Long Parkas Poems
Long Parkas Poems. Below are the most popular long Parkas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parkas poems by poem length and keyword.
goodbye summer goodbye
i will miss them so all the flowers in my garden
they needed me and that felt right
i spoke to the flowers explained to them
about the sun
about the shade
about the showers
i will miss them so
all the flowers in my garden
the days won't be able to hang around as long
the nights well they'll be around more
but as things stand i have no one
no one to kiss in the light of the moon
no one to hold beneath the pin lit sky
the days won't be able to hang around as long
i'll have to roll up the beach
I'll have to put it in storage
i wouldn't want it to freeze
or get seriously bitten
by the grip of winter days
i've learned by experience
even in autumn winter visits here
i'll have to roll up the beach
i will have to discretely wave my goodbyes
to the ocean curls and all of its pearls
speak quietly in order to not upset the boardwalk
she always cries
she hates goodbyes
she'll miss her friend
her best friend summer
i will have to discretely wave my goodbyes
no more t-shirts and shorts or barely there swim suits
i'm going to really miss the ladies dressed like this
i'm going to really miss what they do to my rubber neck
yes i confess i am not particularly attracted to parkas
no more t-shirts and shorts or barely there swim suits
i might as well say good bye now summer
i'm not very good at this it makes me sad
i should tell you i won't be going to the airport
i couldn't stand to watch you leave. i like you here
i might as well say good bye now summer
i'll help you pack, you'll need the grey clouds
the thunder cries the zig zag lightning bolts
you'll need some zip lock bags to pack the humidity
i've spoken to the birds they're all set to migrate
why does every story need to have an end...
We got really dumped on yesterday
Was hoping we would miss out on this one
But must remember, this is Canada!
The land of ice and snow and parkas and snow shoes
At least that's the general perception
We have electricity and runny water and even indoor toilets
And not only that, we have radio
However, the powers that be are promising TV before 2020
Okay okay, I'm exaggerating a wee bit
We just recently got indoor plumbing
Hmmm, strangely my tongue seems to be stuck firmly in my cheek
But we are a hearty bunch
On January 1st every year, some of our real hearty dudes
Take a dip in the Ottawa River
They're called the “Polar Bear Club”
I have a different name for them!!!!!
I call them the “Those That Have A Screw Loose Club”
They urgently need to seek psychiatric help
As backward as we are, we DO have medicare... yee haw!
So we can take all kinds of risks we wouldn't normally take
Like clomping down the middle of our major thoroughfares
Making sure we watch out for the occasional snowmobile
And wearing our stylish snowshoes and parkas
A hearty bunch we are!!!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Just because you think you're special
got news for you my peeps all over the globe
us Canuckys have unique stuff too
even in the summer, we walk around in parkas
and mukluks wearing nose tuques
well, that's what the world envisions anyway
actually, we've become quite civilized
since the beginning of the twenty-first century
running water, electricity and even, AND EVEN
free sex in the suburbs!!!
but you must know who to approach
like women!!! THAT'S if you're a male of the species
otherwise... well surely you ladies know!
the ones with stuff down below like well... you know
okay I must calm down or my pooper will pop
phew close call, now I'm gonna be serious
sheep shrink in the rain...
see I'm not just another silly old geezer!!!
Winter is Here
Winter has come! (The season for fun.)
Sing with cheer to those near:
“Bring out the boots and tuques,
Parkas and scarves, mitts and snowsuits,
And long underwear,
And other paraphernalia of gear.
Winter is here!”
Snowflakes appear, falling out of the sky,
Thicker by the minute, blotting out the light.
Slowly they fall, softly they allay,
Covering the ground in a white duvet.
Snow angels are made where children play,
And snow people smile with roundabout shapes.
Snowballs are flung at each other in glee,
While pets bark and chase anything moving.
From atop the hill, children’s screams debut
Amid flailing arms in air of frosty blue,
“Get out of the way, we’re coming through!”
As the hill’s bottom comes into view.
Suppose we ran it by a friendly Martian
(I’d say “by Martial”, but he wouldn’t be gentle).
You crave Armani, Hugo Boss, Versacci and
that Hilfiger who’s naff, naff. Are you mental?
