Long Scooters Poems
Long Scooters Poems. Below are the most popular long Scooters by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scooters poems by poem length and keyword.
In days of yore when I was four, in my memory I'm sure
there was nothing that you could buy called low fat
you got meat from a cow, and pork from a sow,
pound of lamb from NZ and that was that.
Butter from a pack, there was nothing that it lacked,
spread it thickly and then top it off with jam
or on it's own when times were hard,
and cook your chips in a pound of lard
and deep fry lots of lovely fritters made of Spam.
On the high days and the holy finish off with roly poly
burn it off by playing footy in the yard,
as we kids all stuffed our faces the majority of cases
found that doing up our laces wasn't hard.
So I think it rather strange how the times they've slowly changed
in our best interests to make us really thin
that the products we are buying really must be surely lying
as so many are now bursting out their skins.
In the papers every morning there's a scientific warning
of the problems that we store up for ourselves
as we go off on a jolly with our supermarket trolley
desperately trying to empty all the shelves.
As I sit and watch the fuss as they struggle on the bus
using scooters sticks and frames to get along
all I'm seeing is human beings and before my thoughts start fleeing
in my head they ask 'where did it all go wrong'?
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck,
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck,
Blocking all the streets
In the centre of town,
To all intents and purposes
Closing the city down.
The police were very tolerant,
Withdrawing their attack
After more than one officer suffered
From a wielded walking stick's whack.
The atmosphere changed
Soon after that
Lots of bonhomie
Banter and chit chat.
The action was called offi
Promptly at five to three
Thus allowing each
To be home in time for tea.
The action wasn't called
For any cause or good:
No it was carried out
Just to show they could.
Massed Mobility Scooters moving
Forward like a Rugby Union ruck.
It was a day of chaos
The day the pensioners struck.
Ice, ice, baby
You pour me over maybe
A straw to pierce the depths
Inhale the deepest breaths
A fancy glass all fluted
In milky joy I'm rooted
A scoop of whizzed banana
Tastes of pure Americana
The decor is all flashy
Just white and red, not trashy
All dressed up in your nifties
Time travel to the fifties
For teens on scooters suited
All sweetness undiluted
A jukebox in the corner
Soothes away all worldy trauma
Drop a dime to stick a tune on
Whirrs and clicks to drop the best song
Grab yourself a Coca-Cola
Dance in lights from the Rock-Ola
Gals all twirls and frilly knickers
Dudes in shiny winkle pickers
There's an innocence and beauty
As they jive to Tutti Frutti
How we'd love to travel back there
Leaving every burden and care
Just an evening sure to thrill ya
Taste of ice-cold pure vanilla
The residents slowly amble
toward the buffet,
some using canes or walkers,
a few sitting on scooters,
others standing,
schmoozing, joking, laughing.
Dinner is the social hour
in senior living food
a common subject
conversation not momentous
who won at cards family
medications the weather
A murmur and peaceful
burble of many voices until
suddenly a high-pitched wail
an ambulance yellow lights aflash
rounds the corner and
stops.
Blue jackets rolling bed
medical kits EMTs quick-step
toward the elevator
return someone is lying flat
people crane their necks
which friend had this bad luck?
Did someone fall again?
have a heart attack?
but maybe
it’s nothing serious
they’ll be back tomorrow
(thinking it could be me)
In senior living
people go to the hospital
stay a while come back
or not
friends leave for assisted living
become forgetful
move to memory care.
We live with the impermanence
of the permanence of our reality
we grieve for lost friends,
but we keep on loving caring
living every day to the fullest
I have lived in other northern towns
with the loud noise of scooters,
of racing cars that deafened the ears,
but in this town of very soft sounds
the lowest sound is a canary
that wakes me whenever he pleases;
I simply named him," Happy "
for his harmonious chirps so groovy.
In my younger years,
it didn't matter much where I lived,
now it does; the clean street flanked
by beautiful oak trees
is the perfect heaven created by ingenuous hands
that foresaw a happy living...
and with flora and fauna enduring,
all the revealed beauty is shared in joyful moments.
Whenever another sunset approaches,
silence soothes the lonely soul in contemplation;
the children have gone home, the ravens
don't croak, it's time for prayer and meditation...
In the beginning it was just a smell
a smell i could not quite make sense of
a smell that the city was, a smell that the people in it were
in the beginning it was just a smell
a smell that dragged swarms of people of their homes
onto the streets, into the trains, into the strangers’ eyes and their uncharted territories
slowly i realised
all cities are, first, smells to the outsiders
and Tainan was smell sound taste touch to me
there were moments when i felt
this city is just people, so many of them; how beautiful
that i do not know any of them, yet i know them all
sometimes i would think if i emptied the city of all these countless faces
and bodies jostling with each other, what would remain of the city? would it still beat if i put my ears into the hearts of the depeopled Shennong Street
at the dead of night?
i came to Taiwan for the same reason
that a Vietnamese, an Indonesian, or an American comes for,
to chase my dreams, to become more of me,
instead I became it
it wasn’t as easy and quick as they make it out to be;
it took time, for love has its own mysterious ways
i started to embrace Taiwan and its culture
huge numbers of scooters and cars
Everyone follows the traffic rules
wait patiently for the green signals
one in Tainan city never feels pity
city buses and t-bikes are the best friends of a wanderer in the city
people are always helpful,
they adore you as they adore ‘hello kitty’;
small parks almost at every half a kilometer
elderly people like Mr. and Mrs. Wang use them for exercise
sometimes the parks provide sweet beds to the homeless;
i often use the underground passage of the Tainan train station
i look at the people sleeping there
they have made their small worlds in the underpass
they eat, they sleep, they chat with their neighbours
people look quite strange and funny without boundaries around them
their small worlds haven’t yet known the ways of the boundaries, the frontiers; these people are happy in heavy rains and in extreme cold, are they happy?
