without being vain) begin men
till process, which next step den
allows, enables and provides sen
sit heave hands on guidance
helping preschooler - all liven
and well with enthusiasm clutch
writing implement fingers open
before gently grasping above ren
during kudos with an amen.
GARDEN
She smelled like the colors
of an intricate garden in which
every geometry and every dimension,
every expression of soft composition,
had the dominant splash, the pervasive
aura, the relentlessly visible subtext
of red
Centered and rooted in the soil
of tradition, North African shawl
over white silk blouse and long black
skirt, the high Cuban heels and the sheer
black stockings, the curly black hair over
dark honey skin all smelled like the gurgling
of cold running water through the granite
canals that sparkled like sunlight broken
by motion in the highest-walled gardens
of Al-Andalus
“I’m getting older” she said
clicking her heels as they walked
toward coffee at theater intermission
where women of high fashion and girls
without clue set an aesthetic standard that
smelled like the storms at the end of October
that dislodge the leaves, the petals, the last
fruits, and render the garden a study of lost
order overwhelmed by forces without
purpose or merit
“I want you” he said,
sure that every person on the
atrium floor was fully aware that
the finest theater in the darkening shadows
was she in the red shawl and the gentleman
beside her, that she smelled like the languages
of medinas and plazas, of harems and courtyards
and the pervasive odors of espresso and wine,
perfume and tobacco, lipstick and roses, that
the breeze of her breath made him sway
with the scents of the colors of night
Shall we?” he said
and she turned, saying nothing,
began walking slowly through the
flowers and vines with the soft sexy
rhythm that only high heels can offer
And reaching their seats, this alluring
composition of red breezes and smells
and Mediterranean gardens of poetry and
song, mother of his children and the
personification of all he know about plants,
kissed him lightly on the lips and looked
toward the stage “Yes we shall” she softly
whispered like a nocturnal breeze
in a garden where the walls smell like
oranges and jasmine and the
color of red
"The Flow"
I walked into the Ocean today
the Wind was wild whipping up the waves
like lemonade white horses riding into shore
I tread water, the Aquamarine was a washing machine
While someone else’s kids raced by me out to the break
the wind bit my face, I submerged myself then resurfaced
I became sad when I thought about the Fraz
I swam out to the deep I was very brave
forgot about monsters with sharp teeth
dreamt they were all fast asleep
bellies full of other dreamers
Sharp Teeth were nowhere near my feet,
They were lying supine snoring at the bottom of the deep
Balmoral was a breeze I was free
feeling guilty it was me in your sea
I floated on my back and just went with the flow
had a little cry, the Ocean took all that salt in
there was nowhere better for it to go
the Sun burnt me up 3rd degree inside real slow
The Seagulls circled above grinning
Yellow crested cockatoos in the big Moreton Bay Fig
like tiny pterodactyls screaming, water crystal clear
angel fish, puffers and blue bottles spinning always near
One can only love
One can never save
But there is the grace of forgiving
I walked into the ocean today
I thought about being brave
Thought about visiting
the Mermaid’s Cave
another day another night
Finding starfish hiding under treasure rocks
Find Silverfin and take his fin
Fairy Bower and swim in your Fair Light
(LadyLabyrinth/2019)"HOME"
"Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is HOME."
https://youtu.be/cbnS-1ZQPD0
https://youtu.be/lf_b_OCKL6I
https://youtu.be/b6d3ghgZuMI
"The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned." Maya Angelou
(gvlm-scm)
Silverfin
https://youtu.be/eai_6DXKXtA