Long Potatoes Poems
Long Potatoes Poems. Below are the most popular long Potatoes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Potatoes poems by poem length and keyword.
People are a paradox,
They really are a puzzle.
While one can be so nice and kind,
His mate might need a muzzle.
You can never expect from one man,
The same thing you get from another.
No two people are alike,
Though raised by the same mother.
Your habits and your manner,
Formed by environment o'er time,
Can be different in your brother,
Though raised in the same clime.
The way I understand a thing,
And the way it affects you,
Can be entirely different,
And we retell it different too.
I say I like fish and chips,
You say you like fries.
No matter how you say it,
It's fish and potatoes, fried.
I say the sky is clear and blue,
You see azure skies.
We're looking at the self same thing,
But see through different eyes.
We all are different,
Yes it's true,
But the difference is simply,
Twixt me and you.
Learn to accept it.
Learn to agree,
There's beauty in the difference,
Twixt you and me.
was sitting in a crowd but felt so all alone
No communication, everyone staring at their phone
I just wanted to return to the life that I had tasted
No more electronic robots, I guess I'm technology wasted
Back to Bobbi socks and bobbi pins
Big hellos and happy grins
Culottes an pedal pushers, Friday night dances
Back seat in the drive in, teenage romances
At the amusement park in the penny arcade
Ferris wheel rides and pink lemonade
Walk hand in hand, sometimes act like a fool
Talk to each other as you carry her books home from school
Up in the balcony with your hands on her hips
New worlds to discover, lips touching lips
Yelling from the sidewalk can Jim come out to play
Riding down a hill while standing on a sleigh
Hanging from monkey bars, climb a tree in the park
Playing ball in the street until it was dark
Roasting potatoes on a campfire at night
Running and laughing while flying a kite
The smell of a bakery with bread baking at dawn
Lying in the grass, transistor radio on
Cotton candy at the County Fair
Butch wax or Brylcreem to train your hair
Flying high on a swing and then jumping down
Medicine show at the end of town
Picking blueberries for grandma's pies
Watching Old Yeller with tears in your eyes
At the drug store for a burger and shake
Skimming stones across the lake
Hot dogs and hamburgers on the old grill
Chase tag, hop scotch and King of the hill
Hang at the diner everyday after school
Meeting your friends at the community pool
Yes, take me back where talk wasn't a crime
Take me back to a simpler time
For all this complexity. I don't give a damn
Technology wasted is what I am.
I hear girlish laughter beyond the bagged onions.
Imagine her swimming naked among green ripples.
Her white arms are lily stems, hips as sleek as an otter
flow in a neon moonlight.
A sound system promotes discount cookies.
Visions of idealized females fill the dairy product section.
A courtly love of grapes spreads to the potatoes.
In the toy aisle, Avalon, Camelot, and Tintagel
appear in plastic miniature together with rainbow painted ponies.
Between the crisp covers of Guns & Ammo and Cosmo,
Annales Cambriae, Historia Brittornum,
and the writings of Gildas shimmer in periodic reality.
I should turn the old legends off, but the Kimble audio
keeps me walking with Malory and Tennyson.
In toiletries and cosmetics, I find her.
A teenager shyly laughing as she texts a boy.
My imagination reaches for the forbidden,
a fruit that was fresh this morning –
a thousand years ago.
Eddie/Dad
I try to see
back before
to who Eddie once was
just barely before when
the bending began
Eddie was after all
a cute child
wide eyed
hugging kissing and kind
Somehow horrible happened
It tricked and trapped his mind
Loud shouting screaming sounds
parents preaching pain
through domestic degradation
careless communication
fraught with frustration
Pass the potatoes please
then spilled milk smacking sensation
belt welts broken eggs no bacon
Get up go clean up
never ever interrupt
battles brief and abrupt
ranting and raving
mom misbehaving
Eddie helpless and in need of saving
experiencing what no child should be braving
Learning man lessons
before he started shaving
He can't depend on dear dad
who pretends perfection
in his ship shape barber shop
where his jolly joking rarely stops
Important friends doctors and cops
humorous happy back slaps
Eddie feels hidden looks and subtle attacks
Shoe shine simple
comic book quick
When the shop closes
Tearful Eddie gets another licking
At two times five even Eddie starts kicking
his hurt turns into fists swinging
runaway day trip escaping
Then away he starts staying
getting into trouble time
not enough praying
rules that need breaking
Who he'll become
there's little mistaking
what he wants he happily starts taking
He can't shake the mistakes
Travels life fast with worn brakes
Tears turn into lakes
He has and has caused
many heart breaks
Sometimes past prisons
Are to hard to escape
I think of my daddy
dear Eddie
and my soul shakes
Sometimes time ticks
Other times it just takes!
