Long Pastime Poems
Long Pastime Poems. Below are the most popular long Pastime by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pastime poems by poem length and keyword.
invincibility had been a difficult pastime
the flak vest of insecurity and coverups
had managed to inflate anxieties and fears
to the bursting point of impromptu explosion
the festering boil had to be lanced at any cost
for resentments anger hurt and self-harm to subside
a bullet proof illusion was no longer an option
to call it friendly fire would be an understatement
what started as a splinter soon became a red-hot cudgel
incising the mind soul body complex of delusions
yet no more fully detached from valid emotions
he decided that having feeling was better than amnesia
When playing basketball
being tall is best it's thought
but that's not all
wearing saggy baggy shorts on the court
needs keen hand-eye coordination
plus being fleet of foot
and have no quibble with dunk or dribble
if through the hoop a Wilson you wish to put.
As for American football
boring from the sideline I find
it's more talk less action
namby-pamby as opposed to rugby
which is wilder less calmer
and without all the body armour
now there's a game with some traction.
America's pastime baseball
is another matter
whether pitcher or batter
with Rawlings or Slugger
when on the mound I have found
unlike soccer or rugger
before a ball the hurler throws
and the pitch is hit or caught with a mitt
first rearrange the private parts in public
twitch the cap and then spit.
Oceans ebb and flow as do the winds that blow
spinning eddys into whirls dragging the trapped through
dizzying holes.
Material things are just the same they come and go,
fleeting ,mundane things that do not stay
only obstruct the way to cause delay
of better things to come.
A shadow's here one minute ,gone the next
same as the sun that rises and sets.
Shifting sands play hide and seek
the moon itself so often peeks
between the clouds ,knowing all too well
material things stay only for a spell.
Seek that which lasts and never ends
as we journey on the wings of time,
attachment to material things
is surely a child's pastime.
Store up blessings ,instead of riches,
they last forever and a day, and help you
along the narrow path towards the golden gates.
When you arrive on that happy day
wouldn't you like to hear God say
Peter.... Open up them Pearly gates
my friend has come to stay?
Oh for the days of my long lost youth
Making paper airplanes, watching em glide
Looping like barnstorming pilots of the 30s
Above the tree tops like birds they fly
Our imagination never saw paper airplanes
We saw ourselves as pilots on board
Soaring skyward with not a worry in the world
We could even hear the engines roar
Another favourite pastime was climbing trees
Just like masts on a pirate ship
Looking out on the ocean with a telescope
A musket hanging from my hip
Another fantasy, being a famous hockey star
Heard the cheering of adoring fans
Dreaming at night, scoring the winning goal
No more school, no more final exams
Oh for the old days, hmm perhaps I'll rethink that
It's pretty damn good from where I sit
Each stage of life has it's own special happening
Now? I'm happy as poop!!!
Charlie stepped into his sturdy little fishing boat.
He was looking forward to a lazy afternoon fishing.
It was his favourite pastime.
He fished from a lake near to where he lived.
The tranquility of the surroundings and
sound of water lapping against the boat as he rowed to the middle
of the lake gave him a sense of calm.
Charlie loved the water, but could not swim.
He was an elderly man set in his ways.
A man who lived by his own rules and beliefs,
an atheist by choice.
He refused to wear a lifejacket he found it cumbersome when he
fished.
It was a perfect day for fishing.
Charlie settled down in his little boat, cast his rod, and closed his
eyes.
Peace, Perfect Peace until suddenly he felt a sharp tug on the
fishing line, pulling him to his feet.
Charlie was having trouble keeping his balance as the boat was
rocking perilously.
A big parcel wrapped in black plastic appeared on the surface of
the lake, it was too heavy to pull onto the boat causing the fishing
rod to snap in half and the boat to capsize throwing Charlie into the
water.
Charlie was terrified as he was the only person fishing that
afternoon.
Trying desperately to keep his head above water, he yelled out as
loudly as he could, "FOR GOD'S SAKE SAVE ME."
The big black parcel drifted slowly down the lake.
When I was a young boy, we had rabbit ears,
got ABC, CBS and nothing more.
If we would wrap the antenna in tin foil,
we’d sometimes get NBC on channel four.
Then along came something they called UHF,
if you put that little round thing on your set.
Then you would be able to have forty-one,
and some PBS nobody cared to get.
Pretty soon the TV shows started changing,
all of a sudden they were blue, red and green.
That’s when it became America’s pastime,
to own one of those big consoles was the dream.
