Long Jar Poems
Long Jar Poems. Below are the most popular long Jar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jar poems by poem length and keyword.
I have kept all my stories, since the day I was born
Safe in a jar, some new and some worn
I will pour out a few, to use as my muse
When the light bulb denys me, or my pen has no use
Battered, and chipped, and dusty with childhood
Filled to the brim with my plans and my schemes
Losses and triumphs, friendships and kindness
Goals and ambitions, are mixed with my dreams
It is fragile and slippery as a wet bar of soap
I have stored all my heartache, and mixed it with love
I have poured in some worry, with the good and the bad
My jar holds my stories, from the day I was born
...............................
For Susan Burch's Contest: " Jars"
She walked around this earth with a jar filled with love
Dipping into its commodities when she saw someone in need of
a smile, encouragement, understanding and compassion
Her jar was always running over bringing others satisfaction
Oneday while on a daily routine she saw a tattered old man
Sleeping on a bench, in his right hand he had an aluminum can
She dipped into her jar and pulled out a mysterious note
She had held it for quit sometime a poem she had long ago wrote
She parked her car around the way
It was a cold and rainy November day
Then walked up quietly to this sleeping guy
and suddenly formed tears in her sensitive eyes
She took the poem from out of her jar
Put it inside his portable bar
Then quickly tip towed away
Hoping to God he would read what it had to say
The poem was a love letter to anyone
That had given up on life and had completely shunned
the world out because of many horrible trails
The poem was written to encourage someone and inspire
It was signed with just a smile and a phone number too
A nearby church and rehab center who
Took men in for absolutly free
helped them to discover who they were really meant to be,
A week later this girl drove that same way
There was no sign of this man she so often saw on that bench during the day
A month later, on a Sunday morning she could not believe her eyes
She was in church and to her surprise
The same old man that had been dirty, drunk and out of social reach
Stood in front of this giant congregation and made a beautiful speech
All bright, clean and with tears in his eyes
He told a story about an angel who stopped him from suicide
He said there had to be a God for he woke to take his last sip
And in his “jar” of beer he found a poem and decided to read it
And now he had been sober for thirty days
He found his two lost sons and he just wanted to give God praise
This girl and her "jar" never said a word
She just sat in her chair as her soul sang like a bird
So never be afraid to carry goodness in your life jars
For you never know when you may be a persons saving star!!!
Sabina Nicole
Written:1-17-12
Based on The contest :JARS
I see words, and they see me
It’s true they are sentient, quite
But they will never see the light
of my world through my loins
They keep floating by, ever speaking
never ceasing like tinnitus in my transcendent sight
Like orphans from somewhere never
Their little fingers grope as they look at me squarely
Speaking barely, “bring me into your light”
just before they are gone forever
So much needless loss
I kill my darlings before they become darlings
Their lot is to die in the vacuum
of my fickle muse
If only I could catch them like you do fireflies in a fruit jar
How pretty they would be to see in chaotic containment
and how witty they could be for those with the sight
But alas, my heart cannot hold all the incandescence ink
required for such a noble and beautiful task
So I shall be satisfied to smile when I catch one or two
I was the official jar opener in our house
Until this jar of Bick's Pickled Beets
Knocked me off my perch
Mr. He-Man here is now fighting off severe depression
It's a conspiracy, cause I was acting too much like a smart ass
That lid tightening machine heard about me
And is purposely making the seal tighter
So no actual human can open it without farting
And then it's still basicly impossible
I think the government should pass a law
That prohibits this kind of practice
To prevent us from ending up crying like a baby
And sucking our thumb all cuddled up in the corner
My dear wife decided to give it a shot
And apparently with no struggle at all
She managed to open the damn stupid thing
As I always say, “I loosened it for you!”
You can visit me in an old folks home
3:00 to 4:00 every weekday afternoon
And between 1:00 and 6:00 on weekends
© Jack Ellison 2014
After you left,
I found the jar on the kitchen shelf,
lid gone,
its mouth taking in the afternoon.
