Long Reserves Poems

Long Reserves Poems. Below are the most popular long Reserves by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Reserves poems by poem length and keyword.


So Dog Gone Tired Today

So Dog Gone Tired Today...
May 20th, 2021

Like a fly without his/her buzz
even popping a guarana (caffeine) does
not shake the feeling
like brain covered with fuzz

no matter how hard I try eyelids claps
shut nor how many hours of sleep elapse
offers nary reprieve folds
welded tightly shut

feel like they weigh
much as a ton mud covered flaps,
thus thought to summon
meager energy reserves perhaps

generating poetic lines
interrupted by taking constant naps
but no matter eyelids
weigh heavy as a ton steel traps

narcolepsy not ruled out since
tired body struggles as if gasping for air,
yet such fatigued state uncommon for me,
though bothersome to grin and bear

this bout of sleepiness, where this
white knight chess sleeps
trouble free aye declare
quality deep rapid eye

movement marked noticed
since medication taken
to treat debilitating anxiety e'er
concomitant panic attacks, where psyche

got rent asunder send
ding this atheist to hell
episodes pained me
forked flaming tongues flare

ling, immobilizing, paralyzing
and stinging entire body,
hence methinks primary cerebral gear
and cog glommed
like a drain clogged with hair

nonetheless, no alarmist worry,
nor "worst case scenarios" betray
my ordinarily mellow emotional state,
thus any task I must delay

thoughts unstoppably captivated
by snoozing upon
a bed of freshly mown hay,
and then hours later

diminishing fatigue in catchy rye
ming verse aye re: lay
relishing being awake,
the mine true valued self I kin portray

best to surrender whereby 
unfettered invisible manacle doth yoke
mine body electric unresponsive, yet woke
to myriad stuff dreams get made 
ashen faced flesh impossible mission 
to energize (think cattle prod) futile stoke,

thus methinks eternal sleep only option,
whereby yours truly only request do not provoke
nor poke
the bear, but only I make exception for
Little Red Riding Hood,
cuz she ranks as innocent young female folk.
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Earth

 

Inspiration- Title 3, Earth - "Those who contemplate the beauty of the
earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts." 

Quote by _Rachel Carson

     since young I have loved the forest and woods
there is such a comfort like a warm blanket wrapped
      I just breathe in all the scents and the sounds 
each little bird song drifting and mingling, mingling  
         I love all the green hues that soothe my soul
the brown earth has energy and strength to give me
          so, I lay down and the earth is talking
not in words . . .  but in emotions like a sad song
              I hang my golden hair in dappled sun
like a woven spider web it billows and flows
                clouds in the blue sky sail like ocean ships
I imagine floating on waves, drifting, drifting . . . 

     I follow the sound of water flowing
and come to a stream where ducks and swans are floating
       though life has been weather-stained I am strong
this earth and all parts need my love and attention
         something has a hold on me and my soul
I am filled with inspiration and thirst for life
           wanting to make an earthly difference
oh, God the creator . . .  guide me to a purpose
             the earth is endless with places in need
pollution is destroying her perfect beauty
               oh, some things I have no control to stop
but, I can help, I can volunteer, be involved. . .

Premium Member Postage Due

Chill confines a diary of absence
as September keyholes a papered wall.
A smirk tears a face--escapee silence
--styles wall with nothingness, dead ends AWOL.

A bottle of spent wealth parlays about ...
tangled weaves justify the performance.
Pebble leather worships darkly, blacks-out
a ghosted pundit building blocks, mischance.
  
Cold fashions the well, tilt pour sands reserves.
Alas, pitched secrets facades of falsehood,
its prisoner scopes round a war of words,
sheathed arrogance knells myPhone, knock on wood.

Crinkled gone days lay ... flattery goes on.
Scrawled lines drown, looming voice curts; "My Dear John".
Form: Sonnet

BB-39

Eighty-four years later -
yet still you bleed
glimmering sheen of oil
from reserves once newly fueled
before you burned
an unsuspecting victim
of the cutting edge
of desperate war.

Your nation rallied fast,
took fiery vengeance of its own
over wooden cities.
One fire deserves another, doesn't it?

And now, keeping watch over your broken form,
your younger sister floats proudly.
She hosted their surrender
Now she remains the other bookend - 
The knowing triumph to your ignorant defeat.

And the story is long concluded...
But still you bleed.


written by 17:21
2025-10-22

Winter Woodland

Winter's icy streams funnel low
Frosty beams on pine needles 
glow
A menacing wind seeps 
through thatched window
Below, fibrous carpet cloaked 
with satin plateau
Snowy wood with furry dander 
doth flow
Mule deer nestle with fatty 
reserves in tow
Wild boars root 'neath the 
milky tallow
Red foxes scavenge for prey 
along the hedgerow 
Pensive hares prat through the 
silken meadow
Black bears take shelter in 
sleepy hollow
Sparring woodchucks bristle in 
the frothy undertow
Spotted owls reconnoiter each 
frozen crevice, sealed burrow
Orange-breasted sparrows 
their winter anthem bellow
Jittery squirrels scurry about 
searching for nutty escrow
Form: Rhyme


