Long Leftovers Poems
Long Leftovers Poems. Below are the most popular long Leftovers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Leftovers poems by poem length and keyword.
A runaway mutt.
A dog bit a boy’s hand for this it must die
in human society, a dog has to be nice
ask any dog owner, simply this we feed you
and you make us proud, and we will
unreasonable think you love us.
The dog fled to the woods ate birds fallen
off the sky, blueberries and baby rabbits.
Cold snow on the ground, not a good time
“Humans show me how to lit a fire.”
A man in a cave gave the dog leftovers and
let it sleep near the fire until spring when
the man went looking for gold in the river.
The dog came upon a hidden sheep farm
Surrendered, showed a friendly face.
Adopted, lived a good life, guarding sheep.
Beyond the wave-sacked,
lie the pockmarked dunes, heaps dug
by the claws of scaly thrashers.
Here they huddle, my blood kin
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers.
By a shoaling shale and monochrome spray
one brine-splattered small fry.
A boyhood caught in a swirling freshet,
he whales barefoot in the flounder,
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
a slippage of tugging surf.
Her demeanor soggy at last, mother
goads to be led to the creaking camper.
Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea.
A toppled thermos and leftovers
scooped up and lugged away.
Windswept, the lingerers
trudge from the chilly churn,
while a soused and hectoring bay
records a working-class holiday.
The memory span of the average sprout
Means he forgets why the light is out
If life in a fridge will be life without end
Never forget that the dark is your friend
*
And hidden away in a refrigerator
A brave little sprout needs no invigilator
He’d tucked himself between some beans and a leek
And went undiscovered throughout Christmas week
But now that the trifle and cheeses aren’t there
The fridge is beginning to feel rather bare
The spaces within have become wide agape
With few nooks and crannies in which to escape
He’s watched as his friends were all taken and eaten
But this little sprout was too brave to be beaten
He may be just one single sprout, small and green
But he can be ruthless and ever so mean
He knew that the sound of the footsteps nearby
Meant somebody sharing his fridge could soon die
But he’ll stop at nothing for self preservation
He pushed the leek forward without hesitation
It’s dark in the fridge which should aid his concealment
And save him the sight of leftovers congealment
He thought he’d be safe in the darkness inside…
But screamed like a bean when the door opened wide!
In the Odyssey of curling bloom,
The void lying within goes inerasable
Even though the means used are fragile enough
Yet, unable to detach complexity
Yet, unable to fulfill the felicity
of constructing those curling blooms, contented & voidless
Is stability indeed a coffin?
Or maybe it's more of a sin?
Or maybe, I lose and Life always wins
But I'll continue till the gap gets thin
No matter if it sheds off my skin
The void will surely departure if it's so much of spin
Or maybe , It'll not
Maybe that's the plot
Then I'll make use of the dots
On those tiny leftovers, isn't it now a lot?
Is there anything I still forgot?
But, I guess it's all what I've got
so as to fulfill the felicity
of constructing those curling blooms, contented & voidless
The void will surely departure if it's so much of prop
Or maybe, It'll not
Or maybe, It'll never
No matter whatever
The only thing that exists forever!
When he left the car door open.
There was a car after all.
And maybe the stalker whose name I can’t remember.
He raised me from a distance.
Pills don’t last.
Not like drumming sounds, and soundless grumbles.
He gave me a shiny idea and a curse so don’t shame me.
Pills last as long as leftover pizza sometimes.
Crusty.
So there was a car after all.
There is something outside the pill bottle after all.
Shared knowledge knocking and faceless.
Yes, that’s the “They Know” car.
Pills knock around in my purse and run so low.
The stalker told me something I want to remember.
Running out of space like a garage with old journals.
And the journals have journals in them to hide stuff.
When he left the car door open.
He wanted to say “I’m someone you pretended to know.”
And like slime, I smiled.
Pills don’t last.
They raised me from a distance.
And then I needed a refill.
i am leftovers traded for yesterday's scraps
i am in the back of the refrigerator next to the baking soda
i am the mood food dude always treated rude
the body of my recipe has long since developed a tolerance to it all
once upon a time i was famous in your heart
your mind wanted to meet me
your body wanted my autograph
you made me feel confident in ways foreign to both my naked eyes
then i became familiar when the views of my ways became fully clothed
you then put plastic on my existence and put the mere thought of me in storage
when the fresh scent of my love was rediscovered, i was only attractive the transient nightcrawlers
i only had myself to talk to and you would only let me out on the twelfth of never
i am garbage headed for a land filled with the unsung and the unnoticed
i am on top of a pile of many versions of the latest casualty
i am a mash of trash treated like an itchy rash in a mad dash
the ivory of my decomposition has long since developed a tolerance for it all
I was cleaning my room tonight
and came across a guitar pick,
one of your used.
A further search
among broken staple cartridges,
multi-colored plastic coated
and classic metal paperclips and
pennies, produced
five other picks,
worn down from their
original rounded triangles
to somewhat odd circles.
I laid the picks out in a circle
like flat quartz rocks against
the sand-colored formica of my desk.
