Long Littler Poems
Long Littler Poems. Below are the most popular long Littler by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Littler poems by poem length and keyword.
appetizers are not uncomplimentary
they are food for gods and primitive man.
The ape is the apex as
Blood and Oranges are exceptionally
eulogistic pleasing to the soul
Down, down, down into the darkness of memory,
Gently they go - the panegyrical, the praiseful, boastful mammal…
Pay attention to the me, in I, not the We in thy?
the human soul is the most warm thought of all.
HOW near god is such a thing,
To get me wondering if death is lukewarm, or a mutual reality.
How happy is the ape a prime mate of man!
Down, down, down into the darkness of the soul,
Gently it goes - the littler, the diminutive, nothing at all.
Nothing escapes this divinity
Or overturns this reality…
This simple story I relate to you exactly as it unfurled…reminding me there is still pure beauty and innocence in the world.
A mother and her daughter entered the bookstore…at guessing ages I am poor…I know enough not to try to guess the mother’s age…but her daughter was five…or maybe four.
They browsed around the bookstore for a while…up and down every aisle they looked…then they exited the store…without purchasing a book.
I could see them talking outside the window…I imagine there was a lesson the mother wanted her daughter to learn…because a few moments later…by herself…the daughter had returned.
Soon she was at the counter…book in hand…and in a voice so pleasant and nice asked, “Sir, could you please tell me…this book…what is the price?”
I told her $4.99…she smiled then I said, “Wait! There’s more…with tax this little golden book comes to five dollars thirty-four.
She thought for a moment and this is my favorite part to reminisce…then held up a twenty dollar bill and asked, “Is the price of the book less than this?”
And I had to smile as I witnessed the beauty and the innocence in this little girl with her hair flowing down her back when I told her, “Not only is that enough…but you’ll be getting money back!”
Once again with her beauty and innocence now on full display…she smiled…handed me the twenty dollar bill, picked up her book…and began to walk away.
“Wait!” I cried as she walked away while still within my range… “I’m glad you have your book but you forget your change.”
I will remember forever her expression…it was a smile both innocent and grand….when I counted out fourteen dollars and sixty-six cents and put it in her hand.
I could see how her mind was working…how lucky she felt…I could tell…
Because after coming in with one bill…
she was leaving with her book….5 bills and 4 coins as well.
“I’m rich!” She said smiling at me. “Richer than I was before….
I nodded thinking how we’re both a littler richer since she walked into the store.
As she left I silently thanked her for reminding me in this world there is beauty and innocence still….
a fact I will remember every time I find within my hands…a twenty dollar bill.
I set off on an ambitious journey;
Several years gone I embarked on a travel
To a beautiful destination miles away,
And I did not know the paths very well.
I thought it would take a year or two
To reach that much-desired end,
But it’s a whole seven years now
And I’m still trekking, friend.
I knew other littler destinations
That mortals of softer tissues chose,
But those I counted not manly enough,
For their easy reach, and being boring close.
And while they finished their journeys
And sat to receive cheap medals from men their kind,
I still did the tricky roundabouts and travelled on
Till sometimes the path became too blurred to find.
I might be wrong and I might be right
To hazard such a full-size risk upon my little life,
But these journeys have their stern immutable code
Once you set off, you must finish despite the strife.
I could be lost and I could be right on track,
But now it’s too late to worry or cry.
The path I took has no places to turn
And one must trudge ahead until they die.
And unlike other commoner voyages
Where one may other wayfarers find,
Here one walks alone and alone
Without turning to look behind.
There are no water spots beside the road
To sate the traveler’s long-borne thirst.
Nor are there any snack joints near
To quell the pangs of the journeyer cursed.
One moves and moves without rest
Until they either reach the prescribed end,
Or die at some fiddly portion of the road,
Such as a sharp corner or an unexpected bend.
The chances of failure are all-time high
And those of triumph near-nil bro,
No congrats for simple feats
The kind that softer men applaud with awe.
With all my woes faithful friends will wonder
What in history shall become of me.
I desire no laurels for nerve or raw bravery
Nor some posthumous honorary degree.
A simple epitaph befitting a demented traveler
Will suffice for a restless man like me:
“He Took the Road That Many Dreaded”.
And on my head plant an evergreen tree.
A nonentity I lived:
Ignoring all the risks that others could see;
A nonentity I’m prepared to die:
My only mourners an epitaph and a tree.
A young girl runs around the park looking at flowers.
She looks at them and smells them.
This littler girl eyes lights up.
She sees all these yellow flowers and started to run around.
She goes through them.
She stops in the middle of a yellow patch of flowers.
She raises her arms up and smiles and screams happily.
A young boy was running around in the brush he sees her.
She has long golden brown hair and a great smile.
He notices that she had green eyes.
He notices that she likes flowers.
He runs around and looks for the perfect flower.
He sees several odd looking ones.
He does not know what she would like.
The young girl sees this boy running around in the bushes.
She tries to ignore him but she could not.
She saw him with short black shiny hair and light brown eyes.
She thought that he looks mischievous.
She also thought he was a regular boy who likes hide and seek.
It also looked weird that the boy was looking at flowers.
She thought.
By now the he saw her looking at her so he purposely started to hide.
He got into the bushes but these bushes had thorns in them.
He looked at the bush and saw a yellow and red flower.
He thought this was the right flower to get her.
