Long Rectangular Poems
Long Rectangular Poems. Below are the most popular long Rectangular by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rectangular poems by poem length and keyword.
(alternately titled: venerated
uber transcendent state haint give me no lyft)
Ultimate mission (ofttimes possible)
closed eyed insight courtesy meditation
ideally buoys state of consciousness
to naturally induced doze zen realm
disgruntlement arises if yours truly
unaware headstrong winds overtake helm
I invariably drift into light sleep
hours later jostle awake
(analogously experience self named
compressed Rip Van Winkle syndrome)
just smidgen fifty plus shades
gray grizzle coating chin
clumsily amble toward nearest sink
splash cold water across face
apply towel - daub cheeks
various sundry mucus loosened
thick globs phlegm
subsequently, significantly, satisfactorily
expel smallish secretion
out nostrils (pressing
one damned nostril closed
expelling repeating process
other nostril cleared) Semitic nose
clean as a whistle
don glasses to espy time
digitally printed white
within rectangular panel
courtesy electricity illuminating
Verizon set top box
reckon eyes clockface reads
what the ƒ*©* in dog's name...
of Sam Hill, Judas Priest, Matthew Scott...
dadgummit yikes, the time
way past bewitching hour
relaxation cast sleeping spell,
I awoke with a start
'curse saliva drooling and curdling
chin see? ole beastie boy body (mine)
aging baby boomer codger
don't be fooled by
boyish good looks (mine)
nevertheless feral, corporeal
being somewhat refreshed
particularly quaffing
CALIFIA COLD BREW MOCHA
to smooth edges jagged grogginess
thus set self able, eager,
ready, and willing to dash off
aforementioned poem at expense
handily deferred (furloughed)
exercise ma moose hills with
two fifteen pound dumbbells
least till complete literary task
which syrup rise ending snuck up
from outer limits of twilight zone.
I hear Albert Einstein's eyeballs
Are packed away in a lock box
Somewhere in New York City
Under golden key and lock
I can't help but wonder
About what it is he sees
Stuffed in that darkened rectangular box
For all of eternity
Do they pull them out and dust them off
Every now and then
Let them look around without a sound
A wink without a grin
Are they kept inside a pickle jar
Or do they roll around freely
These are a few of the questions
That keep confounding me
Do they MC square as they sit there and stare
Do they soak them in Visine
They must dry out rather quickly
With no way to possibly blink
Why would they save Albert's eyeballs
What could they possibly find
Unless they just just loved the color
Of the brown in his eyes
I heard today that they have Albert Einstein's eyeballs in a lock box somewhere in NYC. no idea if its true but it makes for one crazy poem!
Late to the party we arrived at seven
At least we showed up before eleven
Sweet Ginette, joined us both at the door
A bottle in my hand ready to pour
Off to the kitchen to see the Birthday Queen
All the happy faces a beautiful scene
Hugs for Chantale, another for Helene
I met a new person, energetic like a teen
Her name if I remember, it is Jocelynne
She is married, to a cool guy his name Martin
Bruno was cooking but stopped to say hi
Christine looked happy to be with her guy
Jokes and conversation, a whole lot of fun
Happy to spend time with everyone
Dave seemed content enjoying the mood
My stomach grumbled, I was ready for food
To the table it was time to sit down
We were all treated, to the best meal in town
First Chantale prayed a blessing on us
Our Savior is great, he deserves a fuss
The meal fantastic but the Tuna was raw
I tried to eat it but it stuck in my craw
My Mary she enjoyed it, although not me
I prefer all things cooked, that come from the sea
The pasta amazing, seafood galore
The wine was superb, I let Christine pour
She sat to my left, Dave sat to my right
Everyone there, made it a perfect night
Once concluded, Christine C sang a song
A Louis Armstrong tune we all joined along
Her voice was clearest ours more like a croak
We were lost in the moment, that's not a joke.
We all started dancing, disco moves on the floor
Armand turned up the sound, as we screamed for more
First time I saw Dave dance, he cuts quite the rug
Armand has his own moves, he likes the Jittery Bug
Before too long it was time for dessert
Hot from all the candles I unbuttoned my shirt
Chantal blew out the candles after making two wishes
Armand served Mary's cake, on rectangular dishes
Chantale's special day, a day to remember
Celebrated each year, October not November
So we raised our glasses, thankful for the cheer
Together we celebrated a friend who is dear!
