Long Motel Poems
Long Motel Poems. Below are the most popular long Motel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Motel poems by poem length and keyword.
Wind howls down Route 66 like a freight train cry,
Dusty motel neon burns through the Oklahoma sky.
Donna was fourteen with a heart soft as rain,
Till the devil rolled up another innocent girl slain.
"Pretty little thing, you wanna fly high?"
Needle kissed her arm, now the stars ain’t so bright.
They pick 'em like wildflowers, sweet and untamed,
Lick 'em with poison, honey laced with pain.
Stick 'em with promises, hollow as hell,
'em and leave 'em— leaving another shell.
Mama’s Bible sits on the window like a ghost,
Donna’s laugh turned to whispers, fading fast.
Sheriff turns his head when the money is right,
While girls disappear into the Oklahoma night.
Pill bottles rattle like a death march tune,
Prison bars or a grave—one’s coming soon.
Writes her name in the dirt with a shaking hand,
"Remember me, Lord, if You still give a damn."
They pick 'em like wildflowers, sweet and untamed,
Lick 'em with poison, honey laced with pain.
Stick 'em with promises, hollow as hell,
'em and leave 'em—leaving another shell.
The wind don’t answer, it whistles her name,
Just carries the echoes of a life gone to waste.
And the men keep driving, hunting fresh prey,
Oklahoma's red dirt covers Donna’s grave.
MARIETTE TURNER RICCARDO FROM OLD PHOTOGRAPHS FROM MY GRANDFATHERS COLLECTION OF SHOW GIRLS FROM HIS 1968 VEGAS MAZAGINE CHRISTMAS EDITIONS HOWEVER MARIETTA WAS MUCH MORE THAN THAT A JEWISH WOMAN WHOSE HUSBAND WAS CAPTURED DURINGWW11 MY GRANDFATHER TOLD ME SHE WOULD COME TO THE CAMP WEARING ONLY A FUR COAT MY POP WOULD HELP HER VISIT HER HUSBAND WHO WAS CAPTURED BY HITLER'S MEN AT ANYRATE AS I MOVED BACK NORTH STOPPING IN MARIETTA GEORGIA CROWN MOTEL SUFFERING TRAUMATIC BRAIN INJURY AFTER WITNESSING A MURDER AND FOR HURRICANES I CREATED MARIETTA KEATING A CHARACTER OF SORTS I WAS QUITE DESPERATE TRYING TO KEEP CIRO GARGANO AND HIS CRONIES FROM EXTORTING MY POETRY HE LATCHED ON TO MY POETRY ACTUALLY TRIED TO PAY JOHN GOTTI JR MAFIA DEBT. BY EXTORTING MY LIFE TO FEED TO THE GAMBINO CRIME FAMILY TO SETTLE HIS SCORES OVER THE PROPERTY ON SHERIDAN ROAD HIS TAILOR SHOP IDEA THAT FLEW OUT THE WINDOW WHEN HE TORCHED THE BUILDINGS TRIED TO WRITE AND HIDE FROM A MAD BOMBER USED CAR SALESMAN MILWAUKEE CRIME BOSS ARSONIST WHO LITERALLY BLEW MY BRAINS OUT GARGANO WAS ACTUALLY EXTORTING MY POETRY RACKETEERING MY POETRY TO SETTLE SCORES WITH GOTTI SO I REMEMBERED JOHNNY DEPP SECRET WINDOW HE ALSO WROTE IN A PENN NAME THIS ALLOWED ME TO WRITE WITHOUT THE STRESS OF GARGANO RIPPING MY TITLES HACKING INTO THE POETRY SIGHT AND WELL MARIETTA KEATING WAS BORN SO WAS HOLIDAY BILLIE CPL KING MARIETTA RICCARDO MERLOT YES AFTER A GLASS OF MERLOT I BELIEVED THIS ALLOWED ME A SAFE SPACE TO WRITE IN COMPLETE PRIVACY IT IS TRULY HARD BEING A WRITER PRIVACY IS EVERYTHING THANK YOU MARIETTA KEATING WE MADE LOVELY MUSIC TOGETHER MARIETTA KEATING MY ANCESTORS CARRIE KEATON ISOM KEETON MY GREAT GRANDMOTHER A ROYAL QUEEN CARRIE KEETON CONCIEVED MY NONA WITH WILLIAM MASON ITALIAN MASONARY BEING A WRITING TAKES PATIENCE YOU HAVE TO HAVE SIUTER NYMES TO PREVENT FATAL STALKERS FROM EXTORTING YOUR WORK I LOVE WRITING TRIBUTES TO MY ANCESTORS ALL APART OF MY AUTOBIOGRAPHY I APPLAUD ANTHONY PUZO MARIO PUZO MARIO CLERI IT'S HOW HE CREATED THE LAST DON
GOD BLESS ALL WRITERS
PRIVACY IS SO CRUCIAL IT IS TRULY
A BLESSING TO SHARE MY GIFT OF WRITING
WITH THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD
GOD BLESS AMERICA
“Flamingo Paradise Motel”
2021 Jerry Brotherton
It was the neon sign of the
Flamingo Paradise motel.
