Long Nail Poems
Long Nail Poems. Below are the most popular long Nail by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nail poems by poem length and keyword.
“You look happy.”
It wasn’t a compliment, nor was it truly an observation. It did not fall from his tongue with ease, it clung to his very being like a toxin that could not be purged. It was an accusation, a statement that settled itself between the two of us and silently solidified the notion of our separation.
Because I was happy.
I was so happy it threatened to consume us both, proving with no uncertainty that it was finished. The nail beaten so crudely into the coffin that even his deft hands could not pry their way inside. The all encompassing grasp of his self actualized sadness no longer touched the depths of me. I had reduced him from a prophet to a beggar, and in the end, I was happy.
So you’re all probably thinking
that these winter months sure are dull,
and I bet that you are wishing
from something to break the lull.
What if I were to tell you
that it all can end right now,
that there’s a new book out there
That will make you all say, “Wow!”
TALES OF THE FAR WANDERERS,
that’s the title you need to seek,
and I am not just saying that
because it's written by me.
I say it because this fine book
has action and adventure galore,
a true rollicking, rolling romp
that will leave you shouting,”More!”
It’s set in a medieval future
twenty thousand years removed,
with Mount Rushmore half in ruins,
worshipped by believers true.
There are strange fertility dances
that catch our heroes off-guard,
and chases over long prairie
against slavers gone too far.
There’s trading towns more dangerous
than any rugged wilderness,
and woods containing bow-men
who put to shame the very best.
There are sieges in a lonely keep,
and a roaming half-man man,
there’s a king who takes any woman
who he thinks can bring him land.
There’s a hero with no home left,
and his girl, the last of her kind,
they fight tooth-and-nail just to survive
in a world that’s lost to time.
They are heroes holding to what’s true
in a land of brutes and thugs,
so great I think you’ll forgive me
for this truly shameless plug…
TALES OF THE FAR WANDERERS,
Available now on Amazon.
There’s even a short epic poem in there, near the end.
It’s awesome. You should all go buy it.
Right now.
Why are you still reading this? Go.
Patriots and Seahawks, today head to head
Will wear the helmets; tooth and nail fight the day
University of Phoenix stadium, the beautiful Grand Canyon state
Sweat and blood will spill on cactus bed.
Hard training, pain, dedication and rivalry
Let it end today in guts, honor and glory.
“The Star- spangled Banner”, the sweet little song
That’s the way to start the game on
The Red, White and Blue, waving in the air
Jet planes stripe the sky in white smoky flair.
It is half time show; Katy Perry will soothe the ear
Lenny Kravitz will tear up our fear.
Time to have a drink baby
Cold beer, pinot noir or tequila savory
Let’s dive deep in some dips
Velveeta, salsa and tortilla chips.
Enjoy the platter of, hot wings, blue cheese and dill mayonnaise
Add some green olives, carrots and crunchy celeries.
Slices of pizza or meaty tacos, gasp my sigh
A bowl of chili, or even a chicken leg fry
Everything will go just fine
When we are all football high.
Forget all work, qualms and quarks
Keep your whining and politics inside the drawers
Let’s all watch the Super Bowl on this Sunday
And hold dear a simple pleasure in truly American way.
Of WHAT USE ARE FINGERS TO HANDS THAT ONLY UNDERSTAND MITTENS
I have a bunion and an ingrown toe nail;
I’m a blind man wearing glasses and I can’t find them;
My hair is so short that I am bald;
My spine so straight I am tall;
I have a four year old who keeps shaking his fist at his sister;
And it’s cold and snowing my question is;
Of what use are fingers to hands that only understand mittens;
And what’s the use in cooking dinner in the kitchen;
When we don’t know how to fry chicken livers;
12/17/22 2022©
For Of What Use Are Gloves to Fingers That Only Understand Mittens Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John lawless
Adamant Face
My mother used to say with an adamant face, "There is a place for everything and for everything a place!”
My goodness, this house is a total disgrace"
So every Tuesday at quarter past 4:OO
each person in our family had the same chore,
to straighten the house and pick up the floor.
We all sighed, then one replied,
“Where do we put things?”
“Where do they go?”
"Where did they come from?"
"We don’t know!”
"Just put things back in their original home.
"Whatever you do, don’t let them roam"
If you don’t know what it's called,
where to put it,
or what it does,
or you can’t throw it out or know it’s name because,
it doesn’t have a match or
there is a piece detached ;
then don’t give up, just keep your chin up.
Leave nothing astray, but please be done by the end of the day"
"There is a place for everything and for everything a place" she reminded us with her adamant face.
Our cleaning began, and what did we find ?
Interesting things of every kind.
Two birthday candles from my cake years ago, rusted nail clippers that trimmed my big toe.
A broken pencil with a very dull end, and a thank you card I forgot to send.
