Long Pitcher Poems
Long Pitcher Poems. Below are the most popular long Pitcher by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pitcher poems by poem length and keyword.
WHEN LOVE RAINS SUPREME…
There they sat on their raised verandah,
looking out and up at the celestial canvas
nature had painted. Puffed up
Puffed up peacock-like nimbus clouds
slowly strutted across the skies; and
in a chameleon like fashion, they changed
from white to a darken blue hue
that edged toward the borders of blackness.
Fascinated by this heavenly transformation,
sets of eyes mingled; and curious smiles
drew themselves across mysterious faces.
Suddenly, lightning flashed! Then they heard the thunder!
And without hesitation, the celestial pouring pitcher
poured down its waters---as if a great earthly thirst call
had been sent up to God’s heavenly cistern above.
On the desert like ground below, once wilted life
took on new meaning--- terrestrial gardens
bloomed and gleamed with resurrected beauty; and
the warm humid air blew an arousal scent teasing old desires.
Hearts throbbed as love hollowed out
her footprints in the moist mud,
leaving a trail to rejuvenated ecstasy
withering in the desert of old age.
Synchronized in the moment,
they madly dashed for the bedroom;
lit aromatic candles; put on Coltrane’s
A Love Supreme and pull back the sheets!
In that ecstatic moment, they smiled
and drifted off to sleep---serenaded by the music
and the pitter-patter of rain drops falling upon the roof:
Oh what manifestations ‘A Love Supreme’ brings when it rains!
Late morning today (February 17, 2021)
I (accompanied by missus)
drove to bed bath and beyond
Plymouth Meeting, Pennsylvania
off Chemical Road location for naught.
After arriving
at said destination alas and alack
with intent to purchase:
ZeroWater®
10-Cup Ready Pour™ Pitcher - $17.50
and ZeroWater®
4-Pack Replacement Filters - $39.99
(we discovered aforementioned store shuttered)
both of us essentially undertook round trip
to Schwenksville and back
without rhyme nor reason.
Subsequently, an idea dawned
(came to mind) to craft a poem
with immediate insight
since yours truly likes to write.
Our eldest daughter, an engineering ace,
(who lives in Oakland, California,
and conveniently employed to chase
the buck courtesy remote technology
within walls of her dwelling place
by B-corp) frequently politely reminds us
to purchase environmentally friendly product
to help sustain earthly creatures
besides human race
who about bajillion years from now
will vanish without a trace.
She nsync with youngest offspring,
(a lovely lass awaiting
her prince charming
ah...if only her fantasy
to marry available bachelor
singer constituting the
British band One Direction, -
would be dream come true)
insync with alluded to first born
unwittingly contribute immense happiness,
whereby meaning of life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness
doth resonate
despite both adorable girls,
(an unbiased opinion courtesy their papa)
in Oakland, California
and Bend, Oregon respectively.
Eco-friendly ethics
informed courtesy older sister eons ago,
she (Amelie Beth) hypersensitivity,
a contemplative introverted bro
who as a socially withdrawn boy
rather puny and scrawny body
standing with knobby knees
unknowingly foretold skeletal escrow,
viz arms akimbo point each elbow
perpendicular while moving to and fro
geeky and nerdy
improvisational dance intro
exhibiting nonconformist Judeo
spontaneous boyish schtick
just before onset anorexia nervosa manifesto.
While racing on the rocking horse of youth
Going nowhere closer to the sun or faster there
When swinging pendulums from Democrat to Republican
Age picks up the pace, in speed it keeps us in our place
Remains the same with nothing more than impressions on a carpet
Really, there's no distance covered on the new republic as no one cares
And when the rocker and pendulum stop in mid air
Dust settles at the bottom as ash on ash to gather us
Into one party to call “all in with my candidate” with all your soul
Dropped with a ballot but will that ever be enough
How far did we expect to go on wooden horses
Saddled up with straw men about to burn in vanity if not in hell
Authors note: This piece was inspired by Brad Minor, a writer in “A Catholic Thing” writing on our modern politics.
Qoheleth, (son of Solomon writes in Ecclesiastes) his perspective on life, which anticipates by half a millennium many of Christ’s words.
