Long Shirts Poems
Long Shirts Poems. Below are the most popular long Shirts by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shirts poems by poem length and keyword.
I sit here
In a place where I have no fear
Will there be another score?
Does the crowd want more?
Chelsea is on top
While Arsenal should not want to stop
The cheery contingent wants the action
And the goals in this spectacle is the attraction
If the favorite ticket ends up a pay
The pub fly will gladly say
“The pensioners are here, and they will gladly pick up the tab for the beer”
But there is more time to go, carry on let’s get back to the show
A penalty kick was the trick
And the home team was able to gleam
One nil that was a nice fill
But them Gunners made up for that bad mistake
Getting a break away that left Chelsea in their wake
One to one was the score
Will there be more?
As the gunner goalie picked shots off
The beer settled making the blue shirts wonder who’s at fault.
As I leave cash for my mealtime turkey
Chelsea needs a goal without Arsenal doing another thing dirty
Time ticks away
I do say
This match may be a push which would be pain in my toosh
But during the late stage
A goal was written by Chelsea on the EPL page
Not much later the gunners stole the sporting pen
And the blue shirts were not able to defend
Having two shots on goal without a miss
A clear message was made that the game that doesn’t use hands or a fist,
This was not done
And in the stands, those wearing red asked the blue shirts ‘are we having fun’
These gunners do not need a lot just one good shot
To be honest damage was done with only the one
Making the Gunners walk away with all the fun.
Giving questions about those leaving with outbursts that were steaming
Looking about hearing those chanted shouts
The blue shirt cheers who had to pay for their beers
Thought this London Derby was not going to be a fight
But to those who were just watching it was exciting, right?
Two to two is what the scoreboard flashed
And the blue shirts only had a draw ticket to be cashed
Granted this was more money
For those who shed out more pounds just in case something happened that was funny
Chelsea and Arsenal find themselves tied
And hopefully no one cried
Since it was a nice entertaining evening where everyone gave it a good try
How I love this time of year
When Christmas markets beckon!
All major cities have them
And some small towns, too, I reckon.
The festive booths display their wares,
A lot of them hand-crafted,
Their quality assuring you
That no, you won’t get shafted.
From jewelry (my favorite)
To ceramics, hats and leather,
The dealers ply their products
In whatever kind of weather.
For now’s the time that people buy –
The ornaments and mittens
And toys and t-shirts, socks and mugs
Adorned with pups or kittens.
Of course, there’s hot mulled cider
Paired with donuts, for such offers
Keep shoppers warm and cozy,
Tempting them to fill the coffers.
Today I splurged on earrings
Though I’m often quite contented
To just browse and see what’s out there,
All so very well-presented!
Grade one, oh, how I had so much fun!
Grade two; I painted pictures with colours red white and blue
Grade three, the year I fixed a rope swing to a great oak tree
Grade four, 6 stitches for banging my head of that bloody door!
Grade five, touching the electrics! I’m lucky to be alive.
Grade six, lots of mischief and all sorts of naughty tricks
Grade seven; I was a darling boy that was on track to go to heaven!
Grade eight, please Dad I will be good, I hope it’s not too late?
Grade nine, the summer my dad gave me my 1st glass of wine!
Grade ten, the year I washed my shirts to find a leaking black pen
How I remember my life in a stage or grade,
Not a year passes by where these memories fade.
I try to shut up for good.
Hanging on to the crumbled sheet,i roll
A messed-up head with muffled thoughts
Another Christmas carol..
Darn,I gotta stop
I Think to myself,twitch my nose a li'l
Talked of friends and food and sh!t
of passions hyperreal
To hell with the world and its ways,
Lies that form the rules
'Tears made up of liquid nitrogen
And smiles from highway blues'.
Stormed on love and sex;cigarettes
Words bold and shy
From dames that rock to drunken dudes
And pains that lips deny..
It occurred twice,thrice...don't know
Who cares anyway?!
'Beep' that silence the grudge beneath:
Deep rumours of the day
To live a life like the one i am
Is a pain in the ass for sure,
Songs i hate, movies i crave
Death,blood and gore..
Hell with the fact when we shoot out
The differences unfolding fast
From collared t-shirts to silly escapades
We damn and strip our past..
Romance it is,and it is not
For you its sh!t,i said
Bottled beer and barbie babes:
Fantasies, high and dead
With you,its free and deep and black
My selfish clarity
Stupid i am,to think its true
Stupid i am, to skip a boo
A new-age parody..
~~For my best mate K. and the best times we had, from the everyday convos to the pretended
silence ..best of luck,pal!...~~
The trees lining the streets are filled with cherry blossoms
Mother Nature is letting us know that spring arrival is going to be awesome
Enjoying a walk along the breakwater bustling with people enjoying the new day's sun
After a long winter, it is wonderful to be able to get out and have some fun
Flowers will soon bring a wide variety of colours as they spring up from the ground
A tour of our dressers for shorts and tee shirts that need to be found
Lawnmowers are about to rise from their winter hibernation
Hair cuts for our lawns are soon to be our new form of recreation
Even our timepieces will be busy springing ahead
Let's get off our social devices and spend more of our day outdoors instead
Gather up the family and go enjoy some ice cream
Bid farewell to winter and go blow off some steam
Once I wouldn’t dare to be seen
Without mascara and liner
Never doubting that my dreams
Were founded on these little things
Often I chose to just stay home
When I hadn’t showered
Or used a curling wand
I wasn’t vain, so I told myself
I just didn’t want to be seen
Without shadow and lip color
As time passed by me and I became
A few years older and less worried
About wearing faded jeans or loosely
Fitting T-shirts – I learned that
It isn’t “looks” which makes you
The woman who God anticipated
When He breathed life into you
Finally, without taking too much time,
I learned a lesson about vanity and pride
I discovered that wearing fuzzy socks and crocs
Made it clear to the world I knew
That I was someone who could say adieu
To the mirror from which I found, in all truth,
A bit of my hope being dissuaded and deluded
Into thinking that it mattered more to look the part,
Than to act the part of the woman God could use
Finally, as I bid my reflection good-bye
A new light began to twinkle in my eye
And I discovered that who I was inside
Was who made the best of everything I tried
Fuzzy socks and crocs poetry contest
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
June 8, 2021
Drooling along,
Every day.
