Long Rita Poems
Long Rita Poems. Below are the most popular long Rita by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rita poems by poem length and keyword.
Shrubbery leaves and foliage, all these very gloriously and graciously green,
In my verdant jade roof top garden, reflect greenness on my laptop screen.
Verbose prolixed, scattered, strewn fill up spaces all around in my jade garden,
Soak and fill me with haunting memories of Rita, Irene, Jeanne, Jolene and Celine.
Of sweetness and tenderness envious nostalgic musings ever so green,
To my mind’s eye these imagery still emerge at will very pristine and clean.
Between fourteen and eighteen up here they broke my warm, gentle and fond heart,
Then at nineteen it was here in this greenery with Norma Jean, we abruptly fell apart.
Green the world seemed to me when I sat here all these years alone and lonely,
Scripting and crafting dense verses of earthly passions that are profound, eloquent and comely.
Glorious greens, gorgeous greens, jade greens,
All mankind reveres the vitality you create that is meant for kings and queens.
But for me the color green,
Often remind me of my recent sojourns with Maureen and Pauline.
So to now to reflect and meditate splashes of green I imagine feel and use,
my heart chakra to open and feel love , empathy and compassion and forlorn thoughts to diffuse.
Green… green…green….. I have now sensed and seen….
Will come before me for times umpteen and as a routine.
The Colors Have It Poetry Contest
29/2/2012
Why don’t we let things to be
The way they were meant to be?
We strive to thrive
By a meddling drive
Into Nature’s territory.
Nature gave what Nature gave
Why not preserve it and save?
Instead we try
To modify
Play lesser gods who’re naïve.
Trees we hew, gasses spew,
Vanish’d is the mountain dew.
Music is now what we make,
No chirping birds by a placid lake.
We devour the earth like the termites do!
Fish and plants and bees and birds
And of course domesticated herds
Nature breeds
Through cyclic seeds
But for humankind, I have no words
There’s no space for the human race,
In high-rise cities we grope for place.
From up on high
Beyond morassed sky
The sun just smiles at our errant ways
And Nature smiles at mankind’s toils
As laboriously the earth he despoils.
Tsunamis and tremors, El Nino and Nina,
Hurricanes like Rita and unforgettable Katrina .
Nature, my dear, is beyond your wiles
But have we discerned, our lessons learned?
We get what we deserve, our desserts are earned
We seek WMD, genetic research,
Towards extinction we fervently search,
We eagerly wait till to atoms we’re turned.
Let the Lord be my Shepherd, let me not want.
Let me say a prayer, not endlessly rant.
With infinite love he can fill up your life,
Let’s not test Him, (else be led to the knife!)
Let’s be the sheep, and we shall not want
Form:
Let’s go back in time to the nineteen fifties, Melanie suggested.
1940’s, her best friend, a more knowledgeable Tillie protested.
So they woke up in a room that was covered with pink roses, all girly.
Their makeup was in place upon awakening, and hair totally curly.
They looked like they had stepped out of a Rita Hayworth movie.
This is kind of nice, Melanie had to agree. It truly feels quite groovy.
How long do we stay? Tillie asked, bounding out of a rose covered bed.
Until we have had breakfast, or at least lunch, Melanie said.
What about our children? Our husbands? Our jobs and our life?
Tillie giggled about them on their own. She was a most peculiar wife.
Maybe they will take them to their mothers. This room is a dream!
She was settling down for a happy rest. Felt like a cat with new cream.
Are we asleep Melanie asked? She was worried about the frilly lace.
She was concerned about the time travel. Could they shelter in place?
Tillie blinked her eyes, eliminating her friend from her beautiful dream.
Settling down to enjoy the comforts of grandma’s house in a steady stream.
