Long Polaroid Poems
Long Polaroid Poems. Below are the most popular long Polaroid by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Polaroid poems by poem length and keyword.
He said
remember me by the shape of my laugh
but I rarely saw a smile
climbing upon his image
left with no choice than
wrap those rare moments
seized with Polaroid seconds
I'm ordering them not to wear blue faces
as that was the only color he didn't want to follow him
consider it done
I'll lineup macarons in every tone
is possible to imagine
I'll spread gummy bears all over that
wooden plate which holds your body
so you can finally perceive
how it feels lying on the rainbow
yes
I'll pare down those blue shades
so that even rainbow cognises
how does it feel
being left
ripped
and no
there will be no rain
I don’t always like taking pictures but there are a few hundred moments with you I would like to freeze in a moment for forever
Loving each one like it was the best day ever
No matter where my troubles take me you will always put a smile on my sadness, a Band-Aid on my cuts, and ice on my bruise
Life couldn’t get any better if that day became true for us to relive a moment in time
A special photograph accompanied by an unapologetic story over a couple beverages
Good times and good vibes as I take another sip
Imagine the feeling you get when you are so happy you forget for a moment what you are doing or where you are
This is what I felt the first time we met, and the feeling has stuck around ever since
Flipping through old photos of us and immediately the feeling from that day jumps from my body
I then try to catch it before it runs away because sometimes, we don’t frame every picture the way it was intended to be
Meaning we don’t always appreciate the wealth of a moment when we are in it
So, the next time he kisses you try not to breathe for a couple of seconds so all you can do is feel
And when he holds you, hold onto that moment and not the negative thoughts distracting you
Let yourself go and enjoy life so you don’t only enjoy it through old photographs
p.s. I love taking pictures with you on your polaroid…
The only reason for time
is so that everything
doesn’t happen at once
Albert Einstein
TIME IS ELEMENTARY
swatches of bands, smart
time is elementary;
strapped snug, cosseted
on a small-pale wrist.
coffee fumes and coal
chugging on life’s track.
cuckoo bird on half
and every hour —
oh, why’d it have to stop?!
(salvation in Grandma’s coffee cake)
polaroid portions collecting dust;
ink-streaked down
memory’s bust.
ironic how i can’t remember
the ding-dong digital or sundial
in our own home —
clocks have a mind of their own
busy with keeping its children,
well swept, wound
and educated.
6/29/2019
The meeting point. Where candle smoke, mixed with incense, meanders through the air. A latent image developing, like a polaroid of prayer, into microscopic particles of silver, weaving into an undulating bridge reaching to heaven. This writhing wreath of smoke, twisting in the sun’s rays, that probe with bright fingers, through slatted windows high above. Here, in this place, the fears, the worries, the kaleidoscope of chaos we call life, melts and dissipates, like the drifting, venerable vapours. I am emptied but enriched. In the presence of a love that bids me return, that reassures me, gives me courage, fulfilment and peace. The spirit surges, firing up within me like the old boiler in our hallway, roaring with love, re-igniting the flame planted within in me long, long ago.
Renewed, forgiven.
Reconciled. I understand.
I am not alone.
Do not be envious of the water that waters another's yard
The grass is always greener, and a reason for their trivial mirth
Remember the green grows from dirt
We are all victims of light, Polaroid
2D snapshot moments, they are no full picture
You fret over paper-images developed in darkness
There is nothing too big about you
That doesn't already have a place in this world
Except maybe your heart, its heaven sent
Fear not their jeering gestures and taunting sneers
They have not known the depth of you
Theirs is cleverly veiled pain crying out for acceptance
Who wouldn't want the sun for a smile?
And the twinkle of stars in their eyes?
I crave the light you bring everyday
The world got caught under her breath
They could never hear her precious mumbling, only realized when she left
One second she was there
One second she was floating in timeless air
In a wisp of whimsical space
She would show her elegant face
A polaroid of a perfect smile
Commanding regretful tears and remembrance of all the distant years
Her blood was on the hands of many,
No one predicted the coming tragedy
Her life not quite a blissful blur
But rather a silent stab of sadness
She left no note or collective clues
That might have calmed you
No lying lyrics that provoked pointless pity in
Some that might have said torturing her was comedy
She only left a small reminder to anyone who could find her
And that is this…
“Dying is easy my friend, living is harder.”
