Long Paper bag Poems
Long Paper bag Poems. Below are the most popular long Paper bag by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paper bag poems by poem length and keyword.
There are times you have no choice
To infinite unity, the tide comes as determined
You are part of the earth, the sun, the moon, the wind and the rain
I do not care who you are, I drink of the other fountain
Your jaws tighten your smile gets glued
Leeches bite to suck blood on your skin, by their own greed
// Act like a man of flesh and blood
Your card must be played, an ace or a joker
Ace has a higher value and joker is a substitute,
but this is not poker //
An obsession that wins over common sense
The power of judgment disappears a power higher than yourself
Use your energy to get out of the dark abyss
He stamps his brown paper bag and makes his choice
Open a bottle of vodka, alcohol's embrace
26.09.2017
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Poem of the Day; 28.09.2017
Paper Bag Head
Like musical notes my voice dissipates in the air
Was I even there?
Why can't I remember where?
The roots of my square...
Affirmations missed, the nobody list
Does anyone care?
Is anyone out there?
Life's not fair...
The want to be needed, yet defeated
Why am I me?
What is happening?
The Ugly Duckling...
bmdavey@05/04/16
finding
a crumpled
dirt and water
stained piece
of paper
laying by
the side
of skid
row
covered
with news
paper next
to a brown
paper bag
filled with
an empty
bottle
the old
wrinkled
paper un
folded itself
stretching
out showing
tattoo like
ink writing
from an even
older pen
and so i read
what was
written and
written on
one of the
sides was
a score with
notes for what
must be this song:
"Breakup"
All things change and this is good
Cause a stagnant pond's the same
as a flood
One's too much the other's not enough
When it comes to people it may happen
with love
When you know the end has done begun
Why do you stay
When your tears run
Love becomes habit an expected thing
If you don't have it it's a broken ring
It means nothing and you feel the same
All except for the hate and pain
When you think your heart strings've done
been unstrung
Why do you stay
When your tears run
Now it seems your river has run its course
A dry bank and bed leave but one resort
You washed away so many years
And started another river with your tears
When it comes a time a couple's no longer
one
Why do you stay
When your tears run
Form:
He claimed he had no faith
They “begged to differ”
Quoting all manner of ….
He sat one day musing
Wrestling the conundrum
Of “faith or no faith”
An old woman sat
On an adjacent bench
Crinkling a brown paper bag
They came….
Pigeons, squirrels, a chipmunk
Gathering around her
“Why do they come” he asked
“Because they have faith”
She replied
“Faith in what? You?”
“No, not in me”
“They have faith in the bag”
“If I come without the bag
they do not gather”
“their faith is not in me.”
“Their faith is what
draws them
to the crinkling bag”
“and that faith
believes in the contents
of the bag”
“and that faith
Is based solely
on their experience”
John G. Lawless
©6/2/2023
Let’s go with the flow
But wait it’s fearful and confused
Panicking
The end of times?
Not that flow
That is the flow of illusion
Let there be no wafting confusion
I want to go with the other flow
Hey, may I come with you?
Not unless you have the appropriate mask
You also must commit twenty-six rolls of toilet paper to the cause
What cause is that?
Pow! They are running from you
Someone’s brown paper bag breaks open.
A small hand sanitizer drops into the street.
You lean down to pick it up for them.
They smack you on the head with their fist.
Where is my OxyContin when I need her?
You ask as you wake up.
That is no solution!
Sure It is.
Part of the endless solutions.
You begin piling toilet paper and hand sanitizers into a wagon.
Hey! Wait for me!
You trip and fall.
End up being the only survivor of a holocaust.
Nature loves her little surprises.
My favorite college professor, the woman who talked me back into finishing the counseling program, when I wanted to quit, was Dr. Jean.
Dr. Jean insisted on an exit interview right before I graduated.
“You are delightful,” she told me. “Unique, funny, so I don’t know how to say this, but….”
In case you have not figured it out, as soon as you hear the but, it’s not going to be anything good.
“I really want you to hear me,” she said. “When you go to an interview, well…um….don’t be you.”
I looked at her in awe for about two seconds, then our faces both cracked at the same time and we began to hoot with laughter, loud, ugly, who gives a claw egg, type laughter. We could not stop.
It was an avalanche now. Pretty soon we were in each other’s chairs, hanging onto each other
In pure glee, our insanely loud laughter, echoing down the halls of the building. Laugh-crying now.
I was so glad my bladder was empty.
“Okay,” Dr. Jean said, pulling herself out of my arms. “What I meant to say is, be yourself, just….”
“Not so much MYSELF,” I said.
She smiled. “Exactly,” she said.
