Long Marbles Poems
Long Marbles Poems. Below are the most popular long Marbles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Marbles poems by poem length and keyword.
Carpal tunnel twinges
punctuate a torpid afternoon,
as row on row we line the aisles
and stare at nothing
with the guarded anonymity
of urinating men.
My thumb is on the lever,
moving almost imperceptibly,
as marbles rocket into space
and filter down
through obstacles designed
to keep the management in business.
The captive of a chain reaction
freed from craving by acceptance
of the preordained,
I decompose, am compromised,
incorporated by the convolutions
of this artificial universe.
But something breaks
the moment I let go.
The single thread
that holds the world in place is cut,
and once again I fall away
with all my individual needs exposed.
Japan, 1968
Previous version published in Outposts, England
Hey Richard, you
want to bring on the crazy?
You want to know
the craziest thing that
ever was done to anyone!
You want to know
the craziest thing
that happened to me?
Seriously? Nah, you
don't wanna know,
Do you? Really?
For crying out loud, why?!
With all the crazy
people running around
in this world,
You wanna know
what happened to ME?
You want me to confess
how I lost my wits?
How I once let
my guards down,
And got caught
in the down draft?
And got mired in a life
of mundane meandering?
And bludgeoned to my knees?
You want me to say all that
in front of everybody?
No, I don't think so!
Wait a minute!
You aRe Serious!
OK! OK!! Don't lose
your marbles, Man!
This is really THE
craziest idea of all!
Let me get this straight:
You want me to tell here
the craziest thing that
ever was done unto me?
Right?
Nah ... All right, OK!
But, it's only between
You and Me ................
.................................
I GOT MARRIED!!!!!!!!!!
This man refusing to enunciate
who sounds like someone’s missing marbles found
by his mouth took a vote in which escape
has hands-down won against rolling around
a schizoid tongue by an everyone-but-one
to one-against-which-one-won margin, stubs his toe
on stakes in the ground and moves swiftly on
from religious talk to an amputee’s hop,
thus dealing a crippling blow to choked upon balls
made of glass in so doing, shifting their hopes
from tongue to a$s until no-one calls
no-one else for help, assuming he’s dead as the Pope
who still enjoys a game of quick marbles
with only himself and ghosts of the gargles.
There was once a child much like any other. No mother, no father, just a loving grandmother. An only child, lost to imaginary friends and creatures of the wood.
The child played simple games, forgotten now in time. Games that required focus and attention but much physical input. Hopscotch, jump rope, baseball cards and marbles and overtime, the child was the winner and owner of many cards and cat's eye marbles.
Yet, it never seemed enough.
The child drifted off frequently, a solitary life but not lonely, dreaming of strange and heroic things, accomplishments indescribable that found their way to words and lines within a book. There lay the dreams of kings and queens, of knights and maidens fair.
Dancing words took over, falling loose upon a page and in the evening shadows came the stories of life and living that inspired growth and the sweet embrace of poetry, flowing words in melodic rhyme visualized here in the others, who shared the need for self expression and in that wonderment, poetry soup came alive and thrives.
For all soupers, this is the place of wonder and expression, thanks for your efforts, keep it coming.
DMB
When Marbles Fall
Happy are the children on the wall of time
Playing marbles by the castle keep
Soldiers watch them secure that they won’t climb
But become bored and fall to sleep
The children are not children at all
But spies that cry for freedom
They slay the soldiers in a modest brawl
The king is next to fall to lose his kingdom
Fate takes the king with a confidant to towers top
Spies follow them to that end
It is there where all of this must stop
The king must die but first his friend
Marble in this upper room is splendid
King marvels for one last time his acquisitions
Too bad right here and now he must end it
To simply die without his royalties permission
Created 7/12/14 for- Not Just Any Old Quatrain contest
The gentle cool raindrops
Bestowing the vibe of a caressing mother’s hand
The plump and shiny raindrops
Shimmering like pearls embraced the neck of the angelic lady
The drops falling on the roof
Hold the purity of tears that well out from a love’s eyes
When it downpours,
Resonates garrulous and reminds loquacious people
Dangling raindrops at the tips of blades
Have the richness of the prettiest millennium star diamonds
The drops that fall on the empty vessels
Echoes like spinning marbles that dropped from a child’s hand.
