Long Spots Poems
Long Spots Poems. Below are the most popular long Spots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Spots poems by poem length and keyword.
To gaze back upon footprints of my time
And see the prints so shallow fade to gray
As they dissolve and leave no trace behind
I'll hesitate to look beyond the day
When standing straight is a moment treasured
And hair once full is now a thin disguise
When my skin gains spots and wrinkles measured
I still smile every morning when I rise
When nothings real but passing time I live
And every deed pressed to my heart inlaid
I struggle with the things I must forgive
Before the mental photographs all fade
I'll watch the children of my heart at play
Before my footprints slowly fade away
2/7/14
Mother loves her darling, infant girl.
Mother must protect her from such a callous world.
In a world full of heart break and pain we must count the cost.
Plus each day is just another day lost.
Mother tenderly snapped babies growing bones,
Pared them down and set them, under ripped skin, sewn.
I must save my sweet baby from ever growing up!
From being taken from me and eventually into a coffin, shut!
Time went along, as time likely does…
One more day gone, then a year just…was!
Darling baby girl in bonnet and bibb,
Inevitably began to grow and get big.
Tiny red spots played across her once clear face…
hair began to grow…in the strangest place!
Mother went to work, no slacker she,
A Plucking, cutting, shaping, stitching spree.
“ I won't allow time to take you away,
I won't let my baby suffer”, she'd say.
Infant girl was not permitted to speak.
Submitting to tortuous administrations, humble and meek.
However, babies are permitted to scream.
And the girl did plenty of that, crying streams.
Mother finished, swaddled baby in gauze,
She nursed and burped her, happily thinking of her good cause.
“Now, it's time to sleep, so I will read to you again.
How about our favorite? Cinderella, by the Brothers Grimm.”
Mother continued to smile, proud she was doing her part.
“Mother's do what must be done…much easier, when you have no heart. “
A Doe and Her Fawn
On wobbly legs, the fawn staggers behind the doe,
Who pauses to let the newborn catch up.
The fawn appears to be just a few hours old,
As revealed by its arduous locomotion
And the white, freckled spots on its back
Melded into its butterscotch-coloured fur coat.
The fawn’s softly adoring, oversized eyes
Plead for nourishment,
And the whitetail deer doe (patient, as mothers go)
Licks her offspring, bonding and cleaning,
As it instinctively nudges her teats with its nose
To stimulate her mammary glands.
The fawn suckles the mother’s milk,
Which provides it with the nutrients to grow.
The doe stares at me without fear
And lets the fawn satiate its hunger.
Its little head bobbing and its tail flagging
As its craving is abated and its appetite satisfied;
It is contented and ready to continue its journey
In the ways of nature and survival.
The doe slowly moves on as the fawn struggles
(Those steps must seem an eternity to complete,
Requiring a great magnitude of expendable energy),
Which the doe senses, and so she lies down,
And the fawn, from on its four legs, plops down
Beside her for a much-needed rest.
I got on the train line
Metro North allows bikes, I had mine.
I stood near the door, other spots occupied
I had a mountain bike, but it can road ride.
Two women got on, one had a suitcase
They sat down, looked at my haggard face.
The tall one asked why I had a mountain bike
The short one said it was faster than a hike.
Then the short one gave a self-righteous frown.
She emphatically declared "He must be kept down!"
You might ask why, you might be intrigued
But it's a long story, and I'm fatigued.
I had a history, a woman felt rejected
The truth was pathetic but never inspected.
She became a lesbian, then I interfered for her sake.
I had plenty of years to rue that mistake.
Those four words intrigue me, many a time
How bizarre motives can trap you in a design
What business have these women to diminish anyone?
To hem a man in, to filter the sun?
Some work underground, sway events from below
control beliefs, control where I go.
Funny in a way, that anyone would care
whether I rose or fell on life's transient stair.
The tall woman caressed the short one
Those four words kept hurting like bullets from a gun.
I guess people form tribes by victim ideology:
It wasn't me who owed them an apology.
The train rolled on, past shadow and light,
Her verdict hung there, it just wasn't right.
I went on my bike ride, but later events showed
That a war was waged, that nobody knowed.
We had just received our second COVID vaccination…the one that if we get the Coronavirus will help us to survive…and then we waited the next few days for the side effects to arrive.
We read about them…and friends had given us a list of side effects they compiled…but we were lucky as our side effects…were relatively mild.
We had some slight headaches, some chills and our arms hurt where the medicine when in…but overall I have to say when it comes to vaccination side effects…We win!
Until I looked in the mirror and what I saw…stopped me cold…”Deborah, I said, come quick…I think this vaccination’s made me old!”
“My skins all wrinkly…there’s spots all over it…and much to my surprise…a lot of my hair is missing…and I have bags underneath my eyes!”
The more I looked at myself the more I realized…It was just as I had thought…I’ve aged a lot in these few days…after receiving my COVID shot.
Deborah was not very comforting…she did not ease my fears…as she kissed me on my wrinkly cheek and said, “You’ve looked like that for years”.
Oh, that can’t be true I said to myself as Deborah walked away without acknowledging my woe…I’m sure I looked much younger just a couple days ago…
But there is a silver lining…for now when people say I’ve gotten older…
that my looks have gone to pot…
I will wave my wrinkly hand…
smile my wrinkly smile and say…
“I blame it on the shot”.
