Long Linoleum Poems
Long Linoleum Poems. Below are the most popular long Linoleum by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Linoleum poems by poem length and keyword.
DANCING BLIND IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCE FLOOR
Bare footed on old linoleum floor
Tapestry music engage my ears (I hear the distance)
I see not but I’m placement mid-center
Of a space placed vivid vibrations flairs (I feel the emptiness)
I slowly spin around, I move to the music
Even in the darkness I’ve rhythm (I smell the panoramic)
My naked feet hear and feels the beat sweet
I can see n mine spirit I dance with the light
(I taste the air, I’ve inhaled, I sense the people stare) {I DANCE}
As my naked feet, legs, tortoise whole body sprite
moves as lighting-bugs in the night
Centered in movement dance steps bright
ViBrAtiOnS feels my steps are not sight
Dancing Without Sight
Contest Winner Medal 2nd Place
It takes ten legs squeaking in sneakers
And eight rubber wheels heavily humming
On the checkered sparkling linoleum floor
To move a boy with a tumor
From one hospital floor to the next
For emergency tests
One nurse one doctor a technician leading the way
Mom and dad
Trailing the speeding parade with teddy bears and balloons
And faces full of frowns surrounding a white crib
And a mobile I.V. tower
Thrashing like an octopus fished from water
Whisk
Kicking down the hallways
Onlookers flattened against the walls
Get out of the way
And as all this passes by
From the corner of my eye
I see a creature on a gurney
Unattended
Parked to the side
Fossil of old woman with her head resting
On a mop of white hair
Everywhere
Her skeleton face framed like a crazed witch
No longer Queen dancing in the ballrooms
Toasting friends writing checks signing up her volunteers
Here she is
Abandoned
Vacuuming the stale air through her purple pursed lips
Eyes locked on my boy
Make way
Make way.
she liltingly spun smiling and singing
"You are my sunshine" waving for us
to join in
the pan dripped dancing tears on
the hot black stove where they sizzled and died
"My only sunshine" with a quick hug
her apron splattered with a thickening marinara -
summer's proud yield
the kitchen...was there another room?
dried curled wall paper near the stovepipe
exposed the decor carriages and princes of
yesterday Mom's childhood
"You make me happy"
the old black spaniel curled in the middle
nothing moving but eyes wary of
being tripped upon yet worth the risk
and perhaps a dropped meatball reward
"When skies are gray"
Worn linoleum exposed paths of time
the oak threshold proof
of welcomes and farewells
not really noticed by we in
our comfort of "now" not
thinking about our sunshine
being gone
"You'll never know dear how much I love you"
with a smile...always remembered
Remember when suburban and small town stores were closed Sunday morn?
Remember when they rolled up the sidewalk at night at nine-thirty or ten?
Remember when the attendant pumped your gas for less than 20 cents a
gallon?
And when you opened the hood, you could find the gears and the trans?
Remember when a national holiday didn't mean 'beach, beer or barbeque?'
Remember when vacations meant marshmallow roasts by a campfire
uplugged?
Remember when the policeman walked his beat on the street, and was
friendly?
And that via US mail was the only way a picture postcard out-of-town could
you send?
Remember when a paper was a dime, baseball cards and candy bars a nickel?
Remember when fans, and players, were loyal to their teams, and not so
fickle?
Remember when the soda jerk in the white paper cap poured us phosphates?
And how 'bout the linoleum tiles of those diners and all the greasy French fries
we ate?
Remember when we danced the twist, the frug, the Freddy and the swim?
Remember when we camped outside the ballpark and near the end the
usher let us in?
Remember when you paid nothing for medical insurance and how much
it covered?
And the Doctor used his hands to examine you, then told you, without
ordering any tests, what was wrong?
Remember when friends and neighbors sat on the stoop, shooting the breeze
on hot summer nights?
Remember when the sounds we heard were not gunshots, but the crickets, in
the moon shining bright?
Remember when we covered our hearts with our hands when the National
Anthem was sung or played?