As I look out my Irish cottage window,
I see the Cliffs of Moher reaching up into the gray clouds.
Powerful cliffs are tickling the water below as it goes on forever,
water meeting the misty rain coming in from afar.
This land is covered in green with pretty wild-flowers,
coming from the misty rain that Atlantic storms bring.
My Irish cottage with it's thatched roof will keep me dry,
while the fireplace will keep me warm.
Our roads are narrow as we pass by castles,
many stand in ruin yet some welcome tourists.
Old castles for weary travelers to lay down to sleep,
then awaken to an Irish breakfast fit for a king and queen.
The Dublin Castle now a government complex and museum to visit,
long gone are the days for it to be filled with families.
Cabra Castle with it's 88 acres of green land,
will welcome you inside for a visit and an Irish meal.
Feast on dairy products, black pudding, grains, fish, stew and potatoes,
then wash it down with Irish whiskey or a tall glass of beer.
Make sure you watch for the fairies and Leprechauns,
they can be found when you least expect to see them.
Some say they are folklore living throughout the county side.
but do not say that to the ones who have seen them.
to trust in the Lord with all thine heart
is truly the best and only way to start
if you want to make great
the year 2008
to lean not towards society's ideal
to believe that God is the only and real deal
to study on the Word, to meditate day and night
to show thy self approved and acceptable in His sight
it's not about making empty promises and New Year's resolutions
it's about believing that God's way is the only conclusion
to not think in the natural state of mind
to live by the spirituality that is God's kind
for that's the way to make great
the year of 2008
we are of the flesh, we think in the flesh and that makes it hard for man to
comprehend
that to live by the institution that is Jesus Christ on His Word we must dig in
to feed on the Word, to dine on the Word, to consume that Daily Bread
which is also the lamp unto thy feet that will light the path ahead
to read on the Word of God will keep you focused and spiritually sharp
to abide by the Word will cause a makeover to occur in your heart
to be nourished by the Word of God and Its wisdom on you bestowed
to ingest the Word of God is the way to spiritually grow
just don't treat the Word of God like a fast food buffet
it's the meat and potatoes that will stick to your soul all day
so eat the bread and drink the wine that is Jesus Christ
be consumed by the Word that will truly change your life
trust in Him, believe in Him and then give Him control
let God be your guide and the Holy Spirit be part of your soul
put God first in your life and on His Word meditate
and that's how you'll make the year 2008 great
Thanksgiving 2021 does not appear to be much fun
for it will only be two little doggies and me
I guess I will share my meal by watching the NFL
only dear lord please keep the players off their knees
I have too many preconditions to risk virus infection
better play it safe and remain home in place
But never in the least should I miss Thanksgiving feast
A roast turkey and spiral ham
mashed potatoes and candy yams
Gravy and hot rolls please
cornbread dressing and mac and cheese
A green bean casserole and a relish plate
no cream corn would be a big mistake
Cranberry sauce ready from a can
devil eggs the holiday demands
Don't forget mom's holiday noodles
broccoli pour on melted cheese in oodles
Pecan and pumpkin pie
loads of whipped cream applied
Wash it down with fresh brew tea
a better holiday meal could not be
But is this a little much for two doggies and me
the cooking and cleaning for just us three
Think I got a more practical idea
three frozen roast turkey dinners for our Thanksgiving meal.
I’m from small town homes and rose bushes overgrown, with
Close-but-not-too-close-close-knit-crazies.
Where my best friend lives down the block and I make late night trips to her house past the town curfew, because I am from just inside the city limits.
Where I can’t drive underage in a non-road-legal vehicle on the road but I do it anyways.
