Long Oregon Poems
Long Oregon Poems. Below are the most popular long Oregon by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Oregon poems by poem length and keyword.
On this side of Oregon is North Carolina
Pacific and Atlantic Oceans hold tight between
Cup the land full of trees and minerals called rocks
Mountains really, in their own right
The Mississippi River cuts like a scar
From north to south not sure which shore
To claim a side to or right to flow from
But Oregon knows that left is correct
And North Carolina is slow to follow
Trees have lost the ability to walk
So they race from place to place in place
Hide in the shadows of mistakes
Dotting the landscape as they stand in peace
Drinking in sunlight, sorrows and showers
Leaning more towards the left coast
Liberal enough to be cut down
With the rest of us in our sleep
While rummaging thru papers to shred...
Earlier this November fourth
two thousand and nineteen
your truly long in the tooth
(er...in dentured) wordsmith
rifled thru miscellaneous papers to shred
unwittingly chancing upon
report cards enlightening me,
academic, emotional, social...
characteristics, née significant
figurative "red flags,"
(no not signifying me being blacklisted
re: guarding Communism taking root)
rather teacher's comments
signaled moderate behavioral crisis,
where bass and treble clef acronyms
“Good Boys Do Fine Always”
"every good boy does fine"
respectively analogously noteworthy
(namesake Matthew Scott Harris)
because a lad (in) attendance at:
following primary grade schools:
Audubon Elementary, Eagleville,
and Henry Kline Boyer)
exhibited crushing arduousness
nsync with chronically
profound inability to
acclimate, integrate, participate...
spelling academic difficulty,
alienation, isolation, resignation...
said pronounced mental, physical,
and social perturbations
compounded manifold when promoted
regardless abysmal failing marks
most likely congenital,
vital intervention absent
absolute zero doubt
developmental delay debuted,
since youngest daughter
twenty one February 4th, 2020
diagnosed soon after birth
within autistic spectrum
intervention luckily bridged
yawning, looming, gaping... cleft
less apparent to non family,
she functions admirably
employed at World Market
while enrolled at Bend, Oregon
Community College
relieved healthy maturation
courtesy ability appropriate
custom tailored, (not necessarily swiftly,
nor styled harriedly)
confidence building academic assignments
need based (cost free) tutoring
wrap around at our home,
based speech pathology,
Montgomery County Hospital,
acquiring driver's license,
progressing positively (think)
chronological milestones achieved
mostly on target
boosting self esteem, worthiness
validating benefits, viz palliative care
side stepping severe suicidal
tendency unlike her papa
who permanently stunted his growth.
there she was, my Twin-V
not my favorite color
but the price was one i couldn't deny
and i was after a new ride for the highway
when you live for that white line
rolling beneath the front tire
hypnotic in its freedom
i heard that kvetch as a child
don't let life bore you until it ends
freedom to be claimed at any price
two hands at the controls
feet ready to bid any gear
leaning into the curves
hands given freedom, outstretched
look, ma i am balancing the universe
i am on a highwire asphalt
the clowns have abandoned sanity
the taste of freedom
as my guardian angel clings for life
the grim reaper in hysterical laughter
and that old Twin-V took me there
until that godforsaken cager
turned into the hospital
and trained as i was, went limp
into the lives of the cagers
his wife looking down, whimpering
convinced, the windshield nonexistence
meant i was bound for happy hunting grounds
my rolling off the hood was convincing
medical teams would envelop me
and there i was, ignoring questions
quick with the retorts
activate the mind to prevent shock
i am old hat at this from work
broken-up men need quick diversions
lest shock sets in
not Hollywood, look me in the eyes
off to the emergency room
where i explain to the policeman
not ignoring you, diverting an impact
and as my Twin-V a shared fate
we will never again see
a white line rolling beneath a front tire
my new license plate holder declared
former biker, now a caged animal
Oregon 9/25/26
Some friends we met a year ago
On an Italian tour
Said, "Visit us in Oregon -
We'd love to see you more."
It took a year but here we are
And what a day they planned!
We drove 200 miles, viewing
So much gorgeous land.
From Vista House, we made our way
Up to Multnomah Falls.
The photos don't do justice
To a sight that just enthralls.
Hood River was our destination
Next to stop for lunch,
But first we checked out all the shops
Before we got to munch.