Rita was visiting. She pointed off the road. Let’s go there. So we did. It was the CIA - Culinary Institute of America. Like Auntie Mame, my aunt was a world traveler, an adventurer. My parents were not. My first taste of different.
fancy and fruitful
red plums and pastry aplomb -
a close call with life
There is crisscrossing of paths. One of my military assignments was Oahu, where my aunt no longer a spinster (her dad’s old fashioned label) was living. I’d traipse off to meet her, riding my moped. We’d have lunch at JC Penny’s coffee shop. She’d be surprised that I’d travel so far but there was something wild and adventurous in my twenty-something blood; and we only had one car.
a moped useful
for trekking to and from, up
to island stars
My son was almost one when he traveled with us to the Hawaiian islands. He’d go much farther, to Guam, and meet the woman he’d marry. After becoming a submariner chef, he’d win an Iron Chef contest, which would lead him to mom’s hometown where he’d get two degrees at the CIA.
does God sow these scenes
lead us to places unseen -
wildest dreams are birthed
Life is an adventure. I’d not had the faith to believe that but God had surely shown me the smorgasbord. On the smorgasbord of life, I ride the waves, the crest’s exciting, the bounce inviting.
God’s faithfulness sets
a table with bread and wine -
prolific support
Sea waters seem stagnant during this pandemic. We are at a lull, missing people and our lives. We are starved for the loaves and fishes God provides. I must have faith, this time around.
hunger greets God’s word
creator-restorer of faith -
snowfall like manna
2/28/2021
How much sorrow can you take,
when all you think of is true joy?
Very lonely but not hopeless
until another sunrise comes...
you will be wishing, wide-awake,
for the sweet lips of that young boy!
O lonely girl listening to music and imagining love,
you shouldn't get wings and turn into a dove,
because boys don't believe in keeping promises...
they find another foolish girl somewhere else!
O lonely girl barely fourteen refrain from desire,
that desire that can only end up in dire!
It's okay to dream as teens do to vent their rage,
it's fine to have a fantasy and wait for the phone to ring;
and it's quite normal to think of boys at this age,
but be warned of the first heartbreak from a tender wink,
it may lead to something you are not ready for,
so keep on dreaming and shut that darn door!
Towards midnight you hear his voice again and feel fine,
it must be one of those dreams when he says, " Little doll,
you are the prettiest one among others so slim and tall!"
And he goes on, " I made you a promise you'll be all mine!"
Oh, dreamer so innocent: a pillow case is all you hold,
he's not yours by any means...he's a teaser and way too old!
Your silly head is listening to the song he wrote,
a lovely love song he sent to your cellphone,
falling in love is not learned from a romance book:
words mislead and confuse the ones who are alone;
you may love him dearly, but all he does is using you for his own delight...
he may love you, but he'll sing his song to someone who's not too bright.
Inspired by the following songs:
Across The Universe
Lady Madonna
Lucille
Lonely Rita
Blackbird
Northern Song
Once I purchased a book about
Total Recall
It might be of
Re-cap-i–tulation
Rum-i-nation
Or glorious immigrant stories….
But I failed to reach even
a library spot…
Too high a ladder.
Your ablution will falsify
Your ebb and flood tides
In Between, O Bed-Win!
In MS-DOS!
Hodge Podge!
Just Because!
Reading
is a nutmeg , seals
ap-Pen-Di-x
It sits in Perth-e-Non
For no good reason, hypertension.
And I silenced the speaker
TBD Key note narrator.
To-get-her
In the kingdom of ladies’ purses
Courses, topics and item songs too.
Never found a Trace lagos
Other than the fact that
He, too is a fire-fighter
Who was a gifted
“The God of small things.”
Passed souls. Pious. Tranquil eyes.
O! I adore ex-IT!
Just because
Ed-it-Ed
Is in void.
Voided.
Ban-n-ed
In Banff.
Muslim clerics
Said
Supposedly
C0-ED
As If
Maw
In
Maw-Rita-nia
In Mahmoud Darwish’s life, Jaded.
Glory in Faded, dim-lit stone, enlighten-ed!
Anyone? Someone?
Ahoy mates!
Savior?
Reverie? Ben-Hur?
Is there anyone alive out there?
Can anyone hear me?
