Long Scrapes Poems
Long Scrapes Poems. Below are the most popular long Scrapes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scrapes poems by poem length and keyword.
Plastic in the plastic bin
Aluminum in another
Food scrapes for compost
Paper bound tight
Glass goes where the glass goes
Am I saving the world
Does it make a difference
Am I doing alright
I cleaned out our bedroom
And found a picture of you
The one with that sly smile
Just a picture of you
I know we parted
I know it was right
But why do I know
I'll stare at your picture all night
Is there a way to recycle
A broken heart
Can you salvage
Each memory broken apart
Can I put in a bin
The first time we kissed
Can I tie and bind away
Every dream every hope every wish
Maybe some other lovers
Can find the treasure we had
Maybe they can reuse our love
And make each other glad
Is there a way to recycle
Love gone bad
Such a waste, hard to replace
When happiness turns sad
Recycling recycling
That's what the world needs
Don't throw love away
Reuse it it's okay
For a love that once was strong
If dusted and cleaned
Can shine in new hearts
That's the magic of recycling.
She said to her husband one evening…”Here’s something I don’t understand…
how in the world have I acquired so many lines upon my hands
So many tiny creases…so many wrinkles…so many veins and spots and folds.
When…oh when…I wonder…did my hands become so old.
Her husband took her hands in his saying, “In all the years we’ve been married…all the years together we have grown…I think I probably know your hands even better than my own..
When I look at your two hands…the two hands of my best friend…my wife
I see all the balance and the beauty they have added to my life.
When you look at your hands ”I think you, too, should be thrilled….
at all the hopes and dreams and wishes your two hands have fulfilled.
Your hands have helped to guide our family…that’s been no easy feat…
Look at all the times we’ve fallen and your hands have helped us back upon our feet.
Think of all the the ways your hands have nursed us night and day…think of all the faces they’ve cleaned…all the tears they’ve wiped away.
Think of all the love your two hands have joyously revealed…
all the scrapes and scratches and bruises your two hands have helped to heal.
Think of all the cookies your two hands have baked for our children and grandchildren too…Think of where we’d all be…without your two hands…and you.
Your hands have kept us safe and warm…happy and well-fed…think of all the pages they’ve turned…all those bedtime stories read.
Think of all the letters your hands have written…all the good things they have done…
Think of all the lives they’ve touched…all those flowers they’ve planted in the sun.
Think of how your hands…though silent…have the ability to say so much…
with a soft caress…a warm embrace…a kind and gentle touch
When I look at your two hands all these years of holding us…helping to guide us through…I have often wondered to myself…is there anything they cannot do?
So I can say with true conviction…as I hold your hands in mine….
each wrinkle has formed with elegance and richness and beauty….
two hands aged to perfection…just…like a fine wine.
I love the koalas, and hate what the forest fires have done to them.
Adoring seals is easy, but the butchering of them makes me feel dim.
Seems to be a yin to every yang, have you noticed that my friend?
When will this love hate relationship come to an end?
The ocean is lovely in so many ways, and I appreciate the view.
Until a sea monster comes up and swallows my boat, and me too.
The day is beautiful a few hours before a horrible storm, but then.
The sky gets dark, and the air gets loud, blustery and incredibly thin.
There seems to be a love and a hate in almost everything we do.
I love to teach, but tackling the vast paperwork is long overdue.
It irritates me and scrapes my brain cells over in a terrifying way.
I procrastinate doing it until ten o’clock at night, every Sunday.
I love my cousin, but she is vocal, verbal, nasty and mean voter of one.
About her political candidate. A ruffian who is as corrupt as they come.
Like joy of her company, if she stays away from politics, she is a delight.
She seems determined to bring up this idiot, and it simply is not right!
Contest: Let’s Minichu on Love or Hate Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Written 2/28/2021
~Alice Sweet Alice~
*Like Sisters*
Everyday -- Holding Hands
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
*Alice And I*
How can they say she did not exist?
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice
The way she looks at me
-Her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who enjoys the sound of pouring rain?
Together we slept under the same breeze
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
She whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice Sweet Alice loves the way I look in red!
Every day I face the mirror
Alice puts her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
Under the right and left palm.
The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she screams!
Again, Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
When she stood by my side
Alice knew me in ways no one else did
She knew my eyes -When they cried!
Now I can't sleep,
Since Alice has fallen back into the abyss
Forever conscious in a self-hug
--- This is no dream, it is real!
The rage inside burns.
It took place the day she left!
Burning curtains
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice spoke of darkness,
then disappeared
When I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
Nothing feels the same,
I allow myself to soak in the darkness where it began.
My hair of red is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to a stainless blade, I sleep
ALICE SWEET ALICE!
Please call my name!
Why do they whisper?
Why are they saying she never held a breath?
I know she is real, she exists
Why else would I let her cut my wrist?
This Sweet Girl
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Finally, visits again ---
But, who is to believe?
For everyone says
Alice lives inside my head.
By:)
No ball games, keep out, no access
and please keep off the grass,
restricted zone, no entry here unless you show your pass.
Stay clear, don't go beyond this point,
warning! Electric fence!
(you could tell by the transformer-
unless of course, you're dense).
Remember childhood playing outside, all
bumps and scrapes and scuffs?
You lived by using common sense, and if
you didn't- tough.
Public information films said don't go
flying kites near pylons, swim in
quarry lakes, in case the foolish might.