And we knew the words and sang along, with a lump in our throats, and tears
in our eyes, 'O, say...'
If you remember these things, and they seem as precious to you as they do
to me,
Then make a poem of your memory ~ Capture them forever for your children
for free.
Blemishes
My body’s mistakes
My wounds of disgrace
Injected by faith
In science and progress
Flogging myself with second-guesses
I have given myself away.
to uncaring men, pressed jackets
white jackets, packets of sympathy
baskets of fruit set upon the writing desk
in solitary confinement, padded walls.
haunted halls, bathroom stalls with locked doors.
Linoleum floors
Poor, poor pitiful me
Cherry pick my favourite reasons,
depending on the season
Why do the patterns keep repeating?
serve them up on a platter!
for delicate devouring
and just desserts
some things are generational.
inherited
bestowed
I cradle my worth.
In my own wretched hands
Once delicate
Here I stand.
Not stolid
Nor stoic
I am not put together.
Not sorted
I am apart.
Electrical currents running through the pieces,
stringing them together
Making a woman out of angst and energy
The sheer will of being.
I have nothing to live for
Only these words
Hospital gown flowing in my rage.
Windswept, like a mage
In the middle of casting a spell
A sorceress in distress, in peril
Fighting to remain
In the moment, present and tame
But wild fear presents itself at my feet.
The wolf is ready to eat.
I stay indoors to hide from the chase.
But at the end of the day
When night falls to the ground
I heard the call.
I wish to respond.
To howl back at the crack of dawn
Rolling in the sun with my wild baying, panting, praying
But I stay put.
I hold it back.
Inside my skin that cannot contain
My ancestral blood
This is the flood.
The flood
I drowned in the flood.
The wolf is not only animal.
But avatar
for gods too abstract to see
with the naked eye
It growls it snarls.
It bites my legs.
It promises peace.
as it gnaws on my pride
the alure of freedom,
teasing me to leave my comfort zones
knowing it will crunch my bones.
the first chance it gets.
when I trip over my intentions
into mud
face first
ruining my escape
I do not outrun the wolf.
I do not outsmart the gods.
I do not escape the flood.
I fall—
not like a heroine,
but like a relic dropped mid-ritual
mud in my mouth,
bones in the wolf’s grin
the spell unfinished
The door still locked.
the howl still inside me
rotting sweetly
like fruit on the desk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each morning I count his breaths,
then the pills, then grocery lists,
then hypotheticals~
mornings brittle as eggshells
in a too-empty carton.
His breath, a slow tidal~
my lighthouse flickers nightly.
What shore waits for me
when the waves recede elsewhere,
barefoot on cold linoleum?
My skin is like tracing paper,
each crease a story no one reads~
who'll turn my frail pages
when my hands forget their alphabet?
Our pills rattle like dice
in the ceramic bowl.
I count his ribs through
the thinning cotton~
his breathing
the only clock I trust.
We planted oaks once~
roots deep, outlasting our bones.
Now their shade stretches,
but who will sit under them
when our names are just leaves?
Wintertime: snow fills the entry way.
Neighbors salt their own first.
I should've had sons~
or daughters who'd remember
how ice clings to old bones longest.
I imagine a future in which
the nurse’s smile stings.
Just ring if you need help, dear~
as if the button’s reach
isn’t the whole aching distance
between pride and the floor.
1/15/23
Always toking strong
A continual breeze blowing on
Meanwhile a lot kept going wrong
Over petty things they were so fond
Forming such a close bond
Among all these neutrons and protons
A lot done in a week
Answers found where rivers meet
It is bittersweet
Continual pandemonium
They remained saltier than sodium
Placing unfit things on a podium
In a world full of petroleum
Floors lined with linoleum
Also flowers that can be made into opium
It had nothing to do with teapots
In person not just by screen shots
Experienced firsthand and seen lots
Climbed to the tree tops
Then I started to speed off
No matter if endlessly she mocks
Saw right through it and noticed all the weak spots
Why is it that people do or don't believe in GOD?