Delicious food, a killer view
Of windsurfers and kites;
A mild and sunny day we had
To add to our delights.
Next stop, the lodge at Timberline,
A rustic ode to wood,
The views a bit obscured but still,
We'd stay there if we could.
From there, a little detour
To a campground by a stream
With wine and cheese, bread, grapes and jam -
It felt just like a dream.
There even was s tablecloth -
Such planning all this took!
Reliving childhood days, I tossed
Some sticks into the brook.
At last, a visit to their home,
An elegant retreat.
(We surely have a knack to find
The best folks we can meet!)
Some drinks on the veranda,
Then some steaks cooked on the grill;
Potatoes, salad, yummy tart -
We more than ate our fill!
They drove us "home" - the day was like
Perfection at its peak.
All this from friends so special,
Though we've known them just a week!
(Dedicated to John and Debbie)
With verdancy surrounding me, I wish to spin
around this world of endless spring that I am in.
Bewitched am I by forests, hills, and fields of green.
If nature is a woman, here she loves to preen
in emeralds whose splendor I’ve so seldom seen
as I revel in our drive out to the ocean.
Winding roads we travel with a zig-zag motion.
Where land weds water, we breathe a magic potion.
How I love this gorgeous shoreline of Oregon.
We come upon a beach, so I’m expecting fun,
But sky does not comply, and now we’ve lost the sun!
I also notice once-blue sky has changed to grey.
How happy I had been to spend time at the bay,
but wind and chilly weather bring my heart dismay.
The water feels so cold! I pull my sweater tight.
I can’t lie on my blanket soaking in sun’s light.
Oh, I long to jump some waves! This just isn’t right.
Wasted beauty can’t be felt warm upon my skin!
Bewitched am I by forests, hills, and fields of green
as I revel in our drive out to the ocean.
How I love this gorgeous shoreline of Oregon.
I also notice once-blue sky has changed to grey
The water feels so cold! I pull my sweater tight.
Wasted beauty can’t be felt warm upon my skin!
Written July 5, 2016 for The Crown of Couplets Contest
Judged July 30, 2016 and now used
for the I Got Zero, Nothing, Nada- 2 Poetry Contest of Broken Wings
how was school for you back in the day, Grandma?
Well, I could barely read my own writing
The wagon wheels hit every single bump along the Oregon trail.
Why didn’t you ride in a car or a truck? He asked me.
All we had were covered wagons back then.
We had to throw out granny’s organ though; it weighed too much.
Couldn’t get over the mountains with it.
What mountains?
The Missouri Mountains.
I didn’t know there were any Missouri Mountains!
Not any more, I told him, the giant alligators ate them.
My daughter is running her finger around her ear.
But he does not notice.
At age seven, he still loves my stories.
as we enter winter
gathered at the hearth's edge
waiting for the robin's song to return
outside the winterberry holly stands
nestled in the newly fallen snow
the wind plays on the fallen leaves
once lords in the sun, now preparing to serve yet more
as they are absorbed, predestined beneath
the cycle fated cannot be deterred
a promise infrangible
the robin's song will return
outside the chickadees, cardinals, wren
nature is never denied a song
in any season
the trees are hoar-laden
the holidays will fill the house once again
some new faces, some missing
life is never without change
then normal returns
we have our rooms, you will craft the day
and i will write
a new bit of clothing, a new poem
we consume smaller meals
we never tire of the joy of being together
i never tire of sitting watching you craft
or watch from the window remembering you
lost in the world you create outside
as you meander from birdfeeders
into the flowers and small vegetable garden
that smile upon you as i left the garage
with the squirrel feeder i provided
for that menagerie you care for
a kit i bought from a magazine
we are now in our seasonal places
as are the garden tools in the shed
the compost pile is covered
are replaced with tapestry needles, crochet hook
measuring tape, gauge ruler, snips, needles, yarn,
other than the holidays, we are wintered in
gathered at the hearth's edge
waiting for the robin's song to return
sometimes i sit in her room
watch her craft, listen to music
i bring her a poem i wrote
and read it to her
as i had so long ago on a park bench
it was my life's romantic pursuit
one i have never abandoned
she notes, only a few lines
in the forevermore
of those empyreal meadows
i have but two wants
one, a park bench
two, a moon adoring you
handing back the poem
i remember a poem you wrote for me
if i may quote my poet, she said
i stole those lines for you
these, my dear, you stole from you
fetch us some tea
Oregon 9/16/26
planning
The other day Anna created a Pinterest board of wedding ideas (Cheesy, she knows). “It’s time to hop on the bandwagon,” she said. She insists every other girl she’s aware of - except her weird Yale roommates - has one.