In Chapter 3 – the one that begins “For everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven” – he writes, “I saw under the sun in the place of judgment wickedness, and in the place of justice iniquity.” Do we really think anything has changed?
But is Qoheleth’s pessimism a sound guide to politics? Yes. Mine wouldn’t be, but his is. It is because the vanity he laments (and which we see today in abundance) is proof of his theme throughout:
12:6 Before the silver cord is snapped
and the golden bowl is broken,
And the pitcher is shattered at the spring,
and the pulley is broken at the well,
7 And the dust returns to the earth as it once was,
and the life breath returns to God who gave it.
8 Vanity of vanities, says Qoheleth,
all things are vanity!
Amen.
We are human clay
Clay pots for the Lord’s display
And as we are led in a cruciform way
It is the Lord who will restore the cracks with new clay
But the cracks are to be seen and known
As we grow in Christ and our light dimly shown
That Light will break forth through every crack
And like Gideon’s Army will break forth
with the Light that we lack
So goes the pugilistic efforts that we’ve offered
Beating the air in our futility that’s proffered
But our fight is shown in the cracks of the jars
It’s shown in this life through pottery shards
Shown to give glory to the One that’s in charge
He repairs all, the connards and the canards
So, Jesus repairs you and me
He uses His kintsugi
To mend the pottery
The fractured pitcher of you and me
(He uses silver and gold and His Refiner’s fire
To refine our focus towards Him our Desire)
The Desire of all nations bursts forth
in the breaking of the clay
We will share in a new life that’s breaking today
Maybe it was that last biscuit layered with butter and jam
or could it have been those sodas only around nine cans
Never just one bucket of extra crispy southern fried chicken
could make you feel bloated and heading to the can
Never those mashed potatoes or drinking gravy from a cup
probably that single green bean when I knew I had enough
Ears and ears of corn so sweet and buttery to the taste
curly fries drowned in ketchup smeared all over my face
Only a couple wedges of corn bread heavy with butter
and that macaroni and cheese just one serving than another
Fried okra and cabbage with lots of bacon and diced ham
those savory baked beans swimming in molasses man oh man
And a pitcher of brewed sweet ice tea with sugar from sugar cane
now using artificial sweeteners or corn syrup would be insane
And for dessert a hot Dutch apple pie with ice cream a la mode
capped off with chocolate syrup mixed in that hot cup of joe
Such a light lunch so why do I feel so overstuff
that extra large pizza for dinner will just have to be enough.
No Extra Innings
Baseball games are won by keeping score,
But hold no interest for me any more.
I realized, when it became clear to me,
How like relationships the game can be.
The pitcher I knew threw devious curves,
Many from which I just couldn't swerve.
I took his pitches, but I refused the blame
For all the errors in our relationship game.
Fans in the bleachers, supported both teams.
There were lots of jeers, taunts, and screams.
A sneer on the pitcher's face said it all...
He changed from sliders to throw hardballs.
I stepped back, away from the plate.
Was that look in his eyes one of hate?
This game was no longer played for fun.
I heard a gruff voice call out..."Strike one."
His fans were shouting out lame excuses
For his anger, his cursing, and verbal abuse.
But while trying to decide what I should do,
I felt a tear fall. The Ump called..."Strike two."
I couldn't go on, so I threw down my bat.
To the pitcher I bowed and then tipped my hat.
The next pitch would've been the death of me.
I covered my ears not to hear..."Strike Three."
The game ended quickly with no extra innings.
Neither side counted it a triumph of winning.
The bleachers were empty, and so was my heart.
Games can be brutal and tear people apart.
The night shift settles, a quiet hum of lights,
Where fragile dreams and fading days reside.
The CNAs move, a blur of steady might,
The truest anchors, with nothing left to hide.
I walk the halls, not with a med-cart key,
But eyes wide open for the weary hand,
A silent plea, I try to help the CMA,
The things they have to face and push right through.
A pitcher needs a fill, a linen changed,
A call bell's chime they can't quite reach in time.
The intricate schedule, always deranged,
Nurses charting truths that border on sublime.
