Long Seasonsday Poems
Long Seasonsday Poems. Below are the most popular long Seasonsday by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Seasonsday poems by poem length and keyword.
We had missed five days in
The last two weeks
Due to the ice and snow.
Roads and streets had been impassable—
Freezing rain, blowing snow and black ice.
We started the day late at 10 am.
I greeted them at the doors—
Worried about attendance.
But, ninety-five percent made it.
Fantastic!
They were wrapped in hooded jackets
And wore toboggans with rainbow colors.
Mothers had stuffed them with oatmeal,
Hotcakes and sausage.
One carried chocolate milk
And powdered sugar donuts,
Along with tousled hair and a big smile.
I was glad they made it.
We didn’t need to lose another
Day of instruction.
The day went smoothly, too.
In spite of the frigid cold that pushed
The mercury down to two degrees.
Frozen feet tracked salted snow
Onto brightly buffed tiles.
One carried an icicle two foot long—
I convinced him it would keep outside.
Then came lunch.
The short day was ready made for
Corn dogs and sloppy Joes—
A menu that might have been invented
By kindergarteners.
But they hardly touched either one.
Today they served
Golden Meadow Orange Dream Bars—
A dessert that was surely made in Heaven.
Ice cream on the coldest day of the year.
And the February freeze was forgotten.
The orange circled smiles of kinders
Beamed a warmth from within,
Making the remainder of the day brighter,
Marking an end to winter.
Independence Day has come and gone....
All magic has been trucked away to come again another day
Sweltering, yet, in the dewy lawn,
is the fragrance of burnt offerings....
hovering low like a old gray ghost,
vast over the Riverside Park
In the still, early dawn, that now murmurs like a whisper...
Where evening throngs and
voices of oohs and aahhs were heard just hours before...
Where excited eyes glistened and reflected a night's sky alive with fire
A solemn morning of chattering squirrels
remain the only sign of life
as they nibble on pieces of hot dogs, or popcorn hiding in the grass
Morning air is cool and damp
Park benches, a bandstand, hilly mounds of grass and a playground
abandoned, barren and lonely...
The day appears to be wearing mourning clothes
Of candy wrappers, watermelon rinds, mustard coated paper plates
spent sparklers, fire crackers, one lone sneaker....
Where hours ago, radios played, laughter, cheering, hooting, jeering,
deafening man-made thunder made babies cry,
dogs tremble, children clap their hands over ears
Now there sprawls a silent, somber dawn
The only music in early morning light...
comes from a slight breeze that stirs
a tossed Pepsi paper cup
as it clatters a pop, pop, popping tune...
hopping among the dried, brown leaves down an empty sidewalk....