Long Peas Poems
Long Peas Poems. Below are the most popular long Peas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Peas poems by poem length and keyword.
Though I'll remember nature's wonders,
sunsets and the breath of spring,
feel the wind blow through my hair
and know the thrill of sunrise cresting.
We see the universe as dancing,
two such different creatures trancing,
we two will never understand
the private notions of the other,
even if we take each other's hand.
Coming close to your destruction
you will see the other side,
who says who has satisfied
requirements for a better life?
Friendship, if we could but find it,
yields the seeds of greater profit,
greater than the seeds of strife.
I now remain just as I ever was.
I shall take my morning walk,
communing with the birds and talking
to myself while reading Kafka,
glancing at the latest headlines.
Dear Stravinsky's 'Rite' is slighted,
(he'll return when ears are righted.)
When I smell a rose I'm prompted
to recall a certain lady, gifted with
a new perception, I must sadly
take exception, for the moment anyway.
The chill of morning, people yawning,
I am tired, the blush of dawning has me
feeling ill at ease, my spirit sags,
I barely reach the second floor.
'When will you return? Is Paris so much more
than you have here?' is my unanswered question.
I drag my heels to breakfast,
listless as a lazy dog, and nibble toast,
my countenance as pallid as a ghost.
A letter would be welcomed.
I shall miss you; there, I've said it.
I am your friend, are you not mine?
Tenuous and strained, two casual
acquaintances who share so little time,
we brush elbows, like strangers passing
on a platform, sharing sidelong glances,
afraid to say hello. I watch you as you go.
Others swore we would be close,
peas in a pod, familiar.
Instead there is no warmth, not yet.
Were you to try we might combine
and nibble toast together, and take
a walk, your hand in mine, and
stammer conversation 'til we knew
there was no reason e'er to rue.
I shall sit with pleasant thoughts of you.
Desperate, I ponder on your death,
scant breath expended twixt the two of us,
and loneliness an ache too harsh to mention,
pen in hand and no one to subscribe.
I'll scarce recall the softness of your skin,
or search your heart to find what lies within.
Should I be bold, or take a gentler path?
encourage you... would I incur your wrath?
If you were to die I'd never know your truth,
and I should lose the vigour of my youth.
Heartbroken lass bereft of eminent beau
papa doth vicariously experience her
(mine daughter's) grievous woe.
Unfair a budding promising relationship nought
going to incorporate wedded bliss,
when for all the world
the strong humble lad
absconded to Puerto Rican his homeland.
Thus pained University
of Pennsylvania alumna
("star student") since grade one
at Belmont Hills Elementary
whose high school alma mater
i.e. Harriton High School,
now glum Oakland California transplant.
I (biological father),
who helped beget offspring
writhes with agony,
cuz he and the missus
sowed wild oats
during prime time,
when irresistible call of the wild
overtook wisdom to shuck contraceptive
yielding the miracle of life.
Parenthood never ended
just because declaration of independence
and autonomy witnessed natural propensity
for progeny to reliant become on self
forced shoulder living expense
no only for herself,
but deux darling
tortoiseshell dappled
five month old kittens
most certainly a constant reminder,
when she and he "two peas in a pod"
shared so many college campus memories,
whereby appearances hinted
and predicted a shared destiny
between two love birds.
An abrupt cleavage
rent asunder never witnessing
mutual graceful dotage
figuratively saddled once ebullient psyche
unnecessarily bogged our engineering minded lady
with cumbersome equipage
after they spent precious
young adulthood years together
emulating how married couple live, I gauge
such scenario, cuz talk of wedding bells
filled the (telephonic) airwaves,
whereby yours truly feeling blessed
potential prodigal son in law
his earning hand over fist big bucks
employed at Silicon Valley company
geared toward marketing fitness application.
Unsure how said high achiever
bolstered with you go girl refrain,
(who ofttimes communicated with Zayda,
i.e. his demise a crushing sorrow),
which inevitable prolonged decline
sundered special rapport
since more'n threescore
Earth orbits around the sun
papa acquired mechanical engineer degree
working within Aerospace Division
at General Electric.
