Long Poof Poems
Long Poof Poems. Below are the most popular long Poof by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Poof poems by poem length and keyword.
7/23/17
Here then gone, like poof!
Below the floor and above the roof
On par, falling behind or ahead of the game
Going with or against the grain
Getting it wrong and right
During the light of day and in the dark of night
Still here or evaporated
Spoken truly or exaggerated
Continually being loved and hated
In one location or anywhere on the map
In a place so small or space where it's all so vast
On the move or still
Healthy or ill
In the form of a liquid or pill
Done incorrectly or with skill
Losses and victories
Proven or still a mystery
Forgotten or a part of history
Ending up in first or last place
Going at a slow, steady or fast pace
A word, a word,
Another word,
Some syllables,
A metaphor,
A clever turn of phrase,
A spare alliteration,
A savvy observation,
A willing fuse,
A careless spark,
And then bam!
It shoots skyward,
It shimmers and sparkles,
Sizzles and pops,
Lights up the heavens,
With grandeur and pomp,
You don’t ever want it to stop,
But then poof,
Suddenly it's gone.
Don't be disappointed, though,
There’s plenty more
Where that came from.
After all, it's only fake poetry,
I just make this stuff up,
Dreaming linguistic pyrotechnics,
Drawing images and doodles,
Leaving meanings largely undefined.
Fake poetry and silent musicals,
The products of my overcurious mind.
Hippie's Lament
And like, everyday it is the same,
you wake up to a nightmare world called earth, man,
and the people on the screens tell you what’s real,
telling you this is real, and telling you that is fake, and
all this twisted stuff with blood, just smears the vision, man.
And as life in this crazy-ass asylum goes on, like,
it’s gets more freaking out of control!
There’s spilled blood and death in the streets,
and thieves by the thousands are running amok and taking everything!
All this crap can’t be for real! Come on God! Are you kidding us?
Like, every day some new disaster befalls another human being somewhere,
Something completely out of their control happens to them, totally random!
And poof! They are taken out of here! Like, some huge spider grabs them! Hello!
And what’s with all the cancer? It’s like the Blob from 1957 eating us all up!
Didn’t we put a few dudes on the moon, like half a century ago?
What is up with that? You’d think they’d find a cure for cancer by now,
But no! Someone somewhere is making a hell of a lot of green dough,
managing diseases instead of curing them! What the hell! Let’s face it!
There ain’t gonna be no cure for nothing! This planet is too crowded, man!
And like, everyday it is the same.
I part the curtains of my memory and suddenly we are young again.
Half cousin to a distant life, I recall summer skips and marble throws.
The way we owned our little world on 2nd Avenue,
and explored every nook and cranny of our Italian hub.
Yes, they were the best years of our lives and we didn't know it.
As summer sun danced upon our shoes, with a hammer
we hit those little firecrackers and pow, pow, pow !
Banging pots and pans we woke everyone. Stomping, marching, and yelling with energetic voices. Who could miss three
boisterous children, in the prime of their lives.
Those were our free spirit days, strong legs and young
fleshy arms that were hugged one day and slapped the next.
Today I close the light gently on that flamboyant living.
It was a cinema-scope moment of the seventies, one that won't
return. Somehow we coped. Perhaps love was the healing balm
the anoint of our resilient souls.
We were young guns fired up for life. Always ready for adventure. Today I let the firecrackers pop in my head only once in a while,
down comes the hammer, pow, pow, pow !
Black dots aligned you bro bring down the hammer one more time, as I watch gun smoke come out of the sidewalk. Poof! Silence.
We were half insane, and loving it.
The End.
lost words are wolves hunting
heat from the herd, raw desire
one day less alone
American prom night
youth-swept hair moussed down in place
cigarettes light, poof
there goes Mary's lamb
water pail swings from her jaw
blind to the boil ahead
it begins like a bath
soft as the sun's seduction
quiet as a rack
back window fogs up
fingers paint shapes on car's cave
condensing moments
it was kilning day
he, my substitute art teacher
ersatz guardian
photos of his kids
near the hearth of his grandma's
basement fireplace
I was a student
thirteen is an innocence
despite the heated clay
Sandro knew his kind,
let's call him Terry Carter
because that's his name
Hip, Hip, Hurray!
