Long Life sized Poems
Long Life sized Poems. Below are the most popular long Life sized by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Life sized poems by poem length and keyword.
The biggest toy store in the world
Is closing up its doors.
No longer will we get to shop
In this, the king of stores.
With huge toy soldiers in the front,
It welcomed all who came.
The famous piano scene from “Big”
Just added to its fame.
A life-sized ape or elephant
Was there for you to buy.
It cost nine hundred bucks
But there was always a supply.
Yet you could also buy a toy
For several smackeroos.
From all the well-stocked shelves
There was so much on hand to choose.
Both tourists and New Yorkers
Liked to stroll its tempting aisles
And children wandered bug-eyed,
Faces bursting with their smiles.
But now the heyday’s over;
There’ll be no more F.A.O.,
Just another fine example
Of the way things seem to go.
Get thee to the Whitney!
It’s the one thing you should do
If you’re in New York, to see
The kitchen made by Liza Lou.
It’s a life-sized recreation
Of a room each person needs,
But the fridge and stove and table
Have been topped with shiny beads.
Every detail’s been considered
In constructing what you’d find
In an average household’s kitchen
And amazingly designed.
There’s the Tide and there’s the Comet,
Cap’n Crunch and Frosted Flakes,
Cherry pie still in the oven
Muffin tin with little cakes.
On the sink that’s full of dishes
There’s the plastic yellow Joy
Plus a broom and dustpan waiting
For a housewife to employ.
It took five long years to finish
Setting every bead in place
But the final product’s something
Every person can embrace.
So if visiting the city,
Take my word and find your way
To a very cool museum
With this kitchen on display.
The snow slowly morphs into rain, a thousand cold cocoons that release raindrop butterflies into the frosty air. They glisten in the morning light, clinging to soft leather like tiny diamonds as he drapes his jacket across my shoulders.
The jacket smells like him: fresh soap and spicy aftershave--and that spearmint gum he always keeps on hand. It's way too big on me, but he zips it up anyway, pulling the hood over my head to shield me from the rain.
dripping icicles
bleed beads of liquid light--
fingers intertwine
He's soaked, but he doesn't seem to care as water slides down his rosy cheeks, dripping from his frozen nose. He brings my hand to his lips and whispers, "Happy New Year." Even his lips are cold, but I lend him my warmth.
As we stand there together in the soft tranquility of winter rain, I realize I'm happy. I want to stay here forever, in this life-sized snow globe of frigid weather and smooth, warm leather.
For Giorgio's "Leather Jacket" contest
The idea of Christmas snow in Michigan is replaced with fog
Hot breath exhaled to cold lollipop trees
My blurry life-sized polar bear salutes through the front window
To me
Staring back from the couch
He is sweating out there in his winter coat
House fills with noisy nightly ghosts
Filling empty beds left from the grown kids
Creaks I suppose from the settling attic on down
To the hips and knees of our house
Tail of that fool
The perpetually hopeful golden retriever
Bats the Christmas tree
With his wagging baton of joy from behind
Blue and red ornaments hold on for dear life
Ding and ring in the ruffle of evergreen and fanned fur
Like there’s a toddler of wind
Crawling down the hallways from the furnace and vents
Bells looped along the stairway railings
Jingle to life as a lurched Santa sleigh
From the paws of cats that frustratingly mitten
The harnessed snack
They think
Are silver mice and copper sparrows
A very bright young lady
Last day of work before Christmas Eve
Laughs in the Board room as she tells me
The old boss
“My Dad still writes From Santa on a few of my presents.”
I quietly understand and perhaps she does too
Something finally we could share across generations
Santa Claus is more for parents than kids.
I sip compliance from a cardboard cup. Tight fine steel lines, hoist five lifelike life sized paper mache white swans. The birds seem to wing from sunlit atrium up and over an oak railing to the mezzanine. Dazzling beneath skylights, they depict ascent, flap, glide, brake and then descent towards wrought iron tables. They mimic our trek from mall entry up the escalator to feast at the food court. I sit alone at the railing, gliding swan overhead, and pretend to eye my phone. Today I secretly study humans. Food court stuffed with youthful staff, bargain hunters, transit transfers, mobility scooters, mothers, babies, bags, phones, the braggadocio of men meeting, gaunt faces of the needy. Bodies milling, streaming, yearning. The bubbling cocktail of pop rock, chit chat galore, languages, slanguages, giggles, and that one guy yelling. The carnal essence of commercial cookery. Unspoken competition for tables, at times nearly a blood sport. Each of us tiptoeing through our daily hopscotch. Only children wonder at the swans. Do mall swans search for lost wetlands, or do they strain to join us? Mythology has it that swans shift between human and avian form. The enchantment of Tchaikovsky’s swan, princess by night pirouettes into swan by day. In the wild, sudden bright white, raucous landing, huge bold birds calling, splashing power and grace. I wish we each burst into swan. But flight feathers do not anchor to my bones, nor contour feathers pierce my skin. I vow to visit the wild ones, and leave.
published in "Unbroken" 2025
It isn’t the big celebrations,
Enormous dinners or huge gifts.
Parties never rouse foundations,
Jamborees or festivals.
It isn’t the life-sized creations,
Who impress kings, rulers or monarchs.
It’s the little things, a gentle expression,
When hearts meet in the deserts,
When dreamers discover their profession,
When simple reaches into the heart,
Pulls out a feeling, an impression,
The beautiful that inspires the light.
It isn’t in the impressive,
When a life gets made –
It’s in the thoughts, so obsessive…
Which bring feelings we want to save!
Santa and his reindeer
Landed on my house
Invading my tranquility
Much larger than a mouse
He didn’t have a gift for me
Just was taking a short break
From all his other rituals
On Christmas Eve he did take
I gave him milk and cookies
Carrots for each deer
And boy was his belly big
As he laughed with Christmas cheer
He prepared to leave my rooftop
With his sleigh and 8 reindeer
When he handed me a small gift
And faded in the midnight air
Inside the wrapping was a treat
That made me laugh with joy
Just add water to the mix
And you will grow a life sized boy
I took a bowl and filled it with water
Placed the tiny figure within its depth
Than I retreated to my bedroom
Laid down and finally slept
In the morning I awoke
To singing in the other room
Rather raspy was the voice
It must be my inflated groom
I lay there for awhile
To scared to view the source
Who would believe this
Nonsense and utter discourse
Lo and behold the door opened
And Santa’s gift was there
Tall dark and handsome
Completely grown and bare
I laughed with such pleasure
And told him come to bed
Such is the gift from Santa
My desires he had met
I've never known a fixed address. I love the home we've made for three years in our rental house so I'm sad that it's now up for sale. Last night, I sat in the sunroom thinking of how much I'll miss the joy I feel while in that room.
two walls are all window, one an eastern exposure
the other walls, floor and ceiling are old red, knotty wood
the brick fireplace has a beautifully carved, simple mantel
approximately twenty houseplants on antique stools thrive
on the floor among the plants is a life-sized, carved, wooden swan
many mobiles of either angels or hearts hang from the ceiling
on the mantel sits my collection of antique weather vanes
there are five, mismatched chairs in a semicircle
two spindle leg tables sit among the five chairs
on one table is an imitation antique radio tuned to light rock
in a corner, on a stand we built, is an electric keyboard
on one wall in a case we built, there is a dartboard
and everywhere in the room are memories of good, fulfilling times spent
... CayCay
August 6, 2019