Long Postmen Poems
Long Postmen Poems. Below are the most popular long Postmen by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Postmen poems by poem length and keyword.
Virus
No dining no cinema no going out
No football or festivals
No getting about
No meeting a colleague no hugging a friend
No pubs no clubs gatherings
When will we see the end?
This virus has us locked inside
Us over seventies
All have to hide
But its not all gloom it wont last forever
Being kept apart
Has brought us all together
We are Zooming and Skyping like never before
The community spirit
Is just like in the war
There have been front room festivals
And internet plays
Happy reminders of better days
So we wont give up we’ll stay in lock down
Until this damn virus
Is no longer around
If we believe in our hearts it wont be long
We will beat this pandemic
And see it gone
So lets drink a toast to the NHS crew
And to postmen and drivers
Who bring deliveries to you
To bus drivers and policemen and firemen too
Who all risk their lives
For me and for you
So lets all stand firm and never give in
Then the war on this virus
We will surely win
I know we can beat it if we stay strong
And we will see the day
When forever its gone
The politically correct nonsense of today is so very absurd!
The language of my native land has become so terribly blurred,
By those who devote themselves to concocting such inane idiom.
Such prattle is as puzzling to me as is the element of iridium!
Now, it's chic to refer to postmen and befuddled college freshmen,
As postpersons and freshpersons whether they be woman or man!
Even folks with sticky fingers are given a title deemed more proper:
A shoplifter is delicately called a "non-traditional shopper!"
The wino in the gutter and the falling-down drunken driver,
Are each tenderly referred to as a "substance abuse survivor!"
Even the Father of Creation is no longer referred to as "He".
Monikers like "Daddy", "She" and "A Being" were created by the laity!
The so-called social engineers want to sink without a trace,
Cheery "Merry Christmas" with ill-chosen greetings in its place!
After all, 'tis Christ's glorious birth that we commemorate,'
Not the winter soltice or some pagan rite to perpetuate!
Seems 'tis normal nowadays to blame everyone but one's self,
For problems and predicaments in which one finds himself.
I could go on ad infinitum on this topic but space won't allow,
But I reckon the reader will have perceived how I feel by now!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)
Some of them are living ghosts,
they have buried their roots
under newer foundations,
or they still live anonymously
under a rock of poverty.
If you asked me to name them
I could not, for they all had names
too similar to mine.
The whole street,
all its doors and windows,
its narrow-broken pavements
have been obliterated by the nazis
or the iron booted rent collectors.
Postwar postmen have no addresses
to slot through.
In my mind
is a diorama of a history
that I missed by being born late,
yet the street knew me before I knew it.
Now the ghosts are dying one by one.
Those that left the street
to become pink and abundant
were happy to be alive for a while,
as I was,
until inevitably
the diorama turned into a carousel
of long gray sunsets.
stepping out of the post office, I turned towards sounds of loud
crashing glass and shredding metal. Through the bright summer morning I
can see what just happened, two cars (actually, a guy in a pickup truck and
a lady in a car) tried to challenge amber lights, and upon seeing another
vehicle competing for the same amber, both sped-up to beat the other at the
last second. Well, it didn't work out real good, see'ins how they both
were thinkin' alike. At mach-speed, they veered away from each other at the
last second, the pickup slipped by (and kept on goin) but the car with the
lady crashed into the barbershop on the corner (that's what I heard) throngs
of onlookers converged on the scene. The lady sprawled halfway out of her
car, with her lower half wedged under the steering wheel, staring lifeless at
the sky. Joking to the crowd, one of the Postmen standing around shouted
"she musta wanted a haircut" I heard laughter echoing around me. Anger
filled me, I wanted to shout "what about her family? they don't know how
much their lives just changed! how can you laugh?" ....... the Postman went
back inside to sell stamps ...... I went home ......... she went to the morgue for
identification.
Ultimate wish with the great thoughts,
No one knows today is my birthday.
Knowing you is my hardest task of the day,
Never thought one will wish me like this,
Off course, it is not for me, I am mistaken.
Words are pointing me, how it is possible!?
Nice emotions these are, the person may be a writer.
Postmen surely help me to find the stranger,
Envelope is fully blank, how can he find?
Remembering every second of mine, this is only the way.
Surrounding is in silence, but, I am totally disturbed,.
Obviously, the person observed me for a long time,
None of the people disturbed me like this, then, who is this?!
4/2/2018
Contest :Anonymous angel
Buy ink which remains indelible on the soul
Lick your stamps as they should never lick themselves
Keep envelopes open to suggestions and to be stretched
Hide them in a dry place or pine desk out of trouble
Hold pens gently into the wind or corresponding weather
Leave an impression on the world as you write
Use an eraser but only after midnight
Employ an umbrella over your story
Deploy it in the rain if you compose
Protect your notes while rushing to the mail post
Kill trees only when necessary
Pray they don’t take revenge
Keep rain in buckets one drop at a time
Keep sanity at bay and asteroids at large
Stamp high as bays get wet in rising tides
Write letters with pens untouched by men
Utilize paper snow white and pretty
Mail correspondences twice if suspicious
Use two stamps because you can
Deliver yourself from evil
Let postmen know you are on to them
Send one letter at a time as mail is heavy
Give it time because time is burdensome
Let letters drop while servers do the rest
Wait for a response but don’t hold your breath