Long Paying Poems
Long Paying Poems. Below are the most popular long Paying by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Paying poems by poem length and keyword.
I never saw him coming nor did I feel his shadowy presence. Not to mention that no one informed me of his visitation.
Not all 'bang bangs' are created equal with bells and whistles. Clueless, it was simply me and him, head-on and face to face.
How was I supposed to know, having never met him before?
Oh, I had heard of him and that I would no doubt meet him 'someday'.
But 'someday' is a very long time, especially when you are busy with life. I knew others who had befriended him, but not many people I knew liked him.
Anyway, I was looking forward to meeting him "someday" with the understanding that my life did not have to be radically changed by him.
I had places to go and things to do and no time for 'Mr. Aging' to creep up on me. Anyway, he never called, emailed, texted, or informed me in any kind of way that he was intent on paying me a visit for the very first time. So it's no wonder I was surprised when he just showed up at my kitchen table as I was
reading a roadmap.
That's right, Mr. Aging just showed up unannounced one day and said in his own quiet way, "Hello, these eyes I've had for some 49 years can use a little help because the print is too small to see". It was Mr. Aging speaking to me, and that was the way we met for the very first time.
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Dreaming of another time of,
My past where things seem so real,
That familiar feeling almost like deja Vu,
When I see you in a English castle,
I know you instantly,
Remembering when we were in love,
As my heart skips a beat,
I walk up to you nervous thinking,
You won't remember me,
But you look into my eyes,
And smile saying there you are,
And then I realize I am home.
Waking up dreading I may never,
See you again,
Never able to look deeply,
Into your eyes ever again,
I feel my heart breaking,
As if I'm losing you all over again.
Walking into a fog every day,
Only remembering you are gone.
Walking looking on the ground,
I run into a woman not paying attention,
I look into her eyes,
Those same familiar eyes,
Smiling I say there you are,
She smiles saying I finally found you.
Crumbs on the table, crumbs on the floor
And behind the door,
Crumbs on my clothes and even sometimes up my nose.
It's a mystery to me why,
No matter what I chose to eat, crumbs end up close by.
Yet my wife never leaves a one.
I can't give up my toast,
Not even for the one I love the most,
So I smother it with jam to keep the crumbs together.
Too many showers and I block the drains,
If I leave the vacuuming for long I blow the mains.
And that is not dandruff in my hair.
If there is a way to make me crumb free,
I don't mind paying a fee,
As I would like sometimes to eat breakfast in bed.
Who weeps
for the soldier in battle
brave yet afraid of the dreams left behind
when peace was gained and lost again?
Who weeps
for the children with faces on the carton
runaways missing love, hope and dreams
promised the day they were born?
Who weeps
for the mother once loved
now lost, alone in despair
left with the child needing care?
Who weeps
for the old and alone
dreaming of family long grown
and no place left to go?
Who weeps
for the promises made and unkept
by the government's poor attempts
at speaking and representing the public?
Who weeps
for the poor, the depressed, the desperate
losing all hope of the American dream
slipped away with no way to start again?
We weep,
you and I
questioning how easily freedom is lost
paying again and again, the price and every cost.
At last the final day has come
that ends a lifetime’s work,
from dawn to dusk
and even more
I was not one to shirk.
But working lives must come and go
and I retired today.
That means
I do not have to work,
though now I’ll get no pay.
A pension earned by many years
of paying UK tax,
at current rate
six hundred pounds
a month, shared taxman’s axe.
So now I’ll draw my pension,
I really cannot wait
for my return on income
I invested
in the state!
For this income I invested
I can claim without a doubt,
if I can just live
fifty years
before they lay me out!
Ivor G Davies
Mistakes will sometimes appear on signs
It's best to read between the lines
While driving down the road
You may see a sign that says "your car will be toad"
That one's quite a croaker!
You might see a sign in a car lot
That seems to miss the spot
It may give you reason to pause
Because it says, "We bye used cars"
Wave bye bye to your sales!
A motel sign adverstising its free internet
Has something extra you may get
Instead of free Wifi without strife
It offers you "Free wife"
Say I do to that one!
This one will put a smile on your face
Because it reads, "This is a work free drug place"
I guess the employees are getting by
With smoking weed and getting high
It might be a high paying job at that!
--
On Halloween I always get a rock everywhere I go.
I decided to retaliate by throwing their rocks through their windows.
I never even get one piece of candy, that really blows.
