Long Sizing Poems
Long Sizing Poems. Below are the most popular long Sizing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sizing poems by poem length and keyword.
“Sadness sipped like Earl Grey tea
Transforming fact to fiction fantasy”
Quote by poet
Icicle tears fall down my face
Melted fears have been replaced
No longer do I see tears as aftermath
Tears become strength and powerful
Walk with me in a winter wonderland
Where snow feels like warm sand
We are accustomed to it with bare feet
We walk through white icy forests
In the trees are birds of prey
Sizing us up as we walk leaving footprints
Melodic moon merges with the sun
It is both day and neon night
Snowflakes stack upon our eyelashes
A fairy in the pine tree is laughing
She flutters by landing on my shoulder
Asks me what my business is
I’m on my way to LaLa land
And my companion needs a hand
We shed tears in the life we lead
Collected in a can for the wizard you see
For he can turn water into wine
Surely he can turn back hands of time
Wonder why I want to go back
So I can erase tears and not be sad
Change your vision and your mind
She says no need to whine and pine
I will wave my wand and you will
Find tears are power and not pain
A frosty wind tickles my face
She raises her wand and I feel great
The sun feels warm the moon cold
Like a charm she blessed my soul
I became light and feel really free
I could fly despite having no wings
Barefooted and all we fly to the King
Where he grants our wishes and dreams
Tears become a thing of the past
No more heartache or times bad
No more war no more hate
The winter wonderland is happy and safe
Melanie: Why would you want to marry me for, anyhow?
Jake: So I can kiss you anytime I want.
Sweet Home Alabama
THE KISS
See Rodin’s sculpture, sumptuous or a stiff on the shelf.
I have to inquire about the development of their hot lips.
Oh have I a story to tell the young - one about myself,
the happenstance as our nuptial sun and moon eclipse.
We avow in front of witnesses at the Beach’s square.
Behind our backs, windows speaking, “Don’t do it!”
The prisoners wear black and white stripes, bars stare,
still they believe in forever after, happily or despite it.
The Kiss, romantic bliss, a formidable honeymoon thrill.
Two bodies encapsulated into one pill, happy or bitter.
Naked for all to see, plastered over the waves, his will
of handsy regret or not, inspire of modern day twitter.
I’m in my wedding-white gown, contrast of a shotgun —
Dad’s not trying to marry me off and I’m not from the hills.
Regardless, the cake and wine awaits in the Virginia sun.
I repeat the words from the Justice of the peace, the untils.
An eventual kiss in sight…oh what Rodin has in mind!
Would he be proud of my dad, when my espoused asked,
“Can I trust her to drive?” …the response, curt and unkind,
“I don’t know. I trusted her when she left.” Dad unmasked.
My to-be wears his Navy cap, concealing his eyes.
Terrified that my parents had arrived and their camper.
Side-by-side sister-in-laws, sizing them up would be wise.
In what possible way could Rodin create mischief…tamper?
The moment arrived…. “You may kiss the bride.”
The jailbirds whistled and their hand claps echoed.
Between the eclipse of the sun and the moon, it’s slide,
vibrations of laughter we would carry over the threshold.
1/4/2022
Contest: FUNNY MEMORIES
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
If you think the nightmares
You have as a kid
Are really all that scary
Then have a listen to this
With your monsters in the closet
Boogie men under the bed
Werewolves at the window
Ghosts floating overhead
They don't even come close
To the stress of the adult
Let me take the time to enlighten you
To the real nightmares through this poem
There's the annoying bill collector
Always beating on the door
As your Uncle Sam AKA the Tax Man
Is always wanting more
And just when you think gas prices
Have reached the ultimate peak
They raise the price 20¢ over night
Then double that the next week
How about your job down sizing
And not inviting you along
With your entire lot now in a box
Sold down the river with a song
And let's not forget the aches and pains
That magically appear
Over every square inch of your body
Year by year by grueling year
Or when the doctor comes in the room
And asks you to sit down
Informing you in a week or two
You'll no longer be around
So if you want to swap nightmare stories
You'd better pull those covers tight
Cause adulthood has some doozies
Sweet dreams kid and good night
Just a fun little bedtime story to read to the kids!
REFLECTION OF THOUGHTS THROUGH CITY WINDOWS
reflected lights shine
through blooming city window
giving the appearance
of Christmas ~
early spring trees of Chicago
angelic grandchildren sleep
whilst a grandma dreams of peace
soon to be wrapped in chaotic arms
watercolored frames,
likewise dream –
staring me down,
sizing me up
collecting my thoughts,
preparing scrapbook
memories – both
fun and frenetic
too soon these boys will grow
into men of honor and worth
and so i beg them at my doorstep
where my heavy heart resides
always and forever
they hold the key
to unlock
our time together
as the clock ticks and tocks
Kim Rodrigues © 2017
It’s the last of the snow
Spring finally arrived
Time to get ready for battle
Time to get my little hands
On my bag of marbles
Way up there since winter
Abandoned on my bookshelf
A droopy, limp blue velvet bag
But today a long lost friend
So proud, so bold and so bright
Protector of my priceless collection
Glass and steel weapons of rolling destruction
I undo the golden drawstring
Close my eyes and reach into the dark
Cloister of clicking clacking spheres
They run through my fingers
Feeling better than gold through a miser’s hands
Aggies, immies, cats eyes, steelies
and the most dangerous, mibs
Big fat bully marbles capable of
Knocking all of the competition
Johnnie had better watch out this year
Last year’s champ
Johnnie’d been lucky
A shark, wincing his good eye and
Whack, all the marbles dispersed
With brutal force they would fly
Like a big exploding rainbow
Fragments scattered on the ground
Crushing… yet really awesome
When he pulled out his mib
We knew we were done
But this year will be different
This year I’m more determined
Practiced each move in my head
Like a general devising his attack
Spit shined alleys, aggies,
Jumbos, glass ones ready for action
Aggies, my luckiest by far
Leaving for school full of schemes and ploys
On the way defiantly sizing up opponents
Eyeing the size of the enemies’ arsenal
Running fingers through mine
Challenging anyone carrying a loot
We had watched the yard for days
Barely contained our determination
The last of the snow clung stubbornly to school walls
Dry patches would proclaim the official opening day
Our first spring tournament could begin
And today is the day we all know it
Recess rings, doors open; “Hooray”
Is all we hear across the dried yard
As groups knuckle down to play for keepsies
Winners keepers, losers weepers
Hear that chittery clickety click clack melody
Johnnie is there full of snickering confidence
So sure he can perpetuate his reign
But he doesn't know how hard I’ve practiced
How much I want to earn his loot
Crush him and any other rival
Who dares to show off
Ready
Get set
Aim just perfectly right
Written collaboration with PATRICIA CRESSWELL
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
The troll was delighted when a wrinkled up crone wandered in.
