Long Napping Poems
Long Napping Poems. Below are the most popular long Napping by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Napping poems by poem length and keyword.
In a kingdom full of small;
Filled with relentless humans;
I sat engaged and unrelenting;
Upon a midnight hardhearted;
you are...
HEARTLESS
Once upon a midnight hardhearted;
^Suddenly, I heard something snap,
the paranoid brought such sorrow;
You warned me about the map;
And so you came gently flapping;
you are...
HEARTLESS
With such a passion for sapping;
Bored, I choose to sleep;
Bored, I’m napping;
Still engaged in relenting schemes;
While searching for my dreams;
Lo’ so foreign my heart you shall not keep;
you are...
HEARTLESS
You were ever so cold to me
Emotionless, you froze me
So thoughtless and uncaring…
So far you are. Ever so
Heartless
11/20/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
A man and a woman lived their lives separately that was different than the other
Eventually in life they came upon each other
It’s not too often that happily ever afters happen
You mostly get to experience fairytales while napping
Isn’t life beautiful when you’re enjoying it with the one you love?
Life is beautiful when you decide it is
Love can conquer and trump everything
Doesn’t being in love make you stop and smell the roses?
A hand that reaches for yours in times of need can make you feel less alone in life
Nothing is picture perfect but having your person with you can make you feel like living life is worth it
Do you believe in fairytales in life?
Do you believe there’s a special person that God created for you in this lifetime?
What is the true definition of happiness to you?
Is it money?
Cars or expensive things to you?
Or is it the memories you make?
Is it finding the right one and the people you choose to have around you?
Do you believe in fairytales?
Do you believe life is great as long as you have all the money in the world?
You can admit you crave that fairytale kind of love
That love that never fades and never gives up
That’s the love worth fighting for and the love you should never give up
Napping on shifting boughs, a restful stirring
Moving the spirit to sing and dance, soaring,
Gliding over the cloudless night, skies blurring.
Resting on gentlest night, sleep so restoring,
Remembering to screech at the morning light,
Forests are flooded by those who’ve been snoring.
Wisdom invites hearts to sing of all that’s right,
With this world, which seldom brings our lives much praise,
Kind souls sometimes cling to a forgiving night.
On the nocturnal, wings flutter like a maze,
Silently settling with music in desires,
Who ripple through my heart, so I can stargaze.
Just being myself is all my soul requires,
Heartening this owl’s dreams before life expires.
A young girl giggles her way through the summer spongey swelter.
Her parents succumbed to the insistent call to close their eyes after a fried chicken picnic,
And the tow-headed two-year-old heeded the call of the nearby pond.
Glints of purest light reflect like sparkles on a birthday balloon, and she runs to catch them,
Until the water is above her tiny head and her giggles become desperate gurgles.
Suddenly swans, like a feathered rescue brigade, land all around her,
And she grabs the beautiful white tail feathers bobbing nearby.
She wakes up on the bank, surrounded by her parents, who, awakened by the deafening cacophony of the swans,
Ran in search of their lost chick.
Eighty years later that same girl lies dying in a nursing home.
While she is old and sick, she is recognizable from her infectious giggle,
Softly curling hair about her face that almost looks like it did in her youth,
Especially when the light from the window bounces off the yellow, semi-gloss paint seemingly found in every institution.
She is alone, like the day of the picnic.
Father and mother are eternally napping along with her beloved husband of 61 years.
But she is happy because in her mind she is still that young girl . . .
Running to the pond, walking down the aisle, and standing by her husband’s side.
She closes her eyes, and suddenly swans fly into view, surrounding her. She reaches out for the nearest glowing white tail feather . . .
The nurses find her peacefully gone, a smile on her face.
And, strangely, clutched tightly in her right hand, they find a long, pristine, white feather.
April 16, 2019
It was late into the night
When Bert Ernie and I
Were traveling across the plans of Nebraska
Much to my surprise
Bert looks me straight in the eyes
And says Mike, I gotta question to ask ya
With Big Bird wrapped up in the trunk
You'd think that he'd already thunk
About this night long before it already happened
When we took Oscar the Grouches can lid
And whacked Big Bird smack dab in the head
Then tied him up tight while he was napping
We rolled him out to curb
Believe me it looked quite absurd
Ernie grunting with Bert complaining as feathers went flying
But as would be our fate
Able to make our planed escape
When Count Von Count took time out to do some feather counting
So this is now where we are
Bert, Ernie, Me, and Big Bird in the trunk of our car
Not really knowing where it is we are heading
Our thinking went only as far
As nabbing Big Bird and the get away car
Putting Ernie in charge wasn't such a good idea is what I am betting
Ernie says he's figured it all out
Bert says we need this, but still has his doubts
Cause Bert owes back pay alimony and Ernie his bookie
We head to Ernie's planed drop off spot
And of course it's swarming with cops
While our inside man " The Monster " gave us up for Cookies
They let Big Bird out of the trunk
Who proceeded to slap us punch drunk
Then straight to the judge to pay for this hideous crime
I can't think of any worse fate
I now know this was a fatal mistake
The sentence...
