Long Rims Poems
Long Rims Poems. Below are the most popular long Rims by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rims poems by poem length and keyword.
Look at them, tangled in insignificant conversation
about politics or stereotypes of blacks, whites and Asians,
lack of youth education, weather ruined vacations, how inflation squeezing their arm like “yo, I got you taken,
and how fuel became a bill from the money that we are making.
They sacrifice the savings to keep a standard of living.
I hear then talking about their lovers lack of love that they are giving
I say communicate or leave because time is steady ticking
Look at them
Buying expensive rims, and high fashion clothes with sneakers, lugz, and tims. Inside I soul spy like
magnified mri’s an imaginary field force of selfishness and pride.
Careless if they fetus die, cry internal cause maternal really means giving up a lot.
They sacrifice the club shot for shot life and dreams and the scene of kings and queens all decken together…
and their business is each others infused for forever playing tether with the ball of a pendulum. Uncovered
are their memories of covers and words they’ve past uttered…it is just another case of lack of patience
Like gimme good but hold the impregnation. Bright futures still there steady waitin
Look at them
Thinking they can plan their lives, brake the rules of the beehive that ran their lives, make a little honey to
expand their lives, then forget they folk turn around forget they wives.
See she lost her heart and he aint got no eyes but in such a dark world that man is king.’
Look at her flaunting that ring then pawning that ring because all that mattered was a shiny thing. Not the
signs
Look at them tryna rewind. Relight the spark that wouldn’t stay the last 20 times
It should be a crime to try to live back there. Yo people do change but change is rare
They put it all on retail so it can be re-teared
All the hurt made them cold so they don’t care
Blinded by the glare, and the lights and such
Look at them! Don’t they know they done sold too much?
In for a short time touch instead of long term goals
People drive through they souls without no tolls
All control each other’s minds fueled hearts by coal
So hard, so swoll, so invincible is external
Look at them bout to blow so internal
Would you look at them actually living
My observations vicarious as information I’m giving
Look at me all input but no answer
All I am is input but not the answer
Form:
Nestled is the slender twisting trail canyon between timeless steep
aspiring mountains and meditative sopheric sea waters
The frail road deepens into lofty thickness further from the harsh
volcanic valley where passion’s throes are ever in abeyance as days grind
on at a petty pace, as winding cathartic minds strive to be free and leave their
fears of mortal sin, intrusive family— religious dogma dismissive, oppressive
My yearning heart writhes in agonizing prose knowing senses magma
guilt etched into my very core, now behind
I’ll unwind, in a soft bed of sand that awaits
Spring’s strong winds of life call, visible the sea in the
distance, in instance, heads tilt, abut, falling upon my
wooer’s shoulder, he presses gears, downshifts reaching tireless
slate-gray force spreading over ocean floors flooding with no remorse
An uncommon gallantry he displayed, a warrior’s valiant looks
fired up my very essence
A dimming sun immerses into a hesitant horizon, sweeping breezes spin
warm spells embracing an enchanter’s realm,
with its charm he gazed into languid eyes
Silhouettes stark, foreheads bow, touch, sweetened sweat from
jasmine bushes alongside the road, perks of riding the stallion of steel
evoked smiles in sideview mirror, heated rims, spokes spun
Dismount a stroll, toes sank in sand, holding hands dodging driftwood
washed ashore, I chose a serpent shaped, a souvenir!
I’d glue turquoise stone eyes, a keepsake, or an omen?
Zena’s cove of guilty pleasures seal fates, certainly
not rhythmic lapping waves against the shore nor salmon sunset
or a waxing crescent moon, and not the wistful ocean’s teary spray
Its tears wetted my cheeks in afterglows
Lest moonlit sky amongst shy hidden stars
Pangs subside, panic betides, doctrine ridden not from our marrow
Womb’s flower in bloom, a secret kept, an advent arrival
The planets wept, forms beyond birth of celestial bodies,
one existence yet does sin exist in celestial angels?
He held tightly, softly whispered let’s run away,
his proposal on adulthood’s precarious cusp,
bestowed him a refusal, sweet youth ruins
Alas and alack life proceeds
steady as ebb and flow of the tides
After a precious gem she’s named, sweet lord
never more blissful, daughter
Caressed are tranquil ocean waves
It is amazing how many super important people there are in my hometown!
At almost any intersection, I will be eclipsed by at least 2-3 individuals who are cooler
Than I could ever aspire to think to become.
Lately I see them everywhere!
They look just like the people on the covers of those high quality magazines I see
In line at the grocery store when I am buying my crate of ramen noodles, and
The 4 for $5 Bar-S brand hot dogs.
I can't help but to think, "WOW! Why haven't I seen any of these people on t.v. yet?"
My adulation for people like Newton, the Incas, Brahmms, Klimt has been misplaced!
