Long Out Poems
Long Out Poems. Below are the most popular long Out by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Out poems by poem length and keyword.
wouldn’t it be awesome
if life were always as smooth
as scoops of homemade
strawberry ice cream
easing down our throat
on lazy summer days
sad truth is
oftentimes we’ll find
grit in our leftover soup
when we’re at our hungriest
yes, my friends
we’ve got to make the most
of good times as they roll by
because we never know
what’s around the corner
when the road ahead
is smooth and the sun is out
let the wind blow your hair
as if driving
the convertible of your dreams
always be prepared to
spit out the grit
as you ride
the roller coaster
of your life
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~MINDFULLY~ 2021
Read on air by invitation ~ June 11, 2021 'LATE NIGHT POETS'
AP: 2nd place 2021
Warsaw 1940 certain inhabitants designated
A health risk were ordered to strip naked
Had to shower to become clean this ploy
Caused public humiliation, and showed
Dominence there was also mass quarrantine
Also to your own house that was
Useless in its 'so called mission'
And in fact caused a rise in infection
As the immune systems of people
Lowered due to length of confinement
this was a take on the tried and
Tested method (the public heakth emergancy)
Pioneered earlier that decade in Germany
In declaring a public health emergency i think
In 1933?, this enabled opening the way for martial law
Which was the springboard hitler craved to get
Complete control of the German populace
Any person of Germanic nationality over the age
Of forty years in age, should be able to validate
These events as also george psoriasus and
klaus the louse would be emminently qualified
To so do.' At this moment in the UK a rise in
Typhoid cases is being flagged up by the health
Department..
i heard a woman
state how proud
that the state had
finally passed a
bill that wouldn't
allow teens to
buy cigarettes
of course they
made the legal
age twenty one
and of course
history does
repeat itself
as in when
they
changed the
drinking age
to what was
proper and
of course
let's not
think
twenty one seems
to be that age when
suddenly at twenty
you weren't capable
of making an adult
decision so that
means childish
ness allowed
you at seven
teen to sign
up and serve
in whichever
military branch
you couldn't
drink or
now can't
smoke for
but yes oh
god almighty
you can certain
ly and without ID
die
for
IT
Form:
Right and wrong are basic concepts, and like
night and day, it's clear what sets them apart.
Fight or flight warps my vision and clouds my
sight when I stop listening to my heart.
My world is changing so negatively;
I am scared of what tomorrow may bring.
Sky-high prices fuel inflation, while
sly grifters promote bitcoins, memes, and bling.
Folks are tethered to smartphones that act like
yokes around their necks, keeping them in line.
Hoax or not, climate change is happening;
oaks and elms are dying, replaced by pine.
Crime and anxiety are starting to
climb, and everyone's filled with dread and fear.
I'm afraid the world is primed for war, and
time is fast running out; that much seems clear.
a fear of commitment
or fear of marriage
exuberant, swinging
and downright unapoligetic
he calls music
the woman he always
In every genre she still wishes
to be pleased
even we you disagree
even when she refuses to inspire
even when others don't hear
what your hearing
a little adive
they right people
to tool that htaang
getting it where
you know it should be
when my mind refuses to
be kind to me
and I don't know my way
it's right and real to me
to find the right things to say
put my name on this one
I'd stand pround to brag on this
that's sweet in the right places
and tart enough to kiss
that's how it should be
we gonna do it how it is
not scared of the rejections
that won't make me mad
Listen to the music
switch up a swing
let the musician be musicians
and let the singers sing
Bésame Mucho
inspirational Gooiness
and
the makings of
Automatic Inflatible LifeJackets
Songs taken Serious
My closet, since you ask, is a cramped space,
Chosen and cherished fashionable base,
Essential part of my enchanted place,
With charm and chic to complement my face.
Shows off all hues of my life if I may -
From baby pink to darkest shades of grey,
Reflecting the intended role I play,
Engaging gaily in Societe.
Levi’s slim fit - my favourite by far,
Red miniskirt to storm a local bar,
Sleek diva dress as karaoke star,
Extra large sweatpants, running chores by car.
Stylish business suit for formal dinner,
A little black dress, my boss’ head spinner,
Bikini thongs as hot summer sinner,
Levi’s slim fit still my all time winner!
My closet caters to the latest trend,
Adjusting to occasions I attend.
I love all walks of vogue but in the end,
Levi’s slim fit - my easygoing friend!
Wide range of footwear I wouldn’t omit,
But shoe department in one poem won’t fit.
(The arsenal of bags, a dazzling hit,
So is the lingerie, I must admit).
But if a pair of shoes I ought to pick,
Without moment’s hesitation real quick -
I would grab cowgirl boots, sexy and slick,
Vibing with my Levi’s through thin and thick!
