Long Lesley Poems
Long Lesley Poems. Below are the most popular long Lesley by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lesley poems by poem length and keyword.
In Canada we have nice currency,
pretty banknotes and shiny coins;
oh, what if time was replaced by money,
I think that would be strange !
Lesley said- have time to meet for coffee,
well, I measure time in money;
so, it will cost you a sweet $20 green banknote,
oh, she said, forget it !
Hi said Joan, time for a long hike today,
time, well how long are we talking;
because my time will cost a red $50 banknotes,
right, well never mind then !
My monthly fun dance classes costs me time,
measured out that's a $100 brown banknote;
the laundry takes time and lots of loonies,
and tons of toonies too !
Disposable Wisdom
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
081521, Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry: An Uncontest Poetry Contest, Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich. 1P
I chose this poem because it speaks of Legacy and Love.
It challenges me to be more caring and outreaching.
It paints a fresh portrait of the power of a poem and
a story. Curtis Johnson.
"I Wish"
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose...
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes...
I wish,
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why?
I wish I could find the reasons now, and not wait until I die.
Mostly, I WISH Mommy could fix this.
Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013
RIP March 25, 2013
----------
by;PD :-(
A WISH -- In Memory Of
"I Wish"
I wish I could blow air into your little lungs,
The day my daughter brought your stillborn body into this world.
Hold your little body warm,
And tell my little girl you have her cute little nose....
Count your little fingers, and kiss your little toes....
I wish,
I could look into your daring eyes,
Facing a little boy, who's ready for this world
I wish,
I could tell my daughter you have her beautiful brown eyes...
Sadly, it’s not like that.
How can I tell my daughter everything will be all right?
When a piece of my heart was stolen with her's,
When giving birth to her son, my grandson
March 25, 2013---- How it Hurts!
~~~
O’ how I wish, you entered this world crying
Instead, we're the ones left in tears of sorrow
~~~
How I wish you could be,
And not this feeling you left inside
How I wish, God could explain why o' why o' why?
Mostly, I WISH grandma could fix this and make
your mommy feel, the joy she was robbed of.
In memory of my grandson: ---Bael Lesley G.
Born March 25, 2013 --- RIP March 25, 2013
----------
by;PD :-(
We all gathered there as friends
heart circle was the call
To reveal our inner feelings
thirteen of us in all
We moved around the circle
gave each other space
Listened to some sadness and some laughter too
noticed changes of expression on each others face
Miguel then decided to sing a song or two
accompanied himself with guitar
It seems nobody came along
to play an oriental sitar
There was chanting
there was Lesley on the drum
There was Johannes on the didgeridoo
if we didn't chant then we joined in with a hum
To the turn of Liliana she revealed
so much talent for the songs she had composed
Some knew the lyrics the melody as well
when revealing feelings for some vulnerability is exposed
We all then shared a meal
so much colour from the table
Many salads much variety of fare
filled our tummies with as much as we felt able
Then beneath a starry starry night
whilst the moon was setting in the west
Not a drop of alcohol in sight we sat by firelight
satiated by food so much love feeling really blessed
More dancing more chanting more song
Letting rip sometimes with a vivid dingo howl I do recall
Is it valid that all good things must come to an end ?
I think not ! But it's time and goodnight is now the call
(Lesley Ann Down was an actress in
the Golden Age of live TV drama.)
We live in an age of midgets.
There are no seers now, only lookers,
no values left, apart from digits.
Cash is the hook, and we’re all hookers,
no Carmen Joneses, only Bridgets.
Did you have to learn the equation
(“have to”? – what an odd suggestion!)
which represents acceleration?
It’s printed now, beside the question.
No gravity, just gravitation.
Subtitle writers, now, can’t spell,
and language teachers know no grammar.
When banks are hiring tellers, well,
in Alabaster, Alabama,
they sing aloud, “You Never Can Tell”.
Let’s get somewhat more sarcastic.
Our carpenters just never get wood.
Today our craftsmen just squirt mastic,
then, as any moron could,
they clip on bits of precut plastic.
We’ve got police (I like this best!)
who, far from being Texas Rangers,
have never passed exams or tests,
and can’t, by law, face any dangers,
or run rash risks, like make arrests.
No Richard Rodgers, Buddy Holly,
no more Stoller (as in Lieber),
but ‘tis the season to be jolly –
after all, there’s Justin Bieber!
Hence, loathéd melancholy!
Who promised you life would be easy?
Who whispered this excuse?
How can pain be an addition to the life experience?
Answers provided are inadequate to the task.
Who will sit with you and hold you in the unknown?
In the silence of the morning,
I listen for the sound of your heartbeat.