This myth of exclusivity’s juvenile
(I’d offer “Juvenal”, but you’d refuse).
They’re mass-produced, ubiquitous, stock-piled,
your Sarah Jessica Parkas, Jimmy Shoes.
The Martian, then. We wrap ourselves in rags
to ward off cold, conceal the family jewels,
but put a brand name on those skirts and bags,
you’ll cough up ten times more. “You bloody fools!”
Apartheid is an evil thing, agreed?
South Africa once practised it. You struck.
You staked out embassies, until the blacks were freed.
Embargoes, sanctions, boycotts – oh, such pluck!
But none of you’s besieging Tel Aviv.
Our Martian’s wondering what the difference is.
Ramallah’s raped without a by-your-leave,
but you’re at Burghley, knocking back bucks fizz.
Perhaps we can’t extinguish all life’s fires.
Perhaps compassion tires, and needs its pauses.
Or is there just a chance that it transpires,
there’s such a thing we’ll call “designer causes”?
Oh, was it in this dark-Decembered world
we walked among the moonbeam-shadowed fields
and did not know ourselves for weight of snow
upon our laden parkas? White as sheets,
as spectral-white as ghosts, with clawlike hands
thrust deep into our pockets, holding what
we thought were tickets home: what did we know
of anything that night? Were we deceived
by moonlight making shadows of gaunt trees
that loomed like fiends between us, by the songs
of owls like phantoms hooting: Who? Who? Who?
And if that night I looked and smiled at you
a little out of tenderness . . . or kissed
the wet salt from your lips, or took your hand,
so cold inside your parka . . . if I wished
upon a frozen star . . . that I could give
you something of myself to keep you warm . . .
yet something still not love . . . if I embraced
the contours of your face with one stiff glove . . .
How could I know the years would strip away
the soft flesh from your face, that time would flay
your heart of consolation, that my words
would break like ice between us, till the void
of words became eternal? Oh, my love,
I never knew. I never knew at all,
that anything so vast could curl so small.
Originally published by Nisqually Delta Review
At birds' eye view, from an icy frosty windowsill,
8 stories high: I see a city forest full of snowy powdery
pillow packs stacked
These are spread out making a white-out
of black streets lanes
Then piles of pearly ivory fluffy flakes
cascading into tall white iceberg mounds;
greatly abounding in an isolated city that is fully bound
Trees huddled and cover themselves in
white parkas; this of snowflake designed fleeces creating
a blanket white newly made canvas for me the delighted Artist
People are frozen in their village,
neighborhoods being effectuated with the
season's frigid chilly chilled cooled air;
nipping at many red young and old numb ears
Ice vapors of a foggy mist
does tint white car's windowsills
The City sidewalks and streets has
transparently merged into one white snow sheet
Snow summits also rise high with
white zenith peak tops
People are enjoying forming
snow tunnels and igloos and
snow men and snow angels
And some people sculpt ice statues
These come into being at just below
zero temperatures of freezing
Icicles are nature's cold calling cards;
this having a very slick and cold feel touch
At this time youngsters are receiving their
reddish noses and pink red rose cheeks
Black boots, snow shoes sink in a
foot deep of snow slushing to race home
A flurry of snow scene experiences
are how most winters are known back home
The tossing of powder with frost-bite
fingers and colorful blue hue toes that are ice cold
This season has its celebration of the Christmas day: this
the time of “Christ Birth,” the reason why I and others do pray
The theme of all things each and every day; in a heart that is very merry,
light hearted and amazed for the many wonders given to us yesterday,
today and years to come every glorious day
Just because you think you're special
got news for you my peeps all over the globe
us Canuckies have unique stuff to offer
even in the summer, we walk around in parkas
and mukluks wearing nose tuques
well, that's what the world envisions anyway
actually, we've become quite civilized
since the beginning of the twenty-first century
running water, electricity and even, AND EVEN
free sex in the suburbs!!!
but you must know who to approach
like women!!! THAT'S if you're a male of the species
otherwise... well surely you ladies know!
the ones with stuff down below like well... you know
okay I must calm down or my pooper will pop
phew close call, now I'm gonna be serious
sheep shrink in the rain...
see I'm not just another pretty face!!!