Long Rock candy Poems

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


The Saddest Days

And there are not enough cubicles and grey paneling that 
sugar rock candy lights won’t cut 
the sapling eye from its still decline into Abyss.

And there are not enough sad thoughts wars rapes to gratify inward hatreds which never walk the feather but mobilize the thousand marching whales across an entire worlds sandy interior. 
across every turtle egg.

If there are secrets below us we are too many 
too numerously traveling 
a cacophonous tandem that secrets could survive our drumming lull. 
Surely we have broken all our secrets with our song. 
I hear only ever what anyone always forever has known.

I have no doubt anymore. 
There is only sand below.

No. The saddest days are behind in mouths of our trekking bedded with pruned flowers who wilted passing along the snaking vine of history which coils and dies as mast and pointed finger at every moment we recall our saddest days.

But these days are not polished aged silvers of goals and just conquering, but like a sword waved through crowds at night where the tallest fell in heads and became mountainous cultures of sporadic hands where finally at this moment cresting backwards 
we see our ladder in dawn 
and it is blood. 

Every possible minute from every now onwards.
Each point along stretches back marking the infinite fence of beginnings lamely ticked from the chain which links them. Such that as time leans in the depth of reflection, in the understanding of casual existence, of tragedy, everyday comedy — the noon will bite its appearance, and we will miss our lunch.
Dry and sour throats work along this real thing.
Where there was once water and loss 
Is the leftward image of death in decline.

We are not so caring as to want for our lives.

For as long as we want others, and acquire others, and drift from others — who were once familiars — only to drift back and want again, and not be in haste of charging this social pattern with contempt of experience;
Of laughing at us,
Doubting our depths,
Then there is hope.

If not, then we shall continue.
But we will not have our sadness.
We will dry our tears from each other
And mask the body to wed from time.
This tomb is a forever we would not escape.

It is a death amidst the sand.

The river awaits.


Friday Evening, After Eleven

Too tired,  i thought io myself, to lance this wound again
 So I'll let the sufferings flow where no good tidings go
 And we'll call it a truce in the end.
 Oh, tell me once more,
 How this life of ours should go,
 Cause the words fall to the floor anyhow
 And the small town girl's turned penthouse femme fatale
 Oh but we knew how these city streets howl faux freedoms
 In the face of the soft-skinned and weak minds
 But mine's been all the weaker for believing poison is love
 And I drank the barrel dry till I went blind to the holy light
 Damn these tears and this darkness of soul
 But if that's the case babe, mine's been rolling in coal
 Oh, I ain't a scholar, nor master of schemes
 just a two-bit pauper with sprawling rock-candy dreams
 the letters don't fall into place like they did once before
 And I don't search for the gold in folk's smiles anymore
 I've been drowning in sin and the lifeblood of all lies
 Worst part's been hiding a lost soul behind brown eyes

 Tell me honey, how's life been to you?  
 Well, the winds tell me the sound's still alive and well
 Ah, but the wind ain't so kind in the dark when your wrapped in loneliness
 And broken strings on a battered guitar have lost the will to tell the tale
 New strings sell good, but you pay with your heart
 Aren't we running out of pieces by now ?
 Well baby,  meet me on the corner of 5th and eternity beyond
 Of the hope and fiery passion we learned to burn in till we went wild
 And can you find your way back to the stars babe?
 And can you take me back to our unscarred years
 before we spilled the blood of dreams not yet born
 Are you ready mama?
 Whisper it to me low...
 In that voice of a longin soul...
 Let's go.


© Robert
Form:

Premium Member Mein Kampf My Struggle

…the seeds of neo-Nazism are germinating  
Markus Nierth, former mayor of Tröglitz, Germany 2015

Germany’s rock candy windows and cookie like shingles make seeing the oven inside impossible. At first, the obsessive compulsive cleanliness of Nuremberg’s post-WWII streets is a joy. For a child of the melting pot, born after The Big One, it’s painful to recall the grimmer aspects of the Third Reich with their proposed eugenics. Nuremberg [rebuilt] roots in an elitist past hiding behind half-timbered houses of wattle and daub. Once the seat of the Holy Roman Empire seeped in power, then, a base for Hitler’s wunderkind rallies—now a soul-blighted bloom, a minor stop on the tourist trail.

Street walking pedestrians—the silent middle, staid, detached—stroll or bike along paths, immersed in white dreams. The pogroms of terror, stolen homes, and bridges made from Jewish Cemetery stones lie beneath layers of pristine paint and plaster. The Jews victimized for centuries, and the war trials, a mere subtext to tour guide chatter. 

xenophobia 
tamped down like an ash banked fire 
waits to rise again 
on a bellows breath of rage
spray painted on railroad cars

The site of my pilgrimage, The Palace of Justice—walled in panels of ashen mahogany—retains a dour mien. Judges, jurors and those to be tried, still use this hall. After-images of skeletal camp dweller and vain glorious generals rise wraith-like from the polished surfaces, paneling, pews, and copings. Greek God’s glower. A bronze crucifix castes judgment on all who pass: God fearing, or atheist. Justice is not present; horrors are not passed and conscience is now presented to the world as a fanatic in a suicide vest.
 