At four, the window
set a square of sun inside it.
For twenty minutes
the glass looked occupied.
I began keeping that hour clear.
I left the blinds half-open,
moved the chair out of its path,
turned the jar a finger-width
as the sun shifted lower.
Nothing else in the room
received such care.
Soon, I stopped asking
what the jar could keep.
It held only my attention
until the light moved on.
Still, I washed it.
Still, I returned it to the same mark
on the sill.
By winter,
clouds began arriving before I did.
The jar showed me the room
bent through its empty walls:
the table,
the cold tap,
my own hand passing behind the glass.
I put it back on the highest shelf
and stopped waiting for four.
Weeks later, at dusk,
I saw the jar again.
The room had darkened inside it
before it darkened around me.
For once,
I left it where it was
and watched nothing disappear.
WE'D STAY OUT AFTER DARK.
CATCHING FIREFLIES IN A JAR.
THE MOON SHONE ON OUR FACES
AS WE STARED UP AT THE STARS.
WE'D RIDE THAT RUSTY SWINGSET
SAIL HIGH INTO THE AIR.
BET WHO COULD SWING THE HIGHEST.
WARM BREEZES THROUGH OUR HAIR..
WHEN YOU AND I GOT OLDER
WE'D DRIVE DOWN TO THE PARK
SIT SIDE BY SIDE IN THE,SUMMER GRASS
AND YOU'D KISS ME IN THE DARK.
WE'D STAY AND TALK FOR HOURS
ABOUT WHO WE WANT TO BE.
YOU SAID YOU COULD NEVER BE TIED DOWN
YOU NEEDED TO BE FREE.
YOU DREAMED OF TRAVELING AROUND THE WORLD.
TO LANDS BOTH NEAR AND FAR.
NOTHING WOULD EVER HOLD YOU BACK.
LIKE FIREFLIES IN A JAR.
THAT SUMMER ENDED QUICKLY
AND YOUR FAMILY MOVED AWAY.
MY FRAGILE HEART WAS BROKEN
I MISSED YOU EVERY DAY.
BUT THE YEARS KEPT MARCHING FORWARD
AND THE PAIN BEGAN TO FADE.
I GREW UP AND GOT MARRIED
A SIMPLE LIFE I 'VE MADE.
BUT EVERY NOW AND THEN
I'LL SIT IN THE SUMMER GRASS
AND MY MIND BEGINS TO WONDER
ABOUT THE BOY THAT HAUNTS MY PAST.
I WONDER IF HE'S HAPPY.
I WONDER IF HE'S FREE.
I WONDER IF HE LOOKS UP AT THE STARS AND
EVER THINKS OF ME.
AND THOUGH THOSE DAYS WERE LONG AGO
THE PAST IS NEVER FAR.
THOSE MOMENTS STILL SHINE BRIGHTLY
LIKE FIREFLIES IN A JAR.
The jar remains still, dressed in its glass mantle like a snow globe of silent forgetting,
each broken part of me lies there, floating in my warm and crimson waters,
a lake of lost memories, a mirror of the soul seeking to find itself again.
I open the jar and try to fit each piece into the deep voids of my being,
like a puzzle of the soul, but each time, I fail again and again,
and I wonder if I will ever manage to reassemble myself, to become whole again.
My gaze stops on the silver needles, shining like stars in the night sky,
someone has separated them from their thread, leaving only silence and cold steel behind,
the crude tools of healing, without a guiding thread, just silence and the desire to mend.
I clutch the needle tightly, a silent smile forms on my lips,
now I begin to sew each broken part, the cold needle pierces the skin with care and love,
as if mending my mother's old shawl, each stitch a memory, each knot a dream.
I sew my broken parts like a sweater of the heart, with love and dedication,
to protect myself from winter's bite, when the poisoned air seeps into cracks,
I sew again, like an old sweater, perhaps I will be whole again, even if only I know the story.