The Buzzard

Within the common (all purpose room)
     at highland manor apartments aye
daily encounter, one bewitchingly dreaded
     fiendishly horrible, jeeringly loopy,

     nap noopy, pugnaciously ravenous, talon
     viciously wizened, xenophobic yeti, zapping
     zeroing zillion zippers,
     zoned Zuckerman alley bye

barred doors fate helplessly jury-rigged
     sealed with with plaintive cry
no escape known to this man caught
     in a deadly voodoo clutch,

     thus doomed to die
ugly cannibalistic, frightful,
     heathen rumors myopic eyes espy
alarmed at feeling trapped

     akin to a wingless fly
tapping reserves of scape goat
     coping techniques ingenuity,
     which earned me moniker "fall guy"

where accursed cruel destined exit
     from getting husked, issued
     jagged lance like mandibles "hi
there unknown weekly reader", I

pray for super leftist
     write hand man/woman to extricate
     (via whipping up literary poetic fabrication),
     then joining me to sing jai

(let victory prevail against killer odds)
     perhaps summoning division
     of British shiver rights phalanx,
     hood reply with Hackneyed "oh kai"

springing surprise rescue,
     sans swooping inside
     this hermetically faux prison,
     where Matthew Scott Harris doth lie,
yet realistic to accept my
demise without putting up

     a good fight well nigh
but... if luck finds thee plucking this bard
     (out maws of death) be treated to custom
     ye will be rewarded with pie
ala mode enjoying a Quai
yet moment...yeah...fading hope...sigh!

Premium Member For Oscar On His 3rd Birthday

The sweetest herb so bitter on my tongue
  till in great awe I newly held my own,
and when old and my thoughts alone among
  my age will remember you early grown.
A righteous boy does a righteous man make
  and for now the snares of men unthwart you,
but swift the silence the lightsabers break
  when your Jedi heart declares “daddy do!”.
Now young Skywalker, your lisp and stammer
  work not to deter reserves of learning -
only to raise the unflinching clamour
  that overjoys that little soul yearning.
One day you’ll touch the moon and starry sphere,
one day you’ll touch the world, Oscar St Clair.


               Written: March 2003
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member non-mechanical

Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.

In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.

I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.

You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.

You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.

All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.

I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.

I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.

God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.

Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3

Premium Member Singles Night

Ron desperately wanted to have a girlfriend
He’d looked after his old mum right till the end
Ron was a tall and extremely attractive guy
Unfortunately poor Ron was so terribly shy 

He saw a poster in a window for a single’s night
There’d be lots of ladies, it seemed just right
He phoned the organiser, her name was Eva
She’d greet him at the door; he couldn’t wait to meet her

Eva smiled when she saw Ron’s handsome face
with her skin-tight dress he baulked at her embrace
Her huge breasts looked like two bald headed men
He extracted himself; so he could breathe again!

Tables for two were set up around the room
Scented candles gave off a lovely perfume
Ron sat down at a table in search of a date
Would he be lucky and meet his soul mate?

Big Beryl sat down; she had such bad halitosis
She covered her mouth hoping Ron wouldn’t notice 
The moment she spoke poor Ron got a foul blast
When their time was up; Ron moved seats - fast!

Then next he met Ann; she was obsessed with her pussy
He would only eat Whiskas; her Tom was ever so fussy
But any hope of romance they had to defer
As Ron had an allergy to animal fur

Butch Bertha said she preferred women to guys
Ron thought it a pity as she had such lovely eyes
Her mother had forced her to go out that night
They both agreed a date just wouldn’t be right

Mavis nervously sat down, she was painfully thin
From the smell of her breath, she’d been hitting the gin
She said she’d had a tipple to steady her nerves
And she’d got her hip flask if she needed reserves!

Ron began to think speed dating contrary
Then a beauty arrived, her name was Mary
Pretty in pink she stood out from the crowd
She was shy and demure and she wasn’t too loud 

Ron hesitantly asked Mary if he could give her a call
And their very first date was at the local dance hall
At the end of the night they shared their first kiss
Now they’re happily married and life is just bliss



09-27-17
Form: Rhyme

Scare Crew

Scare Crew

little whispers 
Gives me chills
Whispers to me
Trapping frozen spirits
inside ocean waves they chill before awakening

The moon  in its deviant smile
Sees your every move
Knows whos been creepin around before his brilliant glow
Now morning told the Sun unveils All what darkness hides
Sunshine sparkles turns to water vapor and falls as crystal rain
Where do you go when you hide with my glow
Ahead of me or behind me 
teenager revenger or terror force
Killing favorites enduring the pancake of remorse
No one can leave and you thought has no mean
The mean of lose in these tough days obtuse
Free n easy who deserves
Saturn seas ready for lifes reserves
under a violet Saturated sky
A little bit of bad  all told it could be worse
Just don't Take away the chance that passes a decade ago

No one escapes 
This scare crew
What pray what drive these thinks of   
pharaoh of Shephard of king
Those last words 
Are they gifts of forgives

Freedom answered winter summarizes hope
Lost are the big meals,back when we really dined
Prices absorbed the stupidity from the past
Abit of takeaway day by day
Pile into the back seat of the mind Haunting screams in the middle of night
Oh no oh no no no
It can't be ...
Waiting for a life that never appears Buses and trains snatch up  your  rhymes 
You created this monster without lullabyes
There you see the face
The girl 
With the familiar name
Hey look I remember the face
When life lost its childhood
When life lost its laugh
And thrill was rare gone was teenager life
Who would be waiting at the next stop
A voice cries out
Saying drive on mother f'er

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