Long Lifemorning Poems

Long Lifemorning Poems. Below are the most popular long Lifemorning by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lifemorning poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member Goodby Morning Person

GOODBYE MORNING PERSON

Sit up
Stretch
Yawn
Head quite empty
Woozy
No remembered dreams
Before anything else    COFFEE!
It’s the cats and me
Squeaky teeth
Sponge bath    or shower
Shave
Nothing profound 
Just life
Just plain naked
On the avenue    (back of my mind) wheels haven’t started
                                                                        their daily spin
The weather channel    (with its mindless music)
A neighborhood feel – what goes on next door    in the
                                                                                WORLD!
Yes!    now it begins
It’s a neighborhood thing
Cannot be helped – it starts
An up-and-down-the-block thing
Mentally I’m out the door
There are streets    avenues    stores    a mall
Something is alive out there
The conviction    strangely    eases
With the first taste I start to function
And function is what it’s all about
                                                ask any newscaster
Realizing this “function”    it eases
There is some ridiculous wholeness    some sanity
The night?    the dream?  unreal!
By noon all is GO!
Another drag-ass day
I am this other person    this programmed stiff
The morning person is distant
I do not even want to recall that jelly
Some formula has taken hold
                                 has been in the veins all along
Yes!    the VEINS!
There are numbers flowing
Problems with no answers
Problems kicked aside
The “ME” has taken over
Unashamed
Fully astrut
Going down the same uniform avenues
Feeling the same guilt    same lust
                           Same unstoppable drive
Goodbye morning person
Form: Narrative


Three Course Day

Breakfast 
 
Appetizer of the day,
the morning fried egg sun,
yolk pulp and burnt crisp around the face,
pumpkin fries like sun rays shoot sharply downward,
the air dispersed everywhere like ketchup,
Durant street is straight as a bacon
and Telegraph bacon cross-sections Durant,
the clear sky wheat bread drenched in white milk.
it is 9:30 my morning class,
feels like breakfast to my mind,
so filling.
 
Lunch
 
Twist, 
open Diet Coke
open reader spill some drops
wait for to-go at Kimchi Garden
Terriyaki is so quick
but beef is tastier than chicken I guess.
write notes on tissues because of the forgotten notepad
essay, presentation, essay, reader, midterm
check cell phone to-do list 
sip diet coke
check list again
"Beef Terriyaki to-go"
Grab food, forget diet coke on table
run to room and get ready for the last class.
 
Dinner
 
Whew.
walking out of the rusty Sather Gate
in memory of the late Peder,
Almost 7 PM, feels like prison break.
The burden of a vertebrate,
Exhausted legs leaking battery acid,
Red eyes need some varnishing.
On the way home, I stop by Yogurt Land
a weary lion scavenging for fresh blood;
NY Strawberry cheesecake flavor 
Dessert of my day, of course
the stars taste so sweet after hard work.
What a day.
Form:

Sarah

Outside the dirty spider web-framed window the gentle cooing of the morning doves 
lightly feathered the young girl’s senses to an awareness of the new day.
     Her soft blonde eye lashes fluttered against the course  texture of the dark tan pillow 
case and an involuntary moan escaped her pinkish lips. As her sleep-cemented eyelids broke 
open, she peered down at the yellowed once white sheets tangled around her thin white legs. 
     “Coo coo.” There it was again. She loved the little pair of birds that woke her almost 
every morning of late. She thought they sounded a little sad though. “Maybe they can’t find 
their Mommy “, she mused aloud.
    She rolled over on her back and kicked off her sheets. Her favorite doll came into view 
bringing a slight smile to her face. The doll used to suck it’s thumb but that arm had been 
missing for a while now. She hugged her little friend remembering she had received it as a gift for her third birthday a long time ago. She reassured herself that she was a big girl 
now and slowly counted aloud the four fingers she had raised up in front of her too pale face.
    