January 1 is New Year's Day!
Is it special in any form or way?
Is there anything special in the Heavens to see?
--Not there that I know of, or under the sea.
The day is not marked by significant event;
Not by Christmas, or Easter, or the Six Weeks of Lent.
Yet perhaps we've a 'clean slate' at the start of the year?
Tell me: Does yesterday's baggage poof! disappear?
And is everything really so new and so fresh?
Did we empty and burn all of last year's trash?
Now, the Chinese and Jewish New Years have real meaning;
But January 1, alas, seems a tad overweening.
--Oh, hang all this negativity! Enough of this rot!
I'm goin' out New Year's Eve; January 1's all I've got!
I've been sitting up here day after day and months on end, and please, let's not talk about years. I watch you stare at me when you think I'm unaware. I see you vacillate between life's mundane and the big, beautiful me, and oh, how I cringe when you buckle to those artificial fears.
This old, stale dust has covered me, concealing my illustrious shine. Please know I am forever in your heart and indelibly in that beautiful mind.
You were made imperfectly, but you have been so faithful. I've seen your long nights and slow days. Oh my! What we can and should be is so bountiful.
It is no accident that I was born in your heart and aggrandized in your mind. Come on now, take me off this shelf, and clean me up. The world is waiting; let's get in line.
The bumps, accidents, detours, and road construction along the way enticed you to put me back on this darn shelf. Sure, we have had to remap a time or two or three. But this journey must continue; we have our help.
I see the cuts, scrapes, bruises, mental anguish, pain, and frustration you bear. But you're still standing, so take me off this shelf, and let's get there.
I'm still waiting! But don't make me wait much longer. It's time to eat; let's feed this born hunger.
Poof! Poof!
az the magic trick
her sweet
appearz again
whilst my
exits the bathe
and again
nope no
warning smoke signalz
if there were the
puff uv shhmoke
'twould be the
poof
yup
the sweetest
poof
'cauze her petite
with the cute
movez
In hern pumps
it soundz like
tap tap
poof
poof
tap
tap
tap
and az alwayz
snap
and back to
poof poof
poof poof
the cutest glide in her
shhmock
poof
top mine
boon'd
*booned
1. : something asked or granted as a favor.
2. : something pleasant or helpful that comes
at just the right time : blessing ["boon'd".]
People change, whether you like it or not; if you can see it or notice it…; a beautiful thing. People tend to drift apart. Some people even stay together; life's a mystery. At the same rate it’s not uncommon for people to be in love. It’s all too common, unfortunately, for this feeling to be one sided. Utter heart ache, pains and struggle. Daily and nightly, another love lost lust, crushed with one thrust, and poof… Dust, laugh, lie, hide and deny, but these feelings do not subside. We give up… We try… We give up... We try… Again, it seems impossible to win. We lose… We blame drugs and over populate schools. Minimize facts and simplify rules. Clear your brain and expose your jewels. Endless knowledge for all to share; singular consciousness bonded by life and treated unfair. If you change for the good, that outcome is rare. Live as one equal. For better or worse, till death do we part? In the end of it all just know in your heart... People change and people drift apart…
-Ironic Zinc, Sometime in August of 2013
Silver slippers sliding off her feet, sparkling heels,
Suspended beat of the air, the feel of surrender
to the pumpkin skies, the rise of parting souls.
Bare feet, barely touching the stairs; the tip toes
of spiraling rails. Her midnight blue gown swooshing,
swaying, twirling. The moon glittering like her tiara.
Poof, like magic, she’s disappeared, as his hands
fondle one of the shapely shoes; perfect though
they’d been used in romantic tango half the night.
The cool night air still holds her lips, her breath,
the essence of her charm, her slippers. He dare not
turn back the clock - hears its melody chiming.
Her timing was impeccable, almost laughable, as
the princess-dolts had already stepped on his toes,
their knees creaked, and all were wildly anxious.
But she showed up at the top of the stairs,
suspended time, then descended the winding
way, all along lifting his eyes, biding her time.
The only son, ready to take the throne -
his palms were wet, his knees trembled,
love at first sight, before she even spoke.
She didn’t disappoint. She could sing and dance.
Where did she come from? He’s too entranced
to ask, but as courage comes the clock strikes.
and she runs
away like a ghost…