Two sky blues, one pink
and two tortoise shells.
I close my eyes and hear your blues,
and mine surge like a wave
until I gasp for air.
I treasured away your discarded picks
in a heart-shaped ceramic dish
that got broken somehow
in the move at the separation.
There should be more than this,
but I became unsupportive, you said,
when I tired of the smoky bars,
and then I wanted a degree,
which absorbed any extra energy,
so you no longer pitched me your picks
or thought I cared.
Maybe someone new gets your leftovers,
But I'm better off not knowing,
just in case there is a limit past
the pain of which I couldn't take.
But I'll keep living anyway,
As long as there is a sun in the morning
and the moon at night,
I'll live for the rises and sets
if that's all I get.
Another typical insipid day
the sweet, crimson glowing ember
falling revealing the lustrous serenity
of kaleidoscopic skies
Elysian whispers around
my remaining canvas of arid
Gossamer and prosaic filled voids
replaces citrine, saffron nirvana
Bodies surrounding shimmer effulgent colors
I'm yet to remain in my dull ashen-sparked cave
A sudden delirious shriek
gleeful, exuberant faces
twisted into pale onyx terror
An apocalyptic doomsday guaranteed
Terminal of mankind ; destruction of
of earth prophesied
Everyone's glistening resplendent canvases
splattered grim trepidation
Painted with oblivion; like mine
with included kneaded dollops of overwrought
Perhaps the revolutionary, prodigious hysteria
sparked fluorescent inspiration
My ebony pedestrian now being sparkled
in an euphoric nostalgic feeling
A persistent voice echoing;
...
An exploded erosion of scarlet filled emotions
I clutch my brush and become the creator I once was;
Amongst the cacophonic abyss
painting an ephemeral, nebulous word
into my perennial realms of cerulean hopes
Brushstrokes of light touched canary among daffodil fields
Turning into shapes of radiant marigold inspiration
painted over leftovers of monotonous drab
In the end's haunting echo of emptiness
I found my exuberant-buttercup passions of a sunlit meadow
My bolstering voice of ivory whispered inspirations
I am an azure propelling star among cobalt filled echoes
of forgotten melodies
I've reimagined my painted chiaroscuro perspectives,
crafting a bold artistic masterpiece
Bullying someone interesting seems to appear,
But there's nevertheless any case to clear,
Longing some captivity causing a glare,
Maybe your writing is a way to preserve that stare.
Some words are a bit unclear,
I think it was building an atomic nuclear,
Forsaking deepening affection lasts a year,
Hoping to see that resting near.
Grafting two lines in a single plate,
Are they just used to being a slate,
Bearing a visual pain depicting a few slots,
Imagining a long-lasting life at cost.
Dealing with my hardship during the depressing years,
Yearning for a mere lonely sphere,
It feels like I'm guessing that I wear it,
A bit of a moment of stiffness to inherit.
Leftovers turn fractures into some brittle pieces,
Frosting in deep ice is never entering a crisis,
Some vague words are going to be anchored,
I think drowning hardness has never been fissured.
The weather keeps turning phases at different steps ahead,
I'm thinking of a chrysalis that has been matured,
I know the bedrock is breaking while trembleness resists,
Now covering all braces with being them persist.
Monolithic life's veneer is now a thickener,
Gutting some plant points is just a reminder,
New lime has been growing from that gutting,
The plant is now the one who is there standing fruiting
Measuring the amount of residual masses,
For the heart of grown matching grasses,
Knowing they fought with each other,
To cover the whole plot basis.
But my brittle bones are getting better to calcify,
Maybe it's better to accept rather than deny,
Loneliness is another word for long time confinement,
I know the whole life spent on the way of adjustment.
All claims here are resisted for future hope,
Beginning a new life with brighter lasting scopes,
Confinement is an ending with a tiny blush,
I'm still staring at past by a shining rush.
Left in my own thoughts
Tarnished forever through nightmares
Pierce me with your passions…tangle me in your knots
You left me…I have no choice, but to cry…
I’m breaking by the seams
I drink in the sorrow…
I spew up regret… I cannot drink any further
I drink and drown myself – unable to hope for tomorrow
I’m left in my own thoughts…I cannot walk any longer
I recall my past decisions…I’m swallowed up by the echoes of fear
I’m not your valuable merchandise!
Don’t seek me – you wanted your dreams to come true and peace to draw near
Don’t count on me – I’m not wise!
I’m swallowed up by the churning sea…
Leading me to my own demise
I drink in the sorrow…
I puke up resentment…I’m upset and cannot go on with life
I douse myself in my misfortune – no one listens to me…
No one catches me before I wallow…
Pick me up from the murky waters
Lift me up from the gutters
Make me spotless and leave me the leftovers
Dress me up and hand me some covers
I’m trying to piece together my fragmented thoughts
I can’t see a happy ending in this scene –
Preserve my notions in Your thoughts and save them like leftovers…
Oh, but my thoughts are thrown in the trash like rotten leftovers – left unseen
Tarnished forever through nightmares
My foul ideas don’t have a structure – they’re just…
Tangled up knots