Long Scrabble Poems
Long Scrabble Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrabble by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrabble poems by poem length and keyword.
I get up at three or four in the morning
Because I want to play a couple of hours before I leave for work
I love my job, but I love my play time more
I have many hobbies, so many choices
Some mornings I write poems, other mornings I paint on canvases.
I draw cartoons or I play scrabble-type word games
I love giving myself this "me time"
When I was a young mother I never had any me time.
When I was a teenager I didn't either.
I worked almost every second I was not in school
During my high school years, to get money for college
In highschool and college your time is planned by others
When you are a young parent, your time belongs to your children
My children are grown; my husband is self-sufficient
Now I can have me time which is why I wake up at three or four.
I do not want to waste one second of my "me time".
Unbeknownst tummy why, (around
about 2200 hours October 5th, 2018),
a slew of forgotten incidents quasi
lee linkedin, and questionably
nsync, though lightly browned
with Alfred Lord Tennyson's,
"The Charge of the
Light Brigade" - ("found"
via Google search), nonetheless,
said decades old reminiscences
and remembrances, viz
early father forcefully
came barging unstoppably,
and furiously galloping
out of the blue - painfully crowned
ning me noggin like
a crash test dummy
on the prowl akin
to a frenzied blood hound
tearing at light speed - unbound
(defying laws of physics) just now
forgotten instances I feebly
try to expound
inexplicably purportedly
buried in a “mound”
long forgotten everyday details,
when all my (deux than
young restless) children abound
did with limitless energy ground
me with fatigue as the world turned,
two beautiful hearts lovingly pound
ding with oblivious innocent bliss,
ah such ordinariness unwound
recollections roared back resound
ding lee - into my mind
with out a sound
re: collections long since past
suddenly didst rib bound
did (mainly, when thee and the Punim
spent time at playground
as young little girls),
who oft times found,
ye or Shana clamoring
for this dada to push
both of thee simultaneously
on the swing or merry-go-round,
or later on during that evening,
or another occasion found
the three of us
laughing (ho...ho...ho...) as we played
one or another round
of Mancala, Uno, Scrabble,
Sorry, (where this papa clowned
no matter, he got his game pieces round
lee sent homeward bound),
those supposedly forgotten
days of yore suddenly rumbling
within thy inner sanctum all mound
joyless deep under ground
came barreling thru my psyche
analogous to a class 5 hurricane
like gang busters
lashing out and drowned
at my whole being.
Love strikes the heart with an arrow made of steel
when it knows its found the one for you, it's sealed.
After a few years of thinking that with love, I was done,
the first time I heard his voice, I knew he was the one.
Our online romance began in a scrabble game in 2005.
He made me feel special, and my heart rekindled alive.
I longed for the first kiss upon his warm, tender lips.
We lived far apart, so meeting required plane trips.
It was in Denver, Colorado, we finally came face to face.
Without a moment's hesitation, we shared a warm embrace.
Overcome with the love we knew we held within our hearts.
We vowed we'd never let anything or anyone tear us apart.
Our first year of married life was unbelievably fantastic
When we were not together, it was due to something drastic!
Together, we worked and played. I hung on each word he said.
It was a near perfect love, and that included our marriage bed.
Holding hands, taking walks, sitting together by a cozy fire.
Those flames could never equal the torrid heat of our desire.
New love has a depth of passion unlike anything else I know.
His kisses made me smile; his touch kept my cheeks aglow.
*....................................................................................*
February 9th, 2016 Contest Sponsored by Olive and James
We are not merely poets
I am six hundred other things besides this
My Girl
Explains my voyeuristic childhood self.
My Pirate Women
I have been fascinated with them since Pippi Longstocking.
Color Me Happy
I am difficult to hurt; I believe in a joyful me.
Lickety Split
I live the life of this kindergarten teacher.
Hi I Say Brightly
I am notoriously eager to ignore adversity.
I am Addicted to Word Games
I play four to six hours of scrabble every evening.
Color Imagined
I love watching ducks swim in the spring.
We are World Wide Mirrors
We are all together in this, feeling the same emotions
Plethora of Flowers
Nothing delights my fairy-like essence more than marigolds
If you are daring, strong of will and character, not adverse to hardship
or to long treks into the wild then the 40 day virtual walk
along the Appalachian way is the adventure for you!
Explore hill country all the way from Georgia to Main without ever leaving your Lazy Zee Boy. Each day, trudge, walk scrabble and climb, making camp in the open or in the rugged huts sometimes provided for long distant walkers. You must go forward in all weathers so bring suitable clothing.
No soft bed for you. A sleeping bag on the Livingroom floor is essential.
Grow a beard. Provide a bucket and some dry leaves for when nature calls, leave them behind the sofa. Turn off the air con.
