Long Parks Poems
Long Parks Poems. Below are the most popular long Parks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Parks poems by poem length and keyword.
Northside of a sleepy Okie town,
Red lipstick on, head held down.
Haunt trailer parks and smoky dives,
Broken dreams meet reckless lives.
Every step she takes, barely alive,
Chasing lowlifes like they’re a prize.
A spark in his eyes she can't resist,
A normal heart hidden in the mist.
Teased him rough, chasing despair,
Plays hard to get, like she even cares.
She’s just trash (oh-yeah),
And she’s a loser.
Haunt the streets where she belongs,
Trades her body, sees nothing wrong
Caught in chaos, wearing that smile
Girl, can’t you see you’re in denial.
She’s an echo in a hole-in-the-wall bar,
Love's a game, she is a dimly lit star.
Gives herself to addicts and abused;
Shuns the one who would see her through.
And last time she was down on hope
He saw her hustling for a piece of dope!
Don’t act like you're a friend of mine;
Pain she caused, an art deco design
Scars my soul.
She can’t be saved,
She’s just trash (oh-yeah),
She’s just trash (set me free),
And she’s a loser.
Haunt streets where she belongs,
Trades her body, sees nothing wrong.
Caught in chaos, wears a joker smile
Can’t you see? Girl you are in denial.
Touch a stove and feel the fire;
**** on her back, promise a liar.
She’s still trash (stop looking at me),
She’s still trash (stop talking to me),
She’s still trash (stop touching me ),
There’s no hope for her!
Haunt the streets hunting the poor
Bums and addicts, increase her score
There’s just ashes, she is so fake
Time is up, that’s the breaks
She’ll always be trash... but we…
Do you ever think life's long enough?
no matter what things you want to do
time seems to be the winner always
three score years and ten is so few
One's head can be full of thoughts
but still, feel plenty of room for more
they can be good and bad even neutral
it seems you're bursting open at the door
So many miles all over the world
think of all the walks you could walk
many parks and forests to go and visit
mountains aplenty but mind a block
Wish I could read more and more books
many categories like history, bio and the like
how to fit them all in, the hours so few
but exercise the mind never go on strike
People in so many places in the world
many of them are friends so dear
you want time spent with them all
time's all too short this I do fear
('I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read, and all the friends I want to see.'
- John Burroughs (1837-1921) -American naturalist and nature essayist.)
DNA blueprint embalmed in womb,
protoplasm embarks on a journey.....
enigmatic waves crash uncertain shores,
life effuses ...a seed becomes a tree.
A brief stay in a big planet, breathing in and out
fragile dreams race, to reach the summit top.
Crossing paths with family and friends,....
poignant memories heal wounded feelings.
Some hidden stars behind dark clouds...
Some unsung songs composed in heart.
Few poems remain, without an ending...
It's all work, no passion,.Eureka eluding.
A gilded life meanders, in turmoil of past
illusion of happiness, in amusement parks.
A vast field grazed, in unknown fear aghast.
hoping for a future...new things to embark.
Searching the world for a synonym of life,
Worthless wealth is all that we view.
Life asks a riddle "How are you?
Loudly we proclaim, I'm fine, Thank You."
Dated 28th May 2019
Sponsor Chantelle Anne Cooke
Contest Name: The Meaning of Life
They flip and fly in all directions
As they suck their victims dry
So untamed and fearless
Feeding undisturbed in broad daylight
They hang outside our homes and city parks
Nowhere is it I feel safe
I'll see them flutter by the corner of my eye
How much longer must I play this charade
After years I'm breaking my silence
To tell the world it freaks me out
When they light upon the innocent
And that long black tongue comes sliding out
I've had this fear from early childhood
And countless doctors don't know why
I always faint and then I wet myself
At the very sight of the dreaded..."Butterfly"
oh sweet love
oh sweet angel
to the day of love shining so bright above.
golden day never to far away .always here to stay even on the winter days
oh sweet angel flying up in the sky so high come down here for awhile ,come make me smile
oh sweet tears fall so beautiful to the floor
can you see the flowers grow ,the love we sow the greater the flowers grow
golden colours
reds
yellows
blues
purples
all the colours of the rainbows glow
oh sweet summer love
parks with so much passion
a sandwich oh a glass of wine oh we shall dine
in the summers twisting vines
laughing all the time on my darling your so divine
your my angel forever
the summer sun will always shine.
ceizar of Duncan kiss
Yellow flower, grieving flower, pale flower,
You were burnt by the sun and the hot rain.
Ripe flower, matured flower, immaculate flower,
You've nevertheless kept your phenomenal beauty sane.
The half-yellow and the half-green leaves
Are trying to mimic your beautiful color.
Mother Nature and Fauna are profusely in tears,
And Squirrel and Nightingale in a state of horror.
Flower of one of the most somber and romantic seasons,
Your exceptional beauty merits great admirations
And your sweet and delicious sap is beyond words.