(beginning of a future short story) I welcome your comments positive or negative. Thank you.
Form: Narrative

Another Crewel Trick

The morning comes, TV is on,
                        channel 13 I believe.
The news of the day is blaring loud.
I feel the coolness of the morning air.
Get up, head for the kitchen,
                         make that first cup of coffee,
5;30 AM,
                           oh, why am I here!
Headed for the front door,
                            no paper yet.
Drinking a cup of coffee, watching the News,
                             wondering why I am awake?
All the years I slept through my loud alarm,
                              a bomb could not disturb me.
In my youth my Father would throw a cup of water on me
                               to get me up for school.
I was impossible to wake,
                                I always had so much to do.
Now that I am retired
                                I take things as I get to them.
I wake with a pin drop,
                                with no where to go.
I never can go back to sleep,
                                Just another one of natures crewel tricks!
Yeah, it is good to be here.
© Judy Riley  Create an image from this poem.

Grandpa's Last Day

On a beautiful morning one day in May 
I went to my grandma and grandpa's to stay
My grandpa fixed breakfast and fed it to me
I felt so secure as I sat on his knee
I ate every bite of my eggs and my grits
For a snack later on we'd have cheese whiz and ritz
Yet on this bright morning when the dishes were done
We went out on the porch and sat down in the sun
Grandpa picked up his paper and on that old porch swing
He went in a flash to meet Jesus the King
Before I got grandma I climbed on his lap
Hugged him and kissed him then my heart felt a gap
Although I was little I felt such a dread
The moment I knew my grandpa was dead
Though I miss him dearly I know where he's gone
He's joyfully worshiping God at His throne
I can't wait to see him I know he is there
Praying for me to be kept in God's care
Soon we will be Amazing Grace
As we all live forever in that glorious place

In Loving Memory of My Grandfather Frank J. Geddings
Form: Rhyme


A Single Blossom

A Renga:


A Single Blossom

Santa Cruz Harbor,
The sound of barking seals
In the morning fog

Summer heat pushes people
To the California coast

Watching the sunset,
Newlyweds are holding hands
On the balcony

A power outage has occurred,
But nobody seems to mind

The moon is rising
Over the distant mountains
In the cool fall air

She adjusts the thermostat
To a much lower setting

"We should concentrate.
We are blowing our budget.
Where is it going?"

He puts the folders away
And gazes out the window

Relentless winds blow,
Whistling through the power lines
Past the frozen pond

A diner prepares coffee
In the early morning light

The hawthorn blossoms,
White, with a tinge of yellow,
Bright against the leaves

She plucks a single blossom
And places it in her hair
© Jim Wilson  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

Of Affluence, of Innocence

Ah, morning greenery soothes the eyes,
caresses the mind, unburdens the heart!

        A month ago, a man of wealth and fame
        sat right on this bench and, the papers said,
        blasted away his weary, worried brains.

        Except for a note about deep boredom
        of a fully empty, affluent life, 
        of his death nothing more today remains.


        But now, from atop this same cold, mute bench,
        a bouncy girl, barely three, walks and hops
        onto the mown grass, looks down and around.

        She peers curiously and smiles at an ant
        that stumbles along with some hefty load,
        cheering it on as it crawls on the ground.

Ah, morning greenery soothes the eyes,
caresses the mind, unburdens the heart!

Younger Eyes

I watched the steam rise 
Off of the sun-burnt road
While the forest dreamt
Of warm summer days

While the morning progressed
The silence was broken
By the chatter of chipmunks
And a matched set of gray squirrels 
Playing tag
As they ran round and round 
An old giant pine tree
That had fallen to the ground 

I looked back over my childhood
And some magical memories
I carried with me 
Fantasy-like recollections
That could only be seen
Through the eyes of a young child

But every so often
When the cool mornings 
Touch my eyes
And a soft northwestern wind
Tumbles down the mountains
I can see the wild flowers 
Shaking off the moist morning dew
And I remember the world 
I once knew 
With younger eyes
© Cj Krieger  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Daily Routine

He woke up every morning and climbed to the mountain top;
Until he reached the summit, he would not allow himself to stop.

Then from the apex of the mountain, he looked down on the valley below;
Many times while standing shivering, knee deep in the fallen snow.

Not until the sun had started to set, would he take the path back down;
Most people already sound asleep, in their beds when he reached the town.

She checked his ventilator;
She took his pulse again;
She did therapy on every limb;
And wiped the spit from his chin.

He woke up every morning and climbed to the mountain top…
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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