Long Stare Poems
Long Stare Poems. Below are the most popular long Stare by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Stare poems by poem length and keyword.
The damn thing's got too many holes,
I’m also missing several poles.
Instructions I simply cannot read.
This confounded thing's about to breed!
Pieces covering every inch of floor
I can no longer walk on as before,
and almost fifteen thousand bolts
I demand to know whose fault!
For gods sake this piece is upside down
so I stare at it with such a frown
because now I have to disassemble,
in hope, next time, it might resemble.
Five hours have gone and still the bits
stare back at me, I have a fit!
I swear and curse in a contortion
as this things all out of proportion!
You need six hands and several feet
or else this puzzle's has got you beat!
I fear that I might die before
these bits have gone from off my floor!
It says G6 to seven, then F2 to three
apparently using screws A, B and C,
from now on I'll just have to guess,
it's easier to beat Kasparov at chess!
Eventually I build this piece,
seemingly it’s for my niece!
My wife tells me it should be blue,
I reply ‘over to you!'
The boss has a hole in her forehead, the receptionist said.
But do not stare or make any big deal about it
Or you will not be hired.
Can we mention it? Someone asked.
They were escorted out, so I guess that was a no.
What if we accidentally look at it? Another asked.
They were gone too.
It was down to three of us now.
We went in and I could not stop looking.
The other two had eyes rolling all over the room.
Finally I jumped over the desk and slapped an enormous band-aid on it.
The boss hired me immediately.
She said she liked people who take the initiative
And listen to their hearts.
The nest is naked
Crass and cruel
It is not for sparrows.
Any berries I eat
Taste like acrid ash
Spilling out of my beak.
Above, are haughty eagles
Claws full of meaty mice
Swooping high above trees.
My marbled eyes can only stare
Hungry, so hungry for belonging
And not even the branches hold me.
A fall, a tumble—
All it would take to dive
Deep into the Earth's clay.
Would it be as cold as this?
When the rain beads off my feathers?
When the wind frosts my lashes?
I am certain She would spit me out
A carcass of plastic bird bones
To be reborn as the same sparrow.
The Price of Friendship
The air around me flows freely,
Yet its breath brings no relief.
I stand beneath the rain,
My heart thumping loudly—
Each strike resounding with worry,
Like a heart about to fail.
But still, I feel no pain.
The rain caresses my skin...
Yet I feel no warmth.
My gaze is absent,
My eyes unfocused,
And yet—I continue to stare.
The thought of friendship stirs within me.
I wonder... what is a friend, truly?
I weigh the price of it,
And my heart quakes.
Where does friendship end—
And where does love begin?
I mumble incoherently,
Like a man in distress.
“Friendship... friendship...”
Am I worthy of it?
Are they worthy of me?
My energy drains,
Weariness sets in,
My vision blurs...
And I wonder—
Is this the price?
A chuckle escapes me,
Yet no smile follows.
Must I carry both their fears and mine?
Can I bear such weight?
Must I follow them to hell and back,
Their worries bound to me like a sack?
All this—just because of the word friend.
Does it mean I must stay until the end?
If this is the price of friendship,
What, then, is the price of love?
Could I even bear it?
Would I not crumble?
Or am I simply afraid to commit?
Was friendship always such a summit?
Still, I have no choice
But to walk this path—
For another.
And if I were to break apart,
Would they piece me back together?
Or walk away?
I do not know.
I cannot tell.
Yet, I pray never to see such a day.
Drenched in rain,
At last—I feel it:
The pain.
My will falters.
I begin to crumble.
Yet no hand reaches for me.
Still, a smile forms—
As I ponder my fate.
Do I drop it all?
Stop my own free fall?
The thought crosses my mind...
But I refuse.
I shove away the off-switch, the fuse,
And dive into other nightmares,
While still embracing mine.
All this... just for another.
Fool me once, shame on you;
fool me twice, shame on me.
Proverb
Let me tell you a story:
subjected to twenty-four
hours of snooze
the same old news
played on repeat
passed as if
mouth to ear
better yet the strange
the criminal caught
in the act
incomplete acrobat
trapezing through the ceiling
to stare squarely
into the eyes of the law
his gun in his pants
he can’t reach
he swings around like a caged bird
hoping to freefall
so he can make a run for it
the fake cop
says, “Get a load of this, boys!”
then he throws the youngster to the ground,
“Off with you! We were here first!”
and then, the fake cop
turns around and stares
into a real badge -
his eyes chest high
the cop’s eyes hanging over
his head, trapezing
until they wink,
“Take him away, boys!”
the rubies, sapphires and diamonds sparkle.
necklaces and bracelets, safe…
well, two bracelets clasp the wrists
of the outwitted twit
painfully so
alas his girlfriend will find another dupe
a younger one
who just might get the job done
this time he’ll land on two feet
with his gun in hand
smarter than his former self
he’ll send a note
incognito
from a private island
to a cocky jailbird
as him and his eye candy
clink together
their passionfruit mojitos
heads thrown back
in the throes
of laughter and lovemaking
4/23/2022
Form N - Narrative
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Funny
December brings the snow and ice
Early morning frosts; the trees are bare
Stay inside, keep warm heed my advice.
