Long Juice Poems
Long Juice Poems. Below are the most popular long Juice by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Juice poems by poem length and keyword.
She stepped out in new-faded jeans.
Raindrops streaked through her hair.
Main Street lights kept breaking down,
Like stars that weren't quite there.
Her denim felt like old friends.
Soft where life had once been there.
Some where she wanted to be, over again.
As the night draped over the fire escapes
A young man watched her walking.
His own blues stark as night.
Sharp as Sunday morning shoes.
Not a crease or wrinkle in sight.
He said, "I like your old blue jeans."
She laughed, "Son, take another look"—
Half the fades seen better days;
Half the memories came forelooked."
She touched the fray on one knee.
Ran her hand along the seam.
"You can sand 'em down with pumice now.
Or stone-wash 'em to yesterday;
Fade 'em pale with lemon juice.
It's easier to drink a past,
Than slowly earn your own."
You can fake the faded colour...
You can't fake the miles.
The drunks were preaching heaven.
Like rent was never due.
A saxophone kept wailing.
To a blue cattle dog baying the moon.
The busker missed the heartache.
Someone missed their train.
Everything was wearing out—
Everything else was set on pretend.
In the driving rain.
You can fake the faded colour...
You can't fake a mile.
Nobody falls for brand-new faded denim.
Not from near or far, not for long.
The finest blues are weathered;
The deepest truths are all well-worn songs.
Some scars are stitched for fashion,
Some come one worn thread at a time.
You can fake a faded colour...
You can't fake a faded life.
Old faded blues
Faded lives, faded dreams.
Going at the seams,
Full of holes and stale tears.
Nothing's quite the way it seems—
Some fades take years.
Some hearts wear easy,
Some take years to blue.
You can buy the faded denim...
You can't buy what you've been through.
Quickly alice follow the rabbit
Two days late is becoming a habit
Fancy a cuppa? sit at the table
Meet the hatter baffling and able
To confuse the greatest of folk
Is he insane? or is it a joke?
Where is the mouse? did he drop?
Hope he hasn't pee'd in the pot
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
She couldn't begin to guess
"We're all mad here" said the rabbit
Holly molly a talking rabbit, "grab it"
She screamed with disbelief
What on earth is in this tea
Did the caterpillar share his puff?
Thinking of it, what is that stuff?
What did she drink in that room?
Was it juice from mushrooms?
A floating big mouth cat
It's gone, did she really see that?
Pink flamingos & dancing cards
Those chess pieces look scary hard
Who's s screaming off with her head?
They're all off their crazy heads
Where's that man who's crackers?
The one they call mad hatter
Can he help her get home?
From the wonderland she roams?
"Open ur eyes!" someone scream
Oh lord it was a crazy dream
~ Oh, maiden of light cracks the wispy air open ,
wandering around viscous spaces
like virgin shadow caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
taller than guava trees dreamingly shedding
laces of northeast streams when
songbirds, orbits, and a pageant of flowers listen
to a single humming breeze… and when all else
is sprawled quiet, waterfalls marry her certain
lingering star straying on mouths of gentleness
past eons bound by nuptials in iridescent realms…
*O, ilaw, sa gabing malamig, wangis mo'y
bituin sa langit… O, tanglaw, sa gabing tahimik,
larawan mo, Neneng, nagbigay pasakit. Ay! *
Somehow ,curlicues drape a fragrant smoke
leaking out a folk sky; dancing in the mirror
of the mountain pool… a serenade weeps;
quivering, moaning along the inland pass that
someone said morning becomes electra,
that learning how to hear her blossom or
pearl stone unravels the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
shed her purity far beyond unknowing a
water’s need to keep still: the juice spills…
**Gising at magbangon sa pagkagupiling
sa pagkakatulog na lubhang mahimbing;
buksan ang bintana at ako'y dungawin,
nang mapagtanto mo ang tunay kong pagdaing. * *
Peeling new faces of time, shaping the width of
endless rhyme in sprays of endless mystery...
like so, a thousand times before and after,
twilight and daybreak entwine… oh,light elusive,
passing through calm eyes of young maiden’s season
is love’s way of coming back to itself. ~
--------
* O, light, in the cold night; you're like a star in the sky
O, light, in the quiet night, your picture, Neneng,
makes one ache…. Oh!
