Long Mail Poems
Long Mail Poems. Below are the most popular long Mail by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mail poems by poem length and keyword.
Born on a cold day
with the moon shining on him at night,
crying as a newborn child
he saw the light.
In a ghetto he screamed
for the first time.
He was raised happy as he could be
without other chances, but fighting.
Knowing nothing else,
he learned that he was the best.
He grew up strong,
after being hit one day after the other,
engaged with a guitar
as his best friend.
He had been successful rolling
down to Mississippi with love
for the whole world.
Going up to Memphis
you can be haunted by his voice.
Going back to Memphis,
you will be returned to sender,
the king will open the mail box
Hey Mr Snail, Mr Snail, Mr. Snail
I want to check my mail, Mr. Snail, Mr. Snail.
Snail rolled his eyes; he was tired of this bug.
Give me a ride, she said, and I will give you a little hug.
I am tired of this harassment, he told her, so the answer is no.
I have never asked for a ride before she said, tickling his toe.
Then who does? He asked her, thinking it was her all along.
She began to sing about her sister, an unflatteringly long song.
So Mr. Snail gave in, for the hundredth time that week.
And the sly lady bug gave her sister a wink and a peek.
They were always checking the mail, they checked it every day.
Just to see if Mr. Snail was still as easy as he was yesterday.
It sort of happened overnight.
And overnight happens again and again.
Living is a method to dream.
Sadness is near, but is sometimes tired.
I had a dream that the plumber came to the house.
I had a dream that the mail man came to the door.
I answer the door in my dreams.
It sort of happened overnight.
I don’t like this.
I tried to be a quiet roommate.
But shivering can be loud.
I had a dream that I let them in, everyone in.
The plumber, the mail man, the chef, and the mechanic.
I let the strangers stay.
Because that’s what dreams are for.
It sort of happened overnight.
When it was my time, they unlocked the door with a clink.
My parents let me in the car, in the car.
I closed the car door.
Sometimes, you jump in the car in a hurry.
Other times, you flinch, because everything is loud.
Sometimes, you go home.
I haven’t left the house since.
From the North, they came in wooden longboats,
to the monastery of Lindisfarne. A Kingdom of Northern Brine
to plunder the church and steal its gold.
The priests had their blood splattered too ill-equipped to fight
as they were fragile and old.
A marriage was taking place at the time of the raid,
between a Noble Knight and his bride. There was no place
to run no place to hide, no one to give them aid.
The Vikings brought death and a horrifying day, they
caused a wailing that chilled to the bone. The stench from
the dead danced on the wind where the bodies lay, as misery
and torment were never alone.
A battle axe in a Vikings hands brought fear to the priests
and their church, they spared none, splattered their blood
onto the stone floor, set fire to the door.
The Knight stood alone as his death came toward him,
as he faced the axe in mail-covered skin and never retreated
as his death rushed in.
He died...his blood-soaked blade lay across his chest, and his
honor held through his anguished cry of pride.
Within the burning walls of the church's death knell
lay his bride, next to her Knight where her body fell.
This was the day when two worlds would collide
and sent shockwaves through the Kingdom land-wide.
Could you help me, P Souper, please,
I think my computer has a disease,
Some of my poems have disappeared,
And my soup mail
Which seems weird.
I feel this state of affairs,
It enables me to make others aware
That I have not laid down my pen
And I have not died, Amen.
Also, info that was supposed to stay
Has suddenly been whisked away
From my list on soup mail
Deb M, who is my pal
Has disappeared into thin air
I can't find her anywhere
She will be wondering where I've gone
I've sent her mail a mile long
That she will not be able to read
A very sorry state indeed
The computer is no longer my friend
I feel this is the bitter end
So, please, without further ado
I would appreciate some help from you
Perhaps you have also experienced this
Asking you for advice is not amiss.
Thank You
I have had a lovely day today,
Just with my husband, John,
We read the Sunday papers
With our pyjamas on
Then did the cryptic crossword
That was more encouraging than the news
We finished it quickly
Which left us both bemused
Then I had breakfast
John brought it to me
Muesli, fruit, and a strong, hot cup of tea
We started to talk about life today,
That got a bit involved
So we decided to give that away.
John's an avid reader
So he immersed himself in a book
I opened my computer to have a butchers hook
There was nothing of importance
No mail for John or me
I thought it was time
To make coffee.
After we drank our coffee
And ate a biscuit or two
John looked at me and said
I'm enjoying this, are you?