Depression is rich and succulent.
Like BBQ sauce hand prints in the kitchen.
I rest up in case I get energy someday.
And that might be zombie energy.
It still crunches the bones in my hand when I try to have bones again.
Every chair is a big yoga ball bouncing away.
So I unravel my makeshift mind and chase things like that.
Useful.
Everything is just shapes.
Like my rectangular bed that is like a spot to set me away for a while.
While someone else goes to the store and buys the last pizza crust.
Maybe I’m Depression after all.
And she left me here with the dust bunnies.
She rested up to get energy.
And I let her take it to the store like the person she is.
I teach cartooning class to thirteen first and second graders.
On Leadership Day.
Once a month.
It is a cinch,
As last year I was teaching cartooning class to thirty-one
Kindergarten students.
This is amazingly simple.
Before they congregate I draw something simple on the white board in steps.
This week I started with an oval.
Added a tiny elongated rectangular stem at the top with rounded edges.
Step 3: Triangle eyes.
Step 4: Round nose
Step 5: Giant smile
Step 6: Teeth in giant smile.
Step 7: Blackened smile where teeth were not.
Step 8: Wrote Jack-O-Lantern next to it.
It may be cartooning class, but I throw in words too, because I think words are important.
Then I drew a step by step witch, and a step by step cat, and a step by step broom on the whiteboard.
One little guy came in quite a bit later than the others.
He was forced to sit alone, so I sat with him.
We drew and colored, and I sang a bit,
Showing the rest of the 6’s and 7’s we could sing.
Pretty soon we were all singing.
The little guy next to me had drawn a giant jack-o’-lantern.
He had also written Jack and I Love You on his paper.
He suddenly got really serious and put his big black eyes next to my face.
“Hear that?” he asked me.
I stopped coloring, seeing his seriousness.
“Jesus does not like Halloween,” he warned me. I am sure his parents will be utterly delighted with his cartoon.
Met Anouka in my artistic dream.
Skreech, fzzzt, ch-ch-ch-ch beep boop click-clack.
Ooooo, aaaaah, vroom, virtual booting machine.
Zap, plonk, and whoosh into a time-loop sack.
Anouka crafted art that made gems rock!
She sails far above stars in rocket dreams.
Skreech, fzzzt, ch-ch-ch-ch beep boop click-clack.
High tech ignites surreal dreams on jet-pack.
Eeeeyowww power-down wails through feedback-tack.
Pew-pew ding-ding, zoooop-strong glitch-burst dream-hack.
Anouka crafted art that made gems rock.
Static discharge fzzzt skritch bleeee krrrshhh thwunk shock.
Bleeble-bloop strong sunlight's bright light clock-tock.
Ooooo, aaaaa, vroom, virtual machine bot-rock.
She glides far above stars in rocket dreams.
Ooooo, aaaaa, vroom, virtual dreams bool machine.
Glitch-bursts unravel what the swoop-code deems.
Onomatopoeia blooms in moonbeams.
Sci-fi textures whirr-click through neon streams.
Zap, planks, and whoosh into a time-loop sack.
Anouka's inspiration shines in beams.
Pulsar void pulse with tick tock astral gleam.
Anouka swirls in streaming swooshy dreams!
I met Anouka in an artist's dream.
Blue studio shined.
Cosmic clouds swiftly divined.
Ethereal finds.
Cloudy blue sculptures
Await dreaming visitors,
Future creators.
There was a table
With rectangular artworks,
Each with its own cloud.
The shapes were simple,
Embedded in the dreamscape,
Clouds becoming bright.
Art from inner mind,
As soul relays a message
About tomorrow.
Sparkling bright jewel,
Delightful blue renewal.
Absorb the meaning.
Sparkle fizz fuzz fizz
Inner whoah woo woo night bizz
Whoosh whoosh stars sizzle!
I have a brand of English muffin that I really like.
How is it English, is this the language he speaks?
This type of muffin comes circular,
But I beg to differ, rectangular would be better.
The circle fights with my toaster.
At time’s it’s become a dangerous battle.
I have to intervene and unplug the machine
Making her unfairly cool down.