I have reached the ripe old age of 85,
Why am I on Earth, still alive
When most of my friends are dead
Or laying Ga Ga in aged care beds.
Why was this Old Duck,
Given the luck,
To survive
When others died.
I am sure I don't know,
When God has plans,
For me to go.
What use has God for me?
I have brought up my family,
I have my eyes open wide.
My curiosity, I cannot hide,
Perhaps that is the reason,
I am still alive.
I cannot lie
I am in no hurry to die.
I need to be of use, you see.
And I am not the girl I used to be.
I feel so tired and slow.
I have lost my get-up and go.
Nothing works anymore,
My body has gone on strike,
That's for sure.
I have a list of ailments
That would kill a horse,
I've had a hip replacement
And new eye lenses, of course.
I am losing height,
Because I have curvature of the spine.
Lots of other diseases.
That will worsen with time.
I am not miserable
Or sad in any way,
It is a question
I have been asking God today
Have you use for me, Lord,
Is that why I'm still here
If you have, could you make it clear
God, could you please speak up,
I am stone deaf in both ears.
In the basement of our house
Was a workshop
Of gray tools
And the smell of 3-in-1 oil
There under the steady glare
Of florescent lighting
My father
Worked.
Whenever he called me downstairs
It was to talk
About something important
Or a mistake I made
After every few sentences
He would adjust his glasses
And pause
To make sure I understood every word he said
A habit
He had until the day he died.
Speaking with determination
He told me never to lie
You may think people don't listen
He said
But inside they do
The mind
Works
Like a sponge
It remembers everything
Even when we get tired and forget.
So remember
Nobody likes a liar.
I first saw Susan walking
Down the street
Head held high
Graceful
I tried catching up with her
But she was quicker
Than I was
We met again when she dropped her keys
Picking them up
I told her
She was the most beautiful woman I ever met
A slight exaggeration
An innocent white lie
But a lie nevertheless.
Soon we were together
Clothes on
Clothes off
The new found
Thrill
Of intimacy
Was intoxicating.
In small bits
Day by day
Freedom evaporated
And our lives
Became hopelessly twisted
In an undertow
Of life, money,
Apartment
Problems and future
I wasn't honest with myself
And deep down inside
I never knew
What I was hiding
Or how fragile a relationship could be.
One night she asked if I knew
Anything about roses
I barely stammered a what?
Roses symbolize love, sympathy and
Elegant beauty
She said
But they're one of the most fragile flowers
Ever
They can turn brown and die
From a chill in the air.
I fell asleep on the couch that night
Getting up in the morning
I saw the made up bed
And in the kitchen
Nestled between coffee and sugar
Was an envelope
With my name
Scrawled in clear
Bold handwriting
My hands shook
As I reached for the envelope
The urge
To leave it unread
Was strong
Until suddenly, I tore it open
And read it through
From top to bottom
Over and over again.
Catching my breathe I sat down
Enfolded
In the strange quiet
Of an empty apartment
Wondering how different things might have been
Had I not told white lies.
Though I hate giving clothes away,
There comes a time that I’ll
Put something on and must admit
It’s really out of style.
That denim dress I used to love
With jet black velvet collar,
Would likely, in a thrift shop,
Bear a tag that says “One dollar.”
And likewise for that flowered frock,
So comfy when I wore it.
It now appears so frumpy
Even I cannot ignore it.
Those high-waist jeans and puff-sleeved shirts
Have kept my closet crowded;
And when I try them on, my husband’s eyes
Grow glazed and clouded.
“Awful! Ugly! Throw them out!”
I hear his sage advice.
They’ve not been worn in many years
So it’s no sacrifice.
Yet still, I fold them lovingly
And pack them for the poor.
Perhaps someone can use the clothes
I won’t wear anymore.
I picture people picking through
My former favorites pile,
And hear them cluck their tongues and say,
“Was this thing once in style?”
Lost
Underneath this despair
Lies darkness that loots
Loots the humanity inside of me
It is darkness I see,not humanity
It is darkness that sees me,not humanity
Dead
Dead
Is the light of hope
Hope for the light that outshines the darkness
Darkness that loots,the sanity inside me
Gloom
Gloom
Fills the heart that loves,that loved
In the time of emptiness
Gloom is what fills me,gloom is what sees me
Gloom is what I see
Despair
Despair
I had all of you,most of you some and now none of you
You that gave me humanity,has left with it
My head that held sanity is done with it
I need pulling,from despair
Help
Pull me by my hand
Pull me as the darkness does
But not to save me,to tear me apart
Tear me apart,so the little light inside me escapes
To your eyes and see,it was there it was,I still held it I did
I just needed someone to see
But it's only darkness that saw