** Awake and arise from slumber,
from your sleep so deep.
Open your window and look out to me
So that you may understand my true lament.
~ this poem is inspired by a harana, a traditional Filipino serenade. The suitor
is accompanied by his friends who back him up both vocally.
At first, the woman's window is closed. The man calls out to her
and if she's interested, she'll open her window.
Singing harana originated during the Spanish
colonial period in the Philippines.~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NYueJU0Ufws&feature=related
---------
For Debbie’s Bi-lingual Poetry by nette onclaud
Play well the vinyl of your teenhood,
since it sounds nice like waters out of a spring,
but if not played with care and dexterity
it loses rhythm to the roars of thunderbolts.
Yet it always blooms like dawn of a bright day,
full of hopes, rewards, and aspirations
that can get blown away by veiled distractions
that may appear welcoming and comforting.
Green years plant trees with sweet fruits—
the wise sip the juice with caution.
Though sometimes so sweet the throat can’t resist,
its flavours are best savoured a bit at a time.
For those whose flowers still bloom,
take care to nurture and prune them.
Many dry seasons are ahead that can wilt them—
yet their beauty we pray to last us beyond dry weathers.
Let the record spin past its labeled side,
into the run-out groove where silence hums.
There the thunder is only a memory of rain,
and the spring, though distant, still feeds the roots.
1. How didn’t I know an expensive dress
can cover a straggly skin?
my attention has now been diverted
to an escape as this voluptuary being
puts me under a deadly review
a lesson adequately learnt but with burnt tonsils.
Chorus
Where is my class?
How bad is my taste?
Eyes jumping over the mind
a grade nine she seems
a grade five she actually is.
2. I thought I’ve found an apaulette
for my proud shoulders.
I was hoping the goods
was worth more than my basket
but to realize her class just cracked in the glass
and charm comes in a blob
as I act the flunkey to time
for this dire situation to pass by.
Chorus
Where is my class?
How bad is my taste?
Eyes jumping over the mind
a grade nine she seems
a grade five she actually is.
2. I saw a potential click
but paneer and mango juice is what it is
her courtesy is weak kneed
with muggy romances far from assorted
I’ll need a salve on the mental injury
she’s inflicting
else I’ll end up under her heavy slab.
Chorus
Where is my class?
How bad is my taste?
Eyes jumping over the mind
a grade nine she seems
a grade five she actually is.
3. Even with all my weaponry
I landed in the wrong camp
it’s been a while my heart winced
cos of my eyes
impossibility is getting a spring from this puddle,
better dividends will come from a jail bait
than this pick I bite myself for.
Chorus
Where is my class?
How bad is my taste?
Eyes jumping over the mind
a grade nine she seems
a grade five she actually is.
Waking up so happy and full of energy for now
I have all my curtains shut for now
I do not want to open them just for now
I rather have my breakfast and juice for now
I am going to take a shower and brush my teeth for now
Now I am ready to open my shades and look outside
I was smiling then it fell upside down just looking outside
My smile that had energy was all gone down looking outside
Sure it was a nice morning but look, look, and look outside
So gray, so gray, so draining just why now, looking outside
Clouds everywhere not one breaks up above so gloomy
The wind even makes me have chills and feel gloomy
Dare how, how dare this weather have my emotion so gloomy
The moisture has not gone away from the morning, how gloomy
This just makes me tear up with actions of gloomy
The day has gone long and I’m sitting by my window, what a cloudy day
The sun has not came out and it is becoming evening, such a cloudy day
What sums this whole day, I could have stayed in bed, what a cloudy day
I look to do something outside, for now, but so gloomy, such a cloudy day
This day is one of a million days that it happens to be a gloomy cloudy day
Dear Santa, Define Naughty
Two teams take their place
Christmas is no time to give grace
A time of happiness
No time for crankiness
A naughty girl sits on Santa’s lap
Not knowing it was a trap
Tis the season of giving
And a time for real living
You need to take my Xmas cherry
Works magic on santas red berry
Share each others magic boxes
Like naughty red foxes
Put some jingle in your jangle
And suck on Santa’s big dangle
I need to assert dominance
And pump you with joy and confidence
Happiness pouring from every crevice
While your tongue masters Ben Nevis
Are you my little hohoho
By giving Santa a slow blow
Naughty girl jingle my balls
While my face out calls
You should give in to my demands
Before I tie and lash your hands
I want you to ride me like santas sleigh
Or I deeply block your airway
You deserve a white Christmas
With the juice of stiffness
Will you empty santas sack
Or should I unleash in the crack
I get the hard *****
While I hear a pure moaner
I trust you with my heart
Spreading those cheeks makes you smart
We choose each other
For a wet smother
I always choose you
My mind is like-
Checkerboards.