Every house had an antenna on the roof,
the kids lying on a pillow on the floor.
We had cartoons on each Saturday morning,
I wonder who could ask for anything more.
But more is exactly what all of us got,
when they gave us the new cable in our town.
A hundred channels of nothing much to watch,
but it would take an hour to search around.
Then we got Hi-Fi and Wi-Fi, and Dolby,
with digital HD, 4K and 3D.
Then came Atari, Nintendo, and X-Box,
Play Stations and virtual reality.
Now it’s Netflix, Hulu and Paramount plus,
or a hundred other ways that we can stream.
It’s no wonder our kids stopped playing outside,
when they could see it all while glued to their screen.
There’s just way too many things to watch these days,
all this technology is to blame, I guess.
But after all these years I still wonder why,
I only watch ABC or CBS.
The poison parrot is repulsed by me, hates my art, laughs at my poems.
sneers when I enter my imaginary world, pokes fun at it.
She throws roadblocks into my mood zone,
destroys my great ideas as fast as they enter my dendrite alley.
You think you are something! Ha! She laughs. You are less than nothing.
No one will like that. It is too sassy, too bright, too snotty, too tall, too snarly.
She snips away at me, chopping little pieces off, as I try not to cry.
You are an idiot! She yells at me, her favorite pastime.
Poison Parrot managed to hold me down, away from myself, for years.
She held me hostage in a prison I helped her build; I cowered in a scared way.
Until I met Savior Boy. Savior Boy did not know about Poison Parrot, for when
I was around him, I was confident, witty, sassy, fun,
out-going and memorably lovely.
He let me do his homework, and he received good grades,
praising me to high heaven.
The closer we became. the more self-assured I became,
assertive genius oozed out of me.
Poison Parrot was fearful now, she saw she was losing her grip.
She began yelling louder than ever.
“You are an idiot! You are worthless! You are a loser!”
I stopped hearing her. Savior Boy’s love and respect helped me
to clip her wings, and tape her beak.
By the time our children arrived, I had re-invented my self-talk.
I was now being talked to by Sophie,
a dynamic, self-assured, marvelous pixie queen who
believed in herself, and everyone else.
I released Poison Parrot and let her limp away,
saving no face at all, after Sophie arrived.
Plucking the Poison Parrot Number 156
Written: 1-6-2019 Sponsor: Maureen McGreavy
You’ve an ahrse the size of Jupiter
and a head that couldn’t be stupider
as for your teets I’m not sure they exist
you’re a nasty narcissist
brown nose and lips
probably Nazi in a past life
genocide your pastime
I know you’re a fool
when given authority
acting awful awfully
so without a doubt undoubtedly
I won't repeat repeatedly
unhonourable honesty
be assuredly assured of me
if war you want then war there be
conditions unconditionally
psychopath psychology
never ending endlessly
forever I will torridly
horror thee most horribly
sorrow follow you freely
tomorrow will always be
hollowed unhappily
happy days for me.
So if you seek to leave me weak
beat me down unkindly speak
will treat you a descending trip
no words will ever leave my lip.
I'll let leak lethal upheaval
devil level illegal
drug and needle
and if I need more
to feed pour you'll endure evil
a war we war where you will weaken
worn down sorry sore and beaten
words won't work best be believing
when it ends you won't be breathing
your breed will cease undisputedly
removed unrefuted conclusion peace
My Daddy is in heaven,
Yet he is here too
My Daddy was the fun one.
The one who could play
My Daddy is in heaven.
I have no time to miss him,
Keeping myself busy
In his honor
He was the kind of man who
Always had a new hobby,
A new passion, a new pastime.
He knew how to entertain himself.
I get this from both of my parents.
My mother is still here, entertaining herself
Daily, holding exercise classes for ninety-year olds,
Delivering packages, delivering Meals on Wheels
I am lucky.
My parents taught me the joy
Of giving to others, of living my bliss
Of developing new hobbies and talents, of living my joy.
Happy birthday Daddy!
"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Ecclesiastes 3:1 of the King James Bible
Blest time
yon dime
God's time
sublime
Lifetime
health's chyme
Bed time
pray'r clime
Peace time
sip lime
Up time
faith's climb
Show time
do mime
Play time
catch slime
Pastime
hum chime
Flex time
clean grime
Mealtime
enzyme
Art time
write rhyme
Free time
leave "I'm"
War time
hate's prime
Lost time
worst crime
Meantime
plant thyme
Psalm 121:7-8The Lord shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The Lord shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore.