Long One hundredth Poems
Long One hundredth Poems. Below are the most popular long One hundredth by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long One hundredth poems by poem length and keyword.
The Guildhall clock chimes
Eleven times this special day,
A great silence descends as
The two minutes tick away.
On parade at the Cenotaph,
An old man among old men
(Where did the years go for
In my mind I’m young again):
Not in best battledress
Or even Regimental Blues
But I’m booted and suited
With not quite bulled shoes,
And the old drill moves come back
So i manage to get them right
But age won’t quite let me stand
To attention, back ramrod straight.
Mixed in with the younger ones we old
Men marched with swagger and pride
Through the applause of the crowds,
Who lined the streets on either side.
For each of us in our way
Have walked that special walk
And we all still today
Can talk that special talk.
With pride and emotion we accepted
From those crowds at the parade
On behalf of those long dead
Recognition of sacrifices made.
I shall not march again, this
Time I just needed to appear
To show my respect in this
One Hundredth Anniversary Year
There isn’t much value to the cent today.
It is still one-hundredth of a dollar.
Inflation has eroded its value away.
It is enough to make me cry and holler.
It is still one-hundredth of a dollar.
One won’t put anything in your shopping cart.
It is enough to make me cry and holler.
It has been mistaken for its British counterpart.
One won’t put anything in your shopping cart.
It takes a whole bunch to buy anything.
It has been mistaken for its British counterpart.
It is easy to feel inflation’s sting.
It takes a whole bunch to buy anything.
There isn’t much value to the cent today.
It is easy to feel inflation’s sting.
Inflation has eroded its value away.
In an isolated island where most people are fishermen, life was so hard. One morning near the shore, a genie from a floating lamp appeared before a hundred fishermen and asked each one of them for a wish. Everyone got his chance and had his wish. Ninety-nine fishermen asked for money, clothes, boats, houses, jewelries and other material things. For the one hundredth and last fisherman, he only asked for a tree -- a coconut tree.
Floating lamp, above the surface waves
Fishermen grump, under the water paves
Impossible dreams, in any way unreachable
Imagination streams, in every way achievable.
(Prosebite)
We flirted and got closer throughout the day.
Not wanting to get caught, I pray in vain.
Our plans were just a matter of waiting.
Out in the parking lot, I stood patient.
He arrived casual and smiling.
I had my hands shaking.
Behind the open van’s trunk.
I stood still, feeling stuck.
To kiss.
or not to kiss?
My mind raced with raging thoughts.
Two of my sides viciously fought.
One pleaded that I must.
The other was begging for me to listen to it for once.
It all happened in less than a second
I was going to faint, I reckon.
Watching him face me.
And before I knew what I was doing.
I kissed him.
It was far from perfect.
but it was okay.
I was the first to pull away.
A peck on my right cheek, there’s nothing I could say.
My arm around his neck, thinking of a phrase.
I was struggling to still breathe as I said his name.
The name echoed as a whisper, barely a breath.
Such a precious name carries depth.
I calmed as he seemed mindful of my state.
Realizing our closeness, I stepped away.
I acted like I was unfazed as we separated for a moment.
“I love you,” he said, filling the silence with sentiment.
I flashed a winning smile at the statement.
“What?” I asked playfully, wanting him to go on.
He repeated his words, and I took a step closer.
I asked again, he responded the same, so I stepped again.
Standing inches apart, we are not just friends.
I went quiet as he drew out his one-hundredth “I love you” from his lips.
I couldn’t figure out how I formed the three words that dripped from my mouth.
I. Love. You.
My smile faded as I looked into his soul.
His eyes lost their childish mold.
Such awe and delight devoured me.
Then he asked to kiss, using the words of his eyes.
The moment vanished.
I’m back to the present.
That was all his game.
He was jealous of his friends, and I was easy to play.
for her sister's one hundredth birthday
a new sweater purchase from a store blocks away
a goal coveted, though for the aged, no such thing
as risk-free walking
she believes
self help springs from iron determination
anchored by her walker,
she trudges,
dismissable pain from battered knees
that grind in bone shrapnel
sapped by the demands of her quest,
her return walk of measured step affliction,
fatigue eroding
"Should I call police to usher me home?"
