Long Jersey Poems
Long Jersey Poems. Below are the most popular long Jersey by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Jersey poems by poem length and keyword.
My father's Roger Maris mitt
Was kept in perfect health.
It showed no wrinkles no blemishes
Nor flakes of skin.
Its limber fingers were sheathed in leather,
Its pocket was well stretched
As it yawned with each breath.
Bathed in linseed oil,
It was a dark jersey cow
As it slept like an oyster
With a pearl cradled in its palm.
My father's attention was precious as gold;
His time was well spent with little to spare.
He was my coach, he was my father
Playing catch on our field of honor.
Years passed by with a blink of an eye;
His fraying attention became unraveled
By his job, by money, his family's health
And his aging body.
His golden mitt seldom saw light;
Snaring a baseball was wishing
Upon a starless night.
With patience and compassion
My father guided my life,
By catching a baseball my self-confidence grew.
But, his life was snatched by death
His game forever ended.
He was part of my foundation
Which will never fade from sight
As long as I remember, a baseball
Caught on an autumn night.
Standing in my backyard, I see my father's mitt
Cradling me;
Like a baseball I recline
In his loving arms forever.
Family History
by Edmund Siejka
A sense of guilt
Made him search the hall closet
Until he found the old cardboard box.
Opening it
He stared
At a handful of dusty photos.
He remembered Aunt Jenny,
Who told funny stories,
How families in Europe
Lived near borders and one could have a German last name
And be French or even Czech.
Or how uncle Tomas
Made his way to York, PA.
Thinking it was New York
When told that it wasn’t
He shrugged his shoulders
Saying York, PA was okie dokie by him.
Or cousin Laurence who worked in a coal mine
Until he couldn’t take it anymore
And ran away to a dairy farm in New Jersey.
Putting the faded photos back into the carboard box
He wondered if his granddaughter really wanted
To research their family tree
Like she promised.
When the realization came to him
That most of the photos had been thrown away
Back when his father said
No one wanted to remember the old days.
Pushing aside coats and jackets
He carefully returned the box back to the hall closet
Regretting that he never kept the old photos and papers.
Sitting down
He wondered if anyone even cared
That the old days had been mindlessly tossed away.
.
Do you believe in angels?
And do they patiently wait for prayers to be called to help?
Title:
The Eternal Water Oaks
A lone voice whispers
The invisible Angel smiled at the rows of sorrowful patients
Which lay before it on ward twenty-one of Saint Peter's Hospital
In New Brunswick
New Jersey
As it then looked at just one particular sorry soul, whose body was now broken and bent
For it was why it was summoned by heartfelt prayers
Whispered by his family and wife to be heard
For it to be dutifully sent
The smile it carried wasn't a smile of ill judgement
Or dismay, but of immense hope
To change the sad vibrations at play
For it knew the recently diagnosed patient would find the tenacity and strength to eventually cope
Whether they recover or leave others to grieve
For they all do
It's a silent degree
A line spoken by the Almighty
What all things follow if they truly believe whatever it says
All they or others have to do is call for them and pray
To summon angels from The Great In-Between
The bringers of such priceless white crisp envelopes to soothe the soul
The invisible folk
Who'll follow like betrothed guardian philanthropists
Just huddled together
Sleeping
In the half-shade of the Great In-Between trees
The Eternal Water Oaks
Waiting for psychic calls to spring into action
To fly to those caused by an exothermic reaction
A chemical interaction followed by the evolution of heat
With incredible satisfaction
To find those whom they are called to greet
Into the lonely, caressing arms of the swirling grey mists
Which moved and flowed all around
Like it had a phenomenal supernatural intelligence
Hiding those sleeping
By The Great Grey Oaks
Angels
Hidden
By its holy smoke, which it uses to dutifully cloak
Eternal friends
Who know
Living or dying isn't the end
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
.
. for public domain
All Day Tomorrow
( a cast of characters in song )
Homeless Jo and Jane:
We've got all day tomorrow,
to wait by the New Jersey shore,
to beg for a nickel
'cause we're in a pickle.
No end to us being so poor.
Tonight let us rub off our bruises,
tonight let us sing bright and gay.
We filled up our bellies,
the storefront has telly.
Tomorrow may bring a good day.
Parson at the pulpit:
We've got all day tomorrow,
to dry all the tears we will shed.
Our Blessings are fickle.
'cause we're in a pickle.
We can't count the hairs on our head.
Tonight let us kneel with our Savior,
tonight pass on worries what may.
Hand all of our cares
to Jesus upstairs.
Tomorrow may bring a good day.
Children:
We've got all day tomorrow,
for skinning our knees out at play.
We've no butter brickle.
We haven't a nickel.
We're poor as the kids in Bombay.
Tonight all our bellies will grumble,
tonight, while the folks are away,
we'll run through the halls,
and mark up the walls.
Tomorrow may bring a good day.
