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.
"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
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.
Some folk lie peaceful in their graves.
That’s not the place for me.
For ‘though I’m dead, or so they say!
My spirit still flies free.
I had a tough life, here on earth,
That some would find a strain.
With bits of me that did not work,
And sometimes lots of pain.
Although in hospital I went,
A few score times or more.
They could not fix, what I ain’t got,
Just help when things were poor.
I loved my short stay here all right,
My friends, my family too.
I showed them all, the way for me,
Enjoyed my whole life through.
It really was a blessing,
To awake to each new day.
Our lives are meant for living,
Not to pass the time away.
With swimming, dancing, dating,
And ‘drinking’ that’s for sure.
They’ve even had to put me back.
In my wheelchair off the floor!
I was not a ‘normal’ person,
There is no such thing you see.
Everyone has special needs,
Whoever you may be.
While growing to my early youth,
With rampant teenage needs,
I think I gave my parents hell,
At times, or so it seems.
They loved me very dearly,
And helped me grow and thrive.
So when I left for college,
They knew I would ‘survive’.
I grew into a woman there,
Then prepared to go back home.
But fate it dealt a bitter blow,
I only wish I’d known.
When ‘choosing’ help, to put things right,
The surgery went wrong.
I will not bore you with the facts,
Would take me far too long.
Then after weeks of holding on,
By life’s ‘slender silky thread’.
Doctors told the ones I love,
I’m afraid your daughters dead.
“That’s not true!” I screamed at them,
As they stood, ‘Oh so near’.
But nothing I could say or do,
Could make the ‘living’ hear.
Their souls were torn and ripped apart,
They turned and left my room.
Parting brought a sadness,
That filled all their lives with gloom.
They knew I’d gained my freedom,
But would not accept a grave.
So they took me to the ‘burning place’
And put me in a pot.
‘Till we climbed the highest mountain,
Yes, my brothers, them and me!
Then scattered ash across the world,
And set my spirit free.
So when you feel a gentle breeze,
Or gales that rush around.
I’m with you there, in everything,
Not lying in the ground.
Lesley Ann Davies
(with a little help from her dad)
Is it ‘friendship’ you proffer (to strangers who ask)
If you’re ‘sap for sad stories,’ deny other’s truth,
If you’ve something to barter, a ‘twit’ for ‘****’ thought, (1)
Good advice you call ‘currency,’ aids in some plot
In which you stand to prosper, a carnival booth
Where a kiss costs a dollar (though courage needs flask?) (2)
Does your friendship have ‘value’ that isn’t a gift?
Might a balance sheet’s ledger suggest the dream’s lost
Of a meaningful friendship, all effort’s in vain?
Was the fault first on their side, did you cause the pain?
Expectations burn friendships; hope withers with frost,
CO2 kills man’s dreams (yes, earth’s continents drift!) (3)
Can you ‘benefit’ others and not be their friend?
Might the fool you forgive with Christ’s love, save your soul?
You are nobody’s friend when you call ‘facts’ fake news, (4)
When the truths you would dictate are just your foul views.
A friend welcomes dissent if persuasion’s its goal
When your vote screws another, you vote the world’s end!
It is not my world view that your vote should not count,
I would not be your King, much less have you be mine!
But I’ll not be coerced; Your ‘truth’ carries more weight?
Are you’re sure that it’s right? You find honor in hate
As you threaten my life? Disabuse me, that’s fine!
Is a friend whore, your slave? Want to live? Sir, dismount! (5)
Brian Johnston
9th of December in 2019
Poet’s Notes:
(1) A reimagining of the older phrase ‘tit for tat’ (a ‘quid pro quo’
if you are a Trump worshiper!), i.e., “I’ll be an idiot for sex!”
(2) It is hard for even a pervert to kiss a pig! But alcohol helps!
(3) It seems that all science looks suspicious and magical,
to the uninformed!
(4) Trump Quote on ‘Fake News!”: “You know why I do it? I do it
to discredit you all and demean you all so that when you write
negative stories about me, no one will believe you.” Spoken off-
camera during a 60 Minute interview with Lesley Stahl! I believe
Lesley Stahl to be a woman of unswerving integrity. Can any
Republican say that (with a straight face) about Donald Trump?
(5) Please do not rape others just because you are in a position
that you dream enables you to do so with impunity!
