Long Sandwiches Poems
Long Sandwiches Poems. Below are the most popular long Sandwiches by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sandwiches poems by poem length and keyword.
Titanium,
Strong mental minded, behind it
Looking for the lost and found, but can't find it.
Sharp energy intense, timed it
No one can see the future - I guess we’re all blinded.
Strong like gorilla, softer than blue, skys above your head sunny afternoon.
Delicate delight, delicious every bite big appetite appetizer for 2.
July, june, the order doesn’t matter after laughing so hard 3 ribs shatter through.
May I join you?
Actually, I have to go,
I can tell you only see the surface - alligator nose.
Warm hearts and chilly toes,
mild mannered mannequins minding their own business in business windows,
hot fashion, eyes froze.
Ah, if you insist, then I suppose
I'll have to take you UP on everything that grows.
We rose from the dirt - with beauty through battles
To win a war where victory is life itself.
The untold story writes itself
And hides from seeing eyes, just like itself
no one can witness when existence, fights itself
Because with death, comes birth, to life itself.
No winners
No losers
No champions
No heroes
...just life
Always adapting
Mutation miracles
Beautiful biology
Complex chemistry
Elegant elements
Unfathomable Universe
Sandbox fun, sandy hands holding ham sandwiches saran wrapped and packed tight tucked beside the ice and pink lemonade.
Sunshine, windy day...so windy the umbrella we brought almost blew away
And found a new place to stay with clouds grey.
Did you remember to think of me?
I forgot to think of you
I was too busy with the feelings I get, being in love with you.
If you only needed one, I’d offer you two,
It’s better to be safe than sorry, and feeling safe is what I want for you.
And if you wanted to, i’d probably want to, too,
Cause making you smile, is all, I ever want to do.
I’m the worst singer in the world, but here, I wrote a song for you,
Your voice is music to my ears, so this, is long overdue.
Ah-hah ahem - give me a second
Actually on second thought - let love be the orchestra,
Just read these words whenever your concerned
And the sounds of violin strings will bring you back where your supposed ta.
Hmm...too cheesy? I know, please don’t tease me,
Even my teeth are sensitive, and bright lights make me queasy.
Hey, no worries, let’s grab a quesadilla
Then have a race to see-uh
Who’s the fastest land animal, who invited the cheetah?
.
A whale in a pail is far more active in a gale or in copious amounts of hail. Putting money into sharks is a shifty act involving the shuffling of coats in cloakrooms. And clown costumes placed in the bowls of women's frames are reserved for the elite attire of lemmon lipped bowler heads whose acidic tongue holds the weaponry speeches of tomorrows gore. Pain is a painted potato placed with the pilots to place on a place numbered out and planned on maps arriving by facetious fax machines whose many layered buttons seek to halt a single growing grass level with a shard spoken key. Turning a keyboard to an angle one can visit the highest climate but coinage is best reserved for a large bull with a blue tie. Behind many layers. Many layers is not many lettuces it is merely many lanes. And lanes are lovely on a summer evening returning from the abbey to the house in eighteen fifty-three in long beautiful blue dress with fancy earrings and hair wound in a tight bun. Looking around it is unsurprising that history repeats in the timeless whorl akin to stirring an acre pan of stew or making sandwiches for two hundred people at a picnic. Societal swamps seek some swanky shuffle starting storms. And all the while the little pixies dance in the trees. The unicorns prance, the fairies fly round and round, and all other realmes folk sigh at the endless processions of humans making endless chain of woe. Cause no pattern to rise up from a paper print. For if you do your whole world and house will be prints causing visitors to arrive in many windows to create a karmic reaction and a reaction is a realism and a responsive reach but not a retch. Little frog hums in the kitchen cupboard. He is very bored today and would like to go visit the pond but the machinery placed there ensures it is not safe to hop and when hopping it often is the case that shots are fired from the artillery of the ant people in plastic helmets. They move akin to a swarm of kettledrums on a backlit of carbonised baking trays. Powder that then. Beetroot faced woman in that raspberry printed dress. And to encourage the wrath of a walnut is to embellish a multicolumn of static electricity. Wow. Mish mash mush then. Hahahaha the dancing in the bathroom door hahaha mixed-use mixers mingling mangy mincemeat. Xxxxxxx prese tart structure Paden tar xxxxxxx invertebrates z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z THAT;
Form:
An English Life
It is midnight the Milk train pulls into darnall station
No ordinary passengers here
Steelworkers with their families
Loaded with fishing tackle, sandwiches and maggots
The Fossdyke in Lincolnshire, their destination
The fare Half a crown for happiness
The long walk in the dark,
A stairway to heaven in my memory
Dawn on the Foss and a cup of tea,
Fever in the blood, the first eel of the day
Our cane rods lovingly handed down from father to son.