Then she handed me my favorite book in the whole world, and said, “This heroine reminds me of you.”
If you have never read ‘The Paper Bag Princess,’ then please do.
Realisation is the change and not any physical,
evolution has pushed us way up past the primates,
no need for wings to grow or patterns to appear,
the inner self is the one that perceives and absorbs,
truth lay around us from eternal times before galaxies,
earth is merely the platform for our journeys,
self is an infant that stares in wide eyed amazement,
slowly like water onto lime rocks, wisdom seeps in,
Realisation is the change, body yields to age,
self is aware increasingly of the reality of purpose,
the curiosities of love and romance are soon settled,
the challenges of a life driven by want, understood,
wealth is a paper bag of unwanted burdens,
desire is a hunger that keeps us tethered to objects,
Realisation is the change, as the mist of mystery lifts,
the glow of wisdom lights up things for what they are,
there is calmness in this vision, there is peace,
when what is precious shifts from material,
to values that are more sublime, intangible,
when the self is no longer an ego with an identity,
but a speck in the vastness of the entirety of truth,
real change has come.
with that change, with that realisation,
our metamorphosis is complete!
we seek nothing, we crave nothing,
silence, calmness, peace of existence,
existence that is eternal-
we are no longer physical!
The night comes near a end
You hear your mom's car pull up in the driveway
As she unloads the car you see a shiny light illuminating
"What's that?" you think to yourself
As she sets the brown paper bag on the countertops
you slowly dig in to find the box
"CHOCOLATES!" you exclaim
You slowly pull the box of chocolates out the bag
hoping she doesn't notice
As you put the creamy milk chocolate in your mouth
A volcano of fresh and decadent strawberry cream erupts in Your mouth
"Yum" you say
As you hear you mother walking down the stairs you scramble
hoping that she doesn't notice
still savoring the yummy chocolate stuck in between your teeth
Yum chocolate
Boogie Woman comes in between my cell layers at night
She punches me up and charges me up into my fierce fighting mode
I yell and scream my truth and she laughs, gulping my rage and my indignation.
Boogie Woman knows me better than I know myself
for I was never allowed to have real feelings.
The Big Bad Wolf from Chicago land is lurking
way back in the recesses of my brain
Anticipating the best sneaky way to jump our friend
Russian Connoisseur Paper Bag Man
To make him yelp some Russian phrases we will not understand anyway.
I love the anticipation of when it will happen next, for I am the last to know.
Trixie is the omnipotent oppressor and ruler
of our mystical whimsical poetry fields.
Boogie Woman slaps my face, and kicks me to the curb.
I land at her feet, sniffling.
She then lets Trixie have her way with me.
Trixie is a nipple twister so I am fearful.
Afraid but yet laughing because I am wearing so much armor
she cannot get me today
I run down Dictionary Alley and log onto my main connector.
I have an enormously large and blue Thesaurus and am not afraid to use it.
Big Bad Wolf coughs, warning me by mere inches.
He is ahead of me in leaps and bounds, howling at Luna’s light.
Moon magic illuminates our friend Paper Bag Man’s head on the pole of Oz.
What is happening?
Who is in the control power?
Trixie laughs, not afraid of wolves or scarecrows.
One day we will be, forever silent.
Where would we be without poetry?
As a child, I buried my heart,
drained from games death would play -
in adulthood, it still refuses to resurface.
Grim Reaper hides in the corner of my eyes.
Is there such a thing as an overdose of sadness?
Because sometimes pain has no metaphor,
so we bleed the seeds of dormant blossoms.
I stare at a forgotten photograph,
at a boy I once knew from my past,
scruffy curly hair with tense, timid, tired eyes.
His life is a fuzzy blur, but I feel his misery.
Some memories are merely reflections,
some reminders, returning within season.
Unwanted souvenirs of how unfair life can be.
When skies are clouded like ashen smoke,
all I hear is untuned violin strings, screeching -
violent, like tangible bursts of thunder.
An orchestra of lightening forcing an
explosions of unerupted emotions.
Like pain placed in a paper bag,
scattered like a dead man's ashes.
I've come to terms with people
not seeing beyond the smile.
Still I search for love in freezing rain,
to prevent from numbing sensations.
In the darkness of death,
I still remember the white lights -
and my mother's rainbow love
maybe that's what saved me.
I realise the reality of adversity.
I'm an advocate of its lessons -
because, i'm a definition of each battle,
yet I know the war is far from over.
Poetry is the perfect way to release suppressed emotions.
My heart desires to beat like a flutist's musical notes -
like a kite floating higher and higher against brutal winds.
Silent One
4 December 2020
This is an example of my current contest called catharsis poetry.
I attempted to use poetry techniques like light alliteration and assonance.