Three hours suppressed before breaching the tight-lipped
container left neatly wrapped in homogenous foam
and smoky demeanor. Its lid caved in, having been tapped.
Through misspoken holes sprung arcadian visions,
lacking Peloponnese disposition, still semi-smoldering
with the tinder touch of Hephaestus extracted from
less subtle artistry attributed Zeus, high up on his steed,
bare-chested. Arms crossed.
How he used to look down on we mortals, wee, buttressed
by oxygen, in two-
parts hydrogen, one-part dioxide.
But this was real, not some Florescent church.
Outside the perimeter lay black stacks of texts I had gradually
gathered through time’s non-existence, way back when time
weighed as factual matter. Of course they still mattered.
Yet, I chose them to lay there, bathed in the soot of three daughters
I failed to veil. What do you say, Rita Dove? to wear
my white-skinned daughters spun lesser as still lovelier silk?
Is there anything clumsier to misappropriate than weather-vane hate,
with its gallant gait, with its augmented pigmentation,
when there’s no room in storage?
A grey-haired protestant behind me prayed;
“Oh, Thank God!
Oh! Thank God”
He praised through my bedroom window’s socket, shocked to shatter
by fire, fresh come splattered beard. I had not known him prior, this man I would learn was a fair-weather friar. So; I blew him a kiss.
But in my eyes,
he saw an unwell wish, so;
It needs to be done with this.
Wade through the lake’s water so shallow,
A woman & a man hands entwined like a gallow.
Wade did she,
Wade did he.
Above their necks the furious waters rose,
Trod they together steps softly with no morose,
Spellbound they moved without a care,
Deeper and deeper where no one would dare!
Trod they, further unto the middle they reached,
Realized she, now an early vow she had breached,
No further she could wade,
But bitter memories afar refrained they to fade.
Drifting by now so weak was she,
So clasped them eyelids so all she could see was he,
A time came on when a boat roared by,
A wave it created ,it washed her eyes.
The heady din grown a was peaking,
Alas! Her dream was at an end that she was seeking.
Realized, she that moments spent in love,
Will fly away now like the dove.
Guessed she by now that the time was over for her space,
And on the pathway her love left behind in a cold place.
A now thinks she that dwells in another dimension,
Poor man left aghast to brood and fate too cruel to mention.
Ghastly her act, all this land had never been,
People shun now the disheartened lover whenever he be rarely seen.
Stares does he, strangely at the door,
For he believes that the path will bring her once more…………
©
We met on the internet, oh so very lomb ago.
My black sister and I, her white schmoe.
Our colors made no difference.
Rita, does not believe in color fences
Nor do I understand haters in any color
She said we were sisters of another mother.
Both of us are still Michael Jackson fans.
We were both createed by God's own hands,
We share feelings,emails and pictures, too!
I don't think she would ever hate me for being
white, do you?
This Supremacy nonsense belongs in tbe garbage
can!
We are an example of loving your fellow man.
Music, foods, hurt and pain!
Without Rita in my life, there is nothing to gain.
Love is forevermore... humility.
Not racial, media-based, fear and cruelty!
5/20/2021
Dedicated to Rita
From
Sisrer Pangie
The quintessence of womanhood, Mimi Sue makes me drool.
Exquisite, an angel, a champion of femininity, my jewel.
A peach, a beauty, a gem, my ideal mate.
I smiled at my brother, he had at last met his fate.
I expected to see Rita Hayworth get out of his car.
My husband was thinking Jennifer Anniston, his favorite star.
Well at least he has gotten more mature my mother said.
As Mimi Sue extracted herself from his VW Bug, her hair flaming red.
For she was built like an oak, would fit in right away.
We greeted her warmly, that warm Sunday day.
At least he recognized real beauty this time stated Dad.
She was the most down-home, regular date he had ever had.
Mimi Sue was gentle, and kind, and natural empath.
She was accepting and loving, and had a great laugh.
She was a sorcerer, she had dazzled him, this regular dame.
He was ready to settle down, get married, stop playing all games.