Long Snippets Poems
Long Snippets Poems. Below are the most popular long Snippets by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Snippets poems by poem length and keyword.
I've reached beyond the age of RPM records
youthful addiction
My forty-fives tilt in a corner of the basement,
leaning tower of teenage angst,
Wrapped now in decades of neglect.
Why can't I dispose of you?
Clutter crime of nostalgia's pull
This craving for rock 'n roll renegades,
singers of weed-garden life
punishers of social rules
Ageless idols of grainy texture
in fraying fabrics, tie dyed
So many odes to love, longing, anger
Snippets of R n' R once bleeding from open windows,
like wanderers dancing in darkness
Charged rhythm once labelled
force of evil,
Musical clout like tattered boxing gloves
Limitless bliss to unstuck youth
Something to stagger to,
life's nimble recollection,
a secret world
of cherished entry
Implacable lyrics
that preserve themselves
in all that spins
(Poem revised July 2020 with 2 new stanzas added, along with a title change.)
Dollars, coins, love letters, or candy
I swear to you I’ll be human poetry.
Please if you would, fill my tip jar.
Snippets of fortune are what I need.
I swear to you I’ll be human poetry,
a joy from start to sweeping finish.
Snippets of fortune are what I need,
bobbin’ to get ‘em stuck in my teeth.
A joy from start to sweeping finish,
release happens with give and take.
Bobbin’ to get ‘em stuck in my teeth,
spit that luck up in a wishing well.
Release happens with give and take,
your love will fuel my reciprocation.
Spit that luck up in a wishing well,
let abundance wash all over me.
Your love will fuel my reciprocation.
Please if you would, fill my tip jar.
Let abundance wash all over me
dollars, coins, love letters, or candy.
Snippets play inside my mind.
Pieces of movies which I find
Are ingrained; cinema projected...
Dorment and then resurrected.
Sometimes, just a simple thought
Or action has the snippet caught.
Often, in a single day
They play - and sometimes on replay.
Moments big and moments small...
A century of films in all.
Silver, colour, sex and violence...
Even scenes made in their silence.
When I'm bored, I like to visit
These - I find them quite exquisite.
Shots and scenes in all their glory
From any given category.
The theatre based inside my head
Captures what's said and unsaid.
I cherish snippets because they
Can help to fill some of my day.
Face framed ornate, or curl corner blu tacked up
Childhood fanciful daring must softly be contained
Dispicable hovers inside cherub cheeked adorable
Challenge for enamoured to create correct shape
Administer discipline with compassion entangled
Potential beckons infant innately curious
Toddler discovery meshed with messiness
Woven with wonderment routine can't limit
Succumbed mother disowns justifiable furious
Besotted witness, sure estate for mischief
Nudging daughters towards beings approved
Beyond old rigidity, modern option multiples
Youth spoken forums we're foreigners to
Images of genuine and fake indiscernible
Listened to lunacy delivers messages askew
Duty to daughters reflect our similarity
Penciled declarations stuck to fridge
Devotedness focussed on child precious
Inflated effort, parents' universal currency
Whether meagre expenditure, or excess
Snippets of your prosper are written in me
Lawyer loads clothes into washing machine
Submerged both classes in a world severe
Puppets of striving in fast passed society
Consumer boom boldly commandeered
Disparity reveals parental symmetry amazing
Faithfully accommodating girls' shifting needs
Working mothers, each of us 'unaccompanied'
Various sized resources serve child raising
Sacrifice made by dedicated souls equally
Providing guidance, friendship gripes quieten
Line of latitude curved by desire to control
Old school wisdom bolsters brains susceptible
Dramatised screen infused new century children
Content quickly spirals into unacceptable
Desperately hoping, we Mother soldiers
Shield children from future provocation
Hold fort, nest feathered dedication
Thrusted comfort, reluctant scolders
Admist mixed rails, reliable station
Within swayed pre teen trajectory
Sturdy parenting depots journey
Home stands firm from outside duress
Finances overshadowed by reliability
Partnered peers approve sole success
17th July 2020
#Snippets,Tidbits, and Pieces minus Peace...
Flecks and Specks sprawled evenly and eventually...leaving no room for possibilities and puzzle pieces scattered haphazardly; no room for building inevitably, it's a choice, depending on a conclusive voice and it would be made known a Full understanding, of shards of discards desired to be left outstanding; BOULDERS BOLD OF TRUTH in this bit, built branding...No Tresspass* on this "BUILT TO LAST" Landing; Gated and Guarded Mentally; Let's Zoom In More...