Flashing lights into my eyes
that woke me up in that filthy hell.
It took a cigarette before I knew
where in the world I was.
And another to clear my mind
of the ringing from last night’s buzz.
There was gin on the table
so I took myself a little snort.
I looked inside my wallet and
I was five hundred dollars short.
I swear that when I went to bed
I had a woman by my side.
I told myself well ole boy
at least it looks like you’re still alive.
Chorus:
Imagine that.
Who would have ever thought,
this time it would end exactly the same.
Happens each time
I mix whisky and gin.
If I thought this time would be different,
I guess I only have myself to blame.
Well I tried to piece together
the events of the night before.
I remember there was a Llama
though I really can’t be sure.
I’m pretty sure she had long blond hair,
not the Llama but the girl.
There’s a clown’s mask on the bed post
I’ll be damned if I know what for.
I don’t think she was a lady
or I a perfect gentleman.
I tried so hard to recall her face
but I just don’t think I can.
I went into the bathroom
to splash some cold water on my face.
There was a tuxedo and a bridal gown
strewn about the place.
(Repeat Chorus)
Written in lipstick on the mirror
was a note that someone wrote.
Said thanks for the good time husband
don’t worry I returned the goat.
Now I swear this is the last time
I’ll touch another drop of gin.
Until the next time I’m in Vegas
when I’ll do it all again.
(Repeat Chorus)
When we got wed both of us said, it was until our dying day
I thought we were happy but you got snappy, before you went away
on a business trip with that blonde drip, you said her name was Kay
It wasn’t right and with hindsight, I should have begged you to stay
You were to go abroad, and work could afford to pay for meals and booze
But when I look back, suits I helped you pack were more apt for a cruise
You said that you’d booked into a large hotel, not a motel like we’d use
It was just for one week, I guess I was too weak to ask you to refuse
You promised to call me every day just to say that you loved me
No calls came through and my fears grew, I ask for you in suite 23
They said I was mistaken;’ Mr and Mrs Draken’ were in suite Hawaii!
I started crying knowing you’d been lying I’d proof of your infidelity
You were having an affair with that old mare, I never found out why
I was your loving wife it should have been for life, of that fact you can’t deny
Now I really miss your tender kiss, but our wedding vows you did defy
Sadly now you prefer to live with her, I’m so bereft I want to die
In Rhymes Sublime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
11/01/20
25th high school reunion
Big Beaver Restaurant 1997
You somehow found
the seat next to me.
Showed me a picture
of your husband
Doesn’t he look like you?
--No—well---maybe--No
Later, I wanted to talk to you
--all night--
Hands in my pockets
by the dance floor
Unrestrained, we might have
taken a room out on Rt. 18
But that’s only me.
The next morning
my wife at the time
said that you were
still in love with me
Fast forward to the coming
55th and I will not entertain
Attendance at your beckon.
Our virtual cyber reunion
in recent years has covered
the things we might have
uttered over those motel pillows
in Beaver Falls by the truck stops,
those reasons why our youth at the time
was such a mutually delicious flaw
You are in a good place, now,
with bad knees,
While I am palpably exposed
Out Here in the ether
on the dance floor,
where
we might attend
to our mysteries.
Inside a classroom of a Fourth-grade elementary pupils in early 1990s, pupils were asked by their Speech and Writing teacher to write anything about Christmas.
One male pupil, not a good reader/writer, wrote something else in an acrostic form...