I remember, Pheasants looking for mates
Shrieking their songs of love
Swans begging for scraps
Their majestic white necks, nodding,
A greeting into their kingdom
The mist off the water revealing families,
being together, laughing, enjoying what was free.
For tomorrow the grime returns.
A conversation with a stranger then out of a bag,
The rabbits, sometimes hare, sometimes pheasant.
Onions and carrots, shortly follow
The smell, forever linked with summer
The scent of my childhood
Summers were hotter then;
At times I drank the Foss, for I was nature’s child
Being clean was never a priority,
Catching fish was, never killed always returned,
Our Covenant with Nature.
For it is the sport that we honour.
And with age comes reflection,
Poor I may have been, my education neglected
But I have a Doctorate in nature, for I have seen the dawn
Away from the factories, where the pheasant runs free
And where the swan reins king, I was part of them.
It was here I learned what family was,
To share, my last drink of pop with my neighbour,
A simple life, maybe, but what a life
For I have seen what Constable painted
Lived every word that Wordsworth wrote
Understood the Fragrance of the Flowers
And revelled in the poets dream.
I loved every colour, every sound, every scent,
And every fish I ever caught.
Father and mother are gone now,
Never complained about their Station in life,
For they found paradise on the Foss.
They left me the seeds to their heaven
And the key to my happiness
A key forged in a mans worth
To open up my soul to the beauty
That surrounds us all.
Dawn on the Foss, was my church
My soul was cleansed here
And my heart was shaped here
My memories kept safe here
And the Foss fever still resides here
I will die on some bank side, one day
Rod in hand, and I will be content,
So Tight lines my fellow Anglers.
Loneliness
He sits at the table and watches the shoppers walk by
There aren’t many seats here, his half-hour limit’s long past
As one by one each worker chats with him; they know this guy
He offers them something for which they could never have asked
Is he all alone but for these times where these grocery carts
Roll blind past this spot where store patrons with sandwiches sit
How much does it matter: he touches the store workers’ hearts
As he in time opens his heart to them too, bit by bit
We need much more than loose companionship: each needs someone
Moment to moment – if you neglect this basic need
And find yourself lulled fast asleep in the Florida sun
The others who share the beach with you will pay you no heed
Your skin that was once yearning warmth having found itself burned
Though long you’d been caught in the thought that you hardly had much
Real need for another – your heart was blocked till you discerned
The pain forcing you to withdraw your own wound-healing touch
Loneliness thus begets loneliness through lack of flow
Leaving society toxic and cold, though aren’t we
Some of the most social creatures: you think we would know
Given the size of our brains that we’ll never be free
To live in our grand isolation – say is it not sad
That we who’ve accomplished so much remain cruelly alone
In safety behind our four walls or four doors, for we’ve had
So many a fear we may act like our hearts are of stone
Most folks are either religious or distant, I think
Though there sure is joy in connecting with someone untamed
If you can sell such on your pat ideas, you may well drink
One and all from the same cup; how could instinct be blamed
For scorn and exclusion of real individualists
Don’t we know strangers whose ways of life cause them to be
Left to themselves with their thoughts – why they’d hardly be missed
That’s why it’s trouble to live as a visionary
He sits at the table: what is he, a healer a saint
Or maybe Kieslowski’s calm witness of silent insight
Observing the Decalogue unfold without the least taint
Of any least judgment, since all of us know our own plight
If you would engage him in talk would you hear unique thoughts
Or would you yet cover him up in the news of the day
And squelch him clear out with a barrel of shoulds woulds and oughts
So leave him there lonely since he’ll never know you that way
~ Thanks Always Returns
On a sunny day in late September
we were on our way to Runswick Bay,
on a walk that we gladly remember,
meeting people on the Cleveland Way.
Assorted folk with the same idea
taking in distant views over the sea,
a gentle breeze, the far horizon clear,
nearby hips and haws bright on bush and tree.
Whoever you meet, just what do you say?
Should it be ”Hi!” or rather “Hello!”?
Is it “Good morning” or maybe “Good day?”
If they greet me first I go with the flow.
Whatever is said may offer a clue,
tell you something about the other,
whether there is further chat to pursue
or just some remarks about the weather.
Having arrived we sat by the beach
eating our sandwiches watched by some dogs
and seagulls, waiting to swoop or to reach
for tasty morsels, whatever drops.
After a paddle to refresh my feet,
there were four and a half miles to return
to Sandsend for our walk to complete.
First there were steps to climb by the burn,
passing more people too breathless to greet;
grateful to pause we let them pass by
with a nod or wave – but wished for a seat!
