Long Kettle Poems
Long Kettle Poems. Below are the most popular long Kettle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Kettle poems by poem length and keyword.
There's a tea pot
And a kettle
Waiting to steam
Isn't this quite familiar
Like a dream
Have you ever dreamed
Of what you could do
If you only put your mind to
Did you go after it
Or did you just sit there
Did you get excited
Or didn't even care
Did you think for a second
Or just use to rejection
Did you plan this thing out
It's a reflection
A reflection of you
This is your journey
Live it
In the end all you have to do is give it
Dream big
Have big dreams
You can accomplish
Anything
(Repeat 1x)
People will tell you
What you cant do
And what you can
Dont revise your plan
Write it down
Bring it to life
Get yourself on track
Get it right
We all have room
To grow
Just need a little life spoken into us
It's ok
We need to be watered , we to be grown
We don't have to do this alone
You have to support yourself
Stay strong
And then the Lord will send the right people along
Dream big
Have big dreams
You can accomplish
Anything
(Repeat 1x)
You can do it
Yes you can
Just make sure you keep God apart of the plan
(Repeat 1x)
Dream big
Have big dreams
You can accomplish
Anything
(Repeat until chorus fades )
Written by Concetta Hardnett
01/19/2025
An ambitious druid set out to recover an omnipotent ancient fluid
She was a kind witch with a wee twitch about to discover a glitch
Laboured with great force to go back to the Source and in due course
She tabled a motion to produce a lotion or potion for better emotion
Applied for a grant to enchant with the Council of Fairy Queen Dreams
Because she was sicken and poverty stricken and needed support to comfort
Required assistance to overcome resistance to cast a spell and quell the cartel
Of warring factions that had gained traction shouting war score and gore
‘Let me make some agent at the sorcerers’ pageant and tame insane pain
That derives from seeds of greed and loony fixation on vicious vexation’
She ground fresh chamomile with a smile for healing dope in good hope
Crushed tea tree leaves and stinging nettle petals for release of peace
As foundation for libation she added more tricks to the mix and stirred fur
And holly berries infused and enthused cherries and compassion with passion
To fuel the tasty gruel she injected thyme and some lime and peat for a treat
Boiled the kettle full mettle with wood from the beach and threw in a peach
She sat on a willow pillow and offered for free her meal for people to heal
No taker they thought she’ a faker so for their concern she added some fern
And to convince she put a handful of quince and cold marigold into the fold
Yet when she accepted that people were too infected and simply objected
To spreading good will with delicious food skill she exclaimed 'what a shame’
Feasted on spruce juice and a tooth and went into space to start a new race
Starting from zero she became a hero and hailed a rage with heavenly sage
They built her a shrine with galaxy wine and accepted what earthlings rejected
The moral of the tale is when all else fails you find an innovative place to grind
Change perspective and position and decide to complete your fine mission
Where you can feed other’s need without angry fear of what is so dear
16th October 2019
The world has changed in so many ways
It's nothing like the good old days
There was only 3 channels on the TV and we boiled a kettle to make the tea
Lots of fresh air playing outdoor in the sun
Football hopscotch just having fun
Having a Picnic in the park getting home
Before it gets dark
Jam sandwiches just a quick snack to eat
No named trainers just daps on your feet
Clouring pencils chalking on the ground
Children laughing what a wonderful sound
Things have changed that's no doubt to talk to our friend we had to go out
But that's all changed now in the process of time
Don't you miss your younger days I know I miss mine.
Farewell spontaneity my friend,
You have served me well,
But alas it will soon be time for you to leave us.
With Spontaneous applause long dead to all but a few,
Unplanned trips accidents waiting to happen,
Visits even to friends unannounced, no guarantee of a boiling kettle,
And too long sitting on a couch making a spontaneous move unlikely,
Your future looks bleak indeed.
Before you go,
Could you do me one last favour,
And give me a second opinion on my grandson,
As I think I have noticed a spark within him you could still ignite,
So your farewell party can be put off once more,
As life would be too boring without you.
Down the street at the corner, the sodium
Streetlight casts an eerie-yellow glow on the sidewalk
Below, a feint hissing sound emanating from escaped
Gasses. Up the stairs, just a few feet away, I'm narrating
A sequence of myself carrying a large kettle filled with
Chili, my look confident, my shirt spattered with
Bubbling sauce, unseen are the remnants of the
Bomb
Blast...blood-stained parts of a little boy's shoes, fallen
Off as he crawled home, not quite to the door.
Sleeplessness, a byproduct of artificial LED lighting,
Historians
Agreed
Where hand -held devices and
Computer screens disrupted tidal waves in our brains,
Leading to irrational decisions by our
Leaders, dooming
Civilizations not yet born,
New, 6-handed life forms were
Imported from other planets
Un-earthing gold and iridium, along
With relics from the 21st. century,
In an effort to more
Accurately erect memorials to a
Vanished society,
The
Chili
Was
Good
11/8/14
© james marshall goff
I woke up and forgot my password.