She had an unassuming air about her, and a giant wart upon her chin.
I can pop her in my oven he thought; I bet her flesh is mighty tasty.
If he had understood Broom Hilda, he would not have been so hasty.
BH was sizing him up. She could practically taste his thighs and hips.
She had taken down trolls bigger than him, some as big as battle ships.
She took out her bag of magic, and pulled out her wand of choice.
It was a beautiful dragon-scaled beauty from her cousin Ugly Joyce.
Troll was making plans to choke her when she gave her wand a swish.
He landed on his petootsie surprising his dog, crow, and fighting fish.
What is happening? They wondered as the old woman gave a jump.
She began to bash and kick him, turning him into a fleshy clay lump.
He was easy to put into the oven, but she had no idea how to turn it on.
He crawled out an hour later and asked his pets, is that old lady gone?
She had wandered into the village that was way down a cobbled hill.
The troll thinks of her often, for he has PTSD and nightmares still.
A tired voice and less engaged
You sit there nonchalantly
Never noticing my glance
As I casually look your way
Sitting in awkward silence
Downward weary eyes hollow
As distant as your dusty smile
You gaze off into the distance
I imagine your glory days
Spirited buoyant and cheerful
So long ago and wonder
Sizing up this empty shell before me
Laden shoulders act as testimonial
To long gone years of toiling
Of struggling to survive
Barely making ends meet
Now one foot out the door
Wishing somehow
You had the strength
To take the leap
AP: 1st place 2021, 1st place 2021
Old men in blue jeans
Dungarees – that’s what they were called,
heavy, blue denim, metal button fly -
form that followed function. The “cuffs” were
rolled up because inseam sizing and “pre-worn”
softened and frayed only occurred if you got
them from an older sibling.
Time has a way of softening things, Dungarees
included. They shaped themselves to your needs,
became one with your movements, stayed with you
through the tough times, went to town with you,
wore the scars and tears of youth moving forward,
taught the lessons of toughness and tenderness,
of reliable, responsible, dependability.
The clothes did not make the man, the man gave
meaning to the clothes, imbued them with his ethic,
his love, his success and failures, stood with him
in welcome rains and barren fields. The jeans,
flannel shirts, boots, weathered face - caught
between an ever present grin and grimace -
awaited each sunrise with a purpose.
The blue jeans are now faded by age,
highlighted by wear and tear, creased
in the rutted way of old roads – necessary
but untended. They offer the comfort of memory’s
warm embrace, the unspoken bond of a friendship
shaped by the demands of life.
They still walk together, these old men and their
blue jeans, more slowly but no less proudly,
for they have grown old together and know
that “the clothes did not make them men”.
John G. Lawless
1/1/2015
FUJIWHARA EFFECT
Castanets blazing
Crashing
Dancing, two too, hot
Figures frenzied
Territorial
Spinning, sidewinding
Like sumo wrestlers, sizing
Each other up
A man, a woman
Feisty, fiesta of sorts
Contemplating their next moves
Slowing down, steeping
Stepping ever so slightly
Looking for a crown
Together at last,
An immense storm
The shore longs to run, to hide
Heartbeat of waves, throbbing
Frenzied, frightened
Castanets chattering
Like teeth, casting crowns
Against the beach
Taking it by force
Sand in the eyes
The tide rises, higher
And higher
Into vacation homes
Whipping, lashing
Every last inch
Driving it home
A giant craps
When the vows are taken
In fujiwhara effect
9/18/2017
The roosters are in full glory crowing mode today.
Some dogs are challenging them now.
Between the barks and the ruffs and the coos and the caws
it is difficult to hear the traffic on the interstate.
An orange butterfly breezes down, seemingly from a tall oak tree.
The flutter of this insect brings my eyes to the sky.
A jet plane makes barely a noise as they dash past.
People on the way to somewhere.
I am lying on my back in the grass looking up at twinkling leaves.
A hawk flies purposefully past me a few times.
Measuring me for supper?
Sizing me up, to figure out whether or not she can take me home to her hawklets?
They would have a big feast if she could lift me.
She makes two or three more passes.
If she was a turkey buzzard I would have been a bit more worried.
I look at the dog. She was groomed yesterday.
Today she looks like the wild child of Borneo; there are bits of straw or leaves
all over her coat that looked super velvety and shiny when we came out here.
The tiniest ant I have ever met came over to see what I was writing.
She pranced around on the edge of my notebook.
Maybe she is a reader ant. Maybe my words make sense to her.
I ponder this and smile, lying in the sun, on a warm day, listening to the roosters and the dogs.