Fragments Form Finalization For Formation
*ALL* Information Is Not Usually Deemed Necessary...On the Contrary, it Depends On *WHO* You're Talking To...Such a BROAD View Skewed and Selectively the "fine print" goes unnoticed, unobtained and UNANSWERED
In conclusion, there's no illusion on this microscopic topic and poem; just like a house is not a home that always encourages understanding beneath it's dome... pebbles and fragments forms a foundation that stands alone; peace is not a negotiation, when missing pieces has no consideration and that's what happens when snippets and tidbits holds it's own...WHOLE OUTCOMES determine those snips* of seedings that's been sewn.
©Renee Denise Gross 12/9/2017#
is both sought and unsought
the unsought is the reality
the prevalence of grace
through all of our seeking..
But the seeking in our experience
is an expectation that our seeking
with diligent pursuit and care
will yield a result and reward
of the very happiness sought..
Indeed snippets of transcendence
are found as reward for diligence
but the snippet soon dissolves
returning we suppose to
its measureless Source...
Seeking soon continues
searching once more with
reinforced expectation that the
snippet might be found once more..
How many searches we wonder
before an all-at-once discovery
that each of us is fully captured
immersed and made of
the unsought transcendence
we have been seeking...
I carry you with me
Everywhere that I go.
In my eyes,
In my smile,
In the way I walk,
How I talk,
Even how I act and dress.
I am something of you merged,
Bits of what you were,
Pieces of what you are,
Snippets of what
..you could have been,
And as I continue,
I will become something of you never seen.
I carry you
In laugh and tears,
And memory and stories.
Most of all, I carry you
In my heart.
I carry you
As though you
Are part of me.
How lucky I should be
To carry you at all.
But how unfair it is all the same.
I shouldn't have to carry you at all.
You should be here,
Carrying your own
With me by your side
As it's always been.
I'm holding your letters, here in my hand
Each word is wrapped in cursive swirls
Of trembling, eloquent, handwriting...
You shared your life with me...
A gift of yourself, like little grains of sparkling sand...
Slipping through my open fingers
But, it's only now.... that I fully understand...
They were small chapters, and stories....detailed accounts...
of a picture you framed,
a flower you grew, a morning of mauve,...
a dress you made, a puzzle you solved...
or the rains that quickly came, then disappeared...
A little life, a simple day, so quickly came, and left....through fading years....
Snippets of a life that seemed unremarkable, too easily dismissed
Until you were gone.
Until I missed you...
Until I began to realize
that I wouldn't have a second chance...
another day, to pay closer attention, ...
to ask more questions,...to show more interest
to look deeper into your eyes,
those eyes of experience, clarity...
kindness and charity...
so filled with the wisdom of age
....before the page of love had closed....
Your caring, ...your patience,...your understanding....
That in my neglectful ways,
I thought would always be....
These letters I hold in my hand,
ending with words of love.....
that perhaps, I didn't really deserve
That only now, I've truly heard....
By Carrie Richards
______________________________________
Inside a library of things uncountable,
clippings, extracts, jottings, and snippets
gather words out of nothing.
Mind dust wafts.
A woman approaches with an armful
of my early, roughly cobbled poems.
behind her, unwritten books
begin to fall off bookless shelve.
“Don’t worry” she says,
she is Scottish and actually says:
“dinna fash yersel.”
An old Celtic grandma peeps out of her eyes.
The enormity of everything
overcomes the moment.
She places the fragmented scribblings
in an untidy pile upon a small reading table.
The thought of a ‘reading table’
amuses me;
she smiles while the rest of her vanishes.
After reading all the table had to offer,
I leave the building empty-handed.
Outside, a mackerel sky
begins to rewrite some passing clouds,
Like myself,
it is constantly editing and revising
its reality
the way a bowl fish does
when it swims full circle.
i am transformed. in what i see.
my eyes can not discern
as shapes melt and swirl
and break into dots --
merging with the Static.
i am transformed. in what i hear.
of overlapping rips of space itself
with the unyielding babel of humanity.
i hear everything and nothing
becoming one with the Hiss.
i am transformed. in what i touch.
my insubstantial hands stir turbulence
passing through scratchy mist.
the Dust drapes over me and through me.
i am infused with the smell of a million worlds.
i am transformed. in what i think.
of snippets of thought
impinging on me.
racing through my awareness
and memories of titillation.
i am arrested by efficiency and classification.
my mind gives over to the Context it can no longer fight.
i have been transformed.
in all my senses and in all my thoughts
i am conjoined with all Things.
i am Undifferentiated.