Been occurring for Eons
Just proceed on
Keep calm
In the background endless distant whispers
As people portray an accurate or different picture
I constantly am smoking THC and sipping liquor
No love found just some veggies and a chicken dinner
Similar or traditions differ
A lot in the world harmless or a vicious killer
I was often able to win with vigor
Sometimes had a short fuse but a long distance swimmer
They've got bad intentions and much to pay
It can be done in a few ways
Near and far from any statue of Guadalupe
No concern over why do they
Regardless of what all these fools say
It's going down round the clock , sometimes seconds too late
Close or way off from any blue jay
Onto a new day
Among all these species
With foul intentions worse than left out feces
Causing harm by cheap means
I thought peace seemed
Like the better answer but they just spread it like cream cheese
Above and below these trees with green leaves
Became friends with queen bees
Went down to depths of beyond a thousand and sixteen leagues
Continually we bleed
Does anyone notice the end to people and a message that he or she leaves?
T he magic of a grandfather, pulling a quarter from your ear.
H e tells a scary story,With a soothing sort of fear.
E lation fills the childs' heart as Grampa opens up the door.
G ingerly,the brother skip across the cold linoleum floor.
R ighteously, He pick us up, one in each strong arm.
A lternating kissing cheeks; His touch would keep us warm.
M ajestically he puts us down; and strokes his long grey beard.
P aternally: he kisses Moms' forehead; boys think that that is weird.
A gain his aura shines our way: ' Who wants Ice Cream.
I will always love my Grampa, in life and death and dream.
S atisfied He loved us, as much as we loved him.
T omorrows' tomorrows our love will never Dim.
I dolize your Grampa as long as he's around.
L ive your life as He did, goodness shall abound.
L earn the love of generations as Grampas' have always done.
L ife goes on day after day: with Grampa having fun.
O beisance to GRAMPA MARTIN and those before and after.
V alues given to grandchildren: Love, Joy, and Laughter.
E ternally.
We need a place called home
We are in the market for surreal
Real estate beyond the pale
Made of corrugated cardboard boxes
Flip top or not in magic dust
We want food for termites
Something in wood with a bite
By a lake with windows open
To suggestions if not too late
We require walls worth climbing
Views overlooking nothing
A place to call our own
A phone to call a house a home
Give us something to reflect on
Mirrors in touch with lost souls
The lake must have turtles
That roll off logs in emergencies
Build us an outhouse to specifications
As required by law as needs arise
An amenity we can not live without
Turned inside out for our protection
We have nothing to hide from nature
As long as it comes with toilet paper
Trees must be planted roots first
Come with trunks and branches
Must never walk around unattended
Good homes and trees should be built to last
On solid grounds landscapes never escape
Make us living rooms because dead ones won't do
Homes need mothers, plenty of mothers
Twenty two should do but make them roofers
We want rocking chairs on linoleum floors
And chimneys that start at the top then stop
We need a house right now!
If not we will go somewhere else
A forest, a beach, your house for sure
We are clearly motivated
Find us a house for sale
Preferably one already built
We will bring ourselves if needed
We aim to please so start without us
If you give us the key we will never leave
If to strangers we will never get in
The house should be move in ready
It should be haunted and clean
We would expect nothing less
Once bought from the very best
On a hot August night in Memphis
At the tinder age of forty two
Behind the gates of Graceland
America lost its tune
Gather round the throne room
The king is sadly dead
On the cold linoleum floor
Is where he last laid his weary head
Fought so many battles
In the star filled lonely life he lived
If you're keeping score this is one war
That he lost the battle in
His scepter it was golden
His voice it was the same
He just lost his soul is all
Somewhere along the way
With papers read the words they bled
Out on the written page
Tears that poured as the world all mourned
And still do to this day
So bow your heads the king is dead
Elvis has left the building after all
Although long gone there is still the song
And he still is the king of rock and roll
Thinking the other day of the exact place I was standing when I heard the news of Elvis's passing August 16, 1977 and this came to mind. Not the hugest Elvis fan in the world but boy could he sing!