We think her girls back home (in Oregon) - who didn’t go to college, are matching up with the Larrys and Gregs who stayed home to become auto mechanics and carpenters - and are now serially getting married. This trend seems to be exerting an odd, psychological pressure on Anna.
“You may be jumping the gun,” Sophie observes.
Anna’s never even had a long-term boyfriend before, but she wishes she had one now. A part time BF anyway, because who has time for more? Anna is self-proclaimed awkward with guys, especially cute ones.
She created a tinder account and uses it to see how many matches she can get - but she refuses to meet any guys there because she says she’s not “desperate.” She thinks everything about tinder screams awkward, unless people are just hooking up there - and that idea, in her mind, is absolutely disgusting.
saving the planet
Late last Friday night, a graduate friend of Peter’s threw a party at his house - far from campus. The house was packed with people and the music was thumping, the crowded rooms jumping - practically humping - in time to a Sacramento horror punk band called “The cramps" that was playing on loop.
I made it through the living room mob to the kitchen, which was oddly empty and well lit. There was a disheveled girl gripping the island bar with one hand, like we’re on a rocking ship, while trying to light a cigarette with the other. I gently wangled the lighter from her - so she didn’t set her hair on fire - and gave her a light.
Afterwards, I slipped the lighter into her skirt pocket, and noticed half the island had coke spilled all over it. “I gave it a drink,” she said, slurring and wavering on her feet, “it looked thirsty.”
That’s when I noticed her now-empty rum and coke cup next to a soaking wet little cactus plant, two ice cubes now lodged in its dirt. I reassured her as I helped her onto a chair, “you were saving the planet.”
life holds many paths
the chances of sharing grow
strides prosaic become perchance
opportunities to engage
possibly only one in the day
emerge from the breath of being
a hand waiting for understanding
heart in need of restoration
a longing in need of a short smile
attention listening for compassion
essentials craving compassion
along this path we pass once
a journey filled with blessings
the kind you provide from your hand
a humble contribution is recompense
sometimes all that is needed
to hear that secret chord David played
paths may cross in any given time
failing to recognize crossroads
where they have suffered
perished from backs turned away
succumbing to an empty palm
eventually denied a church burial
who had lost life's struggle
shamed by those who walked
around them, broken hallelujahs
life holds many paths
opportunities absorbing and fascinating
yet one carries a reward within
where you can hear David's chord
have you heard it lately
perchance your hallelujah needs repair
if so, seek them who hear
they stand in soup kitchens
greet donations at doors
distribute sandwiches in parks
whose appearance reminds one of the joy
when, as a child, the ice cream truck
turned the corner on your street
life was vibrant, one observation herein
i have discovered in old age proof
the Good Humor man didn't come enough
Oregon 9/3/26
The name Good Humor came from the belief that a person's "humor" or temperament was related to the humor of the palate (one's sense of taste). Good Humor ice cream truck was invented in 1920 in Youngstown, Ohio, by confectioner Harry Burt, who placed a chocolate-coated ice cream bar on a wooden stick to make it less messy to eat.
Exclusion from Holy Ground: Because suicide was considered a direct sin against God, victims were excommunicated and barred from consecrated church graveyards.
Crossroads Burial: The corpse was typically dragged through the streets, taken out of the town at night, and buried at a remote crossroads. Today the custom continues; suicides are denied a Christian burial.
I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
Songwriters: David Phelps / Dp
Hallelujah
Song by Leonard Cohen ? 1984
i love ballet
the synchronization of the body
to music
as I watch those bodies glide
swans upon a water chorus
I see the black band
worn by the Roman Legions
a fidelity so strong
self-control is never an issue
dedicated to no matter the price
no care given to pain
the goal is to be achieved
enthralled, inspired I sit in rapture
the admiration encased in ballet
breathes in hope
we, humans, may eventually achieve
the larger goal before us
Earth rotating thru the heavens
carrying the bliss we deserve
where life has found the dedication
this lithe, svelt performance
I sit and watch
until then I purchase my ticket
sit in the front row
hope and dream
watch enthralled of what could be
Oregon 6/23