C - Christ, cousins, casino, church, caroling,
Christmas cards, candies, Christmas
Tree, Chess, Care Bears, chocolates,
ChocNut
H - Happy family, Handycam, homily, ham,
hunting, horse, hope
R - Relatives, recycling, renovation, recital,
roller coaster, roller skating, rowing,
running, restaurant, rent payment
Red Riding Hood, Robin Hood,
Richie Rich, Rumplestiltskin
I - Inspirational people, icicles, ice cream,
igloo, ibex, Intramurals
S - Snow, snowman, superheroes, Santa Claus,
saints, Snow White, Simpsons, sparrows,
squirrels, Sesame Street
T - Trips, television, tennis, table tennis,
trouser, typhoon, tornado, Typewriter,
Telephone, Telephone booth,
tranquilizer, The Flintstones, Tom and Jerry,
The Jetsons, turkey
M - Mother, Mary, minister, magic, monkey,
Mary See, medicines, money, motel,
Mickey Mouse, Mr. Bean, Miss Universe
pageant, movies, My Teacher, My 2 crush
A - Angels, Angelus prayer, ABBA and all
good, beautiful "A"s in this World
S - Sweater, stars, sand, singing, strolling,
spelunking, skateboarding, swimming,
skydiving, skiing, Smurfs, Scrabble, soup
Every pupil was called to read his/her own writing in front of the class. The said male pupil was asked about her two (2) crush with initials "OK" and "MS" and said:
"OK is the female Belarusian gymnast who introduced the deadly 'Korbut flip' in the World Olympics and "MS is the young, great tennis player from Yugoslavia."
I took the high road home, though it wasn't easy
neglected, abandoned, and used, I felt I deserved better
so I moved away from that dirty apartment full of rats and dirty men,
and cleaned up my act by working in a respectable Motel as a maid
I did the same kind of work but at least I got paid
and I didn't go home with a black eye and bruised shins
Tired of making up excuses for myself, I had to do something
so when I saw him enter the motel with Barbie girl, smelling of wine
and awful spritz, all I could do was tuck my head in and walk ;
"Maggie, you look like you just saw a ghost " my co-worker said
I gave her the do not disturb sign, " place this on that door please,
they don't want to be disturbed"
Then I walked to the front desk and dialed the police,
I told them where they could find him. Then I went back
to that dirty rat infested apartment and cleaned all night,
until the dawn bathed me with morning light. I was going to
be alright, at least for a fortnight.
October 24, 2021
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
Contest Name: The High Road
Most coupling is no safe bargain,
Unhinged by disappointments past,
sun rays lost to unbottled complaining
But we're two currents that flow in tandem,
Well aligned smart people
torn along the
fault line of searching,
With complicated layers of history
rejecting the trash fire of motel affairs,
Ideally positioned in flirting
blueprint of discovery
A blunt force, the underside of desire
in a new age strategy for lifeline distancing
Self control a virtue, wistful in taking it slow
Our litmus test of values,
comforting flavors of reasonable risk
What's the alternative?
the poisonous panic of a thin future
a body blow alone
no strategy for freshness
no pull of familiarity
Both of us wanting the empty space of
unscrambled direction
Both shabbier solo, like the spent vigor of
cut roses
Both knowing that the world has shifted
under us
Our outstretched arms that beckon the debris
of upended living
Our cookie jar reach
deferred,
for now.
Poem revised: January 19, 2021
In a place where letters don’t find a way,
My home is trails where spirits sway.
I wander freely, night and day,
In endless woods, I choose to stay.
My mailbox stands in an urban town,
But my home is where the leaves turn brown.
Through forests deep and mountains high,
Underneath the vast, open sky.
With every step, a new tale spins,
Of whispering pines and gentle winds.
A river’s song, a bird’s sweet call,
In nature’s arms, I find it all.
No walls confine, no roof above,
Just endless trails and boundless love.
My soul is free, my mind at peace,
In the wilderness, I find release.
When asked if bears or mountain lions I fear,
I say, “No,” crystal clear.
Their behavior, I can anticipate,
Unlike a stranger’s unknown mental state.
Eventually, each trail leads to a town,
Where I step off, lay my pack down.
Check into a motel, live human for a while,
Two or three days, embracing life’s style.
Then I check out and hit the trail again,
Where my true home lies, away from the strain.
So if you seek me, don’t look near,
My true home’s where the path is clear.
In the wild, where dreams set sail,
I live my life to the fullest on every trail.
Time here is measured
by the lint-clogged resurrections
of air-conditioners.
All of us have had to learn
to shout past our souls.
Dulled minds are churned awake.
Fractured nights slumber on
beneath the rocky rumble
of nearby ice-machines.
The ‘Marigold’
is unmarried, divorced and abandoned,
but for those still not seeking lonely
there are midnight do-overs.
Behind the days horizon
a desert sky still thirsts
in the mouths of discarded shoes.
Firey sunsets melt
a stale residue of bedside booze.
The Marigold is mad, it was built that way,
its identical rows of doors
are designed to be portals
to yet more distant parking lots.
We internees prefer our rooms
to be dead to the daylight,
though every night
they will always revert
to storage units
for long imagined - much better times.