Just when I felt like a wart infested slug for my lack of awareness,
A gracious miracle occurred:
This girl/woman/tranny pulled up next to me at a long traffic light.
She wore those wonderful Jackie-o knock offs that almost cover the entire face,
Making her nose look like this teensy-weensy little button!
The a.c. blew her hair around like she was in a photo shoot, and
After removing the cell phone that had neurally implanted itself to her head,
She stared straight ahead, as if in a trance.
I was sure that she was probably in deep thought concerning ways to feed starving babies,
Or contemplating the lines for her next secret audition that only she knows about.
Once the light turned chartreuse, she accelerated like a photon;
This is when I noticed the scintillating rims that resembled the UFO that I communicated with
Down by irrigation ditch the day before.
This was a sign... I had to catch up with her and share this knowledge!
I followed her the length of the city until she finally pulled
Her behemoth into some swanky day spa that had no airs of pretentiousness whatsoever.
It was weird because as I approached her vehicle, I began to sputter and stammer
All of my words; I even began to inexplicably lurch as I walked towards her.
When she saw me her eyes widened to the size of coffee saucers, and
The next thing I knew was there were these wires attached to my chest!
Suddenly I was dreaming of the time I ate mushrooms and touched a frayed cord
On an alarm clock.
When I awoke on the hot asphalt, my seraph had vanished into a mid afternoon haze.
I had to give a toothy smile though- I knew that my body just couldn't handle the intensity
Of her heavenly nimbus!
Oh the images we freeze in time
the sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
the sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
for those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
on shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls.
Oh the images warmed and torn, sun burnt to brown
upon what's left of glossy crenulated sheets
showing frozen plumped out peeks of
blistering love, gape toothed girls
and sour apple dreams.
We freeze in time on scrapes and shards
on compasses far from the woodlands scene
the tobacco scent of Papa, his yellowed fingers
as they touched my dimpled chin,
blue eyes behind wire rims.
The sweet, sweet scents that bring recall
White Shoulder's between her wholesome breasts
Mother's satin, Chantilly drenched negligee
and father's black onyx ring
ah, I still have him.
The sharp and painful longing that belongings bring
guilty pleasures hidden from the public's tut-tuting eyes
hoarded in ornate boxes, or pressed between stout boards
relentless, heartless is the passing
passing into the frayed, worn fringes
of our dollop of mirrored time.
For those lost or lingering on sheets of lavender
with drawers of balsam pillows to recall the olden days
bring forth the buds which bloom on taffy and apple pie
do not forget the taste of the love
the cotton candy kisses
their first chocolate cone.
On shelves of shaving mugs - Old Spice
soap roped in shower stalls, no sense comes
without its call to memory. Oh you do not sit alone,
play all the old tunes from radio days
and invite your loved ones
to come home.
This is my form it is called Etcetera.
Definition: Write a line or a stanza, take from that line or stanza words in the
order they were written [ from 1 word to whole lines or phrases] begin your
next stanza with it continue until you have written using all the words in the
order written in the line or stanza being explored in depth in a stream of
internal dialogue. ALL poetic devises/tropes may be used INCLUDING internal
rhyme. The verse may be as long or short as you wish, no meter required, no
syllable count.
I would say Etcetera and Blitz are sub forms of Free Verse - Stream of
Consciousness - Etcetera- Blitz
I’m from small town homes and rose bushes overgrown, with
Close-but-not-too-close-close-knit-crazies.
Where my best friend lives down the block and I make late night trips to her house past the town curfew, because I am from just inside the city limits.
Where I can’t drive underage in a non-road-legal vehicle on the road but I do it anyways.
From hydrangeas to big dead oaks with darkened limbs and forgotten branches. Unattended to hidden ponds with sand dunes keeping close company. Winding trails through the woven pines and golf cart rides through the night.
From two tracking at 2am, to popped tires riding on rims all the way home.
Bruised up and down and scratches I don’t know how I got.
I’m from sunday night football with crockpot cheesy potatoes
to rolling blackouts and chasing charter vans down flat onto our bottoms.
Muddy heels to get to the dance and paying seven dollars to watch my hometown football team lose.
I’m from where smoking our meat and video games in the garage is a party but we are the only company we need.
From corny jokes inside and out and witty humor, none taken. From where insulting one another is nothing but love and curfews are often a thing of the past.
Descending from lovejoys I am often filled with both love and joy,
I’m from oddballs and country folk yet we have evolved.
I’m from soccer games even when it’s raining. From no quitting all the way to you tried your best.
From high- highs and even lower lows.
I’m from the land of schnitzel, pickled beer, and pizza. From ‘go play outside’ and ‘walk it off.’ Nuts and bolts for christmas snacks to ‘honor thy mother and father.’ Sunday school lullabies and don’t use his name in vain, following all the common Godly precautions.
