Long Leftover Poems
Long Leftover Poems. Below are the most popular long Leftover by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leftover poems by poem length and keyword.
Two thousand twenty-five will be here soon-
and as tradition, it's the time to say
what is my promised wish to start anew
with resolutions that are made to stay.
Something important that will make a change
on how I like to spend my brand new day-
not to awake with passion to write words;
just steer my talents in another way.
When I begin a poem, I soon find
that many hours may pass as I delay
the other things still waiting to be done.
It's best to choose leftover time to play.
And so, my New Year's wish- to wake up strong-
forget the visions dancing in my head!
Replace the rhymes and meter with a list
of all the things I need to do instead!
And my reward will be, at each day's end,
my wish stayed true and I can say hooray!
But somehow I believe my heart will ache-
and soon the muse in me will not obey!
"Fragments and crumbs of life, all the little pieces" John Ruskin, 1853
It was just another memory
the aftermath of time and life in brevity,
recovered in the dreams of night
slipping on the imagery of true delights
where two lives lay quietly subdued
holding tight to leftover pieces of me and you.
Some of those memories liveon in bliss
easily tucked away in destiny's first kiss
held fast like a first unexpected experience shared
was it a hit or miss when we paired?
Now, as time has marked our years
who was the first to cry love's tears?
That first encounter was just my arrogance and pride
in retrospect I see, how well I lied
I said I didn't like you and you were just being kind
but your touch clouded my soul and mind,
those little occurrences that too easily slipped
reasured all was well lived as my wings were being clipped.
Pressed in the photo album, notes and pictures underscored
the pictures faded and blurry but still endures
with rose petals brittle, dried and brown
apologies of when I so often played the clown
kept safe and secure, each memories are retained,
only now, can I measure, everything we've gained.
The cards that said I love you
the notes that we'd get through,
a lock from our child's hair
the first report card with an A
petals from her wedding day,
a dried tear from when she went away.
These are the memories that together we recall
when you and I had given it our all
the joy, the laughter, the sadness and the tears
scattered melodies of our rhythms seered
in life experiences no longer here,
sleep restfully, every dream can still be near.
Today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
This day is dark, and gray and dreary,
Air thick with the scent of decay and mold,
Dull light filters in through the window,
Casting a somber tone across everything.
Even the freesia suds have gone bad,
The water in the tub is murky, opaque and grim,
Waves unseparated as the day that holds them.
When we were good kids, peering out,
From behind our good mother,
We got good glimpses, sucked on butterscotch chips,
The new neighbor, the smell of fresh sunflowers; it was fun.
But the old neighbor, who finally stopped coming around,
He was not good,
Over steeped dandelion tea, a benign-sounding thing,
Bitter and dry, sometimes salty; it was not fun.
As gray as this day, as this water, when I knew him,
He knew me, too.
I sink deeper into the swirling, whirling, and I think of things,
Dirty-water cyclone, the brightness of our childhood,
Harder to recall, I still remember the rubber ducks though.
Splashing them about, their cheerful colors and silly grins,
We knew joy,
But that bright spot is fading, and soon it too will disappear,
Down the drain, with this gray water and my leftover filth.
Mixing it all together,
In the stillness of the moment, I am struck,
The heavy inevitability of happiness; the transience of loss.
As bad as this day, that man, with his dreary gray hues,
I hang my head back and give a loud, guttural laugh at it now,
The memory of those yellow, plastic birds.
Especially since today there are no rubber ducks, no flawless hues,
To hide behind, as we once did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You find them first in the attic dust,
spells written on the backs of receipts~
bleached ink, promises curled at the frayed edges.
They taste of cinnamon and static,
whispering in a tongue your brain
almost remembers.
Strings, too. Not the kind that bind,
but the ones that fray~
a sweater unraveled by time,
a puppet cut loose,
still jerking its limbs in the dark.
And the forgotten things?
They crowd the corners like shy ghosts,
holding their breath.
A locket with no face inside,
a key that fits nothing you own,
the slow dripping of a faucet
that stopped being fixed
long before you were born.
You could cast them all,
these leftover incantations,
but magic is heavier
when it has nowhere to go.
So you let them settle~
spells without syllables,
strings without anchors,
lost things learning
how to stay.
Life is a series of circles…each second circles into each minute,
each minute into each hour, each hour into each day…
Each circle has it’s own attraction…It’s own unique rhythm and beat.
and we do our best to find as much beauty as we can
In every circle we complete.
Yesterday’s circle began as most days do…nothing too extreme…
when my eyes opened…deciding it was time to step out of my dream.
On my morning walk…around one corner my favorite rabbit was waiting there
as I greeted the stars, the planets and the moon the aroma of jasmine filled the air.
Deborah and I loaded up our Subaru with the needed odds and ends
then headed to the causeway to go kayaking with friends.
We watched the sunrise over the water,
saw pelicans fly and dolphins swim…just a little out of reach…
then kayaked over to an island where we walked along the beach.
We heard from our daughter Ali…something we think is pretty cool.
Next year she stars a new job…at an elementary school.
We had lunch with our daughter-in-law Amy…
She was dropping Juniper, their dog, for us to dog sit overnight….