There at the top a gate was held wide
by a couple with smiles to wave us through.
We paused as I stretched my cramp to ease
also to remove a stone from my shoe;
then onward we trod refreshed by the breeze.
Off the cliff face using the updraught
fulmars glided scanning the sea below.
Retracing our steps, features we'd passed
informed us how far we still had to go.
High on his combine, late harvest to reap
the farmer raised his hand as we stopped,
paused to pick blackberries more sharp than sweet.
Speckled wood butterflies near to us dropped.
At last we came to more steps to descend,
holding the rail as these tested our knees.
Pausing again with views of Sandsend
and spray from breakers whipped up by the breeze.
Back at the car there was salt on the screen.
Time to examine my blistered feet
and to doze awhile, pondering the cuisine
of Whitby and just what we might eat:
Scampi and whitebait with too many chips,
cans of ginger beer to ease it all down,
observed by gulls we looked at the ships
that brought our supper to this port of renown.
* * *
We count our blessings that we were able
to escape to the coast for refreshment
before Covid restrictions on travel
could prevent a day of enjoyment.
Titanium,
Strong mental-minded, behind it
Looking for the lost and found, where can I find it?
Sharp energy intense, timed it
No one can see the future - I guess we’re all blinded.
Strong like gorilla, softer than blue, skys above your head sunny afternoon
Delicate delight, delicious every bite big appetite appetizer for 2
July, June, the order doesn’t matter after laughing so hard 3 ribs shatter through
May I join you?
Actually, I have to go
I can tell you only see the surface, alligator nose
Warm hearts and chilly toes,
mild mannered mannequins minding their own business in business windows,
hot fashion, eyes froze.
Ah, if you insist, then i suppose
Il have to take you UP on everything that grows
We rose from the dirt - with beauty through battles
To win a war where victory is life itself
The untold story writes itself
And hides from seeing eyes, just like itself
no one can witness when existence, fights itself
Because with death, comes birth, to life itself
No winners
No losers
No champions
No heros
...just life
Always adapting
Mutation miracles
Beautiful biology
Complex chemistry
Elegant elements
Unfathomable Universe
Sandbox fun, sandy hands holding ham sandwiches saran wrapped and packed tight tucked beside the ice and pink lemonade
Sunshine, windy day...so windy the umbrella we brought almost blew away
And found a new place to stay with clouds gray.
Did you remember to think of me?
I forgot to think of you
I was too busy with the feelings I get, being in love with you.
If you only needed one, I'd offer you two
It’s better to be safe than sorry, and feeling safe is what I want for you
And if you wanted to, I'd probably want to, too,
Cuz making you smile, is all, I ever want to do
I’m the worst singer in the world, but here, I wrote a song for you
Your voice is music to my ears, so this, is long overdue
Ah-hah ahem - give me a second
Actually, on second thought - let love be the orchestra,
Just read these words whenever you're concerned
And the sounds of violin strings will bring you back where you're supposed ta
Hmm...too cheesey? I know, please don’t tease me
Even my teeth are sensitive, and bright lights make me queasy
Hey, no worries, let’s grab a quesadilla
Then have a race to see-uh
Who’s the fastest land animal, who invited the cheetah?
Arthur was 16 when he entered the system
i could never ask him why
he was too old when i met him
he was on soo many pills
and not very pleasant to talk to
he heard voices
he would sometimes get up and punch someone
but who knows if they deserved it
or not
after being in a mental institute
from the age of 16 until the day you die
wouldn't you go crazy
the first real guinea pig
i met him
i never cried for him and his pain
but he always wanted to check my shave,
perhaps a victim from some sick war crime
I'll never know
Graham is not from our country
and I've written amnesty international concerning his welfare
they say its not any of their concern
as he wears shackles and chains on a daily basis
and goes to the bathroom in a diaper and eats cold food like sandwiches
because he hits people
mainly his doctor who lies to him
in my opinion
just like the doctor lied to my dad about me trying to bite him,
but i have no proof
just lucky I'm not in chains
going to the bathroom in a diaper
I know he committed a crime but two years locked in one room
alone with a window curtain opening and closing to spy on you
is enough psychological insanity to inspire mania if you ask me
Andrew was a crack head
and held up some convenience stores for some money
so he could get drugs
now hes been in the funny farm for like twelve years
still trying to get a hold of his next hit
watching his youth disappear
watching his life fade away
jumping through the hoops of a system that holds your freedom above you
that may or may not ever grant it
Andrew ran away
gave it all he got
saw people chained to the wall
people dieing there from the age of 16 for ridiculous crud
and knew they were toying with him
so he ran away
now he on a unit where god only knows
what mind hell they're putting him through
what rainbows hes swallowing down
Shelley was the meanest woman i had ever met
but it was always worth seeing her smile
don't know haven't figured out if the drugs really helped her
but she was in that place since she was seventeen
and died in a group home from some sickness
they claim wasn't related to her meds
I'm no fool, the stuff they pump us full of is deadly and toxic
i never made it to Shelly's funeral to see her murderers
there crying fake tears
for someone they would never really miss
Success is not a Capitalist Cheat nor an Old Whore that seduces the innocent
Away from the door of Freedom
Good Fortune is not a mere happenstance that unfairly favors the Wealthy
It is the rain of daily sunlight
Into the upstretched palms
Of the embittered man
Who can't take one drop more
Of the sewage he calls Capitalism...