Impossible mission not to care
despite mein kampf punctuated
with mine wanderlust flair
marital covenant garden variety
wordsmith did greatly impair
triggering hostility within mine humble lair
adulterer letter forcibly donned as outerwear.
Oddra was a little birdie who was locked in her gold guilt cage.
On the eve of her destruction she was too quick in throwing down her page.
Serendipity had led her to the most wonderful birdie carnival in town.
Little then, did any know, that soon would come WWE, Smack Down.
She spread her wings and danced and sang and flitted all about.
The she started out and shared a bit….OK…she shared a lot!
She was in her groove! Or At least that’s what she thought.
This is when the lines got crossed, causing the great confusion.
That escalated to pointing fingers blame and accusation of delusion.
Unfortunately, her listening was selective. So this is all she heard,
whispers, “What kind of bird is that, a loon, a coo-coo bird?”
“She looks a little parroty to me”. Writing on the wall read, “sitting duck”
Unwittingly she’d stepped on toes, as misconceptions flowed both ways.
She had no idea that some had known her from before, in better days.
She did not hear nor see them. Did not hear them rapping at her door.
The kept reaching out a hand to say hello. She appeared to just ignore.
Who’d be talking to her there? She’d never been there before.
She completely missed her half of her poor friend’s ironic one way conversation.
She shared again, totally unrelated, that fit in perfect context as brutal provocation.
After this, the demarcation line of friend and foe becomes a little blurry.
Each perceived the others actions as offensive resulting in actions of fury.
Hold a pen in front of you, from end to end, creates a line.
But hold looking down its barrel and it’s circular in design.
Both are true, and also both are lies. In the end they’re both the same.
Is an Oddra not an Oddra even with a different name?
Here’s my stamp, Divine Design; classic, tragedy and comedy. That was the only
mask.
Oddra, cursed the circled ones. The lines, drawn in the sand, doomed her as their
task.
The lines devised a brilliant plan: having placed some peas around a hole they’d
made in some ice,
“Apocapus”, as she’d been dubbed, “She has to pee sometime, When she comes up
to take a pea
we’ll kick her in the ice hole.”
There it is my friends. Oddra was Slammed dunked!!
This is just tale. I to this I will fully digress, I am a very Odd Duck!!!
There were those too, caught in the middle, undeserved bad luck!!
Form:
How I loved spending a week of the summer holidays with my grandparents. Gramps would come and pick me up in his old pick- up truck, dad would bundle my suitcase into the back and I’d be on my way. Gramps would whistle as we wended our way along the winding country lanes until we reached their stone cottage. Grandma would be waiting for us to appear at the door, she always be wearing her checked apron which was flecked with flour. She’d scoop me up in her arms, and carry me into the cosy kitchen where the aroma of cooling gingerbread lingered in the air.
wheat from the old mill
freshly ground into white flour
grandma’s been baking
I would spend many hours in the garden with gramps, in the spring I’d helped him to plant lots of vegetable seeds and now summer had arrived they were ready to be harvested. Gramps would give me a ride in his old wooden red wheelbarrow, the wheel would squeak as he pushed me along the uneven ground and I would squeal with delight when we went over the bumps. In the vegetable garden we would pick perfect pea pods that were fit to burst with juicy green peas, bright orange carrots and creamy cauliflowers which reminded me of brains. All the produce would be placed into the wheelbarrow and I would help gramps to trundle it along the path to the kitchen door. Grandma would be busy in the kitchen and I’d help by podding the peas ready for our evening meal. I loved the popping sound of the pods as I pressed them to release the shiny peas.
from a tiny seed
colourful vegetables grow
harvest time arrives
Many years have elapsed, and sadly gramps and grandma are no longer with us. My father inherited their little stone cottage, which was eventually handed down to me. I now spend happy hours in the garden with my own grandson, and I’m passing on the gardening tips that gramps taught me when I was a small child. The red wooden wheelbarrow which I loved riding in is long gone; but I replaced it with a sturdy one made of shiny red plastic. My grandson loves riding in it to the vegetable patch and I love to hear him squeal with delight as I once did when I rode the same bumpy path.
the red wheelbarrow
reminds me of my grandpa
precious memories
Fiction write
For Your Poetry Journal Poetry Contest
Contest
Sponsored by Dear Heart a.k.a Broken Wings
7/28/18
I was a marvelous ophthalmologist, impacting how others saw this world,
As tomorrow one day sees yesterday, on lanes where hued leaves swirled.
I corrected hazy, crazy vision problems, with eyeglasses and with surgery;
Like a second look, evoked by raspberry rose, to verify beauty's certainty.
I also did frequent research, on hidden causes and cures for eye disease;
Just as reasons for rainbows and stardust, lay hidden in nature mysteries.
I had once studied cosmetology, and I loved the art of applying makeup;
And I never left home without it, like opening red tulip, at sunrise wakeup.
Friends fascinated like fire opals, bringing fetching colors into a vibrant life;
And we relished flaming, flamboyant Fridays, under maroon skies of strife.
Flavorful fruits were fanatically ripening, when feel-good family visited me.
Fiery red raspberries and fat blueberries, fell beneath puff clouds, so pretty.
I lived in the house of sudden mists, in oranges, pinks, purple and scarlet,
Where any day could be right for lovely visions, before the sky grew starlit.
Snap peas and sweet potatoes grew in the gardens, along my sunny street,
In days of searing, scarlet sun salutes, and gold hours of pause and repeat.
Nearby noon gave nectarine notice, as neighborly neighbors came visiting,
When green nature bore a heatwave, like the nesting woodpecker, knocking.
Pink fairy wings bloomed fantasy gardens, as the yellow tiger lilies roared;
And the dragon lulus breathed fire, like ardor cooling for one, once adored.
Brain cacti meditated summer greenery, whilst toad lilies attracted insects;
And pink bottlebrushes swept away sad blues, scrubbing aside dour defects.
I was attending a Fourth of July cook out, hosted by the fondest of families;
But the makeup I'd ordered was late, forcing me to put aside pure vanities!
By the time I left for the plum, pleasant party, I was feeling oddly liberated;
And family and friends did not notice my lack, like stars, clouds obliterated.
I had a lovely time that rosy day, when martins sang like the Fourth of July,
Amidst mauve festivity and lemon sunshine, and bellflowers ringing nearby!
The lesson I learned that vivid day, is to glam up or not, according to mood,
For people are still loveable either way, like faint dawn moon, briefly viewed.
Whenever I am reorganizing and freeing up space in the garage, it's always just a matter of time before she'll come calling.
Or I'm on the computer writing or catching up on the news, it never fails that an urgent honey do was just about due.
She's been visiting relatives for the last two weeks. She's got two more weeks before she returns home to me.
More than expected, I felt her absence the very first week. Several times I have caught myself waiting to be interrupted.
Often I've had to readjust or reprogram my mind; "Home alone". I say to myself, "Oh wow, she's not here", and resume my activity.
In 45 years of marriage, we have never been separated this long. Realistically, for the first time, I am missing her in a whole new way.
In 45 years, I've never missed her this long, this much, this way. I'm niether bored nor lonely, because I always have plenty to do.
I have been gathering and eatting more tomatoes since she's been gone.
I suspect I'll be eatting crowder peas and zucchini before she gets home.
I wish she could have seen me gathering peaches and nectarines today.
I can't deny; I've eatten more ice cream than I should; but I'm not all bad.
Why, a couple of days ago, I made a very tasty peach/nectarine smoothie. I must confess; I just have to say; I kid you not; and believe me when I say.
I will welcome her return and not be sad when things return to normal. But I'm 'tickled pink' that since she's been gone, the phone hardly rings anymore!!
72717FBPS
I
A right became an unexpected left;
Nothing more important than subliminal
country miles that pulled me forward,
no destination or thought to why,
just my surprise. Some ten miles gone,
I felt a ray of grace; the reason
for this race, and as I chased a trace
of errant time – I thought of a line.