Smiling, I answered,
I am that's sure
He nodded in agreement
We should do this more
I prepared lunch
I thought it was time I moved
We sat and munched
Which John approved.
I ignored the dishes,
That lay dirty in the sink
Tomorrow is another day
It is not the usual way. I think.
This afternoon everything is fine,
I have had welcome comments
From some kind poetry friends of mine.
I feel very fortunate to have their support,
Even though I don't always
Answer them as I ought.
So everyone online
Who is reading this chatty rhyme
It sometimes pays
To chill out sometimes
Take a deep breath
And do your best to relax
You will live longer
That's a well-known fact.
I hope you all have had a lazy day
I trust it has helped you
To blow your blues away.
It's strange how some events in our lives
Can drive us straight to the edge of the precipice
And then how little it takes to bring us back
Just a word from that special someone we hadn't heard from
And assumed we had said something to offend them
It happened to me just recently
I was in a major funk then finally heard why
My silly attempt at humour had offended this sweetheart
We must always be careful of what we say
Especially through email or Soup Mail
It can so easily be misinterpreted without the voice inflections
That a face to face conversation creates
I am so so sorry that my lame attempt at humour
Created this rift...
I have learned my lesson!
© Jack Ellison 2015
Slowly swept clean the old footprints-graphs
by the harsh tide, soaring waves and white surfs
On the pavements of the sky monarchy
the miserable odor of the past is flying curtly
Now, it’s the sharp edge of a pandemic year
The end comes but not as an eternal end, it’s a gyre
Dale, hilly mail and mountain of the lost
at the bank of setting down the sun, it’s a ghost
By born free soul wants to fly high, wants freedom
But in the mournful living cage, it faces only doom
Whatever, here we, the human is true authority of this
We have to solve all seen-unseen problems with peace
So, let’s say goodbye this grief-stricken year with a firm conviction
Let's welcome next year to a healthy, eco-friendly world ablution
-19.12.2020 Chattogram
I made a scrumptious chocolate birthday cake just for you
My only wish, I could deliver it, across the pond to you!
For two years straight, you stood behind me daily.
A trophy, you do deserve, not one day, but three
hundred sixty five, times two, for contacting by
comment or soup mail, you never failed me!
Such a unique poet you are, and endearing, indeed,
to so many.
Love, peppered with humility and peace, are on
your agenda daily.
Tom, you've gone way out of your way,
When I felt abysmally, horribly dismayed!
You are wise, like a philosopher, to recognize the real
poets here, from the phony.
And run from those, who post pure, arrogant baloney.
I wish you health and happiness for so many years.
Wish we could all go to a pub, raise a pint and wish
you happiness, with loving, poetic cheers!
Hugs from the USA,
Panagiota
2/16/2021
STOP SENDING ME TERRORIST THREATS YOU WERE HIRED TO IMPERSONATE ME AND COMMIT FRAUD WISEGUYS ARSON MURDER CIRO GARGANO HIS BROTHER PETER GARGANO WHO FAKED THEIR DEATH TO PAY OFF CORRUPTION AS BOB MARLEY WOULD SAY SKANKNESS BACK OFF STOP CORRUPTION DATA BREACH HACKING IDENTITY FRAUD INSURANCE FRAUD MAIL FRUAD WIRE FRAUD CYBER BULLYING I WILL NEVER FEAR DOMESTIC TERRORIST IN AMERICA JAHORE IN A WHITE TAHOE YOU ATTEMPTED TO EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY YOU ATTEMPTED TO ASSASINATE ME BECAUSE I WORE WIRES PREGNANT FOR THE FBI BUYING WEAPONS AND DRUGS FROM CORRUPTION TO INSURE ASSAULT WEAPONS NEVER EVER END UP IN THE WRONG HANDS JAMAICAN WOMEN WEARING RED DREADLOCKS CARRYING GUNS POINTING 9MM AT MY TOWNHOME DOORS BY GODS GRACE YOUR HITMAN WAS KILLEDVAT MY FEET TAKING DOWN PROFESSIONALLY JUST LIKE TRUMPS ASSASSIN MEXICAN ASUMANDEZ SOLTERO VIOLENT OFFENDERS WOMEN WITH BUTCHER KNIVES BLOOD WAS EVERYWHERE MY PRAYERS ARE WITH DONALD TRUMP MY WORK WITH THE FBI UNDER THE BRADY BILL STOP ASSASINATING AMERICANS INCLUDING CONFIDENTIAL HUMAN SOURCES I WILL NEVER EVER FEAR YOU GOD BLESS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA