Long Squinting Poems
Long Squinting Poems. Below are the most popular long Squinting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Squinting poems by poem length and keyword.
August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born.
The odd uneven time—Sylvia Plath
End Of August
The end of August is oh so near
Yet, another day of golden sun scorches
Another day with ruby rays that sear
Wild brush burns like fiery torches
No not an exaggeration, a flambeau
Blistering heat blankets my tawny skin
Sweltering August, I bid you adieu
Foliage dry and brittle; sunken in
Squinting eyes, blinded bright
Awaiting shadows that stretch and deepen
Sun flowers once vivid, lost in a haze of light
Autumn creeps in imperceptibly subtle, sublimely
Ablaze are the arid western skies
The evening west's sun takes its time, rashly, untimely
Yellow aglow, settling sights of fires belies
Lingering sun setting its rouge rage lust
Harbinger of the season to come
Equinox heralds a sign,
in the end of August
Squinting towards the lens, pressed fingers poised
Patter of shutters point to ample publication
Greater than any citizens' optimised hopes
Helicopter swept, high stake hustling self opinion
Gratuitous frog mouth catches fools, sticky tongue lashings
Golf club strolling, silver spoon holding, crumbs for cleaners
Pussy grabber dresses in pro life garb for target demographic
Speaks the language of fanaticism, fist in scripture
Heavy repertoire laced in hate. Dire threat leant on as a pillar
Podium fronted pompous smoothes fear with one liners
Gambling with virus spits in the face of reckless ruler
Trillion dollar trade removed, blackjack tapped table bust
Mogul makes workers homeless amidst bankruptcy claims
Grotesque filing fails retains dozens of glinting casinos
Gall lets leader make meme of nuclear dictator
Having little remaining reign tenure, pocket profane folds
12th July 2020
We've taken off the gloves
the "mask"querade continues
a charade of lying eyes
scanning the dance floor
following the "arrowed" steps
viewing a world through fogging glasses
squinting warily at theories
collusion, conspiracy, "coronamania"
Fauci playing Faust
the elderly as pawns
in a political chess game
as children climb fences
to enter playgrounds
and liquor store cash registers ring
guard dogs circle toilet paper towers
the homeless want "venmo" contributions
lest they touch your filthy money
and God sits idly by
locked out of "His" churches
John G. Lawless
7/11/2020
The smell of lavender
Memory released
Walking down a quaint street
White picket fences
Hand in grandmas hand
Avoiding cracks
Protecting my mom's back
Sun warming my face
Squinting away the yellow
Down a long hill
Going to the corner store
Nickels and pennies held in my small hand
An empty pop bottle tucked under my arm
I am skipping now
There's a treat waiting for me
The ding as I step through the door
My feet shuffle along the floor
There is so much to see
I'm lost in my glee
Hey mister can I have a bag
He passes one to me
Such a difficult choice
Three candies for a penny
One bottle fifteen candies
That's just dandy
I'm smiling ear to ear
Thanks grandma for bringing me here
The smell of lavender
Mixed with sweets
Some memories are a treat
(Warning, some dark humor. If you are sensitive about death and illness, have recently lost a loved one, this is not a read for you)
My cat talks to me in Catinese,
an abbreviated form of meows
and geese-like chirps – but
somehow it does not get in the
way of understanding, for we do
carry-on so; myself speaking mostly
gibberish, our coochy-coo language
reserved for pets and infants. When it
turns to telepathy I am really astounded,
those inquisitive tilts of the head,
and mysteriously orchestrated stares,
eye-blinks and squinting: like a bartender
an hour after last call...and a widow, in search
of an all-around repair man, hers of
40 years having gingerly passed on....
You’ll know when it’s time to go home or to stay,
When flight seems much better than standing to fight,
When the hair in your beard is starting to gray,
When oncoming headlights are glaringly bright,
When it’s no longer safe to be driving at night,
When early departures don’t feel like a crime,
When parallel parking just seems a bit tight,
You’ll know when it’s time.
When the old blue jeans are starting to fray,
When naught in your closet is fitting just right,
When that scale reading starts to heavily weigh,
When you’re squinting more and you’re losing your sight,
When subtitles are your way out of your plight,
When that box weighs too much and you’re not in your prime,
When your belt needs loosening, pants are too tight,
You’ll know when it’s time.
When it’s hard to convince and harder to sway,
When will’s given way to maybe or might,
When nothing, it seems, is going your way,
When your armor has dulled, and you’re more knave than knight,
When your shoulders are slumping, you’ve lost some in height.
When your parking’s expired and you don’t have a dime,
When some of life’s joys have lost their delight,
You’ll know when it’s time.
When the sublime submerges and everything’s trite,
When the meter’s all shot and nothing will rhyme,
When your mind draws a blank and has nothing to write,
You’ll know when it’s time.
----------
first ballade attempt... lol, this sounds pretty depressing!
idea was this: we have to make changes as we get older,
but "we'll know when it's time"... I need some new writing material...
Drinks fridge murmurs accusations at me
Seals connect with whoosh of door close
Defuses incriminating strip of lights lairy
Where I go from this station, God knows!
Lady taking my coins sneers, fat old wench
Bottled coffee shaking, I scope the scene
Funny country fuel stop, platform with bench
Five feet above bowsers, no other beings
Infusing creamy caffeine flows frozen veins
Squinting, suddenly morning haze is scared
Flung away by fireball promising burn's pain
Screech of rest room door makes me aware
Swaggered jean jostling cowboy, crotch itch
Rips sunstruck silver jangle of keys unfurled
His calloused hands fondle freedom tickets
Flanellette shirt, dog fur dull unkempt curls
Moment slipping, I extend my leg, stretched
Sandshoe foot dangled bare ankled amber
His attentive sway, reaction I needed to get
Casual smile exchange shows easy candour
Disappeared Adam's apple displays his nerves
Flipped flaxen cascades accompany my laughs
I appear the type of slender he doesn't deserve
Ask mystery man where his bloody car's parked
Bow legged, he saunteringly walks me across
Feet scuff on rough bitumen arrest birds
Chrome, maroon forty year old ute's new gloss
Brings his chest thrust pride, without words
Thick doors reassuringly clunk open, vynyl
Glides my compact package, legs swung in
Sun warmed cabin smells of 70's revival
Decomposing foam, dashboard shrinking
Glances to get my approval of rev shudder
I grin, grab the arm rest in readiness
Rear wheels kick dust, bold engine thunders
Gravel edges send intended impediment
Thrumming along open road, windows down
Throw my medusas in mad frenzy, big relief
Inserts itself, I need to get out of this town
Need him to take me there, encounter brief
10th September 2020
Years ago, in a big transition in my life,
I witnessed three rainbow archways.
Framed by sun-kissed red apartments,
The setting sun kisses goodbye to the cloudless sky.
I took a picture then, between the runs from my old home
and my mother's car. Glistening brow and squinting eyes,
I raised my phone, holding it horizontally, 1...2...3.
I remembered an old meme about double rainbows,
but I found three. Back to putting cardboard boxes into the car.
The pictures were blurry, unfocused, and slightly fuzzy.
Like a memory, from one phone to the next,
The photos get transferred. Until one day, I've lost them.
I hadn't a guess where they went, lost to time probably.
Now I have slightly fuzzy archways to remember within.
One archway for the home I'm leaving behind,
Another for the latest transition to my new life,
And the last for the future I do not know.
A rainbow, a rainbow, a rainbow
Three distant rainbows I have no proof of, oh well.
I need only to remember to ensure they don't fade away.
Where Has All The Beauty Gone?
There is no time like the now times,
The ever-present blood-swooshing times.
Time again to surrender as a smitten lover surrenders,
To the never-ending rhapsodies of erotic impulses,
Which exhale as a listless leviathan exhales,
Basking in the swishing waters off the windy capes,
Naked, but kept hidden, in the unknown anterior rooms,
Of a hundred dark mansions in the draping hollows,
Encased with ethereal atmospheres and essences,
In stony gold, glittering emeralds, and smooth diamonds,
All dazzling the senses with spurting explosions of light,
Of helpless exaltations and cooing astonishments;
Now they’re seeking the old nights and the old embraces
In the gaping moonlight, amid intense and timid arousals;
Their blinking black eyes squinting from behind the papered walls,
Of dustless airless rooms with drooping statues of dead poets,
Alive still as they rise again in mythic intonations,
Making suave movements with pointing soft fingers,
Upon the moist nape of blond submitting desires.
Watching in spirit now as they once peeped at lovers;
Peeping and prying and peering from behind infinitesimal holes,
Never seen before by the living or the bereaved,
Nor by the delirious or the unjustly defamed;
Now they just bite us, the souls of the dead boys in blue.
And they watch us from behind those bare walls,
Those breathing twitching snarling walls.
So, where has all the beauty gone?
Awaken to sounds of flight, machines in the distance
Muffled sounds from fire watch
Bellowing to arms to arms
Planes humming, men rising from their slumber
The sky was dark, silhouettes dimmed the stars
Unapproachable rays and milky ways faded
As the Reaper flew over way
With tools of trade
Squinting indistinctly it had begun
To my feet, roused to the berm
In celebration I danced with wolves of war
Marines gathering for the kill
Then I recognized the sound of Thunder
In the distant flashes of light, insidious it was
Thump, Thump Boom
Thump, Boom
The feeling of black, the approach of stillness
Where nothing exist
Such a sight, watched in awe as the sand shook my feet
Would we be brave?
Leathernecks cheered
And the Sentry yelled, “To arms to arms”
In innocence I encouraged death
My thoughts trapped in haunting recollection
I bear in mind, If only we knew
I died with them
If only I knew lost I was that night
My soul hidden in the desert
And in my dreams to arms, to arms, to arms