Long Jarred Poems
Long Jarred Poems. Below are the most popular long Jarred by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jarred poems by poem length and keyword.
See that shiny package, on the upper row
Its base cardboard shelf mate, is not the way to go
There must be embossed letters, of metallic sheen
And it must be shrink wrapped, so it's always clean
Add a few more staples, and a cute twist tie
You know it should be fancy, if I'm going to buy
Prominent the brand name, in colors no less than eight
The text it must be fancy, never print it straight
Don't forget the bar code, or the warranty card
Packed in lots of peanuts, in case if it gets jarred
To deter the wayward, affix a radio tag
Then place your corporate logo, on the check out bag
Beware the competition, don't be such a slouch
For reuse they have added, a see through zipper pouch
Please sprinkle on some glitter, for a final touch
And get a catchy jingle, to make me pay that much
It's a pre-priced package, and we'll buy it in a snap
It's a pre-priced package, and we'll keep coming back
It's a pre-priced package, and we'll buy it in a snap
It's a pre-priced package, and we'll keep coming back
I packed a few belongings in
a knapsack, my journey to begin.
When my mother gave me a goodbye kiss,
I never expected Barovia's mist.
But I didn't think to count the cost,
and now I'm all alone and lost.
I wonder if I'm even missed.
It seems I'm stuck in Barovia's mist.
Often, I look deep inside my being,
but this fog always clouds my seeing.
Do I even really exist
as I languish in Barovia's mist?
Frustration and anger grip my soul
as I struggle to maintain control
and clench my seething fist.
I must escape from Barovia's mist.
Every time I collapse in despair,
wishing I could clear the vapor in the air,
I find I can't resist
the dark powers of Barovia's mist.
One day, my senses were strangely jarred.
A white-haired lady drew a Tarokka card.
Who knew that she was in my midst
as I wallowed in Barovia's mist?
Said she, "You don't know what's in store".
(Lady Eva was the name she bore.)
"You must keep trying and persist.
Don't surrender to Barovia's mist.
For, in this land, we never know,
as Castle Ravenloft, above, and we below,
await an unexpected twist,
in the mysterious Barovian mist."
Theodore Herzl's, "If you will it's no dream"
Lord Balfour's declaration gave it more steam
Hebron's Massacre and Arab Riots
White Paper's Rejection and Hitler's 'Zeig-Heil-It'
Nothing deterred us, no matter how extreme.
The War of Liberation in 1948
The Sinai Campaign -- 1956 was the date
The Six Day War in 1967: "The Temple Mount is Ours!"
The Yom Kippur War in '73 -- our conscience jarred.
Terrorism's ascent all through the years
The Munich Olympics brought us to tears
George Habash and his ilk, criminal masterminds
Sadam Hussein and Arafat, two of a kind
Disappointments galore:
Yamit, Oslo, Gush Katif, Gaza, and so many more--
To list them all's a thankless chore--
Hopes for peace dashed on each and every shore.
Yet in spite of it all, Israel stands tall
Her spirit strong, unwavering
Wrapped in a prayer shawl:
In spite of it all
Israel stands tall
A Beacon of Hope
Shalom to One and All
Congratulations to the People of Israel on Her 70th Year of Statehood
in the Modern Era
Israel Independence Day
April 19, 2018
How odd this ragged stranger seems
Who jarred me from my frozen stare
At dust and dreams and other things
For which I spend my time and care
No other man hath paid him mind
No nod, nor smile, nor kindness shown
No soul at all hath lent him time
No good man opened up his home
So what is lost if I like they
Wave off the hand and turn back in
And quickly block the guilt away
That comes from having been like them
For not but dread his presence seems
His very sight: a cause to stare
At rags and seams…and other things
For which he has no means to care
Thus, I suppose a dime I’ll lend
“Oh what the hell. Here take it all”
How little it be in the end
When from our eyes the scales do fall
June's Astronaut
He claws and scrapes
Letting out something of a growl
Stills time stills all attempts and quests for normal thefts
May is gone
Life becomes June
Young trees reaching further and further everyday
Wild fires burn their pros and cons protect nothing except energy
Here comes the wind
Flames themselves free
They aren't of yesterday's creed
They have a beat
Ill tell you where to meet
A song thats never heard
As the lyrics staged for the next change
Trapped in a cave with every song ever wrote
Remembered then forgot
That awesome bird
Who am I to sing another person's heart
Another man's dream
With swishing feet and laughing eyes
With hopes to go beyond these skies
Jarred scared wrecked without a spare
The honest face of time
So close and yet not willing to try
Does me time
Like sailing in an ocean of wine
Then get lost
End up on an Island with Bill
In life there is but one wrong move
But really none are wrong
Coming to the reality of my fantasy
The perfect life on mushrooms
Those who were met well
Never settling for anything less
Born in the month of June
Those who are complete
Gone those bold nights so windy and cold
No not even an astronaut of my dream of my younger
youth
Eyes
seen life of unfair memories
No place to call home
A memory of a room with no view
Sorry...No Time To Play UNO With Dada!