But I understand...
When one has lived too long in the day
He may appear to forget the howls
And wails
Of those whose only light has become the moon
Because they never see the Sun
Because they are at work
From the time before the Sun gets up,
Until after the time He goes down...
These are the night-possessed
Whose only hope is to transform the world
Into peat for the fire
And to burn it down...
But then we would all be were-wolves --
There will no-one left to be meat,
And we will hunger
More than before...
At least let some be sheep
Who will play the Sacred Lambs
And be food
For the poor,
Heart-broken wolves
Who starve in the stick-like forests,
Devoid of happy hopes
Who light the fires
And burn the very forest
Down around them
Hoping for warmth
Until there is no fuel
But only
Cold Ash
What was once a World
Is now become
A nuclear terror
A winter of the heart
Where selfish men
Hand out sandwiches --
Hundreds! --
Without any meat
Between the bread...
Poor wolves!
Skin stretched,
Ribs sticking out.
I would care for them
And feed them
All their lives
If I could
And let them write poetry
And tend
The Holy Garden,
Made Holy by a rain
Of clean sweat
Shed under the Sun!
But I have only my blood to give...
Fine then!
I will bleed
That they might not hunger
Whom the world
Has treated poorly...
Only I can bleed
Only so many days
Till I am dead...
Poor wolves!
Poor world!
Upon whom
Shines only the Cold
And selfish moon
Sent to stretch their shapes
Into eternal suffering...
We had best have a beginning again
That nurtures the Earth
And plants new trees
And teaches the now-silver wolves
To eat fruit
Again!
But only a happy dance
Only a happy dance
Will save them free,
Will save them free,
Will save them free,
Till Victory
Shines down
And they drink from the puddles
Of golden light
From the puddles of golden light
And transform into men
Again!
I don't think we will need a map, do you?
Don't let me catch you speeding on this trip.
I’ve been to Oklahoma only once
back when I was a little girl of six.
I ran into a sticker patch barefoot,
sharp sticker and bare-feet it hurt so bad,
I think I may have cried for half the day
and I remember some huge tumbleweeds.
Did I turn off the stove after we ate?
We best go back to make sure that I did
we haven't gone that far, it want take long.
I'd like a glass of ice-tea anyway.
Did you check the back door before we left?
You getting hungry, yet? I think I am!
A Reuben-sandwich, I think would do fine
just like the one we had in San Antonio--
last year. Remember? Downtown? The hotel,
what was its name? The fancy place –you know
with charming little tables and wicker chairs.
I'm going to have to tinkle very soon.
Oh! Did you leave my makeup on the bed?
By the way, if Jill calls when we get home,
I am not talking to her. She told Fran
I talk too much; do you believe that Jill.
Jill's mouth is just as big as my big butt!
I'm thirsty and I want to get a coke.
On this trip; don’t let me step in excrement
like I did on our trip to New Orleans.
Remember how it smelled the car all-up,
I had to throw my shoes out the window,
and I loved those shoes; all but for the smell.
At the state line, do you think they have signs?
“Welcome to Oklahoma” type of signs.
If they do let me take a quick picture.
It won’t take long, I promise, just one shot
just to prove we were there, a bragging point,
you know; something to show when we get home.
Did you lock the front door? This time; I hope!
I bought a new night gown, its light cobalt
You’ll love it, it’s so sexy and I bought
new shoes with hard thick soles -damn sticker-weeds.
You see that sign back there? It looked so old,
it said “Dee Dee’s Café –Five miles ahead.”
Can we go back and take a quick picture?
Do you think they have Reuben-sandwiches?
A Dee Dee's sandwich would do me just fine.
Don't we need a pit-stop to get some gas?
And you are going to have to let me pee.
Should you have turned back there? At that crossroad?
I told you that you should have brought a map.
It feel like you are driving to darn fast.
Oh! STOP! --
if you see any tumbleweeds.
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