Everything seems back-assword.
It must be somewhere, but mislaid,
among a paper mountain, I'm afraid.
Something's really weird and strange.
Has my brain been rearranged?
As this odd feeling lingers,
I can't even feel my fingers,
and while my digits seem fat and numb,
they won't even oppose my thumb.
My vision's blurry and I feel weak.
When I open up my mouth to speak,
instead of meaningful words,
out flies butterflies and birds.
Even when I try to scream
like a kettle blowing steam,
there is not a single sound -
just a silence that's profound.
The sun looks more green than yellow,
and the ground is made of jello.
I'm not sure who I am.
Can you tell me my name?
I was someone when I went to bed.
Maybe, now I'm somebody else instead.
Am I gone? Will I be missed?
Or do I not even exist?
I wish I knew where I reside -
once again, "Password Denied".
Consider this an SOS.
Please send help to my address.
The wind whispers, a soft 'hush-hush' through the trees,
A gentle 'whoosh' as leaves begin to fall.
The rain starts drumming, a steady 'pitter-patter,'
On the windowpane, a soothing, endless call.
A 'pop' of the fire in the hearth,
The kettle whistles, a loud and urgent 'hoot!'
The dog snores softly, a deep and rumbling 'snort,'
As twilight settles, a peaceful, quiet loot.
A 'screech' of tires, a sudden, jarring 'brake,'
The city hums, a constant, buzzing drone.
A 'clatter' of footsteps, a hurrying 'thump,'
The day's last moments quickly fade and groan.
And in the silence, deep within the night,
A 'chirp,' a 'tweet,' a distant, lonely sound.
The world asleep, the stars begin to shine,
In the darkness, peace and quiet can be found.
8/23/2024
Onomatopoeia Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
"The Lantern of the Inner Sight"
Ere dawn had breathed upon the silent pane,
I stirred, a half-suppressed, half-mirthful yawn.
The kettle hummed a low, domestic strain,
While shadows lingered, tangled still in dawn.
A moth—like tiny ember—tapped the glass;
Its tremulous wings murmured to my thought.
I traced the mug’s warm rim; and time did pass,
While sparks within, unbidden, were then caught.
No borrowed lantern from the world’s harsh glow
Could chart the filaments that stirred inside.
Each shadow leaned, as though it wished to show
Some secret mortal eyes might elseway hide.
I laughed, recalling childhood’s timid dread,
When silence felt as tyrant or as thief.
Now hush bestows a kingdom in my head,
Where even fear is tempered into brief relief.
The filament expands, a patient flame,
Threading the mind’s dim corridors with light.
No tempest, nor the outward tide can claim
The lantern born of waking and of night.
I step upon the frost-kissed garden floor;
My footfalls echo softly, nothing near.
The leaf, the stone, the distant creaking door,
Resound the truths my quiet mind holds dear.
O revelation, subtle, deep, and still,
Thy herald needs no sound nor brazen call.
I bend to touch a stone; and in that thrill,
The cosmos yields—its secret unto all.
People write about fireworks.
About stolen kisses in the rain.
About grand declarations that change everything.
But I don't think that's where love lives.
Love
I think
looks less like fireworks
and more like Tuesdays.
I want to be the girl you come home to after a long day.
The one who already knows whether you need
to talk, to laugh or just to sit in comfortable silence.
I want to eat dinner with you when neither of us can decide what to cook.
To argue over what to watch.
To steal your hoodie because it's closer than mine.
I want to know which side of the bed you sleep on
And exactly how you take your coffee
I want to be the first person you call
when life gives you something worth celebrating
and the one who quietly puts the kettle on when it doesn't.
I want to grow with you.
To cheer for dreams that become plans,
Plans that become memories,
and memories that become a life.
Because I don't dream of extraordinary.
I dream of the life that happens
between the milestones.
Love
I think
looks less like fireworks
and more like Tuesdays.
Agree to agree
Disagree or not
Tit for tat
Believe it or not
It's like calling the kettle black
The good the bad
The goofy happy the insanely sad
Wrong or right, More insight
Believe it or not
It's like calling the kettle black
You race to cure
Yet you want to cure the race
You arrive late and leave early
You shave your face but your brain is furly
Agree to agree
Disagree or not
Tit for tat
Believe it or not
It's like calling the kettle black
It's a matter of facts
That this world is on track
I love you more when you hate me
I relate more to your trust
It's not solely about me it's all about us
Agree to agree
Disagree or not
Tit for tat
Believe it or not
It's like calling the kettle black
Who you kidding not all kettle
11/4/18
Early November 2018,Any Form, Any Theme, Up to A Max Of 20 Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand