Long Keys Poems
Long Keys Poems. Below are the most popular long Keys by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Keys poems by poem length and keyword.
The dryer hums,
and my clothes are drying.
It rained earlier, but now
the sun is peering through clouds.
As I awaken, the morning is still.
I sit at a table in the front room
and it creaks.
When sifting through my poetic lines
I remember that each day
begins with a whisper.
I remember that around each turn
in the highway lies a surprise.
My thoughts turn to my days as a flagger
as if it is a previous life.
I remember
when there was one lane road
I turned my sign to control
the flow of traffic.
Some people I stopped
waved and smiled,
but in time I learned how
to let them go.
Each evening after work
I’d write a poem
and the librarian at the front desk
was a confidant, a friend.
They’d always offer praise
of how I could make a page come alive
while my fingers danced over the keys.
But now the quiet side street
in front of the house is broken.
I’ve called Public Works
but some things never change.
Now I’m back home
and learning to live again.
As a bird flies past my window
I think I’ll heat some leftovers
and go for a drive.
I live in a limbo, wired trance every day,
Hands up in the air at a chair.
Expected to sit, silently screaming inert,
Eyes closed to professional flare.
My life is in limbo, in this office of joy,
An odd circus of administration.
With keys tapping a beautiful tap dancing ballet,
With a dart boarded concentration.
I should be at work, at the job I so love,
At my slogan on the porcelain tea cup.
And be a useful red sign, a flag on the road,
Not chained inside of this lock up.
The department said return, return to your work,
Return and rock on with your drums.
Twelve months later, I’m still here, warming my seat,
Gaining a PhD in twiddling my thumbs.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pAwoxOpnN7g
Melting moments settle on your soul like winter mornings
Fresh tall pines that awaken in the arms of sweet nature
You and I, part Universe, part forest, part breath ...
glide softly towards our dreams, admiring lavender skies;
.They hover and provide us with abundance, and love...
we are buds blooming, for telling signs of springtime once again
spinning bumble bees tumbling forward, towards the magic hour
into the green essence we go, as we follow them into the flow
Waving our hands in the air like wizard wands we re- create
the Kingdom of Eden, here on earth..
We are piano keys bending in the wind, we are tall tall reeds
evoking musical memories from the past, embracing
the aroma of fresh cut grass, we get lost in a paradise of
lemon /citrus, and lush verdant greens. Breathe in and fill your
body with breath, breath out and spill out, o'er the meadow
your energy is dancing, whirling, twirling, and swirling,
The last drop of snow melts and spring turns to summer
now you can taste the sunshine and feel the warmth, so LIVE
before the next melting moment, you are bathed in time
so breathe in hold, breathe out, you have all you need here
Up the ladder to a place
Show me the way
Lead me to piano swing
Rhythm light into music rise
Inspire me
Set the night tone of music
Piano keys with the touch here and there
Suddenly a ballet coming together
Oh yeah JAZZ
Stepping from Midtown to Uptown
Harlem ways
Entertainment like no other
Music intensifying the moment
Desire
Excuse me Young Lady
Sing like Billie Holliday
Move like Tina Turner
Be confident like Patti LaBelle
Ivories take control
Prove to all the dancers and lovers
Bring in the flavor of Then and Now
Excitement of oh wow
Piano shine
Talent combined
Open up
The dance floor needs an overture
Drink up
Entertainment every night
Piano Spotlight
All eyes
Play all night
Mellow and slow
Dancers being close
Lovers with a score
Don’t want the night to end
Piano setting the right Blend
Piano dreams
A could be
The club lights are slowly dimming
A night’s end
Goodness done
Pass me a cigarette and light up
Good Morning
How was your night?
Jazzy thought
All that Jazz
What ere were warm, inviting open doors,
To this man maudlin and defeated kind,
Unsure, frightened, his dog-tail tucked behind,
He now finds shut, keys lost at far off shores.
Asked of voyage, on adverse winds he whines,
Given a choice from a pair of evils,
He chooses both— he who to doubt inclines,
One sure can’t go wrong with his choice of ills.
Here’s him— lion’s gait with vigour and vim,
He minds no doors getting shut on his face
And looks a sure shot like a tennis ace,
Belief in him bouncing like rising cream,
All odds-against ciphered, game on a deuce,
And a shot that turns all don’ts unto dos!
_____________________________________________
Poet’s note: “To a pessimist, his opportunities look like difficulties.
To an optimist, the difficulties are like opportunities.”
I think it was Harry Truman who said this.
This Sonnet takes off from what he said.
