Long Opener Poems
Long Opener Poems. Below are the most popular long Opener by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Opener poems by poem length and keyword.
A Vixen's Lair
Her front room was a simple setting with
no arts of distractions but a purposed
barren white wall in a circular room.
Two simple chairs that sat opposite of
each other with a centered round table
and tea set-up with a plate of baked goods.
Three doors, the main front, the kitchen, and the
restroom, an arched curtained draped hallway that
passes a study hall and massage room.
A round Chinese designed doubled-door led
into her very own private bedroom,
and upon entry is her vanity.
There laid her jewel box of convictions,
From her silver and white Pearls of poisons,
To her diamonds of destructive deceit.
Her letter opener was a unique
Ruby handle and silvery snake-like
Razor double-edged, felt-covered carved case.
Her specially made shampoo and lotion
Echoes through the night and concocted in
The morning sun with chosen rare fresh herbs.
A fur-covered round bed draped with silk sheets
Surrounded by tall Chinese vases stuffed
with protruding pink feathered plumages.
Tall lamps, porcelain, compressed together
With gas controls having two settings of
High and very high, configured torches.
--a knock at the door...
--...tour of adults that are camera-ready having left their kids
with tour guide at the ice cream stand out in front.
2019 September 02
*3rd Place*
Write the Poem You Have Always Wanted to Write
~~Caren Krutsinger
Went to the ROM last weekend
The Royal Ontario Museum
An absolute and total eye opener for sure
We with our sophisticated smugness
With our feeling of superiority
Emboldened by today's amazing technology
Need to stop and take a look back
At the achievements of these artisans
From centuries gone by
Of generations with totally amazing skills
Without the aid of of today's technology
To help them in their endeavours
Just their hands and their inventive minds
The results of which were astounding
I stood there in awe
It was a totally mind blowing experience
Everyone needs to take a break and look back
It makes us realize what great things
The human mind has always been capable of
It was a jaw dropping experience!
I'm thankful for everything- seen; unseen
That every breath since birth have experienced,
Many things I've make heaven and earth lean
Towards the edge of running hope, silenced.
If time will not mind;
Only then, won't stop cups wined
Till dawn... comes it shined.
I'm thankful for that which I have been through...
Every change at a time losing past cheers
To embracing tough challenges anew;
Rough enough to run tarry fearful tears.
If Yes dreams off No;
Only then, won't dare stoop low
Cum struggles to grow.
I'm thankful for everything that I am,
The part of me I lost to drowning fear
To make luck's stake get the best out of jam-
Building up part can't let fail a rare sphere.
If means gets better,
Only then, lot writes letter-
Good enough petter.
I'm thankful for excuses against win,
As an option to hide confrontations...
I struggle to catch up with or try pin-
Accounting for unplanned designations.
If progress gets on;
Only then, won't stop Milan
Until Rome be won.
I'm thankful for dangers that keep me fit,
Every eyes opener alarming weakness
To redeem scar's strength through many a ,
Enough to stage grace guiding happiness.
If fun never done;
Only then, won't long just pun...
Till life be pardon.
~The Magic Of A Book~
(Senryu/Nonet/Whitney/Senryu)
Books are great to read
They inspire minds just to learn
Explore other worlds
Hold
Them and
Read pages
They'll bring for you
Something nice and new
You can read all you want
Books in diverse subjects are
For whatever mood you are in
So go ahead pick a book have fun
Knowledgeable
They're wonderful
Have pictures
Enchanting hearts
Read for hours
Give us wisdom
Every book is eye opener
They transform the soul
Improving all the time mind
Sit and read a book.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
July.19.2016
~Author's Notes:
The " Whitney " is a poetry form or style created by Betty Ann Whitney.
My earliest recollection was being placed in a Coca Cola cooler in a Barbershop in Virginiatown Ontario. I heard the sound of the Nickle being placed in the coin slot. Then an eager little boy opened the top and peered in with twinkling blue eyes. I wondered which one of us he would choose? His tiny little hand reached towards me and guided me through a metal maze and yanked me out. He popped my top with the opener on the side of the Red machine. I wonder if that is how I got the name "Soda Pop". He held me close to his chest brought me over to his chair and placed me beside a stack of comics. I watched as he jumped up gleefully onto his chair.
