Long Shower Poems
Long Shower Poems. Below are the most popular long Shower by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shower poems by poem length and keyword.
I turned on the water sprinkler under the Weeping Willow
A fine stream it did spray
The tree was lacking the nourishment that it gets from water
For it has not rained much in many days
As I was working in my kitchen and viewing the scene
Along came a male Red Cardinal
On a rose bush he did preen
Just close enough to the water to receive a fine spray
When he was water coated, he flew away
Up into the Weeping Willow and puffed his feathers out
Shook his tiny body as a dog after taking a bath
Then he sat in the Weeping Willow and rested for a spell
Before he had time to dry, a Black Bird
Landed on a Weeping Willow limb
Just close enough to the spray to get his shower today
Very intelligent these birds of the yard
Knowing how to refresh and clean their feathers
Sometimes I wonder if they are not more intelligent
Than some of the humans that have big brains
And fancy hair....
(I'll call it free verse for no other reason than I don't know where else it would fit.)
If, I could control the atmospheric pressure of the world,
then, I could have the perfect days for every mood of mine;
sometimes I would want the beauty of a wild storm whirling,
or on the beach, I could summon up great ocean waves.
I would bring golden sunshine to my garden for the flowers,
a rainbow of colors, all perfect and all on my own demand;
and on hot days I would summon a cool summer rain shower,
then, the sun would break through the sky shining.
The ocean would be a perfect emerald-blue for swimming,
the forest lush green and jungle hot or cool if I want;
I could make it snow those perfect snowflakes in winter,
if I could control the atmospheric pressure of the world.
_______________________
August 25, 2017
Poetry/Verse/If, I Could
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9336-18-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
When the darkness of night is no more and the sunlight of a new day comes knocking on your door
Rubbing your eyes, giving a big yawn, lay in bed listening to the birds’ chorus of dawn
Are you thinking to yourself, “I will get up in an hour”, or do you jump out of bed and head straight for the shower
Warm in your pyjamas, bed socks on your feet, wrapped up in your quilt to keep in the heat
The house is all quiet; not a sound from the kids, not a peep
Slowly your eyes close and you fall back to sleep
You jump up from your slumber with a stretch; you are awake
But you have slept for too long. What a mistake.
You did not the alarm clock ringing. Oh, what a fool You are late for work and the children are late for school
Rushing out the door without doing your hair and your skirt tucked into your underwear
You are late for work, so an apology message to the boss you send
The reply that you got back is that we don’t work at the weekend
Golden Lungs breathe in the light.
Fumes, and doom singe the open air streams death contagions disintegrate.
Pomegranate embraces the sense that walks in the light along the fences we climbed.
I wish I could keep this feeling pirouetting in the palms of my hands.
Fears cower in hunger of endless biting never able to sever the tissue.
This isn't how we are made up to be.
Vocal ideas ferment in the vat overflown, and laid to rest forgotten as cruel men are raised, and went.
Knees, elbows, and the contours of our frame walk into wilderness.
They could never find me, or let me leave.
From nightmares, to daycare, and extended absence.
Shame has long been perfected and complete.
The circles end, and the linear thoughts get up and start walking into long ranges.
Boundaries are discarded the edge of touchdowned dawn stretched across forgotten faces.
Obscurity, untouchable, included in the absentee ballots of conditions that produced us in lust, smoke, and grief.
Somewhere we were planned for.
The gentle frames painted out like alphabets on morning hung horizons.
Presence longed for in the cloudy afternoons where they recruited the best, and buried the rest in the wake of trash heaps that shower us in garbage.
Repurposed, Reselling us the same plastic we burn every night.
Igniting in our veins.
Pretending we forgot.
Pain always changes.
Standing on the edge of sonar, summer, and widening free.
Searching for the glimmers the son shines through.
PINNACLE
With a piggyback of hopes and dreams, I set forth to reach a peak.
Along bed of roses, rocks and tall sharp weeds, I harvested golden grains of progress. The days and nights rang a wake-up kiss on my head. They told me: "Move on, move on...Don't ever give up..."
There are rainy days on the way. A rain shower teased my climb halting me for awhile. Some so strong, I faltered - gained some wounds. Some directly stabbed my heart. And somehow, sometimes they even knocked my very soul. Although tough thunder tremors shook me, I fought hard to stand still continuing my climb.
Each height I step onto, I came to know moon and stars. Some of them began a war with me. Some of them a veil of fraud. But blessing, most have shed a continuing guiding light. Some hugged me. And wanted me to stay but some pushed and pressured me until I am all like a dripping sponge.
The potpourri situations brought me: a ladder closer to our God. His faithfulness and unfailing love a durable adhesive to my persistence and dreams.
A rainbow after each rain drew a promise of sun-kissed days. They melted the cold lonely years away. They permitted me a walk and run to heavenly meadows. Finally, I reached the pinnacle where grins a forever familiar tale.