Forgotten memory jarred
beholding two decks UNO
materializing from...thin air,
(Spongebob Squarepants nonetheless),
I vividly recall both offspring
as bubbly little girls
their most favorite card game
both daughters grown
into independent womanhood
(playtime verboten shunted aside,
they now chess attend Life)
relished with zeal
beating pants of this papa
feigned shock, when fingers
strained to the max
grasping bulk of cards
heard the word "UNO"
followed by profuse laughter
which round mirth
subsequently invited eager plea
to play board game "SORRY,"
outcome already predicted,
but yours truly,
he indulged revelling
giddy atmosphere,
and willingly acquiesced
arbitrarily choosing
least favorite color
arranging game pieces,
within designated starting place
half heartedly perturbed
nary a dice throw yielded
thee requisite number one
finally after Oracle of Delphi
bore predicted rout
with near defeat
meaning either lass
almost got all her "men" home,
aye cast die for numeral uno,
gingerly proceeded to roll dice,
a long shot ambition
to advance my four pawns,
and exalt with sought after
glee to edge ahead,
but lovely girls strategy
and motive (dispensing, donning,
trumpeting... retribution – payback,
when supposedly this “sir” mean)
uttered sinister laugh
as one or more selected
mine "men" almost home
happily sent back to start.
no shortage of familiar metier real
(material) aye attest
welling up within thy breast
merely a predicament how to winnow
junk bonded barnacled
accretion encrusted
amidst gems buried
within treasure chest,
yet vigilant to sift,
viz figurative fine tooth comb
uprooting excrescence laired plethora
incognito, sans faux
couture doggerel habiliment dressed
necessitating painstaking
poetic rock climbing
ala scaling Mount Everest
imbedding, hooking, grappling
fingered duple crampons
aye con fessed
to myself, the futility
to wrest Shakespearean nuggets,
which analogy hyperbole you guessed
nor does modesty allow me feeble effort
(trite) on par with August bard,
who would rank him,
the highest allotted value
upon assigned (absolute)
value of playing card,
hence tis the gold standard thee
verse a tile scribe based
at Stratford on Avon
this here wordsmith wields
his own literary might always on guard
to stave reprehensible tar tarred plaque
like encrustation glued hard
akin to a geode methodical
mother lode extraction jarred
by the slightest distraction,
thus with bold
ness sigh hermetically
seal off every cerebral fold
vectors against superfluous mind chatter
can upend fragile tenuous hold
when merest wisp of nearly
elusive mental thread escapes,
i feign scold
ding this paperback
bestseller wannabe with told
cha so Harris, thus
keep dreaming envisioning
an green acred Edenic demesne
sprawling across wide webbed wold.
Try to find good in each day
It helps me along my way
I look around
Trying to see where I'm bound
Hope one day I'll be found
Sometimes not so sure
Life's a blur
Anger in my heart
Won't let it tear me apart
I have to be better than that
Pulling a smile out of my hat
Concentrating not on what's bad
That makes me sad
Sometimes it is hard
Especially if my soul feels jarred
Lost in a world full of hate
Looking for a clean slate
When I'm down
I refuse to drown
Stuck in a thought
Hard fought
Your mind
I find
Is a rough place to get lost
Pain is usually the cost
Hard to separate
Love and hate
Fate
Fear leaves you stuck on the same page
Rage
Leads down an empty road
Doubles your load
Step away
Open the door to a new day
Try to smile
It will help after awhile
Make it your style.
L ow clouds droop as she sits on rumpled gown
O aths of pale secrets falling through ravaged sleeves
S omber cheeks line a hollowed tract, cast down
T iredness all around; steep as barb- wired leaves.
T ainted droplet hides on eyelid’s corner
E ncasing her passages streaked with pain,
A s black stars perch on withered flowers
R eflecting shadows ruptured, glimpses wane.
S ilently her thoughts prick sparse winds, to blow
O pening dam of jarred beats from love’s past haze;
B eyond snuffed wails, lost tear plunges full flow
S ullen as thorns, she weeps in requiem sways.
Black-Eyed Susan's Lost Contest
Universally yours she never bequeaths an empty womb
because she is space, containing the sparkle of all eternity
She is a matchstick sulphuric light that never extinguishes
but churns into the deep without dupe, full of blue
cherry bomb thoughts arrive at the base of my skull to rev
the fantasy of a magical combustion made by great intent
She's a star shine chit made for wishing, only jarred
by the purple hues of my dreams, she's quite a sight
universally ours she caresses our eyes with an explosion
of atoms and molecules alike. An element of chemistry
she's a wash bath of cool, like the sighs of an evening high
planetary surprises await while we barely open the gate
so transfixed are we by mundanity that we never deem
the mystery of her capacious heart. Only God is privy to
her masterpiece from on high. She is not a sophomore
but rather an antiquity that fascinates me to no end .
Feb. 20 2019