I’m from waking up early just to see the sunrise even though the trees are a war barricade from the burning fire you long to see. I’m from the fog that made my acres of yard an abyss that I can’t see through, even though I know what’s there.
I’m from family trips and a loving home, missing it when I’m gone and hating it when I’m there. I’m from supportive love and ‘can’t isn’t a word’. I’m from you can do anything if you work hard enough, and whether you think you can, or think you can’t, you’re right.
No roof no mood flat affect
Glances empty no space for sorrow
Small rucksack to collect
No tears to borrow
A sloppy flute
A black and white photo
Of a young boy now mute
Carpe Diem his motto
Dreamy alone and in despair
Jonny the homeless lives there
By the Post Office stair
Some bags and a few rugs to wear
Ask for him and give him a penny
To play ‘Serenade’ by his son Tony
Died three years ago leaving alone Amy
If you aim to know a romantic story
“General Hospital, Leigh Valley
Room Number Five, Head Nurse Sally
Hippocastanum Alley
Floor 2, could remember hardly”
Tony could gather
His tunes from the storm
From the sun and from his father
Feverish nights since he was born
Holding dad’s hands
To cope with his pain
Plagued by swollen glands
Now saluted by a brittle rain
One night Darkness
Scuffling his noisy leaves
Waving his branches
Knocked on his windows rims
It craved Tony during Fall
Tormented by pain torn by malaise
Dad Jonny couldn’t hold him whole
Asking to docs for some delays
Then a cessation rainbow
A leaf fell with no array
Onto Tony’s window
It took him while floating away
“Tony my Tony”…
Talented flautist with poisoned blood
It was when leaves are yellow and brown
General Hospital alley season’s stylish
Hippocastanum wrapping the road gown
You can hear leaves swish
Now Jonny plays Tony’s last tune
‘Serenade for flute’ by a leaf that has gone
Playing it for the kids that gather there in turn
Rehearsing it whenever alone
He plays it for a few pennies
To buy some food and cardboard beds
A lively melody in subways galleries
All he owned gone for staminal cells
Jonny the homeless in his little tent
No tears to spend
Asking for a penny to lend
For some stars and for a grief to bend
At night he can hear the breeze
No one to talk no one to say
He looks at the stars and hears
Tony’s tunes sent for his dismay
Looking at the sky at South-South East
On Orion Belt the first three notes
Serenade the only reason to feast
And the kids asking for Tony’s quotes
Fall again in the road
Breeze playing Serenade
To the trees by the wind towed
To the stars in a melodic cascade
Boys boys boys boys
She has red hair
She was blonde last month
She maybe another next month, next week, or tomorrow
She loves them boys
She always goes for the married ones, mostly
She likes them small, short
Well maybe not small but short
You feel me
She also likes them exotic
I've had the honor to meet 'em all
Let's start with C, yea this one is a difficult case for me
We never get along, I can't stand him
He thinks he's all that
Maybe it's his bling bling, his taste of shine and diamond, the rims in his cars that gets her
Lets move to M, okay this is a cute one
Very handsome, mouthwatering and even down to earth!
It's this one that brings her from her station all the way to his so she can just sit next to him
And flirt, and smile, and play with her hair as she hungrily eyes him
A woman on heat
Let's move to R, I love him
He is so quiet and manly and with his style, he only demands respect
So smart
He says very little, he is one to hunt for
The curiosity is her trap on this one
Let's move to another R
This one has a baby face, even when he talks
So cute!
But he's got two babies you know, so don't let that baby face fool you
Maybe it's his 'naivety' that roars the tiger in her
And then E, hahaha, lol
This one brings out the naughty in me
He makes me say things I shouldn't say
But what the heck? Am old now, I can say whatever
He is always hot, literally!
Keeping them jokes sweaty is what she does with him
And then T, the least of the group coz he ain't married!
This one has PLAYER written all over him
From his sweet talk, to his touches, to his sexy smile
He has learnt his game well
This one doesn't entertain her as much
I watch her as she does her thing
We watch her, and shake our heads
I find her entertaining
Men, I don't remember having that much energy when I was twenty
One of this days, a wife of one these catches will show up when she is all over her man and someone will get a beating
One of these days, she will be married but she will also be haunted by the thoughts of some young chick all over her man, like she does
Darkness coiled in the depths of the night.
Where shadows try to hide from your view.
The moon is a mirror reaching for the light.
Rattling on the doors grappling with the dew.
Cigarette rims on window ledges stub out edges.
The marred ghosts of fear misty file foul pass.
The well-known places on wrinkle old folks faces.
When your mind sees and grieves with the ashes.
Moister paint the shadow of your face in the sky.
And night continues impenetrable at a lively pace.
