Long Savings Poems
Long Savings Poems. Below are the most popular long Savings by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Savings poems by poem length and keyword.
On the floor, off the mat
We all sat, slept & ate
Flooring of mud but broom laid
Cream of cow dung applied.
Life was simple though not smooth
Bit of course with pins and needles
All of it took years of strain &pain
To have a floor of cement paste
Life became a little fine
With no fear for straw/ pine or rain.
After long years of earnings and savings
Came a glossy floor of mosaic
Squares of many laid across
Life began to show finesse and patio
With dearness and dare to dream
Aloof came a wind of betterment
Which brought with it a
Reflection of steps of success
A smooth finish of marble floor
Start of prosperity and a sign
Of sapling growing into a plant.
Attaining a growth visibly and not
Easy adding in an element of luxury
In the marble floor
By
Bringing in a sofa made of velvet
Like a beautiful craving brought out a Rough stone
Hard work ways
Patience pays is what
Life says.
The devil wants a payment, and the angels need a check.
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
So, you reach for the savings that your people won't release
Then you look to the heavens and the floor beneath your feat
Screaming lordy lordy where's my money gone
Then the thunder and the lighting and the water begins to come
Cause the devil wants a payment and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
Yet the people in the government are staying filthy rich
hoping that their proposals begin without a glitch
The workman in the cities coughing up a lung
Their eking out a living b/c repayment has begun
Our children are on the corners peddling out their wares
Keeping eyes to the ground avoiding others stare
The devil wants a payment, and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
Our saviors at the white house just keep babbling on
Claiming that their there for us, when really they are gone
Out proving some new theory that they really do not know
Claiming its existence, if we give it time to grow
Cause the devil wants a payment and the angels need a check
And the world keeps saying their ain’t no cash to get
Form:
I remember you holding me in your arms
Rocking me gently while singing lullabies
I remember when you lived a short walk away
Relatives were local and get-togethers were the norm
I remember your amazing purple mohair sweater
You knit exquisitely and wore so gracefully
I remember your scented creams and signature ring
I never grew tired of holding your hand
And telling you how much I loved you
I remember watching in awe your bedtime routine
As you meticulously undid your braided coif
Dropping your soft wavy hair to your waist
I remember you never missed Sunday mass
And held on to that glow throughout the week
You knew about plants with their healing powers
Neighbors came to you for answers and advice
I remember how you would scrape savings for travel
Always working in visits to friends who had moved away
I remember the aroma of the pies you baked
After tireless hours of quilting, sewing, weaving
Embroidery, knitting, crocheting, and whatever else
I remember there was nothing you couldn’t do
You started tutoring me when I was three
And probably earlier as I was eager to learn
It was my favorite form of play
I remember hearing your schoolhouse stories
I’d picture a little house in a field and your teacher attire
Your turn-of-the-century class full of kids
Then I’d let you continue teaching me to read, write and count
Though I wasn’t yet of school age
I remember being uprooted and moving to the country
Leaving city life and you behind
I remember how good life was when I had you
To turn to for support and guidance
Or just for your warm bountiful embrace
I remember getting that gut wrenching feeling
That bitter call in the middle of the day
As I was told the crushing news
I would never again see, touch or hold you
How can I not remember
The inconsolable devastation that never dimmed
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~ALWAYS WITH ME~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2026, 1st place 2020
Submitted on September 26, 2017 for contest LOVE FOR MOVIE SCREEN sponsored by SILENT ONE - RANKED 2ND
Giving Thanks
By Franklin Price
11/24/2021
Giving thanks for Thanksgiving
I know it's God's will
That he brought us great joy
With our Valentine, Lil
She arrived yesterday
With a glint in her eyes
Flying in the last moment
What a pleasant surprise!