First Published in Artificium UK 2016
Form: Haibun

Our Secret Hideaway

Of all the times that I remember
   The most memorable….
Was when I was a child!

Spending time with my grandmother,
   Who was always fun to be around,
I was never bored because….
   There was always something to do!

One special day as my brother Jeff and I
   Were playing outside underneath the porch
We didn’t suspect how a white bucket
   Showed up out of the blue.
Must have been lowered down
   With a rope attached to reach us 
By an angel in disguise;
   And we knew that it was Nana….
And surprised us of what was inside!

Never imagined that all the colors in the world
   Were right in front of us,
Just like a rainbow….
   We were in awe!

Good n’ plenty, orange circus peanuts,
   Boston baked beans, Necco wafers, even caramel bulls eyes!
Penny candy strips galore, tootsie rolls, blow pops, skittles,
   Hersey kisses, sugar daddies, bazooka gum, fire balls,
Junior mints, smarties, bit-o-honey, rock candy, Charleston chews,
   Gum drops, twizzlers, fruity slices, pixy sticks, and Mary Janes!

“One for me, and one for you….
   Then two for me and two for you!”

All the candy was divided between us
   Within two large zippered clear bags.
We really didn’t eat all of the candy, you know,
   So we savored each and every piece.

We knew Nana adored us both
   With all of her heart,
And loved every minute spending
   Precious time with her grandchildren;
Spreading joy and happiness!

I remember all the times
   That I spent with my grandmother.
She taught me special skills in baking,
   And arts and crafts, which
I still enjoy to this day.
   I treasure all those vivid memories, 
Which I will have forever!

Halloween Innuendo

It's Halloween and as we know
It's a special time of year
There's scary things and ghostly beings
Meant to bring out fear

There's lots of innuendos
I hope you do not mind
If I can take the liberty 
As some may not seem kind

They're meant to make you Snickers
And put a smile upon your face
Please forgive me for my twisted mind
If that is not the case

I'd like to know, if you'd mind
If I tricked you with my treats
Your like a tasty candy bar
I'm sure you're sticky sweet

I'll take you to the Milky Way
Or maybe even Mars
I want to squeeze you Bun so tight
My rock candy is so hard

You're like a Peppermint Patty
You take my breath away
I'll bring you years of Almond Joy
I've so much more to say

When you lick a Lollipop
It makes my poor heart race
I wish that you would unwrap me
Let's cut right to the chase

I'd place some Miniature Kisses
All around your luscious Mounds
I'd start with licks, then give you my Twix
Till you shout O Henry loud
 
To taste your Whatchamacallit
I would give 100 Grand
And move my Butterfingers
All across your skin

You can bet that Mikey likes it
And his Pop Rocks would explode
How many licks would it take to get
To the center of his Tootsie Roll

I'll be your Sugar Daddy
If you will let me be
I hope to Skor, at least once more
Without the Musketeers 3

I'd share with you my Payday
If that is what you choose
Then we could Rolos over
To 5th Avenue

I promise you no needles
Can I poke you just in fun
I hope you've found Good Humor
And it's the best Bar None
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Call Me Lord

CALL ME LORD

The phone is off the hook
Hadn’t paid the cell phone bill
He I see stands outside on the hill
Waving and flagging you down
Asking Lord for you to come on down
Call me on my heart strings
Pick up the phone now

Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Call me Lord whether I’m in a group or I am alone
Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Just call me Lord God so that I may talk with you
Call me Lord I’ll be round
Call me God I won’t make a sound
I’ll be right here in prayer, just call me now
Talk to me


Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Call me Lord whether I’m in a group or I am alone
Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Just call me Lord God so that I may talk with you

Picture me setting on the sunset
Hands rose to heaven with one breath left
I lift my right foot knee touch my chest
I shout out hallelujah with all my voice and breath
My ears are dirty my mouth cloudy
My cheeks are enlarged mouth filled with have eaten rock candy
Angel food cake devil food cake
Cavity ridden front teeth, still yet the praises for my God I will make

Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Call me Lord whether I’m in a group or I am alone
Call me Lord, I’ll be here
Call me Lord I’ll be home
Just call me Lord God so that I may talk with you
Call me Lord I’ll be round
Call me God I won’t make a sound
I’ll be right here in prayer, just call me now
Talk to me


Call me Lord

03/27/14
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2014
Form: Lyric

Premium Member Pain Hurts - Discomfort Is Not Pain

Hand on the leather, 
I held on for the bell, 
Sure it was a winner. 
I was riding so well,
But then the bull threw me; 
Introduced me to the dirt.  
Hell, I only broke my shoulder, mama, 
How bad can it hurt?