From hydrangeas to big dead oaks with darkened limbs and forgotten branches. Unattended to hidden ponds with sand dunes keeping close company. Winding trails through the woven pines and golf cart rides through the night.
From two tracking at 2am, to popped tires riding on rims all the way home.
Bruised up and down and scratches I don’t know how I got.
I’m from sunday night football with crockpot cheesy potatoes
to rolling blackouts and chasing charter vans down flat onto our bottoms.
Muddy heels to get to the dance and paying seven dollars to watch my hometown football team lose.
I’m from where smoking our meat and video games in the garage is a party but we are the only company we need.
From corny jokes inside and out and witty humor, none taken. From where insulting one another is nothing but love and curfews are often a thing of the past.
Descending from lovejoys I am often filled with both love and joy,
I’m from oddballs and country folk yet we have evolved.
I’m from soccer games even when it’s raining. From no quitting all the way to you tried your best.
From high- highs and even lower lows.
I’m from the land of schnitzel, pickled beer, and pizza. From ‘go play outside’ and ‘walk it off.’ Nuts and bolts for christmas snacks to ‘honor thy mother and father.’ Sunday school lullabies and don’t use his name in vain, following all the common Godly precautions.
I’m from waking up early just to see the sunrise even though the trees are a war barricade from the burning fire you long to see. I’m from the fog that made my acres of yard an abyss that I can’t see through, even though I know what’s there.
I’m from family trips and a loving home, missing it when I’m gone and hating it when I’m there. I’m from supportive love and ‘can’t isn’t a word’. I’m from you can do anything if you work hard enough, and whether you think you can, or think you can’t, you’re right.
Whispers from a golden sycamore,
it willingly dispenses green leaf secrets to us souls in autumn phase.
Branches creak but somehow never break despite the brittle onslaughts from an ever changing volatile environment.
Sagacious watchdogs for all seasons whose edges blur with every global warming or zero arctic plummet.
Spring, summer, autumn, winter, surreal reckless slideshows... sideshows upon a wider world that’s scrambling to catchup.
Yet these stoic trees endure our wantoness so bravely,
the foiled attempts at damage limitation, those madcap retro schemes that flop like couch potatoes on a sofa.
Tall and proud they stand with stout forbearance.
Why not give your favorite tree a well-earned hug?
Run Through in Babylon
Friends, I wish to speak,
but they have cut out my tongue.
So I fumble...
Instead,
I hear your words, they are strong,
and your passion true.
However, it is the content of which,
I would have stated my thoughts,
provoked from despair,
into a desperate plea.
Against you...
against me.
But and always...
against them.
In the streets on the corner,
"ganda" is talked up,
(propaganda: made up facts by those in power,
to promote even greater strength by deceit.)
about everything that is bad
and happening less than perfect,
in the world.
Tiny Kong is beaten to a pulp,
citizens torn apart in the streets,
for meat,
for potatoes,
and for organs eaten by the rich,
and elegant of taste.
The east, far from here,
they kill and murder Christians,
Jews and saints with equal vigor.
There is no reason to tell them apart,
or upset the apple cart.
Deals made in the dark,
by sold out government traitors,
sworn to their own cause,
without pause for effect,
to the green deal,
or the appeal to the lower class.
I watch TV, and wince at the news.
Lies mixed with spices...
to feel and look the way they...
want us to be, not free.
Spewing words,
not truth,
but stranger than fiction.
It is a holy war,
unseen in the shadows,
complete in the darkness,
and living in plain sight.
"They" kill babies,
and make laws against the sick,
the poor and the legal.
The last on the list to be attended,
and the first to be helped to the grave.
Who are "they"?
I read the factions on both sides.
What I want to hear,
solutions and timely possibilities,
that would ease the suffering of all.
I don't care about Russia,
they are crooks or not...
I don't care about Ukraine,
it is a pain.
If their are bad men holding office,
or have ever held,
they should be brought to justice,
made to "pay for play",
back to the Americans
they lied too.
Your political time tables,
are all running out.
We the people are ready to shout.
Do something for us,
stop being against,
one way or the other,
someone will be...
impaled on the fence.