Long Lemonade Poems
Long Lemonade Poems. Below are the most popular long Lemonade by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lemonade poems by poem length and keyword.
Hi, how are you doing? Are you still living in the past?
Don't you know life’s hourglass is running out really fast?
I know you were dealt a boatload of lemons and no
lemonade.
And many nights, you had nightmares and were scared
and afraid.
Sometimes you are still haunted by ghosts of yesterday.
Do you still want to crawl into a hole every other day?
Remember you may have gotten knocked down but not
knocked out,
So get up; be proud; you have nothing to be sad so
about.
Please remember what you overcame; your scars don't
define you.
Don't you know you're a victorious warrior tried and true?
Don't forget I love you for the woman you are today and
aspire to be,
I'm forever in your corner; hold your high and walk-in
victory.
Bridges of the past crossing my mind
reminding me of leisure rides, once mine
While a fine fine sun coated my yearning desires
I flew into the stormy spaces of a wide open world;
Polka dot dresses, sunglasses of yellow
Elizabeth Arden lipstick and lemonade kisses
You were always at my side, tanned and beautiful
fresh as linen by the covet of the sea;
Sandcastle dreams and sailboat rides
beneath the boardwalk, promises made with pride
Junctions, intersections, passages never to be reversed
I recall soaking in the stars, cradled in the sand
swaddled with the cautery and charms;
A bridge was crossed, and when I count
the things I've lost,
you come to mind,
a ship at sea, searching for its ghost.
Sunsets of a thousand colors,
jumping into crystal blue waters,
yeah, baby - school's out for summer.
At first, it’s a shock - ignoring the clock,
we’re like prisoners set free
- for a two-month party
- and no responsibilities
Ditch the books b1tchez - you’re my tribe
- summer’s our vibe and it’s time to slip-n-slide.
Barbeque, corn on the cob, juicy peaches,
lemonade, popsicles, hot sandy beaches,
thunderstorms, short shorts, cotton candy clouds,
let's get a little too silly and a little too loud.
Coleslaw, hotdogs, sharing French fries
Charles smokin' ribs, burgers piled high,
lounging by the pool, with friends dropping by.
Sunglasses, flip-flops, midnight walks, crop tops,
sunrise mornings, throwing frisbees in the park
Playlist DJ’n, the bare feet are tappin', we’re TikTok dancin’,
and, truth or dare, I’m seeing a couple of new romances.
Ferris wheel spinnin', funnel-cake eatin’, roller coaster screamin’,
the kettle-corn’s poppin’ for rom-com streamin’ and reality-TVing.
My mom asked, “Why are you girls all sleeping in one room?”
The answer? “Cause there ain’t no cure for the summertime snooze”
Why doesn’t someone make a sunblock perfume?
Umbrellas, watermelons, 3am dips, Taco Bell trips
and roasting marshmallows on the poolside fire-pit
Beach towels spread like butterfly wings,
hey, our tans are starting to match our bikinis!
Come on, relax, have an ice-cold martini.
We’re not doin’ nothin' - we’re makin’ memories!
A quiet Sunday, with its first sun rays and shadows,
Ceasing to be such by a whirring of implements.
The tools wielded by the day of rest sideshows.
Pushers and blowers of the bible’s antithesis.
Not
To
Be
Judgmental
But
Imagine
The birds tweeting under cloudy or flaming skies;
Oaks, maples, and pines in quiescent sublimity;
And the bees buzzing, honeys stirring at sunrise.
All doors open, air out busy week, neighbors in unanimity.
Just
Imagine
The
Bee
Line
For
Church
The perfect didn’t wake up on the good side of the bed,
But they gather for Living Waters and the Bread of Life.
Down the street, in old-fashioned promenade, led
To listen to the Word of truth, praise God, let go of strife.
Gather
Like
The
Sons
Of
God
At
Dawn
Imagine, the coming week begins with Sabbath rest.
The restless wanderer sits on the porch with lemonade,
Ruminates with kith and kin, weariness addressed.
What wonders of hope and joy, conquers the world, unafraid
With
A
Quiet
Day
Of
Rest
A house ain't a home 'less'n there's a porch on which to muse.
A place to sprawl upon a swing an' take a restful snooze,
Er prop yer feet on th' railin' to ponder th' settin' sun,
When supper is finished an' all th' farmin' chores is done!
There must be a bench er so an' a couple uv rockin' chairs,
To beckon folks to set a spell an' discuss th' world's affairs.
To mull over th' crops uv corn an' soy beans, er maybe whether,
There'll be relief frum th' current spell uv heat an' arid weather!
What better place to greet neighbors on their evenin' promenade,
An' invite 'em to come an' set a spell to enjoy sum lemonade.
While th' kids scamper on th' lawn a-chasin' lightnin' bugs,
Old folks discuss their aches an' pains an' therapeutic drugs!
Th' moon rises o'er th' horizon a-castin' its meller glow.
Also risin' is hordes uv pesky m'skeeters a-flittin' to an' fro!
Addin' to th' pastoral flavor is th' scent uv new-mown hay.
What a pleasin' endin' to a perfect summer's day!
A front porch is where fellership with family an' friends abounds,
An' where a feller takes pleasure a-scratchin' th' ears uv his hounds!
Though majestic castles boast fancy balconies a-reachin' fer th' sky,
A porch is a man's throne fer musin an' watchin' th' world go by!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Rome was always a playground for me,
Where lovely girls thronged around the streets:
The Fontana dei Trevi where people threw coins
Hoping they would revisit enchanting Rome,
Or on the Spanish stairs amid the delicate flowers
Exuding fragrant perfumes of purple roses,
Delicate dianthus or scented-leaf geraniums.