No, I’m not sleeping. 
I’m just resting my eyes.
Got that last nail hammered 
Though it took me twelve tries.
It took me one dozen 
‘cause I wasn’t too alert. 
But I still got one good thumb, so mama, 
How bad can it hurt?

Pass me the garlic salt, 
The horseradish, too.
Need more habañero 
In this hot pepper stew.
I’ll have the rock candy 
Flaming brandy for dessert.
Don’t you worry ‘bout my ulcer, mama, 
How bad can it hurt?

Walked into The Penny, 
I was feelin’ all right.
Hadn’t drunk my first 
Before I got in a fight.
I caught the backcountry 
Sucker punch he slyly threw.
I only let him punch me once, and mama, 
That didn’t hurt, too.

I know a woman 
Who’s at war with the world.  
Tell her that she’s cute, 
It’s like the gauntlet’s been hurled.
She uses brass knuckles, 
Straps, and buckles when she flirts.
Likes to kick me when I’m down, but mama, 
How bad can it hurt?

Paint me a picture, darlin’, 
Show me a sign.
Are ya really leavin’ me, 
Or are ya still mine?
Ya got some hot bacon 
Shakin’ underneath your skirt.
I’m gonna miss you when you go, but mama, 
How bad can it hurt?

Premium Member In Land of Cockaigne

'Cockaine' took another slow snort from magic white crystal dust

pleasure inhaled at ease and great vastness for her was a must

with 'Cockaigne' the land of physical comfort and luxury near

nothing to lose in addiction she had no more demons to fear


they called her a **** on cocaine an outcast and street trash

but when on the drug of her choice she cherished the bash

threw caution to wind as long as it did not disperse the powder

when trashed everything became brighter lighter and louder


as a kind soul she shared her treasures with Charlie and Mandy

freebase for all gak sugar coke and vast mountains of rock candy

when she ran out of gear her smashed fellows returned the favour

good friendship is a treasure to hold very dear and to savour


she ran out of money and companions because they’re all dead

sold her body for a few bob to Dick Tom and Harry giving head

blew instead of inhaling and soon she took to needle and syringe

believed she was happy when she overdosed and went out in a binge



15th November 2020


Rhyme Poetry Contest

Sponsored by Edward Ibeh

Theme picked 'Cockaigne'


'Cockaigne' is a mythical land of plenty with comfort luxury and instant  

gratification.

A 'cockaine' is slang for a **** on drugs especially cocaine.
Form: Rhyme

This Is My England - Food

this is my England...
fish and chips
(with curry sauce)
pizza, lasagne
and, of course -
Chicken Tikka Masala
with poppadums, pickles
or a beef vindaloo
to open your ventricles.

this is my England...
hot buttered toast
or jam on crumpets
homemade roast dinner
(go blow your own trumpet)
Maccie D’s on pay day
or Greek, our special restaurant
bacon buttie, fried egg
or tell me, what do you want?

this is my England...
oodles of noodles
lashings of gravy
enough chilli peppers
to make your head wavy
Subway, Costa, Starbucks
pose and be seen
end of the month statement
you can see where you’ve been.

this is my England...
seafood sticks and winkles 
sticks of rock, candy floss
vegan, veggie, carnivore
you are not at a loss
crisp sarnies
Marmite with sprouts
what’s your favourite
any doubts?

this is my England...
hot dogs, fried onions
full on English breakfast
first meal of the day -
certainly not the last
or a healthy option, cereal
orange juice, hot strong coffee
or - if you prefer
Earl Grey tea.

this is my England...
eat and eat it’s what we do
until we’re fit to burst
hang on, did I mention
chorizo and bratwurst?
a nation divided
until upon our plate
the taste of many cultures
our knives and forks await.

21/22 January and 11 February 2022 8am
© Neil Johns  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

A Misummer's Night Dream

Once upon a midsummer’s night,
I dreamed a dream of horses white,
of Billy goats and little fishes-
of dogs and cats and childhood wishes.
I dreamed of a dragon living by the sea,
and of the child I used to be-
of carrousel music and brass rings-
hard rock candy and cabbages and kings.

I dreamed a dream in black and white,
of a fire breathing monster and a gallant knight,
of sailing ships and an oaken tub-
of black birds singing and a rub-a-dub-dub.
I dreamed of candlesticks and cockleshells,
of little lost sheep and silver bells-   
of turtle doves and diamond rings-
sealing wax and old kite strings.

I dreamed a dream of what not to eat-
green eggs and ham and pickled crows feet-
of someone named Spock and a mother goose,
of a nutty squirrel and a stupid bull moose.
I dreamed of a pie-man on the way to the fair
and of a poor doggie whose cupboard was bare-
of a crooked man and a crooked mile-
a crooked fence and a crooked pig stile.

I dreamed a dream of a merry old sole-
his fiddlers three and eggs of gold-
of spinning wheels and long silken hair-
of sleeping beauties and maidens fair.
I dreamed of cinders and slippers of glass-
of mice and pumpkins and knobs of brass-
of a golden harp that really sings
and of clocks and hats and other strange things.

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