Long Pasting Poems
Long Pasting Poems. Below are the most popular long Pasting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pasting poems by poem length and keyword.
Husband to wife:
I ate the yogurt
That you saved in the refrigerator
You know the expensive one with the strawberry preserves
Which you like to have in the morning
I apologize but I couldn’t help myself
It was delicious and the strawberries
Were so sweet and so cold.
Wife to husband:
I found your scribbly note
On the counter with all the bills
That need to be paid.
I’m glad you liked
The yogurt
Now maybe you will change your diet
And stop eating greasy food.
Pasting the note on the refrigerator door
She smiles to herself
Thank God he didn’t look any further
And find the others
Filled with strawberries and blueberries
Hidden between the celery and carrots
He would have eaten them all
And left none for me.
Form:
Hunting for a theme in the jungle of mind a job,
Penning the themes into beautiful poems a job,
Copying,pasting and submitting each and every job,
Rating and commenting,not one two different jobs,
Winning or loosing but competing in contests a job,
Who said that,I do no job?
In a mess very heavy to handle,more not less my job,
From dusk to dawn engaged I in my job,
For a World wide,multi national,I'm doing job,
World wide Chinese,very smart in mob,doing all sort of jobs,
Chinese not given,what smart I'm performing job?
Who said that,I do no job?
I always engaged,no wage,web is the employer for my job,
Who said that,I do no job?
Every Cloud shows a silver lining
Day dawned displaying dew droplets.
Shiny Sun added sparkling charms
I was counting anxious moments
to greet my sweet heart in my arms.
She must be coming
I am eagerly waiting.
Merry morning was about to mourn.
My eyes were thirsty. She was not shown.
Morning rolled to nagging noon.
She must be rushing soon.
Hands of clock going round and round
On our special day she is bound
to come without showing lame ground.
Noon passed to next phase.
Afternoon showed its face.
She must come sharp.
But she did not turn up!
My heart was about to burn.
Drizzling showers under the Sun
dispersed sunbeam into spectrum
pasting rainbow on sky-album.
Even in dismay and despair
I knew somewhere over
Rainbow would appear
to portray my life in color.
Evening twilight brought me hope
till Sun went down on quick gallop.
Night darkened, evening merged.
My tingling passion only urged,
‘Come My Dear, Come My Darling!
Why? Why are you not coming?’
I sat in darkness of dolor not putting on light
Just watching hands of clock to touch midnight.
‘if, ‘Perhaps’, ‘But’, several possibilities fight.
Mobile showed ‘No answer’
She sent no message either.
I am neither weeping nor crying,
but whispering
‘Every cloud has silver lining.’
I will hold her at night while dreaming.
I will visit her prompt on next morning.
I will snatch your heart
I will catch you fast
Perfect match at last.
Let the hands of clock go round and round
I am pretty proud to voice my love loud
Silver linings are shown in every cloud
Some when somewhere rainbow is bound
to bend in semi- circle touching ground.
My love is gold to glitter, bold to sound.
04/24/16
Lyrics cliche image contest
image 4
Sponsor Silent One
OK, it's about that time.
It's time for me to annoy P D in rhyme.
Now what can I annoy Pd about this time?
P D broke this heart of mine.
P D made a fool out of me.
Sweet Lovable lunatic theKidster, Billy.
P D convinced me that I truly hurt P D
so I wrote P D a message of sincere apology.
and now Pd's posting (pasting) it everywhere for everyone to read and see.
P D's going all out to not crush, but crucify me.
P D's going to show all in the world to read and see...
that theKidster, aka Billy
is really just a big sometimes over sensitive big pussy.
Go on PD. Defecate on me. The whole world ddefecates on me my little poet destroyer PD.
Your tiny little turd won't make a difference to me.
Continued in Part 2
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=223751
It’s time to write of unnecessary things,
to imagine alternative endings to journeys not taken.
It’s time to write of bits of string,
one small fake discolored Swiss Army knife,
a lucky pebble that has brought me nothing but its own
preordained boredom.
However, string, knife, and stone
have had nothing good to say about me for years.
I could write of more back-of-the-draw stuff,
or redraw the landscape of my youth
snipping and pasting-in a cast of characters
that never existed,
for it is still true that every tale
needs to be repainted from time to time.
For the time being, I am these hands
wrapped around a muggy mug of coffee,
these thoughts scrimshawed
upon its unwashed rim.