With organic patterns scattered in each square.
A mind’s eye.
A shaky eye which burns holes.
Heavy breathing sometimes.
But not scary.
Just letting the world become an outline of itself.
Seeing more.
Trying an imagination method.
That isn't like they taught us in school.
Bursts of effort.
Reflected by careful line drawings.
And also scribbles.
Letting the juice of a bicycle create splotches.
Spinning squares can unshape themselves.
And become the vivid version of what a simple shape can be.
I can see faces.
And make the eyes bold and sharp.
Whoosh-
Or not.
I can toss paint at a wall in my mind.
And laugh because I can let the colors bleed and twist into nothing.
My mind has-
Nothing to clean up.
Just take the mess.
And settle it down with deep breathing.
My mind is:
VIVID
My mind is also:
BLANK
And there might be more
Grandmothers and grandfathers how they look,
how can we see that there is a grandmother or a grandfather
When I was a little girl we could see a grandmother and a grandfather
Grandparents used hats, glasses, and walking stick
The skin of their face was weathered and wrinkled
Some had teeth they put in a glass in the evening
Grandmothers always had time for a glass of juice and a hug
She was never impatient, tie shoelaces with pleasure
Always in floral dresses, which smelled like grandma
Grandmothers wont not be at work tomorrow, she has time for an adventure
She does not skip a single word, to be finished soon
It was always sweets in grandmother's hand bag
She never spared, but shared with a beautiful smile
Grandfathers were a bit more restrained,
bit concerned about the day's news in their newspaper
He would like to go for a walk, and he walks with small cautious steps
When he meet someone he knows, he lifts a bit on his hat and nod
He has very little hair on his head, and his head shines in the sun
Grandfathers have a strong hand to hold, I was confident in his hand
He could tell me what all the birds called, he was so wise
Everyone should experience an old-fashioned grandmother and grandfather
one that does not have a television, computer or washing machine
A grandmother and grandfather who always have good time
But it was in the past ..... not today...
23.02.2013
A-L Andresen :)
-------------------------
I stepped into the dark corridor, and by an accidental touch of kindness,
I entered into the haunted tower of time,
like a sonata full of hope born
and dreams of kisses by the river.
A hug that conquers the bastion of inadequacy
and destroys the silk defense lies.
A book emerged from under a stone,
was read in the bed,
and melted into the mist of some new sighs.
At the bottom of the well, I saw eyes
what are like a spilled handful of pearls.
*
From the bud of the name of the great
a golden-haired princess comes out and hugs me;
while racing across dry, creaking snow
from the Paris streets
and the blue book pages
smiling boy with a snowball
hits a chandelier full of candles
and pieces of light in all directions fly
like a wasted youth.
*
I wander around the world in search for a soul
in the dark and blind with despair.
Snow is everywhere
and downhill takes me down
to the frozen lake.
I can see my hands trapped
on the other side of the thin
ice cover.
I'm frozen like a stone pillar,
while only my live eyes cry.
From my tears
the seagull makes hope necklaces
to guard against all evil
names pronounced.
*
I drink wine from the birch tree,
putting presents on the lower branches
of silver and amethyst.
Cloak of the Great Sorrow
which covers my back and shoulders
I came to leave it
there, in the corner of the garden
where are the thick willows planted.
*
Under the giant Tree in a blizzard
I found a beautiful corner for meditation;
I untied the ponytail
cut off from me long ago by the demon,
sprinkled myself with snow,
and with the icy grains of remaining joy.
My hands are at the end, bare and empty.
*
With the inner eye, I hear the chorus of trees,
where the ancestral oak commands the willow
to pass through my nostrils
and create the Tree of life
with better woven
by watering sapling
with the red juice of my body.
Ready, I surrender
and I go into the ice bluish-whiteness
hugging me silently.
Finally, my peace comes
in the company of people
that were once like us
and we will all become like them
just like me now.
-----