After 20 days you will stink and so will your home, and you may suffer from sores on you buttocks, bring creams. inform the neighbors of your absence, take a cell phone take hundreds of pics of you staring into the distance.
In your backpack all the food you could carry is going stale,
eat it anyway and ration the meat jerky. Stay hydrated
drink from a large barrel you keep nearby.
You cannot switch the walk off until completed. At night keep the
headphones on so you can listen the sounds of the wild woods
as you toss and turn.
At the crack of dawn carry steadfastly on.
You have almost made it, now you are virtually stumbling
down from the last ridge but then disaster strikes your youngest
enters the room to switch on a cartoon!
Your official certificate will now always read 'failed'
and not long after your heroic walk your wife will leave you
departing angrily with her own virtual boyfriend.
Caren was a poet, an artist, a painter, a player.
She played mostly with children
For they delighted her
All the days of her life
Her own children grew up, so she taught school
So she could play with other children
She played them chess, board games, word games.
She loved brain quest games especially.
Caren was a gamer.
She played about four hours a day.
Scrabble and Words with Friends.
She had many real friends too.
Most of them know she wants
Puff the Magic Dragon played at her funeral.
She loved the 70’s, being a hippie, and
Helen Reddy. Especially “I am Woman.”
She was fun, funny, and fantastic.
I know because I am her muse, Trixie.
Yes, she named me.
That is how she was.
Rain drags words out of a dark sky.
Words raw enough to grow antlers,
lightsome enough to slip between
parting flesh,
unmade words grown
from mouse ears and the stringy lips
of hollow reeds.
A long untrammeled Celtic rivering
unabridged and uttered sheer.
If I croon a cobbled nursery hymn
then that blank meaningless verse
might transmute into the ancient rattle
of pebbles on a Scottish beach,
or a seagulls blare from a bobbing coracle.
Something frail and Irish stumbles by,
size it up, seize it, snare it,
unlatch its tenuous tones, the lull and hum,
let it rest between harboring cheeks
recall itself through the hollow bones
of the fierce and fallen.
I cannot understand languages,
not broken languages and their scrabble
their luggage was ever too heavy on my tongue,
but Gaelic is a raptor in my blood
or a cuckoo born
in a ten thousand year old nest.
Here in the flood of a singing rain,
I could be damaged enough
to be what I seek,
then perhaps faraway mountains
would haunt no more.
Pebbly scree slides and crabwalks me
inside a dim dunk of fog.
I should not have climbed,
should have waited for the sky to clear its eyes
but I was anxious to reach a height that day.
I took the Arimathea way.
I’m beat and disorientated,
falling down while still upright,
feeling a momentum sliding me over
an unseen cliff face.
I see only a vaporous fear
swirling out of my open mouth.
The chill hand of fate grips.
Beyond my funk
I hear someone behind me
Sitting on the cold stones, boot heels
wedged into the rocky scrabble,
I wait to be rescued by a more clear-eyed self.
Terminology metamorphosizes,
the chrysalis is forgotten in the butterfly,
likewise, in times so ancient
that a cultural amnesia had
thrown its opaque cloak across
original meaning,
names have become misplaced
upon an ever-shifting scrabble board.
So it is, with demons and imps,
once both were considered to be
the perfect fauna of human character.
My demon is quite a charming sprite,
in Spring it jumps over itself
transforming into a mischievous imp,
it often warbles from a cherub's throat
while genius (that other face of a demon),
sings lustily from every songbird’s gaping mouth,
both recall a time when we all sailed together
above the celestial wavelets
of an angelic womb.
Then there are those supplementary divinities
that guard our various talents
nymphs that slumber within the soul of mankind
until one fresh sunrise
truth awakens them to flight,
then all at once
they change their many names
to - You. and Yours.
Call it chance or fate that we met,
a night we will never forget.
Not looking for affection, but we felt an immediate connection.
In a room of online scrabble, we made small talk of babble.
Another game soon took place, without seeing the other's face.
Three years spent on the phone, couldn't leave each other alone.
Words of love had been said, flames of passion had been fed.
It was long past time to meet, but would it be bitter or sweet?
At last I knew the taste of your lips, the warmth of your fingertips.
I felt the beat of your heart, and nothing could keep us apart.
Cradled in your arms all night, we fit together and it felt right.
Unlike anything I ever knew. I couldn't get close enough to you.
You slept and I was content. I sighed from breathing in your scent.
I kissed your cheek, you didn't wake, lingering for love's sake.
Morning woke us with the sun, both knowing that what we'd done
confirmed what we already knew. We shared a love long overdue.
Internal rhyme pattern
December 11th 2015
Favorite Love Poem
Sponsor: Nayda