A soy sauce packet stuck to a fork, from a take out order of moo shoo pork.
A spool of thread, the color red, when I sewed my clumsy thumb instead!
Grandpa’s glasses missing one lens
My sister’s retainer
And 2 leaky pens
A postal stamp
A bread bag clip
The top to my mother’s pink lipstick.
A germy cold lozenge when I had the flu.
A dirty lace from a tennis shoe.
Three receipts from CVS.
A zipper from an old prom dress.
Soon we finished, and one replied,
“Our cleaning is done, we picked up the floor,
No longer a disgrace anymore!"
"We put things back in their original home,
where they belonged and could not roam”
“Mother, that place was the kitchen drawer!"
Our job is done, say no more!
March wades in
ankle deep in the melt.
The edges of iron nights rust
turn into pyrite dawns.
Pewter rivers shimmer into silver
fish-tailed coats
as the sunlight rolls down main street
window-shopping.
Of a sudden
nail-bound ribcages loosen,
worn down faces
surface once more like lost coins,
polished a little now and spending smiles.
March is a slow jazz melody
played through a fuzzy neck scarf.
Hands appear shaking fingers
encouraging the early flights
of expansive gestures.
On the roofs of many mouths
voices stretch out
to taste the sweetness of a dripping sky.
The city sweeps itself, in the early light,
puts on a left over makeup,
begins to spackle over
the ice cracked stains of winter.
We quietly celebrate and calculate,
dividing warm days from the chill,
fold away fat reserves
begin to wander into grocery stores
just to marvel at the early ripeness
of greenhouse fruits,
the bright display of plenty to come.
Life gives me pancakes with no maple syrup
Bread with no jam
A story with no happy ending
A body with no arm
I feel like God mocks me
Created me just for fun
Cause why give me eyes if I can't see?
Why give me legs if I can't run?
You give me puzzles with incomplete pieces
Send me on quests with no end
You watch silently as I get broken
And go even quieter while I mend
I feel like God mocks me
Gave me a hammer with no nail
Cause you knew this would happen, didn't you?
You must have known that I would fail
Destined to run a race with no finish line
Destined to be a candle without a wick
Destined to watch my life fall apart
And all that I built, brick by brick
I feel like God mocks me
So I won't try anymore
Tired of living a life of near misses
A life of neither nor
Destined to chase shadows
Cursed to befriend pain
When the sun sets tomorrow
I'll write this poem, again
Every hammer needs a nail
Every tunnel needs a train
Don’t fly off the handle at every turn
Speeds increase to the unknown
Curves know their way around the bend
Stay on the rails as gravity sometimes pretends
A bumpy ride is up ahead on tracks laid down
“No return” stamped on tickets to the “void”
When the sun turns on its side at midnight
Sunny side up, turns to the camera lens
To view the picture very nice and naughty
Virgins understand the venture and the depths
Virgins depend on the end as their best friend
Leave it to the conductor for a smooth ride home
Leave it to his wife to finish alone or at least at last
Rising from their graves,
Breaking through the ground,
Raised by radiation waves,
They are coming to your town.
Board up all your doors,
Nail them good and tight,
Or there will be blood and gore,
By the end of the night.
They tear down your walls,
Break through your window pane,
No one can help you at all,
When they try to eat your brain.
Those dead eyes make you shiver,
You scream out with alarm,
Zombies try to eat your liver,
And, chew on your leg and arm.
There is no point to tell her,
That it is just too late,
Go hide down in your cellar,
You cannot escape your fate.
Zombies are the living dead,
They do not easily expire,
So, cause injury to their head,
Or, burn them with fire.
Hungry zombies do not give,
Oh, you better run,
Or you will not live,
To see the rising sun.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
October, 11th, 2013
For Leonora Galinta's contest -
"Halloween-Only One Theme...Zombies!"
For three hours, I wait.
Is patient the word?
A friendly face, too soon?
Still, when your old
you have no time
for particulars, need to tell
your story to who will listen;
and walk miles and miles
of aisles in the dollar store
where your friend
never goes; and you tell
her about the rose;
and eventually
Mary and Martha meet,
having never crossed paths
before, and
probably nevermore this side
of heaven; and
the painstaking path
has been blocked.
For three hours I wait
to retreat, as
my husband texts me -
I mean I’m not that far away,
yet, time seems to travel.
Now, I’m quite familiar
with the products sold.
I bought a plastic box
(for a wig I used for my sister’s party);
a yellow, smiley face neck pillow,
nail wraps and nonpareils.
The jaunt of longsuffering,
surely was worth my time;
I survived. This was merely
the end of a very long day.
I’ll not bore you
with the unusual beginning.
Back home, I stuffed my face
and watched a show with my
husband. It was after seven.
I will see all of this reel as a real blessing
and be glad I didn’t stand anyone up.