She paid us off with cheese pizza…we loved every bite.
We took a nap, went to the grocery store…and for dinner…leftover pizza was a must….
we ate all the cheesy parts while Juniper ate the crust.
We watched an old movie on TV
then did something that for a while we’ve delayed…
we drove by a friends yard in the evening…to see the improvements she has made.
With yesterday’s circle complete…even thought it was nothing too extreme…
there was a smile on my face when my eyes decided it was time to step into a dream.
This morning another unique circle began…on my walk I heard a mockingbird's song…
and I could tell by how fast she hopped away my rabbit friend was not happy
that I brought Juniper along.
1/13/16
Waking up bright and early, and allready using the percolator
Figure out what is and isn't worth the labor
Learn what's greater
Before a possible outcome is determined later
Don't ever try to put people, animals or the Earth in danger
Otherwise I'll take you out faster than the terminators
Above the dirt and craters
Always loved to work in nature
And to earn that paper
With no intentions to ever curse a neighbor
Because I'll handle it myself, an will not be the first to waiver
Never be an impersonator
Or try to excuse mistakes on having the worst behavior
Put the pieces together, instead of trying to ruin major amounts of ferns and acres
On both sides of the equator a fire burned several layers
Some of the ash and leftover residue turned into vapors
Lost and got back some bulk
As a kid and adult
Ran into many cults
Doing things that harmed innocent folks
So the result was a revolt and me turning into the hulk
Before beginning to catapult above a gulch full of mulch
By: Dalton Ogletree
Tattered But Warm
Quilt handmade
Quilt tattered
Tattered edges
Tattered cloth
Cloth that's leftover
Cloth a reminder
Reminder of dresses
Reminder of handmade
Handmade dresses
Handmade with love
Love filled endeavor
Love the covering
Covering well used
Covering to possess
Possess little
Possess much
Much love
Much less things
Things to use
Things to wear out
Out of the heart
Out of skilled hands
Hands that age
Hands that hurt
Hurt from arthritis
Hurt and unable to sew
Sew those dresses
Sew the stitch
Stitch those pieces
Stitch designs
Designs of colors
Designs for quilts
Quilts patches together
Quilts patched with leftovers
Leftover scraps
Leftover cloth
Cloth that made dresses
Cloth of many colors
Colors and patterns
Colors of the rainbow
Rainbow design
Rainbow stitches
Stitches held together
Stitches from hands warm
Warm handmade quilt
Warm quilt tattered
Tattered
Quilt
George Washington chopped down a tree as a lad
Then told his dad that he'd been bad
With the stroke of a pen, Thomas Jefferson kick-started a nation
Touting revolution every so often with his Declaration
Andrew Jackson had a penchant for whiskey
Native Americans found him way too frisky
Abraham Lincoln was thin but brave
Reunited the nation and freed the slaves
As a child Teddy Roosevelt was always ill
But as President he led the charge up San Juan Hill
His cousin Franklin took over in the Great Depression
And then three times won reelection.
JFK and Jackie ushered in 'Camelot'
'Til in a Dallas motorcade he was shot
Ronald Reagan demanded the Soviets end their stall,
"Mr. Gorbachev, please, tear down that wall!"
Bill Clinton said, "It's the economy, Stupid!"
Before he was cut down by Monica and Cupid
And now Mr. Trump draw lines in the sand
Saying, "Let's make America great again!"
And did you know that Yankee Doodle preferred apple strudel
To a leftover dish of cold, wet noodles?
Hope you've enjoyed this reprise of Presidential history
Which to the majority of Americans is an absolute mystery
P.S. Rumors have it that Yankee Doodle is considering a
comeback run for POTUS in the 2020 election.
His slogan reportedly will be, "Make America
handy with Yankee Doodle Dandy."
The "Me-too" movement has already
dialed in death threats ...
Paper.
The howl of the last person to put their pencils in their pencil box.
In this truth, I experience.
Paper within paper.
You could boil it.
And boil everything gone.
And eat the leftover mashed paper.
I have several sparkly pens.
They are just so nice.
If I could write for a few hours at a time…
I would turn off the stove and order take out.
Splashing around in the words.
Laugh and turn the paper into a crumpled ball.
I don’t think anyone really does these things.
The weariness, the scribbles.
Paper strains all water, if it gets dunked in.
I miss my sister.
She likes things like magazines, and books.
And me.
I’m a paper mache girl!
Wild, and made of scraps.
Looks real, so real.
All that paper can be.
Washing after meals:
Plates and bowls soiled,
Leftover spills,
Random thoughts toil.
Cleaning wears wit:
Pots and pans drip,
Liquid soap fits,
A routine flip.
Clear water flows:
Rinse away grime,
Wet aqueous show,
After meal mime.
Stack up to dry:
Utensils drain,
Await next try,
Odd meal refrain.
Kitchen view hooks:
Thoughts run away,
Glimpse strange outlook,
Stretch of good day.
Sanguine stay here:
Poise flavours choice,
Happy funds cheer,
Deep profound voice.
By Hamlet Place:
A vivid touch,
A special grace,
Love tells so much.
Leon Enriquez
18 June 2018
Hamlet Place, ACT