One of my favorite dreams used to be to rehab a Victorian painted lady
But then a friend decided to do it.
She begged me to come over and help
I ended up spending two weeks there
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood,
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood
Tearing down wallpaper, stripping wood
Then we spent three more weeks
Rolling out new wallpaper and cutting it
Pasting wallpaper and hanging it
Rolling, cutting, hang hang hang
Tearing, stripping, rolling, cutting, pasting, hanging
We went room to room
Went weeks without eating
Tearing, stripping, rolling, cutting, pasting, hanging
Bathroom breaks were the only breaks we took
After we got her house finished
My dream dissipated
I never want to rehab a house, a trailer or a hut
I have already had my fill of rehabilitation.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your fame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your name.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot about the inauspicious and piteous moths that were attracted to your irresistible flame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot to abrogate your lovers game.
In a small stretch of tempo, in the delay of my deliberated falseness, in my delay of barefacedness, infused by fierce streams of atrocious schemes, and baleful dreams.
In a small stretch of tempo, I was captured by you.
In a small stretch of tempo, the old had no power to cut into the new, from a small sum of time you sieged my body, permeating it, filling up spaces, touching barren places, erupting bridled desires, causing seismic waves of pleasure with; intense and faultless measure. In your arms and while my head rested against the swell of your chest, I inhale voraciously the sweet smell of your beautiful sculpted body.
At rest in an intoxicated mindset, I felt abundantly content; a perfect segment from my antecedent shameless intent.
In a small stretch of tempo, like the break of day and a timely resurgence of a nimble mind I realized that through the dull substance of flesh and encephalon, I did not adequately measure the art of your scope. With newfound hope, and like the hands of a clock swiftly pasting the minutes across its face, I put my plans back into place
Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake, copyrighted 2017
It’s time to write of unnecessary things,
to imagine alternative endings to journeys not taken.
This stained coffee mug
that nudges my elbow like a muddy bible;
it has not been washed for 2 days
but I still read it faithfully, return to it,
until sufficiently caffeinated
with a burning desire, to crash here
on the edge of some other variable reality.
It’s time to write
of bits of string, one small fake
discolored Swiss Army knife, a lucky pebble
that has brought me nothing but its own
preordained boredom.
No, why should I?
String, knife and stone
have had nothing good to say about me for years.
This morning, a little later on, I might
write of more back-of-the-draw stuff,
maybe pen alternative beginnings in a flowing hand,
or redraw the landscape of my youth
snipping and pasting in a cast of characters
that exited my mind a thousand years ago,
but for now, only coffee stains read me
as I drink-in this unnecessary moment
(which I have to mention,
seriously lacks any aspect of Zen
or any other kind of poetic wishful thinking -
at all).
For the time being, I am this being
who signs his name in a muggy mug
with a flourishing shadow ink.
GRACE AND SOLITUDE
Sparkling Sun on verdant valley of super silence.
Symphony of dazzling rays of sizzling Sun in prelude.
Dreamy dormant desires in dolor, deep and dense,
suffusing in opulence blending in quietude.
Dim sunlight on twilight pasting hues on sky-canvas
Tranquil ambient runs on cadence of interlude.
Blooming passion on confusion confined in mind-vase.
Evening melody showers solace in plenitude.
Sadness on starless somber turquoise sky
resonating on aria of serene soul in postlude.
Efflux of ethereal emotion oozing to fly,
enjoying ecstasy in graceful sublime solitude.
05/05 /20
Third Place
'Grace and solitude' Contest by John Hamilton
First Place
'All Yours ( Mar 29 ) Contest by Brian Strand
Horizon beyond perception conjoining contour of sea with sky.
Simmering setting Sun scattering squashy rays on sea,
flashing golden glow on cerulean sky to blush,
pasting soft crimson patches in zest with brush of zephyr.
Glistening spangles on rolling waves thrashing on shore.
Tranquil twilight dwindling turning pale periwinkle.
Weary albatross to fly towards nest for rest in slow moving dusk
Whimsy torn clouds worn in droplets welcome eve on dusty mask.
Stars still dithering to twinkle delaying dark.
Serene Sun sinking in sea bidding bye to sky
Supreme sublime soul slipping settling in ethereal ecstasy.
04/24/20
Second Place
'Slipping soul Sunsets in the Sea' Contest by Chantelle Anne Cooke