Long Racks Poems
Long Racks Poems. Below are the most popular long Racks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Racks poems by poem length and keyword.
I mostly left my Twitter feed;
I somehow did not feel a need
To let the little parasite
Suck joy away from me.
Although I hung onto my phone,
I found that I was far less prone
To see its screen or hear its tone
With so much else to see.
The friends I added to my list
Will never “like” such things as this;
Our stories joined, our updates missed,
Speak more to what is true.
My Fitbit racks no huge amount,
And yet I simply can’t discount
That certain steps are paramount:
The ones I walk with You.
See, tech’s a blessing, to be sure,
No panacea though, no cure.
What ails us most is not its lure
But senses all askew.
So I will follow You, Lord, lead
Me, guide me, be atop my feed.
Yes, be my ever-present need,
Let me abide in You.
Books came in his life early,
absorbed in the pictures in them
the two-year old’s nascent imagination
morphed him into a book worm.
He grew up with other timely interests,
many passing passions came and went,
but the childhood worm stayed on
as a constant creeping companion in his head.
The flair of books attracted him
like an obsessed honey bee to flowers,
he enjoyed the flavor of the alluring nectar
concealed under the petals of printed words.
Adrift on the flow of the exciting contents
he couldn’t stop sailing before being satiated,
until the inquisitive journey came to an end
and he rested content where the authors left him.
The racks filling the small space he has are all full,
safe between the covers are his trove of treasure,
some explored, some still untouched
for now he is fast running out of his time.
His myopic eyes so much impaired
nearly lost vision to the strain over the years,
he now feels the senile worm crawl
on the last page of his own book.
March 14, 2019
No tins, no drawers, no boxes or trays,
Nowhere to store all the junk,
No cases or cupboards, or closets or racks,
Or any small beaten down trunk,
Leads me to throw all the things I don’t need,
Things that just get in the way,
And keep all the things which really look good,
Things that I proudly display,
Like photos of moments, and painted ideals,
Things I hold close to my heart,
Things that I cherish and I want in my life,
From medals to novels to art,
And I proudly attach these things to the wall,
Or they sit on the table or shelf,
So I can see, every day, what’s important to me,
Now that I live by myself.
broil two racks of pork ribs
cook well done
about 2 hours at 350.
remove ribs add
2 quarts of tomato paste
3 cups of shredded cabbage
5 tablespoons of lemon juice
4 teaspoon of white vinegar
1/4 cup of garlic (crushed)
1/2 cup of onion ( chopped)
1/4 cup of shredded carrot
5 tablespoons of celery seeds
2 cups of red bell peppers (diced)
1/4 cup of dried thyme
6 cups of rice( cooked)
4 tablespoons of ginger powder
1/4 c crown sugar& 1/4 c honey
4 Tablespoon of soy sauce
2 tablespoon of cayenne
1/2 cup of masala
3 cups of pork broth
add ribs back to the pan, cover with foil.
cook rice in oven until the tomato paste is well
blended with ingredients.
about thirty five minutes.
serve rice and ribs.
Mocosippa
3 cups of apple juice
4 cups grape juice
5 cups of spiced rum
1/2 cup honey
5 cups of raspberry ginger ale
1 cup of lemon
taste and calibrate to your liking.
A mother of eight
Left to raise them on her own
Damn that man...for dying
And leaving her lost, alone
A soldier of valor
Stood his ground in the face of fear
Now, he is court marshaled
For the lies they wanted to hear
A child hides in a closet
Hearing every thwack of the belt
Fighting the concern welling up
To be experienced, processed, felt
.......no grid
Pain beyond measure
Racks the prisoner of war
Trying to get through the moment
Til there will be no more
.......breath
Relief doesn't come
In fact, it builds and festers
Til the filters, ideals, beliefs
Are sequestered
.......to show themselves
and .........Give an account
to WHO?????
If one has no reason
And finds no need to question
Life is just a series of events
A journey without suggestion
Hmmm....what's that like?
Written by Trudy Schrader on 01-06-2019
Note: I have always had a grid. My encounter with TRUTH at 18 months set my path. Here I am now, faced with a truth I had never considered...it's a gift; therefore, compassion is necessary for understanding. I hope I have entered into the Grid deep enough to provide insight.
Methinks the here
to fore purposeful inclusion
of key word "babysitter"
a slight oversight describing
residents at Highland Manor
(a particularly nagging omission
in previous epistle to detail,
how flat screen televisions
constant blaring subdue
said majority of tenants),
whereat this emphatic
writer, (a penny pinching hitter)
susceptible to miss
out oomph pa, I
(a poetic critter)
will now intend to convey
without recourse to:
instagram, snap
chat, or twitter
thus, this quasi
appended verse
attempts to avoid
communicating disappointment,
asper unfulfilled
childhood, adolescent, or
young adult jitter
ring circumstances found
me tubby a quitter,
now as an aging bummer
with decreasing glitter,
I aver feeling litter
ally somewhat bitter
sweet asper those
figuratively untasted,
untested, and
untoasted fritter
(comfort zone
expanding challenges,
now bugging me
psyche) with jitter
re: ness, cuz yours
truly denied, deprived,
and disallowed himself
tubby a more vibrant
Matthew Scott Harris
to get distilled
from je nais se quois
crucible of life,
hence omitting,
sidestepping (like do si do),
and skipping tummy
loo, viz fuel
joie de vivre injecting
more verve
into what thyself
subsequently evolved into
a staid staind and dire
strait tinned existence,
but no pitter
patter pity please toward,
this present day
pearl jam knitter
of (senseless, listless,
and aimless)
verse as this human
specimen racks up years
as an aging orbiter
round mister sun.