I understand both sides.
But if you ask me, I agree with her more.
If the muffin would just comply,
And be rectangular.
Things would be easier on both sides!
(Said the spider to the fly).
But the truth be told, unfortunately today,
This is exactly the attitude.
Everybody shut up
And do it my way!
Maybe, in the future,
I should buy my muffins
From Canada
And maybe my bacon too.
But will they speak French?
Then the miscommunication possibilities wide open.
Touching hearts - did I just call him a ham, her a turkey,
another a chicken, as I directed them with smiles, my
humor-filled wiles. I resurrect, as I’m directed to hand
out love. This makes me generous…I generously give life,
not eternity…directing the elderly…I’m at the fringe,
to pick up their box (not the rectangular offing that will
contain a body with no breath, no soul). For now we all
eat, listen to the boss speak about the disenfranchisement
of belongings, the longing of some to rob the elderly
of their earthly goods. One thing we can be sure of
is to whom our soul belongs. Remember it will not be
in the box. It will go to a heavenly or very hot place.
We all make a choice…who will you serve…I serve the food.
The sandwiches are cold. The hearts are warm and expectant.
Hold the book in your open hands. Chew what is inside.
Don’t forget to savour each bite. There are two slices of bread -
the old and new. They go together nicely - the spread and fillings.
The blessing, touching hearts - faith holds it all together.
Faith in the totality of the revelation God has given. Abraham,
not to be confused with Abraturkey or Abrachicken (just
infusing a bit of humor in my serious sandwich), ahem…
Abraham was saved by faith and so are we when we follow
the path where God leads. We follow him to the cross, to
the grave, to the resurrection and ascension. We follow Christ
to Pentecost where the friends of Jesus were served
the Holy Spirit, like doves, like flames of fire. Likewise,
our choice to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.
Under we go, into His death…rising we go, into eternal life.
Back to my Senior Luncheon, serving lots of love, gratitude
in our hearts, ready to depart whenever God calls us. For now,
just leaving the parking lot. Leftovers in box, not me - thankfully. ;)
6/20/2023
na·po·le·on
na·po·le·on [n? p?lee ?n, n? p?ly?n]
(plural na·po·le·ons)
n
1. food flaky pastry: a rectangular flaky pastry shape filled with custard cream
2. money old French coin: a gold coin formerly used in France, equivalent to 20
francs
3. card games Full form of nap3
[Early 19th century. Named for Napoleon I ; because the coin was issued in his
reign.]
Encarta ® World English Dictionary © & (P) 1998-2004 Microsoft Corporation. All
rights reserved.
This is a rich and flavorful pastry.
Connoisseurs from all over find them tasty.
However, here is the situation:
Most people around here have an education.
Perhaps that is why these pastries are not selling.
Educated persons can see your bad spelling.
Do I have to tell you over and over again?
It is not spelled N-A-P-O-L-I-A-N.
One thing can be determined. It is easy to see.
You do not need intelligence to work in a bakery.
When your notebook was placed in my hands,
I waited,
as if opening it too quickly might scatter
whatever quiet lived between its pages.
The first few drawings were like pale constellations,
white lines learning how to exist in the dark,
a vase holding flowers that knew how to bloom,
a self-portrait…
those unmistakable eyes
behind that pair of transparent, rectangular frames…
seeing and being seen at once
And then,
I saw the one I was told was made with me in mind,
as your self-portrait closed its eyes,
the next page opened onto mine,
No other sketches intervened.
Just a sweet, subtle “me before you” message,
like an unspoken continuation.
The Prussian blue ocean like a boundless mirror reflecting the sky,
a vast canvas of infinite dreams.
At the shoreline, stood a lone girl beside a palm tree,
hair unbound…
swaying with the wind as if it had learned freedom
by watching the waves.
Since then, when someone asks me the meaning of my name,
I hesitate,
because how do you fit yourself
into a single word
after being rendered like that?
So I tell them, it means:
The serenity of the sky,
the depth of the ocean and
the divine blue of Lord Krishna.
For, when our eyes meet,
all languages melt into music…
into that one line
“…Jabse Radha Shyam ke nain hue chaar…”
As if some meetings are not accidental,
but recognitions…
coloured carefully,
and remembered forever in blue.
~Nilashree