Sonnets | 10.09.2012, revised April 2022 |
This morning I went shopping
Tripped over, started hopping
My milk bottle it went slopping
The store cleaner began mopping
I hobbled out of the store
Got caught in the sliding door
Lost my wallet and now I’m poor
I really can’t take anymore
Then I fell on to my knees
Dropped my bag and my car keys
Gave out a massive sneeze
And then began to wheeze
I found my red sports car
The door it was ajar
They’d stolen my Snickers bar
It really was quite bizarre
I jumped behind the wheel
I began to shout and squeal
Why my Snickers did they steal -
It really was quite surreal
My shopping trip was tough
I was feeling pretty rough
I drove off in a huff –
I’d really had enough
Had an ache in my poor old head
Drove home and went to bed
Shopping trip left me half dead …
Will opt for home delivery instead!
I thought I’d pen a rhyme
With words that are sublime
I hope this one is fine
And in the list will shine
05~28~15
Contest:- Rhyme Time
Sponsor:- Pendleton Arkwright
sun shadow finger marks streak down my kitchen
they appear in even strokes, reminding me of piano keys
excited sun-thriving plants lean toward my blinds
hoping to soak in as much Vitamin D as they ever could
I leave the lights off, they are invasive before nine o’clock
no one else is up, the perfect time to prepare my wake up brew
humming comes out of me as I begin to smell my favorite blend
I add cocoa mix and sweetener to my oversized cup of joe
the first car of the day starts up next door. Mr. McClinty.
He arrives at work a couple of hours early, afraid to be late.
At seventy-six, he probably fears he will be replaced.
I sit down at the table and work the crossword as I sip my coffee.
it has been a while since i was here
i have been blocked from every side of every angle in every way
i still take pictures of the waterfront for therapy and contentment
yet and still i am lonely and cannot find the cure
it has been a while since you were here
you decided to leave the norm that you knew and write a new story
you leaned more towards the unknown and the unfamiliar
yet and still here you are knocking on my door with tearstained knuckles
it has been a while since we were both here
together we discovered keys long buried in the instantaneous inflation of time
in our personal journeys we learned that we are better together than apart
at the fork in the road of life, we smile as we begin another guessing game
Where have all the words gone?
It has been more than ten days,
since my last write of a one-liner poem.
Here I am lost, searching, searching
for words for nothing comes to mind.
My spirit is lost in a never ending
staircase, running, stopping, searching
for a door, an entry way or the final step
to find the words to pen, scribble, write.
Where have all the words gone?
I could not find any, every time I tried
to write a tribute to my brother,
who left so suddenly, unexpectedly.
Neither could I write a eulogy for him.
The time came a few days ago to bid
our “goodbyes” and I came empty.
No words came at hand, except
bits and pieces of our childhood.
The memory of the two us watching
and listening to Bruce Springsteen’s
Born in the USA tour, years and years ago.
With no other words in utterance,
I read one of the old poems I wrote
“Tell Them You Love Them Now”.
Where have all the words gone?
Yesterday, I listened to a premiere
of a piano piece, a Sonata in minor.
Sad songs are played in minor keys.
I felt so lost searching for words.
Words that could let go the sadness,
the sorrow of not seeing my brother
alive to tell I love and appreciate him.
Nobody was allowed to see him
and he died all alone in the hospital
without any love ones surrounding him.
So heart breaking, leaving a hole
or tearing all our hearts in our family.
All of a sudden, I am finding the way.
Or reaching the end of the stairway.
The words welcoming me back covertly
and now coming to mind, like the sun
penetrating the thick clouds, gleaming hazily.
3/8/21 All Yours (Mar 9) Poetry
Brian Strand
The Bus to Dublin
Excited for days before,
My mother and I boarded the bus on a Sunday afternoon.
From Shercock,we headed south, and just beyond Kingscourt
adjacent to to the Gypsum factory I saw a small railway line.
Wow, such an exciting thing to see.
And then further on close to Navan,a race course.
Wow!, such an exciting thing to see.
And on the wider main road,just before Dunslaughlin,
a bunch of cyclists on racing bikes,
An unusual thing for my young eyes to see.
The journey,is often as exciting as the destination.
The destination already glowing on the horizon.
In the falling dusk of a November evening.
And then on the outskirts the first double decker bus
Announces,
'You are almost in Dublin'.
Getting off in Parnell Square we walked down O Connell Street
Past, as of yet, a still standing Nelsons Pillar.
And somewhere along the keys of the Liffey River on whose banks the.
City was founded,
we boarded the magical, double decker bus, bound for Kimmage.
Signs of the cross and silent prayers whispered as we passed Mount Argus church
Before getting off at the last stop on
Sundrive Road to walk the final straight to
Blarney Park.
Auntie Mary, animated , flamboyant and as mad as a bag of cats.
Ushered us into a cosy, city sitting room,with its open fire in full bloom.
And welcomed again by her Kerry man husband, Pat
As mad as a second bag of cats;
Funnier than any BBC TV comedian.
And here I am scores of years later,
Back on the bus to Dublin
And it's still an exciting journey, from the heart of the country
To the soul of the city.
To still be connected , and to marvel at the magic of everyday things.