If you venture out you'll pay the price
I'm so snug inside without a care
December brings the snow and ice.
The snow is falling it looks so nice
I won't risk driving ; I wouldn't dare
Stay inside, keep warm heed my advice.
The weather warning was very concise
Don't venture out don't go anywhere
December brings the snow and ice.
I've ordered hot pizza; can't wait for a slice
I answer the front door to a blast of cold air
Stay inside, keep warm heed my advice.
I look out my window not once but twice
A mesmerising scene I can't help but stare
December brings the snow and ice
Stay inside,keep warm heed my advice.
Written 23 June 2020
For Month Of The Year I like Most Poetry Contest
Contest judged 18 July 2020. N/A recieved.
For July n/a or hm poetry contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Awarded 1st place
I will always remember Alene
for she had the wandering eyes of
blindness.
As a child, I would stare at her eyes
fascinated, and not a little scared.
Alene was a kind, matter of fact lady.
She always ended her sentences with
“honey”, as in, “Can you hand me my cane, honey?”
or “Please help me to the counter, honey.”
I could not tell you what color Alene’s eyes were
for her iris’ were glazed over with an opaque
sheen, like thin clouds on a hazy day.
Alene said that she could only see shadows
and used her red rimmed cane to navigate.
My mother took her grocery shopping often
and I came along to help.
Alene dressed plainly, but she always wore
a bright colored scarf around her dull
brown hair. She may have not looked
attractive on the outside, but inside she
was kind hearted and loving.
Alene always appreciated everything others
did for her, and always let them know it.
She was not shy, but rather humble and
respectful. Alene was just Alene...
When I look back to my childhood, I would
not trade one day with Alene for a thousand
days with someone who was beautiful on the
outside, but cold and selfish on the inside.
Yes, I will always fondly remember Alene.
Written on 5/2/2018
The stars shine, indifferent to what was and what will be.
In a way, the night sky, as beautiful as it may be, is the most nihilsitic thing one may look at
The same stars remains unchanged- from Aristotle's view, or yours
And yet you stare in awe
Of a black that refuses to die
Two moons instead of one- the night is clear tonight
In this Autumn summers breeze, on this grass, there's no greater sight
the stars pair in twins and blind one with awe.
Although the stars will fade,
They will be back, waiting for your return each night
for you to sonder during day, what you yonder at night
Tomb of the Unknown
Twenty-one steps south down the black mat
Turns and faces east toward the tomb for twenty-one seconds
Turns and faces north, changes gun to outside shoulder and waits twenty-one seconds
Marches twenty-one steps up the mat
Turns and faces east for twenty-one seconds
Turns and faces south, changes gun to outside shoulder and waits twenty-one seconds
Twenty-one steps south down the black mat
The cycle is repeated
Three hundred and sixty-five days a year
Twenty-four hours a day
White gloved hands snap through the shoulder arms
Sharp green uniforms show no rank
Dark sunglasses hide the solemn stare of the guard
Select members of The Old Breed maintain vigilance
Over the marble tomb
The crowd must be silent
All must show respect
To those who are unknown
To the faceless and nameless
Who sacrifice all
I look into my mirror and I see
I girl who is standing, staring at me
Our eyes lock and it can’t be
This girl is stressed, eyes filled with despair
Falling into a pool of darkness without a care
Drowning but not ready to gasp for air,
I stare
This girl is tired and broken and sad
Choking on her own fears, not ready to ask for a hand
Still unaware and afraid ‘this is normal it can’t be that bad,’
I stare
This girl has a smile that is shaking, doesn’t belong on her face
Uses it to hide all her pain, move it all to one space
That smile is the only key to her happy place,
I stare
This girl is taking deep breaths in and out
Using them as a way to cope and not shout
How much she is hurting, hiding behind those breaths, what’s that about?
I stare into my mirror and what do I see?
A girl who is standing, staring at me
Where did the other one go? Who was so carefree.
Did she disappear with age, why because she
Was so perfect, so pleasant oh where could she be
Because she is not