I felt a now in my existence,
and shared a smile with the corn silk
light that fed my way, and the wind
that blew the hair around my face.
A chance to share some thoughts of mine,
Within the realm of reason, street and rhyme.
II
Once upon a time, in Everyday,
the minutes and hours of the human
condition, the hopes and dreams, sadness
and screams, the cries of sedition,
the plight of the lost, intolerance
and ignorance, expressions of love
for country and man, were duly recorded
by a poet's hand, a composer who scored the lay
of the land. And mouth to ear, where needed,
we shared his composition, in celebration
of the word's intended mission-
food for thought. And then it stopped.
We gave poetry away to obscurity,
to the teachers of form and craft,
who slipped overboard in their zeal
to define the titles for the times,
of what is a "must read", for greed,
and intellectualizing need,
to feed their egos and their jobs.
Indeed.
With speed, they redefined
and refined the voice of inspiration;
imagination served with a mutant strain
of peas. Poetry beyond the realm
of good digestion, the cause
of painful indigestion in the mind.
They built a world of poetry,
that will never sing a child to sleep;
Mutant peas engender nightmares
in the young.
III
She said,
"I love the way my body moves when I read Seuss."
(For any traditional poet, this mom's good news)
"But what of street, the beat and passion;
the march of voices crying to be heard,
the visualizations from a well-wrapped word?
Can you read one and exclude the other;
is it all about the prize and what's in fashion?"
"No, it's about what I like. Last night,
I drank in Whitman's leaves, with a little
Shakespeare chaser. and tonight, I might
guzzle Ginsberg and savor Kerouac
like a fine wine in meandering
subconscious streams."
Who could disagree with her taste in words?
So I drank a little more Baudelaire and went
to sleep myself.
Form:
Amaryllis splendid beauty, Christmas bells of pride thrill us
Birds of Paradise in flight making its opera debut in its crane plumage crown
Calla Lilly’s endless white elegance bouquet, a peek-a-boo lavender funnel play
Daffodils, shoo-in to scoop arm loads, out of the cold, into the morning sunlight spills
Ephemeral, short-lived and quickly fading beauties, trilliums, and harbinger of spring
Freesia innocence captures your heart trust with its fragrances and sword beauty
Gaura, a wand burst of delicate stars as bee-blossoms sing delightful springtime
Hyacinths, sincerity of fragrant with folded leaves a play bouquet of stars
Impatiens, touch-me-not to bloom anew Bizzy-Lizzy in all its playful trim
Jack-in-the-pulpit Arisaema triphyllum striped showy pining lover male-female as one
Kangaroo Paws their long beautiful stalks attract birds to perch and sip its nectar
Lily of the Valley flowers of spring sweetly scented miasmatic wedding bells
Marigolds brightly shine in bur-pee garden spicing up a dish fresh, and new
Nightshade, adorable soothing little green elfish hat and long flowing pink skirt
Orchids a touch of elegance in its uniquely posture, delicate in its buoyant poetry
Peonies, shades of red to white or yellow fragrant strong and hardy the Flower Fairy
Quinces magical splash of color with thorns heralds spring
Rue, sour herb of grace symbol of purity deterrent kitties and snakes
Sweet Peas reaching to the heavens embraced by the breeze, then flowers fade
Tansy yellow bitter buttons hang dry then boiled to clear amber-yellow dye
Uva-Ursi, grape of the bear blowing pink urn kisses into the air
Voodoo Lily, breathtaking with its height and beauty, not its foul odor attracting buzz
Windflower, star sprinkle flowers in your garden, but easies stomach and cough
Xeronema Callistemon sheer dazzling red toothbrush look perched on cliff top
Yellow Anemone, pure and fresh sleeps at night and wakes at a hint of sun
Zinnias sway with its parade of orange tutus charming wings flavor its beauty
4/26/2016
Garden Inspirations Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: BJ Legros Kelley
I remember way back when I was real young, my brother and I used to have adventures
and we wouldn't even leave the house.