Unawares of the rage consigned conspicuous cry.
This hoary claim might charm all the living race.
Perils bring the way that rides the waves of death.
Turned all ends of pleasure into a darker season.
Freely flying thin into the dying fading breath.
Risky living dreaming of another set of reasons.
Deadly steer rides the night with spavined grey.
Journeying without remorse to throw the woes.
And try to catch a glimpse of the fleeting day.
That wishes to defeat time with all their prowess.
Darkness running along far flung into the night.
Black clouds filled the whole dome of the sky.
Grasp muffle decaying voices along the street.
Water nectar rain, wash, rinse, and balm the eye.
The Voltaire of space stars on a voyage in the clouds
Rival unquiet air shivers with unheeding tremor.
The changed atmosphere invites sleep into the crowds.
Binaries cover the city to make stragglers scatter.
The long night closes with a kiss in the frost.
Pale and fear as dear vintage sauvignon saint.
When the drink is in the wit, we see the rein of cost.
That holds the kingly feast of a mysterious variant.
From the porter’s view drink, is a jewel of the night.
Each keeps its way separate in the flames of desire.
And oozes away in the morning behind the sunlight.
In greater sanctity with dreadful eyes smiling in a fire.
When the dust of morning rises in the grassy skies.
The glint in your eyes, you dare not raise too high.
And risk the manor for how your honor applies.
When your mind likely knows, it holds a deeper sigh.
I remember,
in the early 60s,
our thirty mile drive
from our historic family farm,
in all White rural Michigan,
not counting the Mexican migrant workers
which adults made a point of discounting,
on the first of several shopping trips to Thrifty Acres,
through vibrantly young all Black urban streets
of nearby Lansing.
Making Stevie Wonder and I,
him singing in all Black city churches
and me in all White rural and small village churches,
harmonic neighbors in my privately humming heart
yet never possible to publicly meet and greet
as this nation and this world were meant to sing
and dance our regenerations not apart.
I didn't know apartheid by default yet
but I do remember
seeing nearly black as ink skin for the very first time
on a smiling brown-eyed boy
on a chipped white painted bicycle without rims,
and longing to talk and listen with him
and laugh with him about the fresh green smell of freedom from training wheels,
freedom to create our own fast pedaling breeze
across our summer-hot black and white faces and arms,
and knowing that I would touch his dark warm skin
with loving wonder
about what it could be like to become with him,
to grow together,
to smell and feel and fly our satisfying diverse integrity
on a tandem red in-your-face bike,
bright shining all the way back
from Black-streets Lansing
through little White Woodland,
spreading across all Black with White Capital Cities
on out to woodland farmers,
to peddle fly while singing our glad hosanna wonders.
As I reweave
this first drive by encounter with racial diversity
and humane ecstatic curiosity,
I imagine asking Mom to stop,
pull our metallic gold Ford over
so I could ask his thick black-framed glasses name,
which would be Stevie,
and take his hand
to walk his bike back to his home and family
where we would live together
happily and most prosperously ever after.
This was my moment,
too quickly passed,
to know passion's love at first sight,
these sublime sounds and dark satin skin smells
of Stevie's Wonder.
I'm scared and riddled with insecurities being thrown at me by an unknown hand above.
I cut you open and instinctively say I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, but I'm scared because I did.
I knew exactly what I was doing before I did it. I usually do.
You don't know me completely and thoroughly. Maybe one day you will, but not yet.
I cut you open and slit your wrist and let the blood flow out of my own because it hurt me too.
I cried tears of triumph as they spilled over the rims of eyes filled with remorse.
I opened you up and shut you down with just the snap of the rope keeping my brain together as killer thoughts caused it to unravel.
I loath myself for allowing that to happen.
I try to be strong and keep my composure, but it's so incredibly hard when my feelings are magnified.
I ruined it all. Broke a trust. Broke the femur of a bridge's foundation linking two foreign lands together.
Maybe it wasn't that big of a deal to you.
It really shouldn't have been, but it ended up being that way.
Don't ask me why because I couldn't say.
I get scared because I can hurt you, equally scared because you can hurt me too.
I can hurt myself, and you can hurt me too.
I don't want to be in a situation like before.
I want to be loved by someone who feels the same, at the same level.
I don't want to place my heart in your hands and have it beat so fast yours can't keep up, and you just let it drop on the floor, plop, and you leave.
Would you rather be with someone else if you came across that person.
Would you rather be with the beautiful red head with a physic closer to your wildest dreams.
Would you rather be with someone with a stable mind who doesn't think these things all the time? Annoyance at its best for you I'm sure.
I don't want to feel like I'm just your best option for the time being, when I see you as a perfect being to the point where I don't want to, don't need to, search anymore.
The blinders have already been placed over me. I see no one else.
But I wish I could see what you see.