Friday rolls around
I am too excited
My pennies are saved
My outfit’s sorted
Bath and make up, done
Ready for a big night out
One problem
It’s the afternoon
Tick tock,
Tick tock
Hurry the fek up Mr. Clock
You really, truly hate me
'Cause of you I’m late for work
Early for fun
You bore me to hell with your incessant tick tocking
If you had a real face I would…
I’ll have a drink
Chill
Kill some time
Just the one
Lightweight
I sip Whisky
And twiddle my thumbs
Bored on the highest level
Eureka!
I’ll check the Net
Laptop open
Booting up
Logging on
123 ABC
Bingo, I’m in
Surprise
I have three emails
Junk!
Unless I needed to grow my ***** ten more inches
Date a married man
Or join Mob Wars and get one million fake dollars for online poker
Now there’s a bit of competition for you
NOT
Facebook is where it’s at on a Friday afternoon
Isn’t it?
Let me see if there are any interesting status updates
Nope
Unless I care that Trudy is having a nice cup of tea after getting all her ironing done
Wow, Susan planted apple trees on her farm, and took a snapshot (WTF?)
David is with Mark, Kate and Lesley somewhere near Southend
I’m glad I’m thousands of miles away from the weirdoes
Oh, wait a second
I have an invite!
And it’s something to do with food
My profile says I’m a chef
I post tons of pictures of food
Finally something worth opening
Wrong!
Amy has invited me to join Chef World
Now I can work in a virtual kitchen cooking virtual food after spending all day in a real kitchen cooking real food
Idiotic waste of time
I click the link and enter a bright red kitchen
Timers scattered
Pots and pan readied
Bacon eggs, beans and fries to cook
All need coordinating
Timing is crucial
And she’s off
Fries on
123456
Bacon, wait for it
Wait for it
On
123
Toast down
12345
Beans on
123
Toast pops
Burnt
Crap!
Fries burnt
Eggs burnt
Crap
I try again
And again
After 4 hours I’m a virtual pro
The phone rings
‘Kim, I’ll be there in ten, be ready.'
'I'll try.'
You've had all day, what you doing?’
'Murdering time.'
Form:
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
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.
(parody of unbeautiful by lesley roy)
i tell you
look at me
what do you see
what do you think
of this girl
that you love
i dont believe
your words
i cant see
your point of veiw
i am not the person
you think i am
i dont fit
into your picture
of a girlfriend
im not as great
as you say
i wish i could
be who you see
but i just fall short
i look into
a mirror and see
a girl broken
and confused
how can you love a girl so lost
i dont understand
what makes me unbelievable?
im not gorgeous
im not funny
im not that smart
i stumble
and fall
im so imperfect
how can you love me?
im stuck being me
im unchangible
i look into
a mirror and see
a girl broken
and confused
how can you love a girl so lost
i dont understand
what makes me unbelievable?
tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me
is this a dream
i can't, i can't, i can't, i cant
believe your mine
because your so perfect
and im so wrong
but i love you so
i look into
a mirror and see
a girl broken
and confused
how can you love a girl so lost
i dont understand
what makes me unbelievable?
i look into
a mirror and see
a girl broken
and confused
how can you love a girl so lost
i dont understand
what makes me unbelievable?
make me unbelievable
I hear R. Kelly singing, “Your Body’s Calling me”
So I pick up my pen and write some poetry
I hear Usher singing, “You Got It Bad”;
And I write about you every time I pick up a pad
I hear Ryan Lesley singing, “I Choose You”;
And I reminisce about us, and what we’ve gone through
I hear Pleasure P. singing, “I Did You Wrong”
Let us make love to these other songs
I hear Bobby Valentino singing, “Slow Down”
I just want one night with you on the town!
I hear jagged Edge singing, “Gotta Be”
I’m willing to bet this love could be a felony
I hear Robin Thicke singing, “Sex Therapy”
So com lay in this warm bed with me!
I hear Sade singing, “Ordinary Love”;
And I think of your body that was sculpted above
I hear Mary J singing, “No More Drama”
Damn, I wanna make you my baby momma!
I hear Keith Sweat singing, “I’ll give All My Love To You”;
And think of your smell that has me under your spell; your sweet honeydew!
I hear J. Holiday singing, “Bed”
So off with that lingerie let me give you amazing head!
I hear R. Kelly, again, this time singing, “Slow Wind”
As I end this Rhyme, I meditate on your love that lingers on my mind!
*Visit and read other poems at www.poetrypub.ning.com
(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!