Each stitch a step towards rediscovering the lost self, each knot a warm refuge,
perhaps I will become whole again, even if sewn in silence, unseen by the eyes of the world,
a waltz of needle and thread, a dancing tale of healing and self-discovery.
A Jar of Summer
Snow lies thick on the yard
Outside my window.
I lift the jar from the shelf
And carry it to my breakfast table.
Sunlight glows purple through the glass.
I pry open the lid.
And the winey aroma
Fills my soul with summer.
I see the grass by the fence.
The air is heavy with
The musky smell of wild grapes
That hang in beckoning clusters
From vines among the trees.
I clamber over the fence,
My hip complaining
About that last leg over!
I scramble among the grasses -
Never mind the thorny creepers
Clutching at my legs and clothes -
And load my bag with purple jewels.
The jam kettle waits,
And I hurry home to fill
The neighborhood with the
Thick, sweet aroma of cooking grapes.
This little jar of jam I open
At my winter breakfast table
Holds all the memories of summer.
I close my eyes and let
The tart-sweet taste
Fill my all my senses with
The sun and smells and tastes
Of summer past and summers yet to come.
Full of sunlight
dipped out from a spring named hope by a mountain foot
in the jar that we bought after a long period of hesitation
at a time of making a new home
is slopping from side to side.
We roamed together in the wilderness
where so many springs came and went;
we stayed up many nights watching the flickering fireflies
in the many returning summers; we walked through numberless autumns
stepping on the heaps of fallen leaves; we wandered many winters aimlessly
in the snow covered fields;
while we went up and down
many rugged hills and rocky mountains
for more than five decades together,
and during those long and tiring years,
though the jar you are carrying bumped into not a few but many rocks and trees
by which the brim chipped off here and there and base gouged out all over,
you never think to change it for a new one.
After all,
you tripped on the stones
many times on the way of our journey,
you never spilled a drop of sun-ray
or, though sometimes it is bothersome,
you did not pour them on the ground.
However, look at me!
the knapsack I carry is beaten by
the untiring rains and winds
and torn to rags from ages of abuse,
and now, though I am an empty knapsack,
you did not abandon me but came with me,
sometimes you walked ahead and other times just following me.
I see sunlight you filled from the spring is overflowing
from that unseemly jar you are carrying;
in spring, buds and blooms of all sorts of flowers
in the field make me look back to verify your presence
and smile when I recognize you by me;
in summer, when we are lying on a tree trunk
under a shade for a moment of rest
a breath of air stops by us and tells a story
for the reason why we walk together;
in autumn, I learn the meaning of decay
through watching the leaves fall and roll
on the ground carried by a gust of wind,
nonetheless, you let me have a moment of appreciation,
you make my life worthwhile, with the flavor of fruit I bite.
Even if winter comes
unless you are not abandoning that jar,
as long as sunlight is overflowing from the jar,
though I am an empty knapsack,
I trust you that your thoughtful heart
will block the blowing wind,
your sagacity will turn snow into beautiful flowers.
Does the one who loves you know who you are?
She needs a real man not just a facade.
Don't keep your heart locked away in a jar.
Not being open she'll think you're a fraud.
She longs to share every part of herself.
She needs a real man not just a facade.
Your heart is out of reach on that old shelf.
Where she can see it but it's out of reach.
She longs to share every part of herself.
But you hold onto her just like a leach.
In the glass jar it looks so very clear.
Where she can see it but it's out of reach.
If you open it what is there to fear?
Are there dark spots you don't want her to see?
In the glass jar it looks so very clear.
Is it that you're afraid that she will flee?
Why won't you reveal every part of you?
Are there dark spots you don't want her to see?
There are some good men, be one of the few.
It's time to reveal every part of you.
Help the one who loves you, know who you are.
Don't keep your heart locked away in a jar.
Modified Terzanelle