Ole to yon poet writer of words
Yet engaging tarring rhythmically graphics
As all four corners images edging
I have dreamed of these those sketches
I heard an endearing, developing edging
That moment my soul grew Polaroid™
Much I marveled this irresistible press release
Extra-extra read all about it
I remember I was benefiting, computer buffering
By the grave I saw the waded balled up papers
I awoke and flung the printing ink everywhere
Deep into that darkness tattooing covering my skin
When I thought of the art
I remember I was drawing
But in the fact that it was growling
I discovered the sections
The cartographic cartoon classing
Back into my memories enticing
Disciplining and disciplining with my article
And the images never titillating
I crave the pleasurable, palatable poster
Deep into that darkness paragraphing
The deleted drawing diagraming
That moment my soul grew 7th
Much I marveled the exciting blurb text unreadable
While I crave the surprising, scrumptious spelling
For my editorial essay entrancing picture that
Fingering writing on this old Royal™ typewriter, tap-tap-tap-tapping
1/27/22
Written words by James Edward Lee ©2022
After checking the Sears and Roebuck and Montgomery Wards catalogs until their pages were torn and faded, we took one last look at the sales ads in the local newspaper, donned our socks and sandal, and jumped into the station wagon to head out to that brand new shopping place called ‘The Mall’. Wheee doggies it was something. That joint was a jumpin’. It was cool and hip and out of sight. I mean it was really far out man. The mall had everything you could imagine, all in one building. There was store after store jam-packed with VCRs, rotary dial phones, cassette tapes, console TVs, One-Hour Photo, Blockbuster, and Toy’s-R-Us. It seemed like they had everything under the sun ready for a layaway plan.
After paying for the purchases with paper checks written in cursive, we’d head on down to the food court or the all-you-can-eat buffet for lunch. We’d sit on the red plastic-covered chairs and light up a couple of Kents, Chesterfields, Viceroys, Virginia Slims, or maybe some Lucky Strikes. We’d take a couple of pictures with our trusty Polaroid to commemorate the day by adding them to the family photo album. At the end of the day, the kids would jump into the back of the station wagon for a nap while we drove the two-hour-long trip back home. It was a good thing we only had to stop for gas once because, after all that shopping and eating, I only had two dollars left from the fifty we started out with. Seems like the high cost of just living is one thing that will never die.
On Main street’s sidewalks,
the store sign say they are closed,
is Christmas canceled.
I have this picture from when I was a kid, maybe ten years old.
It’s me and my childhood best friend, sitting side by side in an old easy chair.
At first glance, you’d probably think it’s sweet.
Two friends making memories.
Maybe you’d even ask if we still keep in touch.
But we don’t.
And truthfully, I hate that picture.
It’s not about her.
We drifted apart, life carried us in different directions and there’s no hard feelings there.
It’s me.
When I look at that photo, I don’t see two kids sharing a chair.
I see how big I was. Twice her size, maybe more.
My thigh taking up the space of both of her legs together.
My cheeks round, my body filling every corner of the frame.
I remember my mom snapping that polaroid, waiting for the image to appear.
And when it did, I felt the weight of it.
The obviousness of it.
My parents never really taught me healthy habits.
Our pantry was stocked with soda, ice cream, little Debbie’s and frozen pizzas.
No limits on portions. No guidance.
As a kid, you just eat what’s there.
And I always did.
I was the big kid. Always.
And the truth is, I’ve been fighting that same battle my whole life.
I don’t blame my parents, not entirely.
But I can’t help but think maybe it would have made a difference if they’d had some guidance to give me.
I try not to be cruel to myself. I don’t think I’m ugly.
But my weight has always been the shadow I carry.
I try to change and to unlearn what was taught to me in silence, but it’s hard.
Some days I punish myself.
Skipping meals, surviving on little more than a snack or two.
Other days, all I do is eat until the disgust settles in, heavy and sharp.
Those are the days I hate myself most.
It’s a strange place to live, between loving yourself and loathing your body.
I don’t want to spend my life enslaved to a number on a scale.
But sometimes, it feels like I already am.
That picture shaped the way I’ve seen myself ever since.
And I never threw it away.
She held my hand the exact same way and I looked at her the exact same way
And if time could capture happiness this moment would be the perfect picture
The Polaroid model then and their, feelings frozen and not worried about the sun
Because her moon carried his stars so even when its dark their love shines
As she runs her fingers down his face the same way and he kisses her forehead
in the same place
The future knew that the past would not keep them from loving forever
Together they kissed and together their hearts beat the same, because together their love remains
p.s. I write to give emotions a face and anonymous a name…