The adhesive rain drops on the window glass
Symbolise one’s deep attachment with bosom friend
When they roll on the lotus leaf
Show how the pure hearts never get affected by sin
When they go deep into a pup’s fur coat
It’s fun! The pretty pup makes tremors to dry up its body
The dried and cracked earth gets chilled
And the dews of elixir sprinkle love and joy everywhere.
Place : 2nd
bees buzzing along
butterflies fluttering by
humming birds sipping the sweet nectar
from the abundance of fragrant flowers
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
young boys playing catch
little girls jumping rope
older girls turning double dutch
skate boarders whizzing pass
bikers cycling down the street
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
shooting skelly tops
playing marbles
pick-up sticks and jacks
hopscotch on the sidewalk
roller skating down the driveway
touch football on front lawns
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
folks old and young frolicking
in the cool water of the sprinkler
neighbors tending to their gardens
and shrubbery
kids selling homemade lemonade
from a homemade stand on the corner
stick ball in the city streets
red light, green light, one, two, three
Miss Mary Mack, pitty pat
one giant step, may I
Simon says
remembering the lazy, hazy days
of my youth
as I sit on my porch
on a warm summer day
I was in a hurry and could not find my favorite sweater.
My friends had gathered, and I could not find my rubber ball.
It was time to play, and I could not fine my favorite slingshot.
Marbles was my favorite game, and I could not find them.
There were always numerous items that I could not find.
It never mattered what I had lost, because she was always
faithfully watching out for me and what was mine. When I
as kids often do, forgot my toys, she put them away with
love and care, knowing that before long, I would come looking.
She was there for me with my toys and smiles for the two of us.
There was something magical about my special lady and me.
She had love enough for all of us, but I always felt that there
must have been a special place in her heart reserved just for me.
Over the years, I have come to believe that everyone needs at
least one person through whose eyes you can do no wrong.
I can say with gratitude that for me, my special lady was
such a person.
I finished high school in '67 and with a heart stuffed full of love
from my special lady, I moved away, got a job and started college.
I finished college and got married. I was able to introduce my new
bride to my special lady. It would be the last time I saw my dear
grandmother alive who passed away when she was 85.
In a community deep in the Southern land of feed corn and cotton,
The more basic things of life are best treasured and unforgotten.
Newspapers and Radios, Jack Rocks and Jump Ropes, Pop Whips, Hide and Seek. In child’s play, we sang our lines; closed our eyes and did not peep.
Checkers and Old Maid, Red Wagons and Hula Hoops; Boys with pockets of marbles. Kids never had to be afraid of armed bandits and robbers.
Rubber Balls and Home Made Bats; having fun running and rolling rubber tires. All these treats when kids watched birds lite on electric wires.
Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic; The Lord’s Prayer, The 23rd Psalms, and The Ten Commandments. Ours was A simpler place and time, where we
walked shoe less in the heated dust, avoiding hot pavements. All these and more, after the chores, were better known as “Entertainment”.
These were ways we spent our time, long before we owned TV’s or Telephones. Unforgettable treasures! In a place I once called home.
05232007 PS Contest 207, Brain Strain.
Featured poem of the week(111520)
Come Home
I am missing you.
Clearly.
I did not make dinner,
I did not make breakfast,
and lunch was a disaster.
Your mother came by.
Did I tell you?
I am missing you.
The post man dropped off bills,
the refrigerator quit.
Your Aunt died,
and they want me to hold the services,
here at the house?
I want to say?
I am missing you.
The roof started leaking,
the part not caved.
I don’t care, but the neighbors…
they can see in.
That would seem to most…
a problem?
Are you listening?
I am missing you.
I stopped watering the plants.
They all died.
I blamed the water shortage.
Your mother left in a huff.
She liked my roses.
Why are you late?
I am missing you.
The people all left, they were in a hurry.
I don’t really know why, there was a fight.
Something about marbles in the fishbowl,
or fish in the soup?
The punch was all wrong…
too much “orange” ice cream?
I can not say it anymore…
I just feel it now, the “you” part.
.