(c) Olive Eloisa
2:07pm
October 01. 2012
My accomplish are very small throughout the daytime
Senior and retired, I have to remember to make sure I don’t forget to take my pills
Memory is short and cannot focus
Seven fifteen in the morning comes around very quickly,
especially when I go to bed so late, then I toss and turn because my body aches.
My Yorkie makes sure I’m up, he jumps up on the bed and lies by my side until I’m up; he patiently waits to be fed.
Get up; wash my face to wake up, then into the rooms to fix the beds
Into the kitchen and fix my Yorkies food,
take my vitamins for the energy I need,
I put on my shoes on rain or shine to walk my Yorkie up and down the road,
come back home and take my medicine
After all is done
Behind the computer and see what is up with Poetry Soup and Facebook, my way in staying touch with all my friends and the world.
At nine I’m back in the kitchen fixing breakfast, so my husband can take his medicine with food
Clean up the kitchen after we’re done
I’m off for a ten o’clock appointment with my neurologist, to brainstorm what’s going on in my brain.The outcome is, data is not being processed and stored in its files. My computer is running down and it’s caused by old age
Back home and start all over again
Behind the computer and see what is up with Poetry Soup and Facebook
At one o’clock I’m back in the kitchen fixing lunch, then
clean up the kitchen once more after we’re done
Call my eighty-three year old mother to make sure she’s getting along ok
Trim the hedge and clean up the mess so it won’t block my view when I look out the window
Into the shower because I’m all dirty, wet, and sticks
Behind the computer and see what is up with Poetry Soup and Facebook
At four I'm back in the kitchen to fix supper then clean up the kitchen once more
By midnight, I finally make it to bed
After composing a list of my daily chores I realize I didn’t have a life
When I’m asked, “What did you do today? The story I tell is,
“Same old, same old.”
5/15/2015
The lucky ship
I sat on the terrace at the enchanting hour when the sun has gone westward
but it is not dark yet and saw a long sleek cargo ship in the bay.
A well-kept ship manned by professional seafarers who have s contract
and get to go home on vacation every three months.
The cook is often referred to as a catering officer, sits in his spacious cabin
reading a book by Hemingway.
He stops reading and rest the open book on page 48 and think of all those
who have never read the great writer and are only interested in his private life?
It is a pity he would be remembered for the wrong reasons.
The cook gets up takes a shower, since he has been up by six o´clock there
is no time to shower.
In the morning he has to set the dough to bake bread and there is breakfast
to be seen to, and the preparation for dinner at twelve.
It is dark now, the ship is well lit she looks like a princess of the sea,
but the crew have no fear she will bring them safely home.
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
There are rooms in my home where I seek Your inner peace
There are rooms in my home where my worries I release
There is something about me Lord, there are times I'm not sure
Give me the understanding, give me patience to endure
Give me the strength and the wisdom for the things I do not know
Give me the guidance, lead me Lord to the rooms to pray and grow
In my living room is where the gospel songs I play
I raise my hands and exercise to start me on my way
In my kitchen there is food, there is rice and beans and meat
I pray to God and thank Him for the food I'm about to eat
In my bath, in the mirror, You are Beautiful I say
In the shower when I cleanse, there are moments when I pray
In my bedroom where I sleep, I pray to God my soul to keep
Guide me safely through the night, wake me with the morning light
Find in your home a Prayer Room, a Dare Room
A room where you dare to have faith, dare to believe
Dare to trust God so you can receive
Dare to love, dare to praise, dare to try, dare to fly
Dare to have peace and pray for increase
Dare to dream, dare to know, dare to find that room to grow
In your heart there is room, room you didn't know
Room for you to love again, room for you to grow
Room for you to trust, room for you to heal
Room for you to restore, room for you to reveal
In your mind there is room, room for you to grow
Room for you to forgive, room for you to let go
In your spirit there is room, room for you to grow
Room for you to seek God for He truly loves you so
In your life, find that room, that room where you can go
That room for you to laugh and live, that room for you to grow
Colette Dright
~In His Glory and Power~
(Beacon Of Hope)
Embrace life love all time
Start with God love just climb
Let none steal peace sublime
See day with brand-new eyes
Look ahead when sun 'rise
Seek God when probe skies
There's light at the end of each dark tunnel you know
Pray and be strong when things go wrong, His love will show
Read God's Word just trust Him and let His promises flow
He'll help when in need of healing
God can shower you with blessings
He can provide peace to your soul
In His love and care you'll feel whole
Master from my heart never part
In God can always trust my heart
In His forgiveness brand new day
Fills heart with love hope peace all way
Lord helps see better and not stray
His will shall be done every day
From Him heart won't depart I pray
In trying time He's with us, yea.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2013
September.19.2016
-So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13 (NIV)
-For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life."
John 3:16 (NIV)
-The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Psalm 23 King James Version (KJV)
~Author's Notes:
The " Beacon Of Hope" is a poetry style created by Christina R. Jussaume.