Long Lounges Poems
Long Lounges Poems. Below are the most popular long Lounges by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lounges poems by poem length and keyword.
In a palace of cushions and silky delight,
Lives a cat, all pampered, oh, what a sight!
Spoiled and regal, with a snobbish air,
She lounges on pillows with a feline flair.
Her food served on silver, a gourmet feast,
Tuna and salmon, fit for a beast.
A throne of velvet, a regal seat,
She rules the household with velvety conceit.
The humans bow to her every desire,
A spoiled feline queen, a fluffy empire.
She bats at toys, with disdain in her eyes,
For only the finest will earn her prize.
Oh, the life of a cat, so fabulously grand,
With servants at beckoning, at her command.
Her purrs and meows, a majestic song,
In the lap of luxury, where she belongs.
Yet, in her eyes, a mischievous gleam,
A whisker-twitching, devious scheme.
For a spoiled cat's life, in humor we find,
A kingdom of comfort, a royal feline kind.
Death is dead now in the pleasant lap of the Immortality.
It seems to sleep in peace, not having slept for thus long.
It is tired now after dying so many times, deadly drained.
The horrid Death appears a naughty child, now, subdued.
Its red awful eyes have sunk in soothed shade of eyelids
And its raw sharp teeth are shut within the freezing lips.
Its soul-less abstract figurine now lounges with a shape
As its quenchless vengeance on Life finished in its death.
Death is dead now, it will wake no more, not any more.
Life has reborn in deathlessness, Death shrunk into Life.
It was the end of the beginning that had certainly begun.
It is the beginning of the end, the ending devoid of end.
Sol hung in the western sky,
in the western sky Sol hung,
like a dead man on a rope
when dying time has come.
Watch how you tread in the desert,
in the desert watch how you tread,
the vultures soar high on the thermals
as they seek out the dying and dead.
Take water to drink on your journey,
on your journey take water to drink,
there's a lack of sweat, on that you can bet,
but you've dried out more than you think.
Plant your feet with care when walking,
when walking plant your feet with care,
the horse crippler cactus is waiting
to take you unawares.
Pass by the brush with caution,
with caution pass by the brush,
the diamondback lounges in shadows
but his strike comes on with a rush.
Disturb not the stones on your travels,
on your travels disturb not the stones,
a scorpion may surprise you,
their sting goes down to your bones.
All is not dread in the wasteland,
in the wasteland all is not dread,
but vultures fly high on the thermals
as they wait one and all to be fed.
All is not death in the desert,
in the desert all is not death,
beauty enough for the seeker
to take away their breath.
room without walls reaches sky
bleeding tears where shadows play with dust
in conference rooms they eat dead flesh
with tomato sauce
room bleeds more tears
evil cannot be good
op-art is an illusion
tears dry into salt
tomato sauce spills like blood
lamb meat they gobble with mint
tears of lamb fall into dust
walls in sky hold no rooms
darkness is not light
dualities mix not
corridors of learning and corridors of
power merge in abyss
of life’s true longing
space is where all are free
no keys to hold or hide, follow not shadow
call not bitter sweet
distress will be your name
my footsteps go where angels fear
space holding atoms near
true longing lounges in Heart
abysses of no consequence
learning and power a game
honey is sweet not to be called bitter
recognise what is what
sky my knowingness
understand how daisies bloom tears
undying freedom is where all start again
they call tomato sauce ketchup
pouring it over keys lost
affliction to ones calling good evil
bees do sting the unfortunate
our bodies universes traverse
whilst conference rooms, malls shatter
queues are long for dead flesh and chips
tears silent salt in encrypted veins
they run corridors of dollars
dark is night as it passes midnight
put not bitter for sweet as room reaches sky
[Prompt : Isaiah 5:20 / Anthony Biaanco
HONORABLE MENTION : Standard Contest
March 26 ]
If
(inspired by Rudyard Kipling's Poem, If)
If I could relinquish all judging to Almighty God
Concerning myself on where my feet alone trod
Where my mind lounges
What my mood would convey
I believe I'd know peace of mind throughout the day
If I could be a sample ..fruit of wisdom heard
Regarding my brother's footsteps more intently than his word
If I could sow treasure when occasion coaxes me to intercede
I believe a flower would emerge from such a planted seed
If I could rebuke gossip and ignore the adulterous call
Still appreciate the lesson taught from shame-producing fall
If I could view the weakest one with mercy-coated eyes
I believe there'd be scant reason to don all disguise
If I could dispense love when hatred is due and never restrict the span
Surrender to patience when urge to explode is primed by fellowman
If I could persist in mending any mendable wrong
I believe I would know freedom as composer of the song
*Image of Danny folk's Boo by YC.
A Black Cat Tale Souvenir
One Saturday morning,
fourteen-year-old Danny,
my neighbor's kid who lives down the road,
would come over to do the lawn
and some simple house chores,
for extra spending money.
Sometimes,
their American Long Haired black cat named, "Boo",
would tag along.
The lawn was okay just weeding,
he swept, mopped, vacuumed,
then brought in some wood
from my wood cord outside,
and filled the wood bin,
then he swept out
the fireplace.
He then takes the flip-top dustpan outside,
pour its contents into a plastic bag,
tie it close and put it into
one of two trash bins
with plastic flip tops.
Boo, sometimes lounges
on my lanai (porch),
or on one of those
trash bins.
That day,
Danny decided to play.