Games full of hide and seek and afternoon cartoons.
We were two peas in a pod like twins at least that's how we bonded.
All the neighborhood kids loved us, were addicted to our energy.
It wasn't until we grew up a little that I started to notice the difference
between us.
I was light as day, he was dark as night.
Same father same mother just out mind sets were different.
I got treated like a white girl even though I was full of soul.
I begged for his darkness because I was naive.
To him it didn't matter.
He belonged to our family no matter the difference in color.
I would stand by him just so people would see that I was black.
Even though I knew every song, I knew how to dress, and shake just like a video
girl some of the ignorant still just couldn't except that I was one of them.
I got teased and beat because I had brown colored hair that fell down my back like
long silk.
My skin so light eye shadow wouldn't show when I put it on. I would stare in the
mirror and wish for a darker complexion.
But this was me, I lived a few blocks from the projects, a beautiful neighborhood
with lots of houses we were upper class but still knew the struggle.
A few gun shots here and there but my block was like the suburbs compared to them
mean streets that I had never crossed.
But I went to school right in the project area, you turned a corner and you were
right in the middle of it.
I've seen many fights, weed smelling bathrooms, girls bringing knives
to school, alcohol in the cafeteria milk.
I experienced it all right with them. I even had an temper that got my butt
kicked sometimes.
But it was always the same comment you can't be black, maybe Hispanic but not black.
I would always wonder why, just because I was light to me this made no sense in the
world.
But I've grown up now and it doesn't bother me anymore because I love my curves and I
know that there are different shades of black in the world.
Especially since now a dayslight skinned girls are the new trend.
Form:
Carlo Santana's Black Magic Woman,
in the 60's and 70's gave magic to his
band..
Drugs were part of this movement it's
fair to say. Getting high for many,
while listening to their music, was the
common way
Peace signs, beads, bell bottoms,
psychedelic shirts, desert boots, and
long hair and marijuana, is what was
in style. Looking back and being part
of that history lifestyle, makes me smile.
Peace protesters against the draft,
and Vietnam war. Jimi Hendrix, Peter,
Paul and Mary, The Beatles, Bob Dillon
The Beach Boys,Led Zepplin, Rolling
Stones,Elvis,Simon and Garfunkel,
Crosby, Stills, Nash and Neil Young,
Leonard Skynyrd, Eric Clapton, Carly
Simon is all we heard.
They kept our soldiers in Viet Nam
mentally occupied. It helped them
overcome their stress, and brought
some pleasure to their lives.
Rock N Roll Music had an impact
everywhere.The melodies and lyrics
represented a culture reflecting people,
who really cared.
Neil Young, Eric Clapton, Aerosmith,
Neil Diamond, Barbara Striesand,
Jim Croce made the scene. Years later
Disco and the Bee Gee's came dancing
in.
Disco died, it didn't last long, during
this time Rock N Roll kept rolling on.
Rush, The Eagles, The Police, Peter
Frampton, Boston, Reo Speedwagon,
Blue OysterCult, Fleetwood Mac, Bob
Seger, Steve Miller band, we listened
to. I can't forget Journey, Bruce
Springsteen, Foreigner or the Who.
Bon Jovi, Creed, Madonna, Red Chili
Peppers, Van Halen, Black Eye Peas,
Were hot then. Rock N Roll songs, will
keep on playing, and be appreciated
over and over again.
Time reflects the Lyrics in the songs,
of the good times and the wrongs.
Woodstock brought them all together,
a lasting bond to last forever.. .
Homeward Bound Simon and Garfunkel
was the favorite song with the soldiers. Also
John mentioned The Lion SleepsTonight by
the Tokens. Robert Lindley also mentioned
their groups that were left out. Please read his
comments below. I also thank Robert for his
valued input.
I just want to add that the 60's and
70's were my personal favorite years.
I say this because people really cared
about the war and each other. They
were right...
Michael Tor 10/16/2015 Nayda Ivette Negron. Contest: Favorite Music Type