Long Refrigerated Poems
Long Refrigerated Poems. Below are the most popular long Refrigerated by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Refrigerated poems by poem length and keyword.
Gauche Caviar*
I see! What's good for me, is not
certainly not good for thee!
A mask, I must wear when they
do my roots, 'Madam Speaker',
of this mask you are magically free?
Tis no wonder, thatAmericans locked
in their humble homes.
Mutter whilst they almost are nearly
jailed to the bone, alone!
The old saying, "caught with your
pants down" on film, so divinely,
yet so humanly perfect!
So don't expect me to look like a
hood in a mask in ordinary repartee,
to which I firmly dissent!
Your age alone, places you in the
high risk category!!
But, you, the Queen, ignores it?
Going to your walled-in home,
delighting in your vast refrigerated
expensive yogurt depository!
Oh, I so despise your hypocrisy!
The homeless in San Francisco in
tents must eat and sleep.
Whilst you, breaker-of -laws stuff
your face, with iced treats?
Marie Antoinette's saying rings
loudly true of you.
Let them eat cake, oh, Madam
Speaker, how cruel of you!
Poet's Notes:
Gauche Caviar~ Progressivism
combined with a taste for Society
life and its accoutrements.
Another meaning is:
"Limousine- Liberal"
September 10, 2020
9am PST
Pet Rocks And More
(rocks don’t snore)
Pet rocks must be kept refrigerated
Wrapped in aluminum foil for protection
Visitors mistake them for dinner rolls
Butter them up at midnight in the dark
Return them because they are too hard
Pet rocks don’t like strangers
They do not play well with others
Or move around late at night in the dark
Like sneaky thieving visitors do
Pet rocks have no feet to proceed
Are not snacks for those who do
People who lack manners are cruel
Rocks are bad for the digestion
Like Pluto, pet rocks don’t care
If you think of them as planets or stones
Home is were they are and where they land
No matter where you throw them
Place them in a microwave or fridge
Some pets need some maintenance
Rocks need none
Think of them as friends without a bite
In hard times they will never leave you
Love your rocks as best you can
Don’t butter them or eat them
You will need new teeth
To see a dentist you will need a car
The last plasma puff of the engine invites them out
Of the vessel, wearing refrigerated high-tech suits
Equipped complete with claw-like studs gripping cracked grout,
Fighting for balance against the gusts in their pursuit.
Tsal pulls out the holo-tablet to map their position
And consult the travel plan. The air crackles to life
At the rod in his hand's and the one on his chest's intersection
Showing in script and diagrams what once was humanity's hive.
A step on a fish bone draws a snap which pulls
His eyes downwards then around the oily dirty landscape
Where lay more bones from different creatures whose lives were culled
By a slow death they'd tried in vain to escape,
Probably the last of each of their species to have braved heat,
Thinning air, toxins in solid, liquid and gas form everywhere.
Tsal thought of who'd ate whom last at the eve of total defeat
As lives became meatless skeletons after plants had left here.
Ok! Back to finding the once supreme masters of this rock
Who built the cranes surrounding this now barren and dry seabed,
As if adorning the grave of many a beast. With some luck,
The image in his hand lights red as it hovers over a broken bone head.
(c) Nyonglema
Let's all go out and support Earth Hour on 28th March 2015 and yearly!...let's make this silence of whirrs and buzzes a little LOUDER.
Mawmaw's icebox fruitcake sliced
Expose those colorful candied fruits
coarsely diced and smell so very nice
Sweetened condensed milk doesn't dilute
Chopped pecans and raisins~tasters recruit
How about you?
Recipe:
I box Graham Crackers crushed
Add three cups chopped dried candied fruits(different colors)
Add 3/4 cup raisins
Add 1 1/2 cups of chopped nuts your choice
One cup of miniture Marshallows
1 can of sweetened condensed milk poured over all
Stir until all is moist..If not quite enough add either
Marachino Cherry liquid or sweet milk
It needs to be a little sticky
Keep the Graham Cracker box and cut the top wide part on three sides
to make a flap, line the box with wax paper
Press the mixture into the box and seal up with cling wrap
Keep refrigerated until ready to serve..
This is a very good fruit cake, moist and very rich
A very small slice is all needed with some milk or coffee
When
winter of discontent
contentious parade
snow man without carrot
flaked garrottes
icicles frozen synapses
permafrost neurons
refrigerated transmitters
crystal clear rime
arrested thoughts
shackled straightjackets
locked trap door
key shielded in white
powdered in residue
remains of resolve
a hot water-bottle
crocheted blanket
passion under cover
bed springs awaiting
for another season
and thawing delight
deconstructing what is
I am sunbathing
on paradise island
mangos in hand
kingfisher chirping
but my Princess is real
and her kiss
burns desire
02 January 2021
Winter Poetry Contest
Sponsor Emile Pinet
The believing man said:
"I wanted to bypass many things then...
My story was solemn and virtuous.
After storytelling came a momentary pause,
To understand your body, without losing all
And a realization came with a sheer pain
Let us talk together, I’m just getting started!"
The believing lady said:
“Don’t you have this concept of love?
One body wounded, sends signals of pain for all ?
Unites one soul, strong and bold
And in poems and prayers, together we hold!
Let us talk together, I’m just getting started!”
"Our global charm is minimizing day by day .
Are they not in our refrigerated perishable items?