He tosses the bag up into the air,
then have it drop right into the flipped-top trash bin.
Albeit, the bag got snagged
by the metal latch on the bins cover,
it ripped open, causing black soot
to shroud nearby Boo.
While I was outside checking to see
if Danny covered the wood cord,
the event unfolded before me.
Boo's reaction was as anticipated,
there was black soot trailing a flying leap
that scampered down my driveway
and out onto the opened road,
... gone, gone, gone.
Laughing in pursuit
was Danny who tells me that
he will be back for the money
after he hoses down, "Blackie".
Ha, ha, ha, goes Danny whose clueless
as to the memory he had just made for his future.
Leaving nature to clear the mess, closes I a cover, grinning in the silence.
2022 April 02
*1st Place*
Black Cat
~~Robert James Liguori: Judged 2022 April 03
I Recently Found Out
Recently I found out light is
afraid of
dried figs, (figs are
fascinated by
anything square-shaped); ice block sticks are into
lounges and
cars; pastry grow facial hair and
grow pubic hair; Mr Ironic plays the
violin; Mrs Stun gun bathes in
red wine. To
hurt Mr Jeans’ feelings all you have to
do is lower your
eyebrows; pool chlorine wants to be a
cat so it can
lick itself; free moustaches can
juggle worms; eggplants have
laughing fits when
the temperature goes
below zero; brown sugar has a
better smelling ability than
dogs have; white sugar can
type 120 words per minute; lemons can dream and
narrate documentaries on
any subject; sling shots are
huge fans of
the Golden Age of
Hollywood.
We love our silly Grazillas,
Who eat chocolate ice cream because they don't like vanilla.
They prefer lumpy pillas,
As they nap under the willas.
They eat salt by the pillas,
And watch only chinchillas.
They prefer to work as millas,
They prefer their envelopes to be manilla.
They could easily take down Godzilla,
Because them Grazillas,
Are stone cold killas.
They are a cross between a gorilla and a gator,
And they sure do enjoy their maters and taters.
They make fun of waiters,
And they are great imitaters.
They love gossiping with the gators,
And are known to be fair ice skaters.
Peculiar too is the way they only eat fish flavored Now and Laters,
And man can they drive those freighters,
And they choose to shave with cheese graters.
They are even one-third dinosaur,
And they are rotten to the core.
They love to renact the Civil War,
And to get a dollar they will pretend to be poor.
They play golf just so they can yell Fore,
And when they get a banana they all yell Score!
They are in a band and go on world tour,
But I admit they are sometimes a bore.
They are the legends of lore,
That come from the Loth Lorien shore,
And in their land they are unequivical lords.
How do they have shimmering tails,
They put water from the Amazon on every golden scale.
Their fur is silvery and pale,
And they comb it twice a day without fail.
Their favorite snack is kale,
Especially in the middle of a gale.
They love riding the rails,
Looking for the the Holy Grail.
They may look frail,
But you never can tell.
They like digging wells,And telling tall tales.
Try never to compliment the males,
Cause their egos sure do swell.So if you come across a silly Grazilla,
Lazing under a willa...
Don't forget to bow to the queen of the Grazillas.
Whose name is Drucilla,
Who lounges on golden pillas...
While she listens to thrilla...
So I bid you ado untilla...
Leaves of the Dead
Les feuilles mortes
They fall like dead soldiers
Dreams knifed in the dead of night
It is as yesterday
Once more
Where love was kissing my cheek
Where hopes had dreams
One could see the blossom of loves desires
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Ah now I am holding a cane
I have all but forgotten yesterday
I have no lovers
My friends have all but gone
To their designated places in the ground
Piano keys in soft lit lounges
I remember the vodka stingers and sultry singers
Telling me life was jolie oh so jolie
If only there was love…
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
At 3am, with burnt cigarette butts
If only there was love
When the metro finds it’s unwitting end
Reality and cubes make ugly paintings
There are only drunks
Dreamers and bums
Thief’s picking pockets of your final instructions
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
If you can sober up and face the poverty
Of your empty aspirations of hope
Come to the bois de Vincennes
Where Kings and Queens danced and dined
What better place
To splay the butter
So that the knife slides smooth
Whilst the sun fades kissing the seine
Autumn leaves will fall
Dead again
Leaves falling in the park
Autumn coldness brings the dark
Death marching towards winters fate
Young love broken at the graveyard gates
Waiting for trains used to be our great fun,
And added much joys for us cute children;
One hour, they announced, hours long continued,
With games after games, our wits got renewed...!
Hours prolonged; games, like us, got very tired,
We felt as though, by journey, we were hired;
No waiting rooms; no least village lounges;
We slept on platforms and did much scrounge...!
Whenever we could hear a long whistle,
Our hairs stood puzzled like hare hairs bristle;
No time to know time as sleep got brim-filled,
Travelling by dream-trains, we got well-thrilled...!
When 'Khaki-clad' woke us up frequently,
We kept squeezing our eyes not so gently;
We were like toys of china, they did feel,
Our life-trains, to them, we did not conceal...!
When, ultimately, the train did arrive,
Elders woke us; our spirits could not thrive;
Sleep, seemed our gloriously gifted gift,
Not to be lost for mere train benefit...!
We woke, in the morning; alas, did find,
For sleeping there long, we're heavily fined;
Our voyage, as started, seemed did not end,
Trains of travels, yet, in mind, did get blend...!
16 March 2022