I reach for you and trace the line of your face.
I smell the fragrance of your skin.
I envy the sun as it kisses the small of your back.
I rest in the music of your breath, your slow awakening!
How long have you felt this way?
Why have you not come to me?
I am here, I am within you and without.
Loneliness and fear need not compel.
For you are lifted on whispers of thought!
I wish to be justified
"You are justified from the foundations of the Earth,
to the moment of the quiet walk.
Listen to the wind carry your name.
Feel the music fill your innermost being.
As the song builds to the innermost surprise!"
What is Heaven?
Is it the peace that resides between heart beats?
Is the smallness of it large enough to contain God's Essence?
When does it begin?
Why is it so hard to start?
The small white dog trembles,
as the river runs wild!
Flys dance above the water.
"Go" I say releasing you into the water.
Feeling the depth of love,
as it covers the surface of you.
A compilation poem written by Norm Millross, Lesley-Anne Evans and Richard Lamoureux.
This was six separate pieces organized into one piece. We each alternated line by line.
Norm and Lesley-Anne are fellow poets here In Kelowna British Columbia.
I introduce myself as Douglas
some immediately shorten it to Doug
Should I just accept their choice
and metaphorically bury it beneath a rug
Politely I request a favour
would you please use my full name
There has been two or three resist
they don't want to play my game
One day I met a man called Les, abbreviated my name from his lips it came
When I asked my favour he described me as pedantic
So I asked if I could call him Lesley his full given name
not at all, it raised his ire, an interesting semantic
Is the name I prefer to choose,
my expectation, perhaps a bit too romantic ?
One day it was revealed and it made me realise
that when I'm seen running I must have a loping plodding style
So the locals dubbed me Draft horse well that really made me smile
What really matters that if you abbreviate my surname you'll come up with Gill
If you address me in a loving way that will fill the bill
"Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation For sacrificing her spouse in World War II Annie received little compensation"- Disposable Wisdom by Carolyn Devonshire
I stood aghast as I looked more than ONCE.
The number seemed a very large BUNCH.
Drawn by this poem, I could not REFUSE.
It was unusual to see that many VIEWS,
a number so far ahead of any I had seen.
The number 26131 was the number of views for
the poem, Disposable Wisdom, posted 12 years ago
in 2009. I stood amazed and could not hesitate reading IT.
It was a most telling and sad poem, more than a little BIT.
It was about a widow whose husband was killed in World War TWO.
She reminded me of a man I once knew whose name was Harry. So I believed the story about the widow to be TRUE. It's clear that Lesley was disconnected from the world, but sadly no one seemed to connect with the widow nor CARED for any wisdom she might have SHARED, leaving her alone to grieve.
She ate cat food as she dined with her cat Tibby, who also PRECEDED her in death, vanishing all that was left of a HOME and leaving her even more ALONE. It seemed she was never NEEDED. I was deeply moved by the poem, and after reading it, I understood the #26,131.
I never knew Carolyn Devonshire, but I felt her heartbeat as I read those lines. I understood her, and how myself and all the others were overwhelmed and sadden by this human TRAGEDY, this TRAVESTY of human dignity and kindness toward one whose husband gave the ultimate sacrifice. Moreover, like Carolyn, I understood so much less of why a prosperous and proud nation like my own would allow a soldier's widow to die in POVERTY and all alone.
I'm grateful that Carolyn shared this poem. Carolyn departed from among us a short while ago, but has left us a treasure of beauty and power in her work.
081321PS
I’m facing a challenge and I’m taking bets
That I can remember the names of my pets
There’s Tommy and Jonnie and Sally and Barry
The one over there I believe might be Harry
Tiddles and Wriggles and Bruno and Gerry
Never stray far from their bestest mate Terry
But Sue, Lou and Nancy, Alberto And Drew
Appear to be loners, a bit like Baloo
That crowd to one side hang around in a gang
But seem to be led by Mei Ling and Chang
Now, can I recall who the rest of them are
I’ll try but they all look the same from afar
Lee, James, Amanda, Frank, Annie and Les
Annabelle, Gilbert, Wilbert and Dez
Sonya, Sam, Lesley-Anne, Mary-Lou, Bess
Stephanie, Bethany, Cuthbert and Jess
Edward and Jedward, Samson and Ben
Zebedee, Gerry-Lee, Timothy, Jen
Josh, Tod and Spartacus, Abbie and Sid
Oliver, Gulliver, Billy the Kid
There’s Tyson and Dyson, and Eric and Jim
And Betty and Hetty, Jemima and Kim
I got them from someone who lives down the road
And carried them all to my humble abode
I needed no crate cos the breeder had bowls
He told me that’s how one should carry tadpoles