He peeked out of the bush and sees her playing.
He looked to make sure he did not get a thorny stem.
The boy meets the girl and ran around her and showing off.
She sees him do this and thought it was ok.
She looks over at her mom and sees another mom.
The only two people other than her and her mom must be these two.
She stopped dancing and looks at him.
The moms see both of them and realize that something was going to happen.
The boy’s mom takes out a camera.
As he had his hand around his back hiding the flower, he notices her mom.
He stopped and looked at her and smiled.
She stopped and looked at him and smiled.
He has her attention and gives her the flower.
The flower was a red and yellow rose.
They became friends for life.
Birth is obviously not when life gets its start
For long before, this baby already had a beating heart
They had their tiny little fingers and even smaller littler toes
But of this simple fact society acts like no one really knows
Birth is simply God's Way of unveiling
As that innocent little child comes out waling
Yet this is not the true beginning but the continuation
Something so unrealized by this sick and lost nation
Just knowing that one out of five children will not survive
For they will be slaughtered fully aware and certainly alive
Yet so many will just stand by not willing to even bat an eye
Oh that life begins at birth is such a wicked and evil lie
So while in one room she is celebrated and born
In the next one over he is mutilated with each and every limb torn
Yes birth can be such an amazing and wonderful joy
But it was at conception that God created both that little girl and boy
I hear little whimpers from out in the yard.
He is searching everywhere, looking really hard.
Then I realize he is missing his littler toy dog.
He looks in an old bucket and under a log.
I realize I haven’t seen it for quite a while.
He continues to look all around the wood pile.
I’ll help you look, I wont leave you in the lurch.
We will find it. I will help you. I care I search.
Then in the garden I see stuffing from his toy.
I hide it from my old dog, he is such a good boy.
Birds have taken most of it to build their nest.
I take it in, stitch more stuffing in, it looks its best.
When he isn’t looking I toss it near the wood pile.
He soon finds it. Who said dogs don’t smile?
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Breathe - I breathe ! Beauteous be the rose
I planted the bush - the roots I cherish
Thorns - those beautiful thorns in my heart
Prickling ! They inspire me with thoughts of beauty
Day by day! The daylight winter sun
May it nourish this beauty in my soul
And may God bless the little tree inspiring me
Thus be it be may it also instill thoughts
Of the beauty of words in my mind for prose
As each day goes by hour by hour , feeling the power
Of love ! of which the bud if it shall grow
Flourishing me, keeping me as a person whole
If it shall blossom - watered and nurtured each day
Then shall I wander in my mind the words
To encourage bloom after bloom , love at its best
And the bush I planted that I appreciate
In presence - Hence the beauty of the rose
My mind - my mental stimulation of prose
I write - with the love in heart , my senses clear
May my littler bush! shine in my breath each year
And may my roses bloom - may they bless my home
Capturing those thoughts - of the most beautiful flower
The power of love! represented by the bud
Blooming the beauteous words blossoming
Truly within my soul - I am assuming
That by petal by petal - the roots may grow
Implementing strength - the rose I still get to know
And as I speak - may love be also in my heart
May then the rose listen to each word I encourage
And with strength of telepathy , may the blooming start.
sun …
glints off sweaty trickles as
they plop … plop …
little lad’s littler fingers tickling a
tide pool’s papery face
things of mysterious intention, darting
there to here to there …
wide eyes wider in amazement
tiny thrums quick’ning
dividing breaths
like swells divide the time
and tides …
a splash and a grasp, tightening
some small watery beast
cold-red cheeks blooming wide to
parody the dazzled bay
grins and giggles to mock the black-backs
for this shrimpy monster, squirming
is the prize of a wee fist
gamboling its way to
proffer some mad-mommy shrieks -
slimy and squiggly and
oh, so wondrous!
hunter, home from the hill
Ahab and his white sea demon
perfectly prideful,
invested surety of a silly smile
warmed by the sooty
afternoon …
sun.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, June 9, 2024
I do bitterly fault your restless digits, slatternly time;
Your agile dial's design I defy with mutinous rhyme.
What's the veiled intent of your lightning procession,
Against this snail-mover's beleaguered progression?
In swearing truth say why your sight-eclipsing wings
Party and feast and conjure merry over littler beings.
What sadistic banquets in spooky nooks yonder,
Turn your lot-dwindling schemes ever so fonder?
It's true your snaring turns I strongly loathe,
With damning sneers and deserving derision.
What's that blot against heaven's sternest troth,
Obliterating dancing suns on her creasing face?
To what main gain do your life-slicing edges fly,
Usurping innocent freedoms of humble breath?
Your mulish cruises along snaky course-ways,
Flare spite-perfected ills to slay slowing health.
With daring tropes I’ll yet trim hours’ blacking crime,
And I’ll chide the deadly glooms of carnivorous time.
[]
i call it anger displacement
see how many s i can get in one sentence
etty it
effort is another reason
i seldo
start were i finished
There is very little humanity i tolerate
if i had a
to much effort to give it
little i hate
littler i love
not mad for seeing what's coming
we have doomed ourselves
cant hear for the jet engine high above
as it rips through the sky
I am sorry for the skies
that bountiful blue with cloud creatures astrewn- i know but sounds right
every bladed grass
every orchard paved
all the beaches have no water
just rinse the glass once more
Hope the cats and dogs take over
and reign