Banished to Sesame Street for life, now that is hard time
Creativity is my go to place
I am constantly listening to my imagination
She is frisky and fun, and keeps me on an even plane
It is my place when I am sad, mad, angry, depressed.
Napping is my favorite way to get in touch
Because mornings are busy, but afternoons not so much
When my life is caving in, and I am losing my mind or having a breakdown
I take to my bed, to regenerate and replenish the real me.
The me that is hiding from the others
Which is everyone else, showing herself in bits and spurts
On her own terms, not honest with most
For there is a frightened one inside and we have to protect her
By being creatively unstoppable and strong.
I really should'a read the fine print
When Evil came calling
On a fine sunny day
I was caught full napping
Didn't know what to say.
The dapper gentleman
With a Van Dyke set fine
Spoke in dulcet tones
Like sweet and mellow wine.
My name is I Levi
Very softly he said
I grant all one's wishes
Till the day they are dead.
For power and for pelf
If You strongly desire
Or bevy of beauties
To set your loins afire.
You ask me what you will
I'll grant it with a snap.
There is no hidden catch
There's no devious trap.
I had heard of dealings
With powers of the dark
Of dire trades of soul
Of hell-damnation stark.
I asked of I Levi
Of what I had to do
Just sign he smiled and said
Just common ink in blue.
Great doubts I had at first
But soon dispelled by greed
Quickly I read the script
Signed the mystic deed.
Great was wealth and power
My lot from that day on
Youth, vigour, virility
My cares and worries gone.
For full twelve months I lived
A life that Bacchus shamed
Wild, wanton, to the brim
No rein could make me tamed
Then one fine sunny day
While wining with a wench
Came Levi with a smile
And a terrible stench.
Your Time's up, my dearie,
He most cheerfully said
You are now Satan's guest
As now that you are dead.
I pleaded and begged
My tears started to sting
I told him of the deed
Where there was no such thing.
Softly Levi told me
What that day he had said
I grant all one's wishes
Till the day they are dead.
Your time here is ended
As ordained on Above
Your soul will be taken
Your Corpus feel the plough.
I've now learnt my lesson
Rather late in the day
Caveat Emptor holds
The fine print's always there.
I really should'a
Most carefully read da
Fine print then, Goddamn it!
Did you know, cats are smart. Black cats are extra smart, with a sixth sense. We know to stay off the streets, black cats on the streets mean trouble for people. Black cats need extra love and rubs, we are very independent. Don't disturb us while napping or sleeping, you will get a huge hiss. We love play time, we need plenty of toys and catnip for us to enjoy. Make sure our litter box is changed each day, we like nice smells around us. Remember black cats need extra rubs, it's time for some of those extra rubs.
Date Written:3/22/2022
1 Place
Black Cat Contest Judged: 4/3/2022
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
We sit on the dock in silence
Enjoying the sounds of the others looking for us
They call our names, but we are busy
Communing with each other
On this sleepy day
We are busy, being best friends,
My stuffed pal and I.
He actually hears what the humans are yelling
But I am engrossed in watching an ant
She is struggling with a piece of cracker
Was it my cracker of the cracker of another?
I like to think it is mine as I watch her
We have a connection, the ant and I.
My mother scoops me up and hugs me
Acting like I was in danger or something.
Willy, my stuffed pal rolls his eyes
As she picks him up next.
It is off to the napping place for us.
I ask Momma to get my ant, but she does not.
my best friend knows my stories, has my back, laughs with me
He and I share two dogs, they are our babies, Maxie and Maddy
We are silly enough to call ourselves their mommy and daddy
Been together for fifty-seven years, my best friend and me
My best friend misses me when I am gone, which is a rarity.
We are evenly matched in wit and wisdom, in complete parity.
My friend and I both have hazel eyes and dark hair, but I dye mine.
We take turns napping now, because babies want one up all the time.
There are so many reasons that I love my best friend, impossible to choose.
He knows me better than anyone else; can find anything I misplace or lose.
Knows what foods to buy, so he does the grocery shopping.
He also does the laundry, this man is a dynamo who is forever hopping.
We can finish each other’s sentences,
so claim we are redundant all the time.
I guess the best thing about my best friend
is that since 1968 he has been mine.