Warmed fingers on cold shoulders
A slow wrap of arms behind
Soft exhalations
Tailed by disclosures unrehearsed
Being drawn into a haunting tale
The scent of peppermint on the breath
An idea acknowledged, commended, valued
Tears of joy having yet to fall
The soft demand of “tell me,”
After copious hope to speak
A phone call in the dead of night
Dancing close in the shadows
Adventurous beckoning—a dare!
Secret exchanges in a crowded room
A teasing smile after a blunder
A departure filled with laughter
** Feeling a series coming on. (: Much love, happy holidays to all.
Love always, Laura
With crimson spots on our fingertips
Blood started by a sharp pin prick
We mixed our blood in the tree house out back
And solemnly sealed our best friends pact
Two small boys at the young age of ten
Making a pledge we would honor time and time again
A bond that would hold for over sixty years
Helping each other through the turmoil and tears
When you broke your arm, I carried your schoolbooks
You took the blame for the piece of candy I took
We stood up together against the bully at school
I helped you learn to swim in the neighborhood pool
I practiced your lines for the high school play part
You helped me cope with my first broken heart
You didn’t live in the Honor’s House so we could be roommates
We always fixed each other up so we could double date
We were each other’s best men on our wedding days
And Godfathers for the children that came our way
You helped me through some financial times that were tough
I provided moral support when your divorce got rough
You sat up with me all night when my wife passed away
I helped you come to terms with your diagnosis that day
I watched you pass peacefully into the cold, dark night
And I know I will join you later when the time is right
With crimson spots on our fingertips
Blood started by a sharp pin prick
We mixed our blood in the tree house out back
And solemnly sealed our best friends pact
All set for a journey of her own,
a lonesome soul, she lingers at the bridge.
That last glimpse, she dares not.
Fear wrenched wounded heart,
her next step may grow unsteady.
Strange crossing it was, long and tough.
But once midst attained, feet faltered.
Safer was her soul she feels as
her gaze embraces the river flow.
Senses are slowly shaken.
Peace washes weaknesses as
faint chimings of bell forces her deaf ears.
So faint...she must be really far.
Sad smiles tease her lips and
Each decisive step becomes a challenge.
The end, now mere paces ahead....
A call for goodbye manifests.
A bold turn..all are gazing in shocked silence;
those alleys, those secret lovers' spots,
those sweet little moments, those shy heartbeats...
Lost innocence, shattered trust
and the final awakening to heart breaking,
dreams falling apart evoke that pain which kills.
A final sign ....was it...
Mesmerised ... indecisive steps turn back;
quicker and then apprehensive...
Uncertainty reigns around, a hand moved...
Was it beckoning or waving farewell...
Sunset to dawn, a poor heap crouched,
shivering like naked in the cold.
Knuckles pale on the rail, begs for support.
Indeed, another mistake ....
The sign is but a goodbye wave.
Let go, she must....to move on.
"Goodbye love...may you fare well.."
whispers force open through her trembling lips.
Assembles herself...she must... no choice.
A new journey ahead, a new dawn.
Eyes blank but heart suddenly relieved.
Destiny opens another path
while one is just left behind....
Head lifts slowly to face the toughest.
The sun on the other side brightens
and life, of what remained in her grew stronger.
She laughs at nothing but at everything.
There is no going back from here...
Love is life and life is love, she hums.
Today, I was determined to fly a kite;
There was plenty of wind with no clouds in sight.
Strenuously I checked the strength of the twine;
I didn’t want any troubles fouling up my line.
The knots that I tied were quite snug;
Each line was checked with a mighty tug.
Then I attached an elongated tail
To the kite’s bamboo frame with a trusty nail.
The kite’s blue silk was speckled with dots,
Like blue cheese with a bunch of white spots.
I picked up the kite; I started to run;
As I fed out some line, the kite soared straight for the sun;
I could only squint as I felt the sun’s rays;
It scorched my inquisitive gaze.
Suddenly, I felt an uncomfortable lurch
As the kite fell from its lofty perch;
I raised the bobbin in the opposite direction,
Quite certain I made the appropriate correction.
As time marched by, the sun’s glow faded;
Threatening clouds sprang up deeply shaded.
The warm air vanished; the wind began to howl;
The lightning was on the prowl.
The kite began to yaw; the sky to fall;
Like a numbing dread came the squall.
Torrents of rain thrashed against my face;
Nothing dry was left to chase.
Lightning stretched across the angry sky;
After a pause, there was a thunderous cry.
I never before lost a kite, nor did I set one adrift into the night.
If the line is cut would that be right?
Kneeling in the freezing mud, I rewound the twine;
Yet, when my fingers numbed; I cut the line.
Suddenly, not ten feet from my right was a bright streak of light;
It plunged into the mud with a great fright.
Bobbin in hand, I dashed for my car; I didn’t get far;
I slipped in the mud wounding my pride with a scar.
Safely in the warmth my car, I rested; slowly I closed my eyes,
I then realized that my life was the prize.
Life is crazy so make sure the getaway car is always ready
So, we can hop in and leave the single life behind
Crank up the tunes riding so smooth it feels like we’re riding on clouds
Let’s stop at Whataburger for a little snack and photoshoot
Still dressed in our wedding attire
The white, burgundy, and rose gold goes well with the white wash tires
1821 are our numbers but the year is 1935 on the cream old school ford
Suicide doors but I knew a long time before today I would die for you
Let’s see the world tonight I’ll be the chauffeur
Cruising to all our favorite spots anything for my queen
Tire tracks painting our love scene
p.s. I wish everything was as smooth as our ride in the Ford from 1935…