No matter,
What people say!
My mother says," Shut your mouth! Your spewing drool all about!"
My father says, "I'm going to bed! No more drool on my head!"
My mouth is shut tight,
But the drool takes flight!
Over my lips,
Down my chin,
On my shirt,
Where it all soaks in!
I have a lavish style of dress,
Only the very best!
And if anyone is to check,
They know my clothes,
Due to the spatter of drool,
Across my shirt and under my nose!
I'm the only one with drool splattered clothes.
As everyone knows,
The boy who drools,
Wears the best clothes!
Once I went to work,
For a company that makes pullover shirts.
They had to test,
Which material was best!
To absorb the least sweat.
So, my drool has paid off,
Now I wear a new shirt every day,
With drool dropping every which way!
In the meantime,
I used my brain,
Started a company with shirts that don't stain.
Ache—
Let it sink
Deep
With quiet and unfathomable rage, every word shown
Black ink, black intent,
Yeah, she was done
The black nail polish on her nails chipping
Stupid, cheap crap…
The color black burned through her soul,
Giving her slight satisfaction in her furious state of mind
Always angry
Always sad, and hollow
She wanted desperately to get back at the wretch
Because of him, she wished she never existed
Lying there cold,
Stark-naked on the bathroom floor…
Standing outside the chipped, wooden door
He wanted more
Waiting to feel her flesh upon his own
The demon…
The monster…
You’ve heard the tale
It’s nothing new
Hearing him breath heavily,
Listening, his ears pounding with his heart
A beast awaiting his prey
Cornering her, despairing her
Nose pouring forth snot and blood
He had hit her very hard,
And there was surely more to come
But she had to resist the monster.
She just had to
Glancing at the boarded window in agony and despair,
No one would ever know and there was no one to tell
He’s a good man…
It’s her who’s the bad one
God is mad at her…not him
It’s always that way
Her fists slammed on her desk
After it all, he was coming back for her
She kept telling herself he was going to forget
He was going to leave her alone,
But he soon would be back for more,
Just like the old days
He didn’t give a damn about the ache she endures every day of her miserable life
In a frenzied fury,
She tore up the paper with the short poem on it
He would never feel the ache…
It would never seep through his marrow
Her phone rang loudly, startling her
She let it ring three times and then begrudgingly answered it.
“What?” She spat, clenching her teeth in irritation.
“It’s Mr. Rickman. We are ready to see you in.”
She gulped. The time was upon her. “Now?”
“Yes, of course. Everything’s going to be alright”
She hung up the phone.
She put on her darkest of shirts
She slipped on her black, studded sweater and her spiked collar
Black boots
Black gloves without the fingers
Black skinny jeans
She wanted EVERYTHING to be black today.
Time has passed by so quickly
You’ve been gone 2 yrs today
I never knew something could hurt so much
The wound from losing you hasn’t even begun to heal
It’s still fresh and split wide open
Daddy, how do we do this?
I still buy your candy
Candy I’ll never eat again
I just give it away days later
It's just something that I gotta do
Oh Daddy, what are we supposed to do
Without you here with us
It’s so hard to believe
You were here and now you’re gone
What are we gonna do
Daddy, How will we find our place in this world, now
When you and Mom are all we’ve ever known.
I wish I could wake up from this nightmare
And you’d still be here
Oh Daddy, what are we supposed to do
Without you here with us
It’s so hard to believe
You were here and now you’re gone
What are we gonna do
I hope you can't hear me
When I cry out to Heaven to get me through Hell
I don't want you to be sad
None of this is your fault
How are we supposed
To fill this empty space
Nothing can replace
The life we made with you
I wouldn't let it even try
Those old wore out flannel shirts you loved so much
Gets me through nights
When nights get tough
They make me feel so close to you
Daddy what are we supposed to do
You've missed so much
Your first grandson has a daughter now
She's beautiful, Daddy
She looks so much like you
Your second grandson
Your name sake, Graduated 8th grade
What I wouldn’t give to have seen your face
When you heard his name called
Your granddaughter, your Tator-head got glasses
She loves them, unlike the rest of us
How are we supposed to do this without you here
What are we gonna to do
Time has passed by so quickly
You’ve been gone 2 yrs today
I never knew something could hurt so much.
What are we supposed to do now
We miss you Daddy
I was in Trieste
It was in 1962, a revolution attempt that failed
roads had been churned; the American CIA tried to blend in
not successfully wearing Hawaii shirts to hide the guns.
I met her at the railway station, a small woman with a big suitcase
which I offered to carry at her lodging.
I was a polite young man, thanks to my communist mother.
It was a long road, a cobblestone road, was heavy going
I have come to think Federico Fellini was hiding in the case.
Arriving at her lodging, I was not invited to her room
she gave me a peck on the nose.
Later I learned she was a famous actress, but I wondered
why is she, in Trieste?