Long Redecorate Poems
Long Redecorate Poems. Below are the most popular long Redecorate by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Redecorate poems by poem length and keyword.
LARRY LaVELLE
i call myself the man
it is not a pick-me-upper
it ain't no do-re-me
it is just the way i feel about myself
i call myself the man
one woman still loves me after 30 years of experience in narcissism philosophy
she just shakes her head and smacks me in the back of mine
then she asks me if i want my eggs scrambled with cheese
i just laugh at her and say 'yes mam'
she smiles bashfully as i check her out like we're 16 again
oh she knows it like her favorite classic movie
i will find out how much she knows it later on tonight
the moral of this poem is....i call myself the man....
STUTTERSTEP STEVENSON
i call myself Bountifully Blessed
i was a bully's dream all through school
from the pulling of my permanaps to the sock stolen from my feet....my story was etched in autobiographical filing
my growth became stunted....until you picked me up and dusted me off
through your smile, i was inspired to grow stronger
from there....i was introduced to a New World through your eyes
as a result, i, stutterstep stevenson, was able to find my niche
look at us now....thirteen years of marriage later....you are still causing me to trip all over myself
it still make you giggle in the very same way
even since then, i left the right avenue of stressed
the moral of this poem is....i call myself Bountifully Blessed
POETIC LEFTY
i call myself unconditionally loved
papa strange had a firm hold on me
put blinders on my self esteem yes he did
unbeknownst to me, my usual appearance in constant continuum was looked at as defiance
i can't be me if i can't be myself
how the hell could i exist trying to be like someone else
it has always been comfortable on my street
every now and then some taggers came along and tried to redecorate
however all surfaced on this block was self-cleaning
the same smile was worn on my face when i greeted the roadblock rambler hello
somewhere down the line papa strange moved on to one more vulnerable and gullible
i prayed for that next victim to the Wonderful God Above
though it may not show in my solo forward motion, i am indeed consumed by unconditional love....
THIS POETRY IS WRITTEN IN 3 HAIKU/2 TANKA FORM, AND NOTES REFER TO SENSES.
I'm fairy nature,
come to collect fall's leaf wares
to help make a coat.
A coat of sunsets,
a last breath of summer's glow
to wrap up autumn.
I disguise myself
living amongst the woodlands,
squirrels, bugs, birds, bees.
Slowly with magic
I single handed turn
the seasons over.
Sweeping winds and driving rains,
giving nature rest till spring.
I nourish the land.
Autumn's blanket becomes crisp,
stark, white, purity.
I contrast, redecorate
new, sleek, sexy, wavy tones.
AUTHOR NOTES
All 5 senses are expressed within this write, looking at touch, taste, sight, sound and smell.
'make a coat','wrap up' all indicate being touched or enfolded for warmth/protection...as does
winter's 'blanket'
sounds - could be taken from the animals, and weather...'crisp' evokes sound also. 'rest'-
evokes quieter times...
smell - comes from earthy woodlands and fallen leaves, contrasted with freshness of icy or
snowy air...
taste - evoked from 'nourish', 'last breath' of Autumn and new breath of winter air.
sight- comes from the autumn colours evoked from the 'sunset' and greens and browns
of 'woodlands', 'sexy', purity of ice and snow, 'falls leaf wares' - reds, oranges, yellows and
browns...
Look around your home and see
Your furniture, your rugs,
The pictures hanging on the walls -
Like old familiar hugs.
For every item you have placed -
Inherited or bought -
Is there to help create the space
That somehow you have sought.
We start out small, collecting
Things we like and can afford
And often there’s a goal in mind
We gradually work toward.
Our tastes may change throughout the years
But there will be a thread
Of special objects to connect us
To the lives we’ve led.
So though we may redecorate,
We’ll likely never part
With those various reminders
Which give every home its heart.
they build themselves now
out of mirrors.
chrome-spined apostles
with teeth whitened
like cemetery gates.
they speak in blue-lit sermons,
thumbs flickering over glass,
manufacturing love
the way factories once made bullets.
every photograph
another prayer to themselves.
they call it branding.
I call it standing naked
in the middle of a freeway
begging strangers
to describe your soul.
the old drunks at least
had honesty.
they knew the bottle
was a bottle.
these new saints
sip themselves instead—
small poisoned doses
every hour
until the face in the screen
becomes more real
than the one rotting quietly
behind the eyes.
and God help you
if you stop watching yourself.
because silence
is the one room
they cannot redecorate.
I saw a girl crying once
while taking photographs
of herself crying.
that was it.
the whole century
balanced perfectly
inside one human moment.
outside,
a dog limped through rain
without an audience,
without applause,
without needing
to become
a monument to itself.
to its own suffering.
the dog
was holier than all of us.
Okay Girls, let's go shopping
But just to look and see
We don't have to buy a thing
Oh, what fun it will be.
Okay Girls, let's do lunch
Separate Checks so we won't argue over a dime
What an exaggerated procedure
What a waste of time.
Okay Girls, let's redecorate
The curtains haven't been changed in weeks
So we'll just order some new ones
And give the house a tweak.
Okay Girl's, let's have a party
Of course we have nothing to wear
But we can buy a new outfit or two
So the other girls can stare.