But now we're wrapped in cotton wool
and everyone's just fine
but freedom's being washed away-
if you can see the signs.............
Hi, my name is Ollyver, and here’s my doggie view:
You could call me simply “Boo” and I’d still come to you!
I’m fluffy white, the mini version of an Eskimo.
My human lady makes me go out back and then yells, “GO!”
Sometimes she says more than that. She adds the small word, “pee.”
“Ollyver, go pee,” she cries. “Just pee. Go pee for me!”
Often times I’ll run about or try to dig a hole.
Apparently my digging in the yard is not her goal!
She calls me back and if I do not come, she chases me.
Her voice bears a question and again, that dang word PEE.
Inside the house, I sit near her - unless I hear strange noise,
and often at the window, I’ll look out and see some boys.
I start to yap. I HAVE to yap! I yap, yap, yap, yap, YAP.
And when they leave, I run with glee back to my lady’s lap.
I love to feel her scratch my ears and smooth my pretty fur.
If someone comes too near the house, I’ll yap, protecting her.
She doesn’t often give me yummy food right off her plate,
but sometimes she might give me some, so anxiously I wait.
I make my eyes get big and sad and whimper like a child.
I can’t go too far overboard or else she will get riled!
If food remains upon her plate, she scrapes it in my bowl.
That’s even better than when I go out and dig a hole!
There’s one thing I can’t figure out. She saw me tinkle once
nearby a wall, then yelled about me pulling stupid stunts.
She and her man get crazy when I do that, so I try
to only tinkle in the house when it is on the sly!
She takes me out to that back yard quite an awful lot.
Sometimes I’ll tinkle and I always poo poo like I ought.
More kids outside the window! Must I always have to beg
for them to leave? I yap, and near the wall I lift my leg.
Written June 24, 2012
For Tanya Harrington's "Dog Gone Tales" Poetry Contest
Packed up again,
Cedars and crescents in my carry-on,
A heart and soul in my suitcase…
The mattress on my bed is bare, save for a straw hat
Resting in the middle of it and a bottle of cologne
There are scrapes on the wall
And bits where the paint came off
The floor is littered with baggage, hardly a place to step
But the room feels empty… yet again
I’ll put my home under my hat
And take one last look at the faded curtains
Hanging over my windows
1:03 am
Last call on my cell phone: Grandpa
Last call on my cell phone: A leather pillow and apple vinegar
Last call on my cell phone: A school bus in the rain
Last call on my cell phone: A hug, a kiss and another suitcase
Last call for Mr. Bakhash… Please proceed to Gate 43…
Last call…
The airports are all the same
Frantic people, too busy to look back…
Confused children tailing their parents
Overpriced coffee, stale sandwiches… all too familiar
Heathrow, Starbucks…
Heathrow, Laptops…
Heathrow, iPods…
Heathrow, Crowds…
Heathrow, Empty
The airports are all the same…
Empty
Los Angeles, Frankfurt, Paris, Dubai, Beirut
Empty
When I am honest with my belongings
I am amazed to find that I have surrounded myself
With things that I thought I could not live without
Once upon a time…..
But once upon a time is long gone, and these things
no longer give me joy, or make me happy in any kind of
weird way.
That sparkly spangly pillow I did not think I could live
without two months ago Is uncomfortably hard, and
scrapes my fingers in an unkind way when I accidentally
brush up against it. But here it sits because I did pay
Twenty-three dollars for it, right?
Wrong!
It is going, and so are thousands of other items that
no longer give me joy. I am loading up the truck with
buckets and boxes of insane things when my husband
starts to stroll around the corner. Whisk! He is now
hiding behind the edge of the porch.
He has seen me in this mood many times, and he
always comments that he is surprised I have not
yet hauled him off. I glare at him. Wishing he would
get just a little closer for I am in that mood.
Potter in the sky promptly sculpts
Scrapes grey clay into piles pulsating
Driven t'ward dread, born for storm chasing
Seatbelts her, seized by brightest volts
Picked up by gusts, thunder grumble thrust
On ferris wheel rise, rocked spectator
Eyes agape, a brooding threat elates her
Tagged by lightning's tip, torn wide by lust
Truncheons swung from sweaty clouds, rain clubs
At the apex, a lurid bulb sideshow
Her fibres dilated, dauntless, haunted, aglow
Tormented, her descent releases cherubs
Twins, freshly festooned in her nursing
Sugar floss urchins, spun from ferris wheel frisson
Crushed by awe, she cries in downpour's christen
Halo wrapped clouds make a cradle immersing
Heaven's heartbeat heaves grievances
Disgusted dagger, a jagged floodlight bolt
Bred from bravery, her tributes to tumult
Conjure clemence, seek sweet sequences
6th July 2026
Written for Contest:
Ceraunophilia
Sponsor:
Craig Cornish
eudaimonia-
cat's in the birdcage;
bird has lit away;
anxiety outlet;
as the dog chews away;
that old beat-up rug;
shag as it was;
the cat used to roll around in
hook on dark and light;
spilled sour milk from the cat's bowl;
WOW
bArk
Meow
Now
withered clumps of fur;
Scrambled empty soul
bird tweets at the clock;
as the cat watch;
as the doggy scrapes he itches;
needs his medicine;
in grief no hope nor apologizes;
as the bird tweets and burps;
the bird twitadee-tweets and just flies away
Free
11/04/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©