He grabbed me with his two little hands and put me up to his mouth. My orange fizziness passed over his lips, onto his tongue and then down his throat. A big toothy smile and an orange coated tongue. I felt his little tummy bursting until a big burp and a giggle gave him relief. Even after my orange had been consumed he seemed to enjoy the texture of my glass as he rotated me in his hands. I remember him turning me upside down and peering at the room through my base. He liked the way I played with the light. When he was done he placed me in a paper bag with his comics to take me home.
To be continued...
A Statistic
Sometimes I feel tired of being in my own skin....feeling overwhelmed with sin that’s not my own...sorrow overbearing with thoughts of black teenagers that will never be grown...men, and woman dying as children...because they were shot by cops that are the same color of my skin....so now I am another statistic...reason being...is from what I’m seeing...my skin is seen with privilege...because I’m not black I lack the same disrespect from cops that Tyrone might get...and yet I feel tired of being in my own skin...feeling responsible for the many wrongful deaths....in all depths...from wanted to be a cop...wearing a badge of a cop...to holding the gun of a cop...when will it stop...the motto is “him or me”....them or we...shoot to kill...not disable...because you leave him or her able to come back the next day to bring more to the table....apprehending is now becoming a fable...or turned into one...it’s easier to do damage with a taser or take a life solving problems permanently with a gun...than it is to disable make unable to run...no lesson to learn from...I might be white as so that’s the color they call my skin...but I’m from the same east New York Brooklyn city line shopping neighborhood black kids grew up in...as I grow older I grow colder to what police officers are trained to do...”Shoot to kill...not disable to make unable...to come back the next day to bring more to the table”.....as much as I would refuse to be a bullet ballistic...I am just like everyone else who is the color of my skin A statistic...
~The Magic Of A Book~
(Senryu/Nonet/Whitney/Senryu)
Books are great to read
They inspire minds just to learn
Explore other worlds
Hold
Them and
Read pages
They'll bring for you
Something nice and new
You can read all you want
Books in diverse subjects are
For whatever mood you are in
So go ahead pick a book have fun
Knowledgeable
They're wonderful
Have pictures
Enchanting hearts
Read for hours
Give us wisdom
Every book is eye opener
They transform the soul
Improving all the time mind
Sit and read a book.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2009
May.07.2017
“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”
- Mark Twain-
~Author's Notes:
The " Whitney " is a poetry form or style created by Betty Ann Whitney.
The " Senryu" is a Japanese poetry form or style.
That pen just lies there on the pale white blank pad page__no activity; that sorry pen has O D on something dangerous_passed out_hardly breathing..Come on pen sit up_here sip on this strong coffee..That's it click, look around, life is active, inviting_write it down..Come on now_here eat up of these grits and red-eyed gravy; now that is an eye opener..You've slept through the last rose of summer that was deep burgundy long stemmed on the bush. You missed that lucious kiss under the pale pink rose that on the trellis grows. Winter is coming on, sober up, get busy for you missed the Hummingbird sip nectar from the Wild Petunia then fly away leaving hundreds of Yellow Butterflies to get intoxicated upon its blooms..So you say you are awake now..Here let me kiss you beautiful ink flowing 'pon the page!
I think my pen OD on chocolate though!!!
Sponsor: Joann Grisetti
Contest: Drunken Pen Round 2
A writer walks into a room with his heart in his hands~
not bleeding, not broken, but folded neatly,
like origami gently placed in in a drawer.
He lays it on the desk.
The editor’s fingers
are scissors, a scalpel, a rusted letter opener.
She does not ask permission.
Somewhere, a printer goes offline.
Somewhere, a coffee cup stains a rejection slip.
The man watches his heart unfold under her gaze,
each crease a line she might cut.
When she speaks, her voice is a papercut~
quick, precise, almost painless.
Not this, she says,
but maybe next time.
He leaves with his heart refolded,
smaller now,
but still beating.
.
oh
Yahweh
yessss
mine
Almighty God
thuh hemp
iz
'bout mine throat
Yahweh
mine
Almighty God
My woke on the
BAHM side uv
mine bed
and mine cerebrum
mine think
kept your servant
thrashing through
Your Dark
Nope
i
can't give eve
back
*think'n if the woke experience wuz
an eye opener when compared to
Adam's decision to choose purty
flesh over Jehovah's Will...dang
*Sunday's Testimonial .)