Your dad, a Dachshund once stuck in Chihuahua.
The best of both in you, with that expectant
Confusing carpets for the lawn enigma.
I know….the raining….getting wet….you can’t.
As coldness chills the room, a sheet for you.
The perfect tucking of in, but you moved!
I ponder, just how crazy is my Boo?
The sheet’s thread count too low to be approved?
Your dance in circles, spinning on the floor.
Rewards and treasures known upon the racks.
Induced by meals and that one pantry door.
In such a fury, choking on the snacks.
I know what God’s book says, I’ve searched it whole.
But still, I hope you have a little soul.
11.14.14
I attended a large gathering and took some time
to observe the great assortment of shoes stacked on the racks
I saw new shoes, pricey shoes, and shoes not worth a dime
and shoes that seemed to have crossed many paths and tracks.
I saw dainty sandals and flighty high heeled ones too
I saw sporty sneakers and rough and tough trainers
I saw both the laced and the leathery buckled shoe
Then I saw the humble yet hardy pair of slippers.
I saw pointy shoes, furry shoes and flatties as well
I saw flowery ones and those studded with trinket gems
Some stacked neatly in pairs, others thrown about pell mell
Some recently repaired, some coming off at the hems.
I saw long boots, rubber boots and
there were glittery Indian styled stilettoes
I spotted fragile glass sandals and metallic brass sandals
and soft comfy ones for comfort of feet 'n' toes.
And while I was thus lost and engrossed
in watching the great assortment of footwear
The old caretaker, to me, a cheap pair tossed
saying, ' here's an extra pair if you've lost your shoes.
She was too busy and distracted to be in my shoes of muse
So I'd to slip out thinking of some quick excuse
She didn't even notice I wasn't actually barefoot
So I had to take them elsewhere, both my muse and my boot!
Ah, and long ago when once we could afford only a 'shoestring' budget
I once hadn't enough bucks to replace a worn out pair of shoes
I was sad for not having even a good goody two shoes
Then God showed me a wayfarer's shoeless pair of barefeet
and then one hapless one with no feet at all!
So I could imagine life being in their missing shoes.
(Footnote*
Wonderin where I saw so many shoes off peoples feet? Well, in our religious gatherings say for prayers in the mosque hall or even the religious lecture hall, we've to enter barefooted and sit down crosslegged. So that's where you come across all kinds of shoes on racks provided in the cubicle.
Actually in the Disney movie, 'THE PRINCE OF EGYPT', i marked that even Moses took off his shoes before talking to God.)
Racks on reindeer scissor high.
Santa's raised into the sky.
Red clad jacket; red clung toque.
A cute old man you'd call a kook.
With wired frames of bottled glasses
and long bent scarf that waves in passes.
His snub-like nose a faded rose
to match his cheeks and famous pose.
White bulging beard of bouncy motion
yet pepper smeared as though with lotion.
and bold blue eyes that twinkle flakes
and rest below his two brow cakes.
A golden bag with golden ropes
in burlap stitched in seams and slopes.
Holding reins of soft black leather
in pearl white gloves for every weather.
And should you see him for his cause.
Remember...
Christmas comes with Santa Claus.
Great transitions became part of human experience
after we gave up on daily nomad lifestyle,
perhaps too bohemian
to have ever actually existed
out of nutritional nurturing choice
As contrasted with necessity
of drought,
floods,
pestilence,
famine,
chronic wars,
climatic absence of healthy peace.
Great transitions
are choices,
positive more than negatively motivated,
to move from one habitat
in space and/or time
to another
that feels more promising,
worthy of trust,
a potential celebration of interactive beauty,
holistic balance,
resilient health,
aesthetically resonant wealth.
Great transitions
have their inhale stage,
before the moving Team appears,
which includes hard and soft decisions
and indecisions,
memories,
and rude reminders
lacking acquisitive memories
about where did all these properties come from,
external
with their internally complementary feelings
of way too much stuff
in my cluttered life,
Happiness to be bringing warm memories along
and sadness to leave so much cold
and neglectful waste
behind the dumpster
And great transitions
also have their less famous exhale stage
after the moving Team
moves on
to facilitate another household's preferably Great
but sometimes Traumatic
Transition.
Great transitions
in second stage
open one box at a time
to reload new closets
basements
attics
garages
sheds
shelves
entertainment centers
dress drawers
treasure chests
jewelry boxes
safes
mailboxes
kitchen and bathroom drawers
cabinets
medicine cabinets
CD and DVD racks
soundtracks
shoe racks
pot racks
wine racks
over the door hat racks
behind the door spice racks
tool racks and peg boards
hangers
umbrella stands
coat trees
bird feeders
pantry shelves
under the oven drawers
armoires
desks
hutches
book cases
curtain rods
picture hangers
linen closets
nightstands
pillow cases
guest beds
Great transitions
never die
they just fade in
to what remains of yesterday
Sufficient for this new age
of rebecoming
habituated
co-acclimated
seeking a healthier climate,
a wealthier place
for healing uncooperative
lack of felt resilience
To survive
and hopefully thrive
into our next Great Transition,
inhaling into recycling lungs,
exhaling out into greener
more resonantly resilient
Great Earth Habitat.