I'm so ignorant that I cut my costume full of holes.
I look absolutely ridiculous and dorky in this stinking sheet, I don't even look like a ghost.
I'm paying people back for their unkindness, especially Lucy because she deserves it the most.
Last week Lucy told me to kick the football but I kicked her in the head.
She told her father and he started choking me, I thought I was dead.
When he got through strangling me, I dropped two Cherry Bombs down his pants.
I blew off his privates and now when he wants to give his wife some loving, he can't.
When people used to do mean things to me, they would laugh.
But now they treat me with respect to avoid my terrible wrath.
(This poem is a parody of the Peanuts Comic Strip.)
Grocery Shopping
(Grab & Go)
Tom’s Opinion
5-17-2020
We periodically go shopping only to grab things to eat,
encountering rude, self centered people, some with conceit.
More than COVID-19, the thing I find most stressing,
is the attitudes of some shoppers that I find depressing.
Without gloves or masks they hit the grocery store,
paying no attention to markings placed on the floor.
Some obey no rules, and their small children bring,
ignoring the danger, proving that stupid is still king.
Acting like the sun rose, that day, for themselves,
they horde to their carts, from near empty shelves.
I’ve heard some say taking precautions show weakness,
but I choose to believe, precautions show my uniqueness.
I invited my oldest daughter to dinner for her half birthday.
It was highly embarrassing when she wrestled me to
The ground for the check, and I landed in some guy’s lap.
Sorry, I said. “This is my daughter.”
She glared at me.
“Why did you do that?” she asked me.
“Why did you bite my hand?” I asked back. “I have not had a tetanus shot.”
“You had one last February, remember?”
I suddenly remembered who FORCED me in to get one, because she did
not (prissy voice now) “Want her mother to get lock jaw.”
I had screamed and wailed and begged and sniffled and sobbed.
It did me no good. I got the shot that hurt less than my wailing and sobbing had.
“And could I please have my credit card back now?” I asked Miss Aggressive.
The waitress turned and looked when I said that, so I stuck out my tongue.
I had told her up front I would be paying, after all.
“Do you want to go shopping?” my daughter asked.
“I can’t,” I replied. “You have my credit card.”
So we looked at the dessert menu, but everything
was costly, and we both knew we would end up on the
floor again, maybe in sumo diapers, and we were too full
to wrestle without guaranteed bouts of flatulence the next time.
So we went to her house and watched six TV shows she wanted
me to “see” in about forty-two minutes.
Oh, my, you ask, how does anyone watch six TV shows in less than
an hour?
Easy when your daughter has the remote, and fast forwards through all
the parts she already saw that were “too boring to see” which means you
get to see some of the beginning, maybe a minute in the middle,
and if you are very lucky, the ending. Another enjoyable evening
with an assertive-borderline-aggressive-beyond-belief daughter
who obviously takes after her daddy’s side of the family.
I took her gift back, and went home.
It might be her birthday, but she did not deserve a gift,
due to blatant arrogance and having to be in charge of me.
No one else EVER tries to be in charge of me!
I dread the bleak dark end-of days when I end up at her mercy,
days in the future, when I cannot see out, or walk or talk, and she is my jailer.
Maybe she will deserve this birthday gift next year but I doubt it.
I have brought this birthday gift over six years in a row, and as
you can see, the less-aggressive one still has it.
They call me the charger I told white string haughtily.
Then who am I? White string asked.
Sticking up her aluminum cubed nose,
Refusing to be plugged into my adaptor.
"Daddy calls Mommy the charger!" Sadie defended me.
Sadie is four, and I am her she-roe, teaching her the art of charging.
"I call her that!" My mother-in-law agrees from the backseat, where
she prefers to sit, where it is "safe" according to her own snootiness.
I want to take my daughter and run back into the store and charge
more stuff now, feeling slightly irritated. Charging always puts me
into a much better mood. It's like not paying, rather like stealing as
I never see the bills. My husband pays them after grousing unmercifully about them.
"I am the charger or I am not going to be plugged in today," Charger One says. I rapidly realize I am surrounded by enemies here, so I back down and say, "You can be Charger One, and I will be Charger Two, okay?"
Darling One from the backseat calls out, "Lunch is on me. Let's go to McFrizbee's," making her now the ultimate favorite in my Sadie's world. Assuming she will be using plastic, she has slyly snagged the Charger 2 position. I am livid.