There she sat, alone upon one of the steep stairs,
Licking a vanilla ice-cream and sipping a lemonade.
We looked hard at each other and we both smiled
It was passionate attraction magnitude nine.
Who can escape the wonder of a sexy love?
Losing no time we went for a walk until soon
We were kissing on the ramparts of Rome,
Watching the sunset and making our erotic plans.
Her name was Helga and bound to leave next day,
To go back to her home in faraway Berlin.
“Come with me love, we’ll never part,” she crooned,
“We’ll drink plenty coffee in my Berlin.”
How could I miss an idyllic invitation like that?
Alas I knew full well I did not have the fare
To travel with my newly found goddess of love
To go far away, to live with her in West Berlin.
A plan was needed, if courage I had,
To go to the Parioli where the rich lived.
Surely it would be child’s play, I thought
To enter and help myself to a handful of wealth,
Just enough to accompany my love to Berlin.
Round a corner a stately darkened villa stood.
Should be a simple job to rifle the lot,
Assuming I could find an easy door unlocked.
I tiptoed in and hastened up the path.
Alas fortune was not on my side that day.
I heard the ominous sharp whistle of an alarm.
I turned and ran but the Doberman was quick
And bit my tender behind till it bled.
Soon I found myself in a nasty smelling ER,
With sutures repairing the nasty bite.
“Three days in bed, my boy,” the matronly nurse said.
“Rest face down for the wound to heal,
And keep the curtains drawn.” Thus snickering she left.
Helga departed forever more and I lay face down in bed
Crying from pain and cursing my bad luck,
Instead of making love in the city of Berlin.
you’d whisper into my ear
but it was my heart
absorbed your words
when you loved me
way back than
you wrote your words and they made me cry
you wrote those words and you know i died
when you did your round about
when you turned on the heat
turned over every single leaf
left me out alone
in the dead of spring
or
was it winter,
it must of been
'cause i thought I’d freeze
thinking back
you never shied away
you’d whip back your thick black mane
(shined like the sun hid there at nights)
exposed your china white skin
never said hush always ready to play
still remember your dice
the ones in gold
with embedded gems in blue
you loved to roll them
the snake eyes bit
i'd swallow the poison like lemonade
handcuffed and whipped
your ceramic nails
tearing into my back
wore my white shirt
'till someone screamed
from behind it was blood red
i dripped on the floor like a lit candle
melted
you clicked your ruby heels
and you were gone
climbed the ladder
briefcase
Armani suit
never shed a tear
i would yell like a cowboy
riding a bucking bronco
not once did i ever fall
again
but i knew who i was
make no mistake
every rodeo has its clown
and I spoke fluent bull
the only knifes i carried
were still in my back
i lived with the pain
when i saw you yesterday
i held my breath for longer than i ever had
i thought the room would flip like a double sided coin
we spoke
i saw it in yours eyes
regret
you’d heard of my success
how fine i looked in my silk woven garb
you said
drinks
but i looked at my watch
and i think your teeth fell out
when i walked away
i could hear your tears
you threw it all away
when you decided
to look the other way
it broke me inside
i'd never be the same
i never turned to look
yesterday
the message i sent was clear
we’d never be we again
how did i feel
me
me
i'd give my right arm
for one pass of your breath
against my lips
This is a different kind of brew
it's refreshing reviving you all inside
when you're sagging all deflated
makes you feel good all outside
It's brewed here all in Scotland
TV advert has real cool slogan
'Irn Bru's made from girders'
so true I'm definitely not joking!!
You get it in cans and bottles
it really has real special taste
but so difficult to describe
need to taste it slowly no haste
Today they make sweets and ice cream
in this Scottish original Irn Bru flavor
but there's nothing like this real thing
for it's special taste one to savor
(This is written about Scotland's favorite drink 'Irn Bru', a special kind of lemonade! )
Every coin has two sides
It's either heads or tails
On one side your fortune may ride
On the other your fortune fails
A sad song on a rainy day
And thunderstorms 'neath skies of gray
No butterflies in my garden play
The storm had scared them all away
Lemonade on summer days
And ice cream cones with flavors sway
Then all those flavors melt away
As the fiery sun has its say
Pyramids on desert sands
And the August moon glowing grand
Then by sand storms they're shrouded
While the moon's obscured as clouds crowd in
Love has a sweet flavor at first taste
Then betrayal lays it all to waste
And as your tears begin to fall
You find that you really don't know love at all
More Gardening
by Robert (Bob) Moore © 2015
The heat it just keeps rising, there’s a lot of work to do
I’ve had enough of gardening, you could say that I am through
but I’ve done what I had to do, no matter what you think
and now I’m going to go inside, and get myself a drink
So will I have a lemonade, or will I have a beer
there’s lots of sharp tools still to use, I should keep my head clear
I pour a glass of lemonade, no sparkle ‘cause its flat
looks like it will just be the beer, so that’s the end of that
At least, that is what I think, and then she comes inside
the gardens looking lovely, she says, with lots of pride
if you just bring the green bin round, we’ll clean up all the mess
I think of lots of reasons not, and then I answer yes
For my wife’s not just a quilter, she loves the garden too
working with the flowers, pots, and fertilizer poo
you don’t have to help me, she tells me, quite sincere
I’ve fallen for that trap before, and say, I don’t mind my dear.