Tainan has a home for everyone, i guess
when I feel bored, i go to the sea
and bathe in the sounds of its waves lapping against the shores
sunset-platform lets you enjoy the majestic sunset and calming breeze born of the boundless deep
_____to be continue in part-II
A lifetime of service, of lines and of power,
Standing strong for us through every shift and every hour.
Now the tools can be lowered, a long rest is due,
For the hardworking man who always pulled through.
You have never been one for big, sentimental views,
But your love is written in everything you do.
It’s in the quiet Scooters runs where I always get my way,
And the smile behind letting me call you "Old Man" each day.
I still hold the memory of you standing by my side,
Waiting hours for Harry Potter, putting down your gruff pride.
And the way you slip your wallet out to pay for my things—
The stubborn, unasked protection that your generosity brings.
It makes me so mad when I see you pull out your bill,
But beneath my frustration, I’m so grateful, and always will.
You claim that you hate them, with a sigh and a frown,
Yet you soften completely when my cats come around.
You’re out in the garden, or fixing the pool,
Pouring your energy into the earth and the tool.
And when my own life is in shambles and breaking apart,
You show up to build it back up with your generous heart.
You’re the first one to step up when someone’s hit a wall,
The steady, unchanging anchor whenever we call.
And I watch as you look at my brother and your grandsons, and grin,
Passing down the old truth where your wisdom begins:
"As you are I once was, as I am you soon shall be."
A legacy of love that binds our whole family.
You wear a grumpy outer shell, but we all see right through,
To the beautiful, fiercely loyal heart inside of you.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad, to the best man I know—You are loved so much deeper than we ever could show.
At the playground,
I saw my friend walk off with their parents.
I have one of those!
But they had two...
I felt a fuzzy spot in my heart, but not in a good way.
My parent says every family is different... And that each one is enough.
I get it, I think.
I felt low for a moment.
Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder.
They were big and strong and warm like a summer day.
It was MY superhero,
My parent!
My hero can carry the bags, snacks, scooters, clothes and toys of 3 people, not two!
Sometimes, they even get sweaty doing that.
I'd laugh at them as they walk to the car.
To other people, it looks funny...
But to me they are a super star.
My parent is a " single" person.
What even does that mean?
It doesn't even matter right now.
They're more than enough for me.
They bravest hero I ever did meet.
Have no pity for the overweight,
the out of breath at the garden gate,
the struggling in and out of cars,
cnsumer of syrup and chocolate bars.
Walking sticks and mobility scooters,
the difficult bras encasing hooters.
Red faced men and lard arsed women,
their promise of tomorrow slimming.
Condemn me now, I'm for the blaming,
in this campaign, this body shaming.
So many things beyond control,
my ugly skin and shallow soul,
but when I walk I leave no hole.
People say I'm out of touch,
I think that we accept too much,
fat piggy people should disgust.
Their need,
selfish
greed,
want,
desire,
gluttony,
feed,
pig,
and
opinionated.
Big is beautiful,
big and proud.
And all the while,
the dying sound,
cry of starvation,
die of starvation,
you,
You lie of starvation!
because the pudding was not chocolaty enough!
because there is no ice cream left,
if your wanting mouth needs to consume,
feast on torment of starving children,
drink only tears of broken mothers.
Ah, to this land of the monsoons
or should it have been the sunsoons?
Yet for frozen land tourists, a tropical hot boon.
Where bullock carts, stray dogs, horse carriages and cows
pedestrians, goats, bikes and rickshaws
scooters, trucks, motorbikes and cabs
all compete together in quirky medley of traffic jams
On crammed roads you could ram into bulls and rams
So brakes forever screeching, the cars forever honking, hooting
while beggers begged and pickpockets could go a' looting on a footing
But where else you'd see, ducks and ponds in the city
buffaloes wallowing in mud without fear or pity!
Urban jungle eh, you'd think with a wink
and in many's esteem this land shan't ever sink.
Then pass the huge expanses of paddy fields and the rice farmers
and next come face to face with those Indian snake charmers!
Ah and the imposing edifice, Tajmahal, one of the seven wonders of the world
is no where else found, nor are the epic himalayas on any map unfurled
except for India, and a whole ocean with her name
The Indian ocean knows and salutes her fame!
As for me, meeting relatives there, is the best best part
then shopping too in each and every crowded mart
shopping like crazy, filling my spree's shopping cart!