her thoughts like fabric fraying
in the ruling wreckage of movement, willfully overcome
she wraps her sister's white sweater that
ribbons their legitimacy
that hold them together
curbing minds drifting
daily quest to fight fading
two sisters, resilient blooms
to rage at pulls to brokenness
to slip what traps the aged
their undimmed merit in the slow lane
hardy hearts still beating
pivoting
in life flourishing love
that holds its footing in this world's
detachment
Poem composed: October 3/21
Twice I read a note my wife left for me
"Be home by four-thirty, love you" - she wrote
Twice I read a note my wife left for me
My wife said she loves me, she wrote a note
Yesterday was my one-hundredth birthday
Can I blow out the candles now; I think
There is one slice of cake left on the tray
Why are so many candles in my sink
I think I'll make some eggs sunny-side up
After, I read the left note from my wife
Why is there no coffee-cream in my cup
I will slice the cake with a butter knife
I think my dementia disease doubled
Just like a bridge over waters troubled
A Bridge Over Troubled Waters Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
5-13-2020
Up on our old tar roof, Friday night, I watched football
the high school was about a mile from my house.
You could always hear it at night.
I could see everything and nothing at the same time
Score: 20-21, hurrahs, screams of young kids, and older kids.
It was all a roar, a mixture of shouts and screams
the stadium lights glowed like Hollywood lights
and then my mind began to wander
Hollywood California, zip code 90210
I always imagined I lived in California – the climate there was basically the same as Florida.
California was where everyone on every television show had ever lived
In the mind of a 10-year-old, anyway.
it’s a fun way to pass time. Imagining places that could be home, when you’re an adult.
I swat at my one-hundredth mosquito that moment
More importantly it is where Justina Saurez did not live – a bully to my mind and soul
I contemplated what kind of actress I would be if suddenly discovered
A Marilyn? Or Lucille Ball?
The stars stared down at me, unflinching – unbroken by the night
As I wished to be
Another touchdown
I was on the verge of something big - I could feel it
The stars were telling me
“There is something hidden away only to be shown to you on a very special day”
What was out there? That's what I wanted to know.
It’s okay to be ... me.
Exercising the brain. Setting it free.
Always seeking for more.
Never give up, never surrender
To be right all the time is a flaw
Just striving to be the best I can be
Is a smart way to live if you ask me
Perhaps I'm just a mad scientist, I do believe
So, hop on the brain train
That’s forever learning what’s knowable
That clickity clackity of clarity
That comes from knowing what’s right
That burning, yearning feeling
To know something new
Is a breakthrough
Over the next horizon
Onto the tracks
Under the rainbow
Where it’s okay to explore
And be smart.
It’s okay to be ... you.
Exercise the mind. Set it free with poetry.
Always seeking more.
Never give up, never surrender
To be mediocre or less even, a bore
So, hop on the brain train with me
And be blessed, don't be like the rest
Be my intelligent observing passenger at best
Along this lifelong journey, be blessed again
Across the tracks
Over the next horizon
Under the rainbow
Where it’s okay to
Be smart.
It’s okay to be smart.
I peel bananas
Before I eat them
It’s okay to be smart
I wash red potatoes
Before I cook them
It’s okay to be smart
I say my prayers
Before I sleep
It’s okay to be smart
I wash my dishes
After every meal
It’s okay to be smart
I love who I love
Better than no love
It’s okay to be smart
Evil is stupid
Hatred is dumb
It’s okay to be smart
Live for today
For it might be the last
It’s okay to be smart
Then all-of-a-sudden
After the one hundredth read
Peace on Earth was declared!
Everyone’s happy!
Everyone everywhere’s smart
It’s okay to be smart
Be smart
Toadstools shouldn’t tower so;
A blade of grass be taller than I.
One raindrop shouldn’t get me soaked;
A ladybug look me in the eye.
Something seems amiss, I say;
This really is an awful surprise -
Either I’ve woken in a land of giants,
Or shrunken one hundredth of my size.
If it were a dream I’m in,
I wouldn’t have felt that pinch.
It seems to me a mile today,
Yesterday was just an inch.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have yelled at Mom
And screamed I wanted to live someplace else;
Perhaps that tantrum I threw last night
Shrunk me down smaller than an elf.
What can I do to regain my size
And have normalcy return?
I would say, I am sorry and hug my Mom
If my family I could rejoin.
Being bad really makes you small;
In many more ways than just one.
I have learned this lesson for myself -
Behaving is much more fun.
A four year endeavor
A lifetime of pain
The hours put in
Always fighting the strain
One hundredth of a second
Your dream crashes down
The spoils eluded
Someone else with the crown
No pictures or news clips
Today come your way
The prize to another
The trophy at bay
With pity now over
It’s time to dig in
The reward in the training
New endings begin
So head back to the track
Your pool or the court
The bar a bit higher
Your coach to retort…
“It’s all up to you
As you reweigh the cost
Never quitting—the magic
Until then nothing lost”
(Watching The Winter Olympics: February, 2014)