Long Latex Poems
Long Latex Poems. Below are the most popular long Latex by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Latex poems by poem length and keyword.
Back then, most girls so loved their dolls;
in forty-seven, I turned eight.
That Christmas, my one wish came true;
To play with her, I couldn't wait.
To me, she seemed so very real-
A Magic Skin Doll- 'neath my tree.
This newest one topped all the rest
with skin as soft as soft could be.
New Latex formed her magic skin,
so good she felt within my arms.
She was the sweetest doll for me-
for sure, the one with life-like charms.
Where did you go, my baby doll?
Years later, when our house was downed-
where you forgot and left behind-
now with my heartache- in the ground?
I pass it often, that long bridge
where once our family home stood-
recalling memories, so fond.
How were you lost- not understood.
I Am /A Dandelion
I stem out to a beautiful flower dressed in yellow,
with a milky latex that runs in my veins.
Omitting a fragrant perfume of my own.
As the night falls, I close and slumber till sunrise.
Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly,
I’m standing tall with downy white feathery fine hair.
As a gentle cool breeze whispers with a kiss,
I surrender my fruit to fall into its hands.
Swept away and drifts like little propellers with the wind,
like a thief in the night whisking them away over long distances
Out to their lovers as they mate with the rich brown soil.
©By: Eve Roper 5/3/2015
Dandelion late Middle English: from French dent-de-lion, translation of medieval Latin dens leonis ‘lion's tooth’ (because of the jagged shape of the leaves).
Contest : Picture Yourself as a Flower!
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Awkwardly he made a pass
Bumped his head against the glass
Cheesy lines flew far and wide
Didn’t notice spinach fried
Ego big, but brain quite small
Fumbled trying to make a call
Gave her flowers — they had bugs
Hugged too long and popped her lugs
In his teeth was something green
Joked too much — the vibe turned mean
Kissed her hand, then sneezed real loud
Laughed alone (not in a crowd)
Made a mixtape: wrong girl's name
Narrated dreams that brought her shame
Overdressed in latex pants
Professed love mid worm dance
Quickly tried to do a dip
Ripped his jeans — then broke a hip
Said, “I love you” way too soon
Tripped and mooned her under moon
Unbuckled shoes in sexy pose
Very much stepped on her toes
Winked so hard, his eye got stuck
X-rated dreams but no real luck
Yelled her name but got it wrong
Zero game… but writes her songs
Note: This is an echo to "Poison" by a dear poetic friend. I have read a lot of these ABC poems recently, I'm assuming for a contest, and they are wonderful! I'm not in the contest and I am sure these lines above don't dance as well as others. I wrote this because my muse (the one with all the ideas), Chance Summer (that's the name he goes by).. wanted to dance with Cay Cay's muse. Chance is no dancer. And the kid is "Heartbreak City" as is reflected in his work above and many of our heartbreaking songs. Does that make Chance awkward? Yes, incredibly.. but he don't care. Cause tonight, he is out on the dance floor with an exciting lady muse, and his echo echo to her is a dance that will never get old!
What makes the hiking up mountains more striking?
What makes the driving more fun than arriving?
What makes the ocean-ing worth the sun lotioning?
Gear!
Gear makes the biking much more to my liking,
Gear makes the camping way less spirit-damping,
Gear makes the gardening less callous-hardening,
Let's hear it for Gear!
Now softball-leaguing is way more intriguing,
Now boogie boarding is much more rewarding,
Now even jogging feels less like a flogging,
3 cheers for the Gear!
Titanium! Spandex! Aluminum! Latex!
Hi-tech! All-weather! Light as a feather!
No wonder I struggled for many a year -
I had not the wherewithal to buy the gear!
To fully be safe, we would have to live somewhere else right now.
Move out of this galaxy onto another planet away from the pandemic.
But this is what I would suggest.
One. Wash your hands over and over and over all day long.
Which I never do.
I would suggest wearing a mask. I have one hanging up in the kitchen.
I do not wear it, because I do not go anywhere.
I live in the country, so I never see people.
I would suggest wearing gloves. I have some but figure I am allergic.
I have a horrible latex allergy, so wearing them is out because I do not know.
Whether they have latex or not.
They say have the flu shot; this is not possible for me.
The flu shot contains latex. If you do not know that, you should.
To be safe – stay inside, do not go anywhere, shelter in place.
I am terrific at this, have spent five weeks doing this.
However, my husband is running around out there daily.
So who knows what he is bringing home.
Does he take a mask? Yes.
Does he wear it?
Who knows?
This pandemic thing is beyond irritating to me. I am tired of it.
I want to see my friends. I want to go to dinner.
I want to play with my grandchildren.
Staying safe? Sure. It sounds good,
but it is confining, confounding and devoid of so much joy.
I developed full blown flare up can’t breathe asthma at age 40, a fact.
Got tested and was told my triggers are Ragweed, pollen, oleander plants, perfume, latex and cat.
I had lived in a forest for nine years with all kinds of trees,
But no Cottonwood trees ever hit this forest’s breeze,
Proof I am an alien.
The norm in earth world of asthmatic is to be unable to breathe around a Cottonwood tree and be okay around oak or spruce or knotty pine.
Not the other way around, and my hearing, why is it tuned so ultra-fine?
You can whisper something so tiny no human can make it out except me.
I can get so worked up by 9 a sound in Japan makes me drop my morning tea.
Proof I am an alien.
I have a reversal reaction to medicinal powders and drugs.
What puts others instantly to snore-vile keeps me wide awake for three days.
Namely valium, sleeping pills, and other super relaxing drugs.
Sh, don’t tell the neighbors. But I suspect two of them already kind of know.
They have seen my yard piled high with six foot drifts of glistening snow.
in July.
proof I am an alien.
I did not sleep that night,
the motel room was already taking on
the chill ambience, smell, and sounds
of an intensive care unit,
weary eyelids
sensed the tubes and restraints
already binding me.
Latex-gloved fears
kept me on a weary high wire.
Occasionally there’s distant laughter
in a corridor where people are carefree,
I pretend to laugh along
but my voice croaks and trembles
fearing the passing of time
taken to hear anything
and to respond to it.
I did not plan on Cincinnati
I know I mean nothing to Cincinnati,
Cincinnati has no memory of me yet,
and If I die in its University Hospital
I will still be a hole within a hole
of a book never read.
During the 4 a.m. G.P.S drive
it rained a soft black rain.
My headlights plowed into time-left.
Behind me in the motel room,
I am still packing and unpacking
while somnambulant eyes
look away and try not to see
the looming Hospital entrance;
retreating before the dawn.
At this hour
The entrance is a dim electric tube
that withers, and reflates
like a dissected promise.
In an irrevocable warp speed instant,
my head collided into the likeness of drying tar,
absorbing each horrid layer of concrete.
That pitch-black, tacky substance covered my body,
so that I was trapped, sightless, into immobility.
With pounding pain, like a full force baseball bat swing
to the skull, like a head cold amplified myriad times,
my brain screamed for release
inside walls of perpetual pressure,
with nerve spasms massively extending
beyond the central blow.
The stench of blood-covered latex gloves
and hand sanitizer attempting to halt disease,
had me guessing that I was in a medical facility.
I could taste metal, as if I was becoming part machine,
conforming to constant monitor beeps.
Morphine drips slipped me into hallucinations,
or maybe just distressing dreams.
My opaque mind tingled for air, breath gasping
like an incessant snore, mouth slightly ajar.
I imagined drools somewhere, but felt no dampness.
Numbness soon overcame most pain,
setting me into a panic of possible lost limbs,
lost neck, lost head.
Dread of the unknown
cast me into a guarded sensation of
always falling, anticipating the jarring end.
Unable to scratch intermittent itches
or ask for assistance, I twitched inwardly,
trapped in a corridor of horrors,
with siren flashes passing through the darkness,
running for a door or window to open,
or if locked, to kick vigorously
through this mind prison.
There are no doors. There are no windows.
Only echoed pounding of
familiar voices floating
surrounded me.
I could smell my wife's Tea Rose perfume
upon approach, accompanied by
my three mostly grown daughters
with their authentic scent of home.
Some named friends and acquaintances
came at arbitrary times.
Some offered slurred words in somber tones.
Some were simply saturated in silence.
All were drenched with unspeakable grief.
Each loved one's screaming drop of saline
made me cry inside, but I doubt it seeped outwardly.
I longed to reach out to wipe away their liquid sorrow,
but my muscles were limp, each limb
like a redwood tree branch in stagnant air.
‘Satire is traditionally the weapon of the powerless against the powerful.’ – Molly Ivins
El no Tuskmusk to Mars on high, sigh …
rockets in his pockets, Spacex no wimpy latex
Earth’s too mundane, drives him simply insane
not enough lanes for Tesla’s electric cars, a pain
this what a fly on the wall heard him tweet neat
His TBC Boring says humans are asleep, snoring
Starlink is soaring with Neurolink probing robotic chips in brains’ dips, humanoid robots devouring
X’s bitter, Twitter as name was not enough for astounding fame, freaking wacky wealth game !
I got told a joke this morning
It really made me smile
So I thought I would share it on poetry soup
But in my own unique poetry style
A lady went to the dentist
She sat in the dentist’s chair
She was feeling really nervous
She wished she wasn’t there
The dentist thought he would put her at ease
As he put on his rubber gloves
He told her a little fictional story
Of a Canadian rubber glove factory
Into vats of latex the employees dip their hands
Big hands, medium hands and small, all the workers think its grand
They peel them off when they are dry
And into labelled boxes the rubber gloves lie
The dentist works on her teeth for a while
The lady doesn’t move or crack a smile
Finally the dentistry work is complete
The old lady arises from her seat
She gets on her coat and pays her bill
There is something on her mind still…..
Do they use male staff to produce condoms in a similar way?
The dentist laughed and said have a nice day
Jan Allison
25th April 2014