Flower, I'm coming tonight to rest on your turfs,
To contemplate the stars and the sparks,
The abandoned branches and the rods floating in the parks.
Copyright 1997 Hebert Logerie
Author of Sparkles of Love recently published by Xlibris.com.
Copyright © October 1997, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
French version
Fleur d'Automne
Fleur jaune, fleur triste, fleur pâle;
Le soleil t'a brûlée et la pluie t'a échaudée;
Fleur mûre, fleur maturée, fleur immaculée;
Malgré tout, tu as gardé ta beauté phénoménale.
Les feuilles à moitié jaunes et à moitié vertes
Essaient de porter tes belles couleurs.
La nature et la faune sont inconsolables et en pleurs,
Les écureuils et les rossignols sont en état d'alerte.
Fleur d'une de la plus sombre et romantique saison,
Laisse-moi admirer ta beauté exceptionnelle
Et savourer encore ta douce et délicieuse salive.
Fleur, je viendrai, ce soir, m'étendre sur ton gazon.
Viens admirer les étoiles, les étincelles,
Les branches et les tiges abandonnées dans la rive.
Copyright © March 2008, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
In the city, there are benches
Placed where people might
Relax and take a load off,
Which is everybody’s right.
They’re either made of metal
Or old-fashioned painted wood,
Found in parks and promenades or where
They’d do the utmost good.
Most bus stops with a shelter
Have a bench for those who wait
And in playgrounds, there are benches
Where the nannies congregate.
My apartment building spans a block
On quite an average street,
Without a bus stop or a park;
It’s nice, but not elite.
Yet recently, a metal bench,
Three seats’ worth, with a back,
Was placed to give my home address
What other buildings lack –
A place to sit, but no one knows
Who ordered such a thing.
It sounds real good, but there are several
Problems it could bring –
The detritus of strangers,
Which is quite a common sight
And perhaps some noisy revelers
To party through the night.
My street is pretty quiet
And I hope a monkey wrench
Hasn’t landed on it with the
Sudden placement of this bench.
Babies get around on wheels;
From strollers, we can hear their squeals.
Tricycles help toddlers get
To where their legs won’t take them yet.
Wheels on buses, rolling ‘round
Propel our travels off the ground.
Bicycles supply the means
For people who lack limousines.
Kids on skates roll through the parks;
Skateboards also leave their marks.
Taxis, airplanes, even trains
All have wheels for their terrains.
We don’t dwell too much on wheels.
Still, I wonder how it feels
For those whose wheelchairs do provide
The only way to get outside.
I guess we all pay much more heed
To things in life we really need.
Yet somehow, all of us rely
On tires and wheels to get us by.
40 Y 20
( 40 and 20 )
There was a time I was 20
Full of innocence and amour
Infinity is no ones Lover
Passion is sometimes an arrow that wounds
Now I am 40
Grey skies as I linger on
I admire the gardens and birds
Love is for those who are 20
The parks full of lovers holding hands
Vendors selling roses and dreams
To young sweathearts holding onto to desire
They know not one day they shall tire
She gazed over the lake, straight into my eyes
She was an angel, with a smile on fire
Who was I to know, a man of 40
This woman would divide me into 2
We danced under moonlit skies
She made me see that life is feelings, not mere numbers
I was 40 and she only 20
Laughter and love made me young, and her hungry
Her devotion and love was truly a gift
She opened up heart and eye
So I was sad that day I had to say good bye
For I was 40 and she only 20
Notes: This is inspired by a famous Spanish song
Hey raisin, shall I tell you the tale?
Tell us of where history and news failed
to share truth? Be the sleuth and unveil?
Okay then, here's your two scoops...
Believe they say in a day when God's wrath
will find his way to you? Believe in destruction
death, plunder and confusion too? Chaos you say?
Here's a day you'll never forget...
I'll even bet.
Your God is here, walking the talk,
checking the parks and asking the lark,
did you hear? Did you read the book?
Didn't need it all, just one look...
"We are created..."
"In the image of..."
The rest lost to fallen egos "from above".
We call Him 'man'. Given a garden,
a song, a land... given two hands to hold,
a heart given as the color of Gold.
Given a rainbow, to remind us...
"We are created... as the image of trust"
"As above so below" they say
getting it wrong, never went that way.
"As above, we Are, Love"
I'd write that One down, if I were you...
Today.
"Define my wrath..."
Sure... she laughs.
Sure, she crafts, the messages.
Sure, She's a nut in a bubble of images...
Sure.
You can bet.
Here's another you won't forget...
"We are Two... got that? In the scoops?"
"Knock knock... we're Both home."
Believe they say in a day when Gods
will find Their way to you?
Hear.
Is the day you'll never forget...
I'll even bet.
5.13
!with a big fat eraser and some beers...
we met.
N ine is the line,
E leven the mind and
T hirteen. Is the rhyme.
and 12 ...
"Time catches us..."
She's a NET
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