And so on, and so forth with Parents, Fire Fighters, EMT's, Police Officers, Imam's, Rabbi's, Old West Gunslingers, Suffragettes, Pig Farmers, Bankers, Bad Guys in dark alleys, Peppermint Patty, Goldilocks and the Three Bears, Odin, Cats, Screen Guild Members, and the Shadowy Neighbor next door who no one wants to meet.
Washing his memories he hangs each to dry
He folds them promptly so they gather no wrinkles
Takes pride in his work and packs each thought with care
And when needed they eagerly come out of the attic
Doesn't bother with lingering smells on each garment
He tries each on with fondness and caresses
He wears the sweater of his youth which recalls
His first kiss was in that sweater and he feels her lips
Fine lips
Fine as frog hair and the sweater
He looks at the football jersey and the run
The run made the jersey famous
What good is a famous run, a jersey, a first kiss
They can't be bought anew
They can't be fixed if broken
They can only dream in my attic
I am having one usual day, as it is, most of the days
I, a misfit, wandering around, since
the ultrasound and incubator, they are ever invasive
The world with the main theme, and the off topic, outlier
A peace, to find solace, within.
You are a tiara, a bracelet a pearl and a teardrop too
When I think about the unbridled, unbundled gone spirits, my lion cubs
They are busy in angling, somewhere, elsewhere.
They grew up too close to a Skokie Swift Childcare, they surely do.
They used to tap around the keyboards, busy and always chatterbox
They hardly open up about radiant ways, as they are always busy to pave the gaps.
On a rainy day, they will be sitting inside with their jersey whims for a newer day
And I will be, the ever undecisive, is it the sky blue or the deepest wave, a say or a may
I wish I could be sitting around you, just to see the pristine may
A butterfly stroke on a lonely morn, a red leaf, and a grasshopper day!
Born as Lesley Sue Goldstein in New York City,
she grew up to be famous in Tenafly, New Jersey.
Leslie achieved great success in the music scene,
with her hit song “It’s My Party” at age sixteen.
Other hits include “Judy’s Turn to Cry” and “You Don’t Own Me”.
They were followed with “She’s a Fool” and “Summer and Sandy”.
She has had a life of “Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows”.
After all these years, her popularity still grows.
She was quite a famous singer in her day.
Record producer Quincy Jones showed her the way.
Her career as a songwriter continues today.
Thanks to wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
In Us We Trust
Jersey winds cool western beaches, hold the sun up high for more,
Sand and errant toes wildly breach as easterners go to and fro,
In there lies such great divides, for each and all of us,
With backs turned and arms folded, fall into each other's trust.
Create our fate, take our hate, and toss it into the wind,
Stand in the light, so nicely bright, it'll never ever be dimmed,
No one has more like before, all equals we shall be,
We'll learn the balance that nature bears, with owl eyes we'll see.
If we choose wrong--we'll belong, on suffering's behalf,
We should live lives that are innate to us and a decent life we will have,
Suffer not of what we value, and not of what we discard,
Set by our social order, 'tis ways and means that caused.
All of us can live a life that bears, one of modest means,
Ne'er wants like the Jones' have, 'tis our own everlasting dreams,
Unshackle the chains that bind, us all to that is of greed,
Move us closer to nature than we could ever try to be.
An hourglass sucks us down, it keeps us from our goals,
Until we turn things right-side up again, never lose our control,
We venture the thought, we'll make a start, of our liberty,
Maintain our rights, or make a fight, that favors the majority.
Nay to money, superiority/clout, appearance, and status,
Our ability to interpret what it means, then joy be a constant to us,
Treat the world equitably, then all will be much smoother,
In one accord, that will be it all, harmony is in our future.
2019 May 26
*3rd Place*
Musical Inspiration
~~Joseph May: Judged 2019 June 06
I am a mighty winner all the times;
My weapon is unique but mighty.
Weak I am, but sturdily bulletproofed.
I will always win, no matter the fight;
Injured, I dress my wound and heal.
Sometimes, I slip, fall but stand and move on.
When it makes very hot, no cold I need.
Cold it is, I need no jersey at all.
I trip over a splinter but no fear to fall.
Even if I die today, I am sure to live;
That is the foundation of a great winner
I win not because I am that mighty.
I will always win because of the prayer
Say and trust it; it will strengthen me.
It quenches fires, moves mountains and dries rivers.
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
What an amazing sight to see in the sky.
A great silver airship cruising up high.
A fine example of aviation accomplishment,
you were named after Germany’s late president.
To the German Reich, you were a joy and pride.
You gave your passengers a luxury ride.
This was just another ocean-crossing journey.
Your docking destination would be Lakehurst, New Jersey.
A terrible thing happened when you approached the mooring mast.
Quite unexpectedly, there was a large blast.
What followed was a frightening conflagration.
You came crashing down before reaching your destination.
There remained just a charred metal skeleton to see.
Your demise remains an unsolved mystery.