Is it not your TV watching time ?
Or newspaper reading time?"
With a consoling voice with agreeable options ,
He replied, “Let us talk later, I’m just getting started!”.
Both of their inspiration was in poems, big and small
She dreamt of a generation gap mitigation model tirelessly
Through the power of positive tones of poems and poets.
Yet, often times both used to find poets , wandering out there
Jobless, faithless, devoid of energy, passion and emotion
Like a lemon served already in life, for quite a while, understood
And a funny paradox is that, I’m just getting started!
'I'm just getting started' Contest
Sponsor
John Hamilton
9-21-2019
Back and forth
Always and forever
Trevor trip mildew
Refrigerated patience skills do to
Cross many lines
Fantasies they hide
Fiction facts pulled aside
Remind that times goes on and never sits still
Who is going to pay the bill
Tickets longer than lines
Meals given too late to measure signs
The frown on your face
Broke back mountains climbed in space
Encourage never has a distasteful taste
Its you this time that has to figure out
How long really is
And how Bluto lost the bought Pop eyed peas many skills
This time this time a decision has to be made
In this time you will be replaced
By another factor math can’t solved
But division divided protocol
Erase and start again
Paper is made with treed and factories release the pen
Pass your understanding
Someone else your shoes maybe standing
To walk the thin line
Character characterized by a given sign
So pure genuine and ready
Wilma may be with Fred
But Fred wasn’t ready
The quiet college town of
Briarwood lived in absolute
terror as a dark shadow fell
over the campus.
A serial killer dubbed the
"The Black Rose Killer" was
targeting young female
students every semester.
Senior student Chloe Miller
became the third victim,
found in her dorm with a dark
velvet blossom.
The community panicked,
and the university
administration enacted a
strict dusk- to- dawn curfew
for safety.
Detective Marcus Charleston took
over the grueling case,
desperately searching for a
single connection.
Every victim was an honors
student, but they shared no
mutual friends, classes, or
social clubs.
Marcus spent weeks
analyzing the crime scenes,
noting the pristine condition
of the floral signatures.
He discovered that the rare
black roses used by the killer
were a genetically modified
hybrid species.
Only one high- end boutique
greenhouse in the entire
state possessed the license
to cultivate them.
Marcus paid a visit to the
local shop, questioning the
head botanist about recent
bulk purchases.
The store ledger revealed a
regular customer named Victor
Thorne, a quiet, nocturnal campus
groundskeeper.
Victor had unrestricted master-
key access to every academic
building and residential hall
on the campus.
Search warrants were quietly
issued, and a tactical police
unit raided Victor's off- campus
basement apartment.
Inside the damp cellar,
investigators uncovered a
chilling shrine dedicated to
the deceased college women.
The room was filled with
stolen student ID's, hair
ribbons, and several bins of
black soil.
A specialized refrigerated
unit in the corner contained
dozens of freshly clipped
black roses.
Forensic scientists also
recovered a pair of muddy
work boots matching the
prints left at Chloe's scene.
Victor was arrested at the
university greenhouse while
tending to his next dark floral
harvest.
The terrifying reign of the
campus predator was
brought to and end by his own
unique calling card.
Victor Thorne was locked
away for life, ensuring the
students of Briarwood could
walk safely again.
Wandering in sepulchral silence among the artifacts
dredged up from the ocean floor after almost a hundred years
dinner plates, a diamond ring
a pair of patent leather shoes, a deck chair
jeweled combs that once sparkled in a young woman’s hair
under the electric light of the chandeliers
a violin in its case, a porcelain vase
a china doll, another child’s toy
a menu listing the last meal that many would enjoy
a wall upon which were the names
of every person known to have been on board
the exceedingly rich and the profoundly poor
who with high hopes sold all they had
to purchase their third class ticket
Though they were the majority they weren’t a priority
buried as if they were already dead below deck
kept strictly separate, forbidden to be seen
by those whose lives were considered more worthy
by merit of their money
How little has changed in over a century
I entered the last room of the exhibit
my breath creating clouds in the refrigerated air
as I stood before a wall of ice the same temperature
as the salt water that surrounded them that night
twenty seven degrees fahrenheit
My palm went numb when placed upon it
a sensation similar to that of my soul
after a life spent sailing my own stormy seas
I communed with the spirits of the crew
commiserating with those who had frantically fired flares
in a futile search for a savior to come to the rescue
I do the same from my own sinking ship
with no more success
No one sees or no one cares
Awaiting a stone in need
To be discovered along the tortured road of darkness
Among the rocks and rubble by the asphalt engineered
Continuity of purpose laid out in utter despair as plain
The sour side of evening reaches blindly
With that and nothing in my pockets
Chance favors the mind prepared
In search for something on the ground that isn't there
Tattered dirty clothes move me along
Weathered ancient as I am
Itching everywhere
Weighed down by weather wet
Colder than the rain refrigerated
Bare footed, humbled
Aged like mushroom dust
Stranger to myself when I remember
Searching for the smooth stone to taste…. There!
I lick it first so mom might give approval
Though she is no longer with us any more
I stick it between the rotted teeth
The sucking stone has dried fermented
Brown and yellow matter
A thin layered substance clinging hard
Smooth stone is mostly round
With the flavor of earth and dirt
A sinuous indentation on the stone
Stares cycloptic like with its eye open
I think I love it and keep on sucking