Long Stamp Poems
Long Stamp Poems. Below are the most popular long Stamp by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stamp poems by poem length and keyword.
(This is a fictional poem)
I had to pay two cents to the post office because of you.
Now opening a can of whoop ___ is what I'm going to have to do.
It really makes me mad because money doesn't grow on trees.
I would rather have had my privates cut off than to part with those two pennies.
You put a thirty-nine cent stamp on the envelope because you forgot that postage
has been increased.
There should be a law against what you did because I would call the police.
When I cussed you out, you had the nerve to call me a creep.
Just because I didn't want to part with two cents, you said that I'm cheap.
Form:
For some strange reason the need to see
a look through the box of what use to be
Stacks of time some neatly arranged
a glimpse back at lives revealing times changed
What seems like yesterday can this be
time stamp on the back says May 83’
Look here’s one of gramps sitting in his chair
did I really wear that sweater by the way nice hair
Bundles of the kids when they were younger
is this you as a baby looks like your brother
Digging through reveal pictures of rare
a heavy gaze of thought can’t help but stare
Of more innocent times when I was younger
come black and white photos of my father and mother
How quickly it takes to look through the years
most pictures of joy some bring tears
Good for now until the next time I need
a look through the box of what use to be
-KR-
It would be fifteen rounds against the longtime champ,
But I was an upcomer, ready to make my stamp.
With an undefeated record, he was well renowned.
I was in good shape, with low weight, hoping to be crowned.
In the first round, I came out fast, full of fire and fury.
Throwing lefts and rights, my opponent I would bury.
He didn’t seem so great, not much of a force at all,
Yet, as hard I hit that guy, I could not make him fall.
In round 3, he landed an upper cut to my gut.
I was badly reeling, while he still remained uncut.
In round 4, he hammered me with a hook to the head.
Some reporters in the stands wondered if I was dead.
It looked like it was over, after he knocked me flat.
Just before the bell rang, I staggered up off the mat.
Dazed and confused, I continued to attempt my best.
This guy was relentless, as he put me to the test.
I was getting tired and decided to fight him smart.
I chose my punches more carefully than at the start.
At the end of the fourteenth round, I was still standing,
But I was a mess, from the beating he was handing.
Next round, I asked, nearly falling, without being hit,
Could I fend off blows, win points, would the judges permit?
No sir, I was knocked out cold, couldn’t be reheated,
And once again, Father Time remained undefeated.
Within our homes, what really matters,
Barring the décor,
Is how we feel, despite some tatters
Or an aging floor.
For if we’ve made a cozy haven
Where we can unwind,
The stress or tension we’ve been savin’
Can be left behind.
Each hand-picked tchotchke, rug or table,
Photograph or lamp
Creates a space where we are able
To imprint our stamp.
Our rooms reflect what makes us smile,
Chosen for ourselves.
If others do not like our style
Or what sits on our shelves,
It doesn’t matter even slightly.
We just do our best
To please the ones who, day and nightly,
Share our little nest.
We have that moment in our life
where love comes down into one's heart
the desire from deep within explodes
hits one there pierces like a love dart
Kathleen and Joe were so apart
in real life but electronically so close
the electrodes caused a real spark
when the web lines smelled their nose
Memories come flooding back here
to days when they were no email
snail mail as it's labelled nowadays
the stamp took us wings to sail
One year before meeting face to face
Christine and I by letters to exchange
so much one can learn by our pen
it made us feel at home on our range
You're the only one I want
both our feelings did unite
like Joe and Kathleen on film
our love is still up in the light
( This is loosely based on the movie 'You've Got Mail' as my wife Christine and I shared same mail exchange as Joe (Tom Hanks) and Kathleen (Meg Ryan) but not email but by normal snail mail and so still together after 29 years. )
I'd choose the USPS "Liberty Bell" stamp for an ekphrasis poem. Here's the poem:
In copper curves, the Liberty Bell's tale,
A symbol etched in history's hallowed gale,
On this small stamp, its lines tell a story grand,
Of freedom's voice, in a nation's promised land.
The crack that speaks of time and trials past,
Echoes whispers of liberty that will forever last,
In Philadelphia's square, it once did ring,
Proclaiming rights, where brave hearts took their sing.
Now postage-born, in miniature it resides,
A nation's dream on tiny paper tides,
With every stamp, its spirit's sent afar,
Carrying hopes, like letters breathed into air.
In mailboxes deep or journeys cross-country wide,
This Liberty Bell stamp glides, a quiet pride,
A symbol small, of ideals vast and old,
On letters sent, where dreams and stories unfold.
I remember it very well.
It was before the birth of email.
It was a real 'show and tell, and
It rings in my heart like a bell.
Mankind has always found bigger
And better ways to communicate.
Over time and space, such avenues
Have been greatly excellerated.
In the early 70's, cell phones were large
and rare, but landline phones were everywhere.
Those landline phones helped to communicate
The love and romance that were in the air,
And to tell a lover how much you cared.
But for me, and much more importantly,
There was a US POSTAGE STAMP in 1972,
First issued in 1971. I used a few of them
To send love letters to my wife to be. Although
The price of the stamp was low, it was not free.
There are no proofs of the phone calls or the
Automobile drives from Chicago to Northern
Indiana, but thanks to the 8 cent Dwight
Eisenhower postage stamp, there are many
Love letters to prove how romance was kept alive
By the connection provided by a postal stamp.
Dwight D. Eisenhower's picture was on that stamp.
The pose was inspiring and a rather stately one,
I might add. That stately stamp helped to shine
Light upon our young lives like a lamp.
That Eisenhower stamp is a most memorable
And vital part of my life's story. Its been 50 plus
Years now, but my wife and I still have many
Of those love letters. And when we read them,
It always makes us feel so much better.
Blue feet,
Two feet,
Scooting through my rug.
First foot down,
Wiggle toes around.
Second foot down,
May we go to town?
Little blue feet,
Go put on your shoes!
First foot stamps,
Second foot joins the dance.
Stamp!
Stamp!
Sounds like they have to stay around.
Little blue feet,
Running across my rug.
First foot shuffles into a shoe.
Second foot shuffles into a shoe.
Off to town, the looooong way around.
watching the waves before departure
knowing that the salty waters will flow on
i wish that she will remember me and know my name
the tears fall slowly
being a manchild stubborn and unwilling to acknowledge reality
aware, but unaware of the sturuggles' welcome home party
i wish that she will embrace me to elongate my company
the tears fall slowly
feeling the gentle breeze and hearing my long deceased Mother's voice
'time to go home, my son, there will be other times'
i wish that she would stamp that guarantee as confirmatory truth
the tears increase their speed and forms a 'blue' puddle below me
Some desire to leave their shadows upon the earth,
great achievements or abominable destruction,
anything to stamp a footnote
on any indelible ledger.
Some choose to walk on water,
to live unknown where every blade of grass
is known.
Kings have their castles and hermits their caves,
but the son of man disappears
into his own habitat.
He or she, lives under many roofs
but never do they call any place their home.
Lovers and poets live above the prevailing winds,
artist shape culture from the inside
not from without.
Love is the only lamp to read by.
Mighty cultures rise and fall,
but those who know how to disappear
far beyond any common memory,
they are remembered
by a God
who does not read the history of this world.