Long Out of service Poems
Long Out of service Poems. Below are the most popular long Out of service by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Out of service poems by poem length and keyword.
I promised to be home by Christmas
To see my kid and be with my family
But i didn't know the journey ahead
Would be my last
I thought i'd eat those fresh buns by morning
Now its noon and i've not arrived
And my phone has gone cold
I'm out of service
I hoped i could beat the traffic
by overtaking the traffic ahead
only to veer off the road
As i was avoiding to hit a kid crossing
I couldn't let myself hit the kid
I couldn't brake in time either
The kid looked terrified
and in that moment i saw my own kids
It's evening and still no sign
Everyone must be worried by now
Its gone dark on my side
and there's no way to ever come home
If you get to hear me now
Its sad i never got one last time
To say goodbye to you
Not a day goes by without thinking of you all
The PO£T
If you’re a certain age, I’ll bet
That stuck inside your brain
The numbers of your telephone
From youth must still remain.
For way back when you memorized
That sequence, it did stick,
Like Velcro, to your brain cells;
You can summon it real quick.
There once was lots of room in there
For things we learned by heart –
Addresses, passwords, ID codes
And credit cards, to start.
But over time, the Velcro wears
And things will not adhere
Yet strangely, numbers from the past
Still stand out, loud and clear.
For all who may have dialed
UL 6 – 2955,
That number’s out of service
But in me it did survive.
The awkward feeling of being late. Anxiously waiting, anticipating, and expecting... Lost in this moment; temporarily out of service. The bus stops here and we still missed it. A bad start to any day. Patience allows this to pass, but this moment lasts. Endless effects from domino blocks that you and you alone mastered its creation. Wasting a beautiful mind with useless propaganda. Moments of weakness are followed by the stalker named Genius. This guy is completely untimely. He can be counted on; only to show up at the wrong time. One hour late.
Early 2015
Creator of The Stalker Named Genius.
Which will follow this post.
the pendulum swings
s i l e n t l y
inside of it's chest,
the iron tongue
that can no longer move,
but the brass and copper wheels
have come to a rest,
and silence
curls its head like a cat.
they measured life
in little mouthfuls before,
dividing sunshine
from the encroaching shade;
for all our days
and all of the nights
that set a metronome
to save a warden
of the promises made
now the time beats
o u t s i d e
and spills out of service.
beyond the measure of years,
beyond the ringing of bells,
those seconds gone
never gain their temporary title,
breaking free
from the shackles of their prime.
sleep on, old custodian
in your wooden shell,
the rust has given way
to your frantic heart.
there are no more hours left
for you to narrate
where tick and tock
decay to rust.
When grandpa D comes to visit, he smokes until we cough
We also have to say “We know you are here, you can stop smoking”
My father has been supposedly “gone” for nine years.
I see him monthly, checking my flowers, to see if I am watering them.
One day we heard the kitchen cupboards slamming.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
I was terrified. My husband and I were they only ones in the house.
What is that? I asked him.
He said “I think it was my mother. She used to slam the cupboards.”
I peeked out. There was nothing there.
After my mother passed, we waited for a signal but did not get one.
Until I needed medical treatment, and finally got it.
Isn’t this your old phone number? My husband asked me.
I looked at it.
It was my parents’ number for over sixty years.
It keeps calling me, he told me.
I dialed the number.
It has been out of service for over seventeen months.
Hi Mom.
China, like the phoenix rising from the ashes, rises from the waters of the Eastern seas and spits unstoppable fire of the red dragon! He does not indulge in conflict but only progress.
Sometimes, called the red dragon, He attracts interest from all corners of the world, enjoying trad intercourse with friends and foes. The Chinese actions are not from arrogance but out of service to its people.
China development is not about speed, ideas, efficiency, or power. It is about knowing his own limitations and celebrating the gifts of others.
The century of humiliations never made China back down. His vision lifted over 800 million people out of poverty in the past 40 years, showing the world that, nothing is impossible.
China is not distracted by the insults and lies coming from different directions. China focus is on progress!
China has created dangerous and sophisticated weapons but has never conquered a single nation outside its borders. That's true power and leadership!
Everywhere China goes, builds and not destroy. China Vision for the World Is Not to Divide but to Unite!
China minding its own business in genuine silence is a sign of humility and respect for others.
China not forcing others to be like them is a mark of true wisdom. You were one of the first to travel around the world, but you never colonised anyone.
Even when they are bullying you, your focus is on progress and meaningful development. your goal is not to rule the world but to unite the world and make it better place for all.
By Chanda Katonga.
Hang ups,
I’ve got plenty of those
Like a phone with
too many busy signals,
I couldn’t get through to you.
I think the number you gave me was out of service.
You said, “Dial me up”
but the damn phone was a push button.
I called long distance,
the operator said
“Put another quarter in.”
Sadly I only had one thin dime. I wonder if I should have called collect?
All along you had my number. You could have,
given me a ring. After-all I was the marrying kind.
It seems my dial tone was slightly out of tune??
I scratched your number out of my little black book. It was time to find another connection.
I could say I don’t remember you, but that would be a lie.
You are the crush that never made it to speed dial.
I'm too nervous to resurface,
it's not that I'm worthless
or don't want to work for this,
my motive sits motionless.
Can I bring it to your attention
I need an intervention
to save me from selfish behavior,
a salvation of circumstances
serving me chances to be my own saviour,
challenging this circling hell that prances
unnerving me a certain future
of out of service hope and mischance
where I can't sense my humour.
I'm not stood with hands out
looking for handouts,
I just need that first time wind up
to get the engine ticking
and give reserves corrupt
and vigorous in control of my mind a good kicking.
It's as though I'm not the one that drives
this life I ride,
it's as though I'm not one with any drive,
a life without pride,
but I believe I can once again strive
if I find my stride,
I will breathe and bleed myself alive,
I might be lost but I've not died.
The Land's Passion
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
A cloud of darkniss
A flag of empty
South Africa a
State of dispair
In hell over our
Sea's , mountain's , ground's
Our soul's are dough
We are not rising
He is corruption
He makes distruction.
South Africa out of service
A president sour
Blaming other people
The poor people
Their income stolen
For the dynasty
They live in marble
Taking our coins
In favour tender
He giggles louder
Our land of gold
Passionate in hearts
Will not be sold
By one man rogue
The people rise
Their souls unite
The time has come
To dismiss the rot
Who rapes our Land
The people's wrath
A time of anger
At boiling point
Our jubilation waiting
In the land
His stealing hand
Our greater stand.
The passion when
Our land is healed.
I glance at my watch,
Shake my head at the hands,
And count silver cars
While I patiently stand.
Three minutes, Five minutes,
Ten minutes late.
Time ticks away,
And still I must wait.
Traffic flows by
Like an ocean of steel,
Pausing at times -
Liquid automobiles.
I laugh to myself:
Who would have presumed?
Environmentalists
Forced to inhale the fumes!
It comes into view:
The great whale of this sea.
It sprays its exhaust -
Remorseless, it seems.
An eager step forth -
But its presence misleads.
My sigh is a cloud.
"Out of service," it reads.
Minutes tick by,
Till its cousin arrives
And opens its doors
To admit our grim line.
We pack ourselves in,
Like sardines in a can.
No free seat in sight -
So we awkwardly stand.
By the time I can see
My stop up ahead,
I'm an hour behind
And my feet feel like lead.
I push my way off,
As if freed from a jail.
Now I know Ahab's pain -
To be wronged by a whale.