Long Pull down Poems
Long Pull down Poems. Below are the most popular long Pull down by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pull down poems by poem length and keyword.
My shame is my scarlet letter
Sewn stitch by stitch by years
A scarlet letter emblazoned
An alphabet on my chest
A superhero’s symbol disguised
Find me a phone booth
Tear off my Brook Brothers shirt
Pull down my J Crew pants
It’s good to see my scarlet letter
Fly like a speeding bullet
Save us before we fall
Into the maddening crowd
Is it a superpower
When everyone has it too
No man is free from shame
All of us Hesters in disguise
Superheroes without shame
Some heroes act without applause
Some of us for Pearls in oysters
I can hear Dimmsdale’s sermon
My Chillingworth condemns me
My scarlet letter beats on my chest
My shame for all to see
My superpower my weakness
My weakness on full display
God chose the weak in this world
We bring shame to the strong
We are the stones of Zion
We cause the shameless to pause
Look back on our scarlet letter
Shameless in our exposition
Without shame what are we?
Without the scarlet letter
Aren’t we just numbers?
OF BOOMARANGING INJUSTICE
No, we can’t say it didn’t happen; it did!
Senate produced and White House directed.
Improvised and played out before our eyes:
And they said the revolution wouldn’t be televised.
However, just check out daily Breaking News
Of Trumpian overtures being played out in classical
Themes of constitutional comedies of errors:-
(And the beat goes on.)
Where noosing ropes once stretched
And pulled innocent necks, we must now take hands
And pull down inking votes, noosing injustice!
Now, in the present of the future’s past, we must show
That truth spat and dumped upon, shall rise again.
Come, let us throw the boomerang of reciprocity,
Shattering the bigoted “in” out of bloody injustice,
Rebirthing the mountaintop of gained justice/-
Remember, it’s better to be aware than sorry:
Our confused and abused youth are watching us:-
Let not history again reduce ourstory to footnotes:
Let us continue to rise, with our eyes still on the prize.
(Let’s not be as Sisyphus; but as Jacob.)
Hebetudinous life slipping away,
With the tick tock of the clock
Killing me every disgruntling second,
Of every bloody hour of every day
This preposterous plague of sadness
Prohibiting my pleasures
Dictating the dose strength of my badness
In its self-contradictory unbalanced measures
Do we have to live this way?...
We suppose to have an equal balance of choices…
In life
Not a spunkless ride on an emotionally, impetuous,
Inconsolable, nagging wife
Or numbed in a repetitive dull pointless job
In the pursuit of happiness being over worked under paid
While the credit crunch rides cataclysmic waves and we say “No Prob”
Can’t even come home and release the stress, oversexed under laid
The morbid thought of attaining lottery success
Just so we can shaft the misses and work place
I suppose those that have is bliss I must confess
To pull down your pants, bend over and say “in your face”
Hmmmm
The Hebetudinous life slipping away,
With the tick tock of the clock
Killing me every disgruntling second,
Of every bloody hour of every day
5 a.m. Souls ascend
from earth’s vale
of fears. Others wait
don’t give up yet.
Nothing I can do about that.
Not is my name known
but am I a good man.
That goes for John, too
a man of faith
who wants what God wants.
What about hate
in the streets. What do white
people want?
I see no need
to pull down statues of General Lee
instead put him side by side
and head to head
with Martin Luther King,
Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi.
Also kids who cops shot dead.
Meanwhile on the macro
economic and political scale
leviathans (peoples, nations)
drift toward perpetual
armageddon or peaceful solutions.
We don’t know which
and John will be gone
before it matters
except to his children
and, of course, ours.
What I have done
to change man’s trajectory,
for better or worse, remains
anonymous. Every action
meets an equal and impassable mountain.
Passion
is its own predicament.
Cast a cold eye and guess.
The clouds go, nevertheless,
in their direction.
A rag of a paper from a lifetime that's gone,
Replaced by a small microchip.
The feel of those words in the palm of your hands,
That the ends of your fingers would grip.
And the hands of a surgeon juggling his craft,
Or the journalist reporting the news.
All replaced with perfect mechanical arms,
On an internet with millions of views.
Already we yearn for the art of the human,
Who'd do the best that he could with few fails.
Spinning their yarn with small human insights,
And yet covering all important details.
And the car indicator you pushed to turn off,
Or the window you wound to pull down.
We miss the old life of being involved,
When computers didn't run the whole town.
Big Fun
You think it's better
So there you are, nothing's for sure
Nothing's forsaken so you leave us behind
It's the road you've taken
It's all in your letter
And there you were, now it's for sure
A myriad of screams, the way it's so funny
The way she cries, she's going to burn on fire
But now she can dance
Our gods wanted to get her
And now you are the way your supposed to
And the rest of us laugh
Are you a rebel or an Angel who lies?
Irresponsible scream and many eyes
Some call them Heather
And that's what you were Nails painted black
But who am I? Look at us watching
But turning away Passing up Heaven
A myriad of screams
So stand in the circle and pull down your robes
Thoughts of death are chilling
But they laugh anyways
I Love me I Love me
My blood turning grey
Society Society
And so it will Rain
Giant Squid
In warm waters
Alarmed divers don't saunter
Never faulter
To escape
San Francisco Bay
Quietly they come
Inquistive by nature
Diving can be dangerous
Grab diver pull down to deep water
In fear of their lives
Always try to escape
Nerves are shattered
Totally afraid
San Francisco Bay
Quietly they come
Inquisitive by nature
Diving can be dangerous
(Heard a report on educational radio about these baby giant squid in San Francisco Bay. The
person said that they had been coming in there for several years now probably due to the
warming waters of the ocean. They are a threat to divers and others because they can get
hold with their eight arms or legs which either they are and pull the divers to very deep
water.)
All the strawberry's and moss rose's bushes
are slowing budding along the dusty bridle paths,
and as the husky New York cowboys pull down their hats,
they don't seem to excite their trotting horses;
and I am slower than they are...dragging my aching feet
to barren fields, where yesterday's lovers loved to dream!
And as the dormant forest awaits spring,
below the rain-soaked hill, some trees dingle from it's corroded cliffs
that are thickly covered with maroon leaves;
but the innocuous squirrels, unaware, scare away the wandering robin
that is too lonely and looks for sign of existence,
and my observation is a note worthy one by the rhythm of his wings!
My memorable childhood was spent observing the diverse seasons,
and the spectacular colors that bewildered me...enhancing their significance,
and whoever saw that child with a rosy face and short, curly hair:
must have thought to have seen a cherub with the softest wings,
who never tired of discovering new flowers and trees;
jotting down every detail in his handy notebook, to create words with flair!
Rest under the pale sky, tired man and write your drama;
your strength has diminished as sunsets ultimately do;
you have seen the dawn with its intense light and a bright star, too:
that star which always illuminated your path and spirit!
Now, don't cease to exist and vanish like a dark star...
peacefully sleep, as the dormant forest awaits spring!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
There is a most peaceful, restorative place
where I can spend hours to unwind and renew.
Our sunroom addition becomes a showcase
for nature's blue sky, rolling hills, river view;
for many a year, my own magical space-
clear walls, a glass roof with sun filtering through.
My heaven on earth where life's joys multiply
indoors, yet outside, neath the beautiful sky.
Conversely, there is a vast space that I hate
and so, I spend minimal time being there.
It bothers me so to pull down the wood gate
to our attic above as I climb each stair.
Sixty-seven long years, to store things, our trait!
Claustrophobia hits the moment I stare
at all those saved items with no reason why!
I'm out of there fast before I start to cry.
the smell of Carmel corn
fills the air – I think of you Dad
your hand in mine, four steps to your one
the carousel music scores happiness
bells of laughter ting-a-ling-ing
Cotton candy, pink as bazooka bubble gum,
melts to sugary paste on teeth and tongue
you are there Dad, hanky in hand
spit bathing my four year old cheeks
moon-faced, eyes crinkled
lifted skyward as the horses stop
I pick the girlie one but sit straddled
you pinch my knees and pull down my skirt
muscle man strong -- your hands strap me in
they rest after on the small of my back as I rise
then I come [the brass pole all gummy
from my hands]
last week we walked the country fair
my hand now as big as yours
aged like two apple dolls, we meander
you buy me cotton candy
spit on your thumb and wipe
it from my cheek