Tomorrow's Thanksgiving
And she must fly away
So as in daylight savings
We've turned it back a day
We're celebrating today
On Thanksgiving she'll go
On a 6:00 AM flight
Back to New Mexico
Her visit was quick
For she has her own life
She brought love and joy
For both me and my wife
Lil is our granddaughter
In case you did not know
She'll be leaving fond memories
As she returns to the flow
Lily, I hope you know how much your visit means to Gram and me
Love, Pop
Don't judge me to harshly O'Lord
mercy on my soul I implore
For I was born into sin
it is a harsh way to begin
It's not that I seldom prayed
or from church I stayed away
It's not that I was full of greed
to me it was just my needs
And those silly little white lies
surly not to my own demise
And to heaven you must let me in
once I even voted Republican
I think Saint Peter is on the sly
he does not seem to want me inside
Those Pearly Gates look shiny and new
come on now let me through
So Lord forgive me somehow
Hand me a harp and a big fluffy cloud
Whatever I did did I really do
there's got to be a loophole or two
The sands in my hour glass rush
but if it isn't too much
Before that judgement bell chimes
I got an extra hour thanks to daylight savings time
S'more sprawling poppycock
Chock·a·block discombobulated poem
for your reading pleasure
dashed off ad hoc
my final literary endeavor before
hour hand affixed
to intricately carved cuckoo clock
displaying carved leaves, birds,
deer heads (Jagdstück design),
other animals, aquatic militia man,
etc feigns firing flintlock
(announcing onset of
daylight savings times)
said French soldier christened Jacque
dipping paddles of oarlock
into time stream
as the sun beats down,
he doth shockingly unfrock.
Once again modest wily word wizard
sports, struts his stuff inarguably
a blinding blizzard
of poetic gumbo mumbo jumbo,
his convoluted crafted vizard
easily misinterpreted as offal
lee batty, quirky, snooty, trippy...
who honestly doesn't know A from izzard.
The ticking seconds will not wait
while yours feebly cobbles etches
across blank figurative slate
lame resultant impasse I narrate
experiencing disappointment
earlier spurt of balderdash,
gibberish, rubbish... which I hate
yet must suffice impossible mission
to complete satisfactory poem does agitate.
Vainglorious idea to employ
daylight savings time
even a mediocre reasonable rhyme
futile effort finds current strife prime
juncture to breakaway
and resume later nighttime or
call writing aspiration quits
crowded house that for being sublime?
Unlikely literary pursuit or aim
will find yours truly a best seller
never experiencing accolades
nor remuneration to claim
truth be told, cuz I haint seeking
neither fortune nor fame.
The principle impetus explaining zeal
to discipline generic human to hone
his ability, where basic blocks of English
language (words) linkedin incorporating
mental cogs and gears mesh
making (mishmash) as figurative wheel
in the sky keeps on turning
perhaps divine intervention
intercedes as yours truly takes
lock, stock, and barrel of himself, one
bumbling, grumbling, tumbling schlemiel
cue hapless characteristic vagrant tramp
as viewed courtesy black and white newsreel
enroute to meet cobbler, cuz worn out heel
actually kind individual stopped to offer hobo
an uber lyft courtesy fancy automobile.
At first there was no alarm; these were winds
And high prairie farms had learned to hold tight
Against gale force blizzards and tornado;
Replanting, repairing after each storm,
‘Rain Follows the Plow’, the golden promise
For European settlers flush with land,
Planting in familiar ways of home,
Trusting tradition and the land agents.
Dark clouds in western skies dangled promise,
Sweet, saving rain just before they vanished,
Leaving naught but crackled fields and static.
Rainmen appeared, showers promised, for cash;
Farmers paid, desperate now, this new spring,
Watching hard-earned savings sowed into clouds;
Circus planes driven by clowns peddling hope
O’er bare fields, empty barns, forsaken dreams.
These were winds, curdled harvests of heartache,
Hot summer winds, bleaching pastures, hayfields,
Blowing dusty “heys” from Oklahoma;
Bitter winter gales, driving snow upward
To dance with black Colorado topsoil.
Four years of wind blowing down future’s dream,
Delivering drought, death and foreclosure;
Desperate winds ringing funeral bells.
[I grew up on stories of the 1930’s ‘Dust Bowl’ reaching the Dakotas in the last few years
of this devastating phenomena. My mother’s family lost everything; my father’s family
held on, and rebuilt. When the winds finally abated, farming methods were modified and
adapted to protect the topsoil, but the damage was done. Farming would no longer be
merely plowing up the land, seeding and expecting rain. Farming became a risk, a hope, a
prayer. The strong, the faithful, the fortunate remained on the land. The broken, the
faint-hearted, the hopeless were swept away.]
