Long Squint Poems
Long Squint Poems. Below are the most popular long Squint by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squint poems by poem length and keyword.
I may be just a hat but from way up here I can see
that she has her clothes hung up like little soldiers
ready for service at the drop of a hat
As I tilt my linen peonies and squint in her closet
I see a mish mash of flowery designs and I cringe
She shops at the thrifty store down the road
and I can see she favors cotton for it can breathe easy
and her favorite colors are blue and sea green.
The scent of her peppermint halo clings to her clothes
like a tight fitting slip, that I know she doesn't wear.
So many shrugs and so many t shirts, oh my oh my !
The one think I have noticed from my privileged point of view
it that she owns no black. She thinks its for funerals,
so she opts for vibrant colors and her favorite, is red.
I know I am being biased because I'm her favorite hat
and happen to be red but I must admit she wears me well !
Love it when she picks me up and places me on her head,
like I were the cat's meow. When she faces the mirror
and says, " When I wear you hat, I feel like I'm being me"
a peel of her laughter follows. Each time she tilts me up
towards the sun I must agree, she is who she says she is,
a free spirit who loves life, to the fullest.
Ghoulish shadow
macabre evening
eerie footfall
metamorphosis
hourglass swallows
collage
roseate rubicund
orange citrus
gold simoleon
tincture berserk
hover
wolfram wainscot
symmetry saturated
pigment pabulum
conspirator
mercurial monkeyshine
amorphous antics
sphinxlike skulk
amid clandestine
nocturnal nascent
twilight threshold
of
opaque canopy
weird whisper
jaded jabberwocky
jitters
flamboyant fairy
figurine
butterfly bounce
damp dimension
perfunctory paradigm
perilous
die-stamp subterfuge
teether
hazardous lingering
ointment fly
foggy flit
dusted
dousing soiled
signage
terse augury
of
alarm bell
behemoth boom
sanitised steel
enwreathes
aghast alien
caper squall
of
invisible inchoate
mordant malarky
furtive squeak
from
rusty dribble
faucet leak
smothered feline
whine
hair-raising hunch
blackened envelope
contortion
brume brickyards
death discotheque
devilish divas
funnel “fun”dament
whilst
trumpet blasting
trenchant tessitura
abrasive tin’s
gusty shrill
rasp ricochet
beneath
moon mirror
roquefort cheese
projects
apparitional squint
ominous omnibus
edition
obfuscate oddment
omniscience onomatopoeia
eldritch
She loved visiting her grandma…at Grandma’s everything just seemed right…
She especially loved those times she got to spend the night.
Because as she grew she began to find comfort in the wisdom of Grandma’s words…
Her favorite moments were sitting under the stars…and in the morning…feeding the birds.
“Sometimes when you’re not here I get lonely.” Grandma said in a sad but hopeful tone.
“But when I talk to the stars or visit with the birds…I don’t feel so alone.”
At night Grandma would point up…then squint…looking through one eye
and teach her the names of the stars…her friends up in the sky.
In the morning once the two of them had rolled out of their beds
Grandma would introduce her to the birds in her backyard as they fed them crumbs of bread.
She was remembering these moments as they left the house for Grandma’s funeral…
“Wait! I’ll only be a minute.” She said
then she ran back in the house and came out with a loaf of bread.
When the funeral was over…she gave her Grandma a tearful wave..
then began to sprinkle bread crumbs gently around her grave.
“What are you doing?” Her mother whispered…coming up behind her.
“Sprinkling bread crumbs, Mom.” She said. “So the birds know where to find her.”
“The bread will bring her friends the birds…of this I have do doubt.
The birds will keep her company during the day…until the stars come out.”
As she leaned against her mother she said…in a sad but hopeful tone…
“This is the best way I can think of…so Grandma will never be alone.”
To this day when she visits…
she still gives her Grandma a wave…
then as she’s done so many times…
she sprinkles breadcrumbs on her grave.
It has been low, dim, and heavy,
heavens part, light swoops onto open waters,
the overflow of recent torrents
glittering sky-fish skim.
Keep on driving as if the road were silver rails.
Right and left window worlds out of synch
peripherally bifurcated by speed.
The heavens part un-stitching fraying seams,
smudges unravel. Light pushes
into the open mouths of surface breathers.
The grey is rent, more light bounces off eyes;
it is a fast road; squint, grip the wheel tighter.
Left and right small animals un-plod
from the wet earth, hedgerows whisk thin colors
expose nestlings in their cradle hideaways.
Pick up a cup of instant noodles,
a 6-pack from the quickie mart.
On the lot heavens are opening
one acre at a time,
light lowers like a faded wedding gown
marbling concrete
dressing the cars in lacy.
Reach into condo, eat noodles, drink beer
while heavens knit together
with a last twinkle of silver needles.
Upside Down Town
Not a ripple disturbs the
Surface of Sunset Lake.
In the bright sun
I squint across the pond,
And there I see my town
In the water mirror,
Upside down!
Houses standing on their roofs,
Their colors bleeding greens
And grays and yellows like
Paints on a silver-blue
Impressionistic canvas.
The gnarled branches
Of the oaks and maples,
Instead of reaching skyward,
Stretch their leafy fingers
Toward the bottom of the lake,
As if fishing for their lunch!
Upside down cars whiz by
Above the houses,
Wheels spinning in the air.
A patch of feathery yellow reeds
Grows down, not up, and
Sweeps the sandy depths.
Do you suppose that people
In those topsy-turvy houses
Are standing on their heads?
Or walking on the ceilings
Just as Mary Poppins did?
Maybe they just float,
Like astronauts in space,
And drink their soda
Through a straw and eat
From drifting plates!
It’s disorienting, yes,
To say the very least!
I really think I like
My town much better
Right side up!
1
I slow the chevy
then stop.
I turn around
and look back.
There, behind the bedroom window,
behind a lacy white curtain,
I see a figure,
a face,
a waving hand,
an old ghost
from a crinkled black and white,
arisen to meet me again,
kiss me again in this darkness,
returning to haunt
my matchboxes and combs,
the pretty Mexican girl
with the black medusa tresses;
She that licked my lips
when pressed against hers;
That is no ghost, or is it?
Let me squint these sated eyes
and double check.
I see the slicker girl of 17 years
dressed in ’69 day-glow
That’s her.
It’s not real. Never
2
Red girly fingernails
tapping the chevy seat,
always adjusting, turning
dark brown pantyhose,
and the radio,
always planning and conniving
a quick insecure glance
at a perfumed compact.
She opens her purse widely
retrieving the white slicker tube;
Then come the rituals
of lips and tongues and
sweetened spit ensuing there,
‘Hey Jude’ finding an angular perch
behind them.
3
“Is the door locked?”
Waves of Groucho
on a Magnavox console
emanating towards us
from the next room over
you and me are naked
beneath the whites
ridden in adolescent stains
squirming under the cracks
of raw unfiltered listening
to Pink Floyd smearing alive
the preposterous universe
using Moog synthesizer knives
as Janis from west Texas
sprawls on a ironing board
firmly positioned and plied
She rides the fast horse
two slippery hours ablaze
“Honey, could you turn the dial?”
4
Bill Balance slings eggs and
the Feminine Forum at 3,
riding the waxy airways
with staticky plumes
This dead disc-jockey is
breathing heavily again
into a ghostly microphone.
“Hey Alice, are you a married girl?
Do you have a nice body?
Do you have charging rhino haunches?”
5
“Come inside now.
Hide under these columns,
These stones of plastic marble,
As the world finally ends,
Finally trembles in the sinking sand.
Who knew? Right?
Joke’s on us, but honestly,
We all knew it was coming,
Hopefully later, but coming.
Who knew it would happen
Like this?“
I slow the chevy
Then stop.
Oaks, sycamores and hickories greet me in my favorite woods.
I walk through dappled sunlight, taking my jacket off as I walk.
Down the familiar dirt path, I reach my favorite relaxation spot.
A tiny brook that is running a bit thanks to April’s generous rain.
I hear a twig snap. Look up in time to catch a white tail deer leaping.
I had apparently startled her; she pauses at tree line to glance back.
I scoop some water up in my hands and take a drink. It is cool, delicious.
Tiny minnows catch my eye, and a few really pretty pebbles.
I collect a pile of them, and stack them for the walk back to the house.
Giant felled log is my next destination. I sit on her a bit, soaking up sun.
It's seventy-eight degrees now. I take off my shirt. No one is here.
There is an ethereal feeling today, like spirit guides are watching.
My dog sits patiently beside me, she loves it here, just like I do.
We could fall asleep here easily. I squint toward the meadow next door.
Queen Anne’s lace and wild daisies are calling. We begin to walk.
At the edge of the pond I stick in a bare toe. It’s not bad, refreshing
Luckily, I am wearing a swimming suit under my clothes.
I take off my shirt and shorts and dive in. The dog is right behind me.
As we swim we hit warm spots, natural springs.
I doubt anyone else has ever experienced Nirvana like we have.
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.
I've traveled this path
Suffering the consequences of my lords wrath
Yet I won't stumble
My passion to susceed I refuse to fumble
Squint my eyes to see through the battles of love
But all I see is my reflection in the shadows of blood
I'm thankful for this
You have blessed and bestowed on me
The comfort and warmness that have grown on me
And right before I rest my thoughts
"Our father which art in heaven"
I now know why your favorite number is seven
I hold my fists, my fingerprints, my palms
Only for a touch of passion from your thumb
Yes I'm the youngest born of nine children
The only curse born outside the walls of Kilborne
And exactly who is the chosen one
Could it be the only idiots barechested opposing a gun
Fame is something you, yourself adore
A place to smile, be happy
With jagged and jaded thrills is something I'd die for
I'm that raisen in bitter bread
That single sin
That came from those that were innocently fed
Mrs. Brown, you have killed my future
Everything I worked and hurt for
Even if I was a peasant, I couldn't beg for more
I'm curious to know
How do you sleep at night
Your only objective now is to feed the fight
Swallow this poisonous seed built from your guilt
And lie bleeding in the night
Here I am alone
on a deserted beach
the sea is rough
As the waves swell
I walk in the long
shadow I cast before me
Cold is the wind
that slices at my back.
I stand and scan the distant horizon
to see what is coming.
I know not what it will be
only my soul is here
to keep me company
A distance I can not ponder.
A road I can not see
I squint to look past the line of vanishing.
And I only notice how my eyes sting.
I do know not the paths
I have taken before
or the ones I will have traveled upon
From this point on
Something is there
in the distance of the sea
I feel its blur, waiting
And I can only stand
in my shadow cast before me
Knowing the cold slicing me
I scan the distance horizon
The vanishing point of the sea
I can only note how my eyes sting!