Okay Girls, let's show our men
Just how right we ALWAYS are
Make them be gentlemen today
Have them hold the door of the car.
Okay Girls, the Guys agree
You are GREAT AT EVERYTHING
To prove it we throw up our hands and shout
"YOU WIN ! YOU WIN ! YOU WIN !
First, understand that sorrow is a room
with no furniture, only echoes.
Every word you speak will return to you
slightly changed,
like a photograph left in sunlight.
Learn to sit still in emptiness.
Your body will protest,
it was built for movement,
for purpose,
for the illusion
of progress.
Ignore it. Stay.
Notice how grief has weight but no shape,
how it fills the spaces between your ribs
like water,
how it makes you both
heavier and more likely to float away.
Do not rush to redecorate the room.
People will offer you curtains, rugs,
paintings to cover the walls.
They mean well.
Refuse them gently.
The emptiness is not a problem to solve
but a truth to inhabit.
Sit with it.
Let it teach you the grammar of loss,
the syntax of what remains.
Eventually, and I cannot tell you when
you will notice a door you hadn't seen,
not an exit but an entrance,
leading somewhere you've never been.
You will hesitate at the threshold,
understanding that moving forward
means leaving something precious behind.
This is correct.
Step through anyway.
The room will always be there,
that echo chamber of what was.
You can visit whenever you need to,
but you no longer have to live there.
Have you ever had a problem
That you needed to view from all angles
In order for you to figure out
How of it to untangle
You might have to remove the ceiling
Or take out a wall
You might have to do some demolition
Or simply reinstall
Some will try to redecorate
With some paint or a chandelier
But that just covers up the problem
And no solution has been made aware
These ceilings have got to go
So that now we may receive
The blessings that God has for us
So we can advance and achieve
These ceilings have got to go
So that we can progress as a community
For there is greater prosperity
if we move in unity
Too many people fail to understand
That their success
Must be paid forward so that others
In turn can be blessed
The generations are not passing down
Their knowledge nor any power
We need to be a fountain pouring into others
Letting our wisdom be a bountiful shower
Let these ceilings be taken down
So that we can help each other
God has blessed you so that
You can bless another
We need to invest time to love
And to nurture our young
To pray, to talk and to walk with them
Treat them as daughters and sons
To carry each others stuff
Thereby lightening each others load
To be a help and not a hinderence
As we unburden our souls
If only to give someone a Metrocard
So they can get to their new job
To help pay an electric bill
So that someone will have power still
These ceilings have got to go
We need to lift each other up
To stop throwing shade,
Stop the hate parades
And in communion to sup
To cease all the criticism
And stop tearing each other down
To encourage and empower each other
So the love of God in us can be found
These ceilings have got to go
So that God's grace we can now clearly see
To be like those 4 men who took their
Paralyzed friend to Jesus working in unity
How to make poetry ( meaning-full?) Well
Thats a paradox? As i percieve.' Oxy-gen--less
And debilitating..A most limited field
that
Appears to me.' If poetry is not
creative by
Its very breathing out..Then I'm a wombats uncle..' I should not need to even write such out.! If poetry is
mechanical.? Though mechanical
exists.' Then i'll go to
The bar today to drink alcahol yet not
with the target aim of getting, by
real awarness ( kissed?) And i mean drinking to exess here.!
So don't come the 'raw prawn' with me'
either
The poetry (is raw,) and exciting in
origen from its spiritual seas.' If its
Not surging through your being.? Then you'll never polish it fine ! You might as
Well start fishing..Minus hook net; spear
Or line' and if you are of such denseness
You might as well also try.' To stockade the sky clouds before morning, and in the
Evening redecorate the skies.' For if you
Are their costodian, then you'll be rather
Long in the tooth, I rest my thoughts on
True inspiration now, before some
might attempt in getting it bought.'
For poetry is
Not a commodity, it always speaks
for itself..It cannot be turned on, or dissuaded
From, as if it is merely a physical
Self.! For those who think better, and count
Each comma and letter ? Go polish curds
Or ammass all worldly wealth as your treasure.)
The new year has begun... another one to follow suit,
to all, both young or old,
the same it will unfold.
A time to celebrate...goodbye old year, and welcome new...
with wishes for a start
to pleasure every heart.
And always it's divided in the way which we expect...
four seasons every year;
same order to appear.
First quarter brings us winter...colder weather, ice, and snow;
although there's still bright sun,
most want our winter done.
Yet, landscapes are most beautiful, a winter wonderland
with lovely pristine snow...
when there's no place to go.
Next quarter brings us Spring..rebirthing of new, tender grass
surrounding buttercups
and daffodil lineups...
While trees fill out with velvet leaves that flutter in the breeze;
providing shade for all,
and bird nests, large and small.
The next three months make quarter three, a favorite for sure;
relaxing in the pool,
and trying to keep cool.
Vacation time to take a break...with family, spend time;
and be it at the shore...
wherever...wish for more.
The final quarter is the last in which we share some fun
like viewing autumn leaves
redecorate the trees.
And, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and of course, our Christmastime;
bring holidays, for sure...
sweet bonding they ensure.
Then comes the last day of the year, another New Year's Eve.
Best wishes spread, and then...
it all will start again!
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: As Easy As A-B-B
Sponsor: Nina Parmenter
Judged: 01/07/2019