Daylight savings ends... Sunday
November 3, 2019
2:00 AM Eastern Standard Time.
Seasonal affective disorder clinical woe,
albeit depression associated,
edge of nightfall
dark shadows grow
most pronounced late
autumn and winter
outer limits of twilight zone
impinge psyche status quo
said phenomena doth
not affect this bro,
who believe me
you relished mucho
more hours without sunlight
think allegory of cave courtesy Plato
Socratic dialogue titled "The Republic,"
inferences intimating occupants
housed inside grotto
to speculate external environment,
they can never know
conjectures predicated courtesy
shadows moving to and fro,
hither and yon across subterranean walls,
albeit exaggerated sinister show
shape shifting humongous,
monstrous, riotous... silhouettes hello
kickstarting, instagramming,
flickering... torches diabolical
phantasmagoria make cameo
forked flamed tongues
evoke towering inferno
superstitions defeat braggadaccio,
no matter atheistic, cynic, stoic...
atavistic fears including vertigo
nausea, adrenaline... analogous
psyche unstrung like mama's yoyo
thankfully yours truly no
well coward as outsize claws...
plucks me to daylight
courtesy steely mettle, viz Geronimo!
the gulf circle is where
brown pelicans dive for their
dinner over the heads
of the hungry masculine
wood storks looking men
swarming in schools like shark
preying on beautiful elderly women
for they jewels life savings retirements
pensions property and real estate
anything he deems of value
wearing khakis by day tropical
shirts baring parrots coconuts
both hands in their sunken empty
pockets scouring dreams and life
savings of grandmothers and somebody's
aunts strolling along the antique shops
thrift shops following artists writers
thrive awaiting a time to dive his prey
shoulders raised and back knees knocked
feet flat turned outward over canvas
looking penny loafers he smells of cheap
hair tonic his eyes lock beneath dark
sunglasses while the woman approaches
big straw hat beach bag retired poet
brilliant writer removing her own book
she took years to write the pink flamingo
sings a warning for all ladies sunbathing
to watch out run for cover while his knees
pop and stretch backwards he opens
his long beak of a nose and grunts
he raises the longest arms unusually thin
smooth fingers as if he never lifted not one
of them to work ever he snatches the old
woman book spilling her pink grapefruit
juice grabbing her change purse retrieving
her coin collection finally the last coin falls
a very rare Abraham Lincoln penny he picks
it up the woman cries contadino contadino
he mumbles quickly removes one
of his tattered and warn penny loafer
places the rare coin inside his shoes
strolls along simply singing the blues
Special Days
Written: by Tom Wright
4/13/2006
It seems that for almost everything
We’ve set aside a special day.
We recognize others for their work
And sometimes for their play;
There’s a day set aside for Mothers
And likewise for Fathers too;
I’m sure that in this hodgepodge
There’s one that will cover you.
There’s a day to honor our Veterans,
Our police, firemen and teachers;
A National Fan Day even exists
For those who fill the bleachers.
There is New Years, and Ash Wednesday,
And Saint Valentine’s Day too.
And yes, the hard working Secretary
At last has been given her due.
We honor a few past Presidents,
Palm Sunday and beginning of Lent;
Our calendar has gotten so crowded
But Easter Sunday is time well spent.
We’ve Christmas, and Thanksgiving
And we recognize Flag Day too.
Then there’s Martin Luther King Day
And I suspect for a Boy Named Sue.
Armed forces and Daylight Savings
Each has their very own day.
Labor Day and Columbus too
Are remembered in this special way;
We’ve Election Day, and Bosses Day,
We honor the Devil on Halloween.
And then there’s old St. Patrick’s
For the donning of the green;
There’s Boxing Day and Yom Kipper
And the gobs between I’ve missed.
That I classify as the minor ones
I could name if you should insist.
Birthdays, and Anniversaries,
We treat really special too.
With all these days to remember
Just what is a guy to do?
Even old Phil the Ground Hog
His day has long been real.
It’s enough to cause a country boy
To shout, Hey, what’s the deal?