Then the kitchen door swings wide, a flash of heat,
Where steam and silver meet the day's routine.
I don't dispense the meds, or chart a vital beat,
But I'm the engine keeping every setting clean.
The rush begins—the residents are wheeled to dine,
My eyes track trays where the service must begin.
The plates come back, a study in demand,
I clear the clutter, working with a steady hand.
Bussing tables, making sure no mess is left right there,
I quickly wipe the spills and sweep the floor.
The Nurses gain a moment they can save;
The environment I tend, gives back the time they crave.
This steady rhythm, stacking dishes high,
A clean, safe setting means they can give so much more.
From tray delivery to the final scrub and shine,
Supporting the staff, so their essential light can shine.
We are a single function, serving one great need,
And every small assist, every extra glance,
Buys back a minute, a necessary seed,
To simply pause, and breathe, and keep their pace,
While bringing comfort to this sacred space.
Imagine for a second
that the entire Afghanistan affair
were a baseball game between two archrivals.
The United States Rainbow Eagles and the Taliban Death Stars
The Eagles start the game with their ace pitcher
who is pitching a no-hitter for 8 2/3 innings.
But as it were, he blows his arm out and can't finish the game.
Their coach, Joe "the sniffer" Biden (a Likeable but well past his prime sort of fellow)
despite having a great relief pitcher in the bullpen
decides to go with an untested rookie
to close out the one-sided game.
To nobody's surprise (but Coach Sniffer), the Taliban Death Stars rally
getting hit after hit and run after run
and close the gap rapidly.
Much to everyone's amazement
Coach Sniffer sticks with the rattled rookie
and the Taliban Death Stars surge
ahead for a stunning victory.
After the game, Coach Sniffer bleats "c'mon man!" to no one in particular...
Then dips his silver head and takes his battered team out for a consolation ice cream cone.
With plenty of crushed nuts to go around.
I know it's hard... for you to turn the
page, especially when you don't
want this chapter to end it's more
love than hate, you can't do what
you undid the present is here and
that means that the past was late no
need for me to spell it out or
abbreviate, no resuscitation just
elevation, let it elevate you priorities
comes first and she don't even have
a clue, so...what do you do when the
one you love and you are on
different paths, that leads to a home
divided y'all do the math, step up to
the mound like a pitcher a man
putting his kids first now that's a true
religion so if she can't understand
that I don't know what to tell you,
except how you gonna cross the
finish line together when y'all on
different levels
Game 5 starts with a bang, a base hit then home run by Pearce right away
Red Sox are 2 to 0! Go Sox – Yay!
Then the Dodgers come back with a home run on the 1st swing!
Making it 2 to 1, as their fan’s cheers loudly ring
Then a great double play and strike out stops them quick
Their momentum isn’t allowed to stick
Into the 2nd, Dodgers are on base but no runs come in
Then in 3rd Dodgers on base again, fighting to win
Red sox come back in the 4th on base, but stopped too
Their great playing in the 5th, keeps Dodgers behind straight through
In the 6th it’s a Red Sox home run by Mookie Betts, as they rise!
It’s now 3 to 1 with another great home run surprise!
Great playing double play later keeps them on the top this night
It seems the red sox are focused on their goal in sight
Into the 7th can you believe? This time Red Sox - Martinez - hits a home run!
And now the Red Sox are in the lead 4 to 1
Dodger’s good plays keep up the fight, nice
But Red Sox don’t let up, amazing pitching by Price
Then comes the 8th as they reach for their dream in the sky
It’s ANOTHER home run! 2nd for Pearce this night, as they fly!
Large crowds in Boston celebrate and rock the night away
Into the streets they gather and cheer this special day!
Pitcher Kelly enters the game, a strike out master
Brings the Red Sox closer to champs even faster
Into the ninth, pitcher Sale comes into the game
Finishing it off with a strike out into Red Sox Fame!!!
Red Sox are now World Series Champions 5 to 1
Pearce most valuable player award, with 2 home runs
The Red Sox fully earned their way to the top
An amazing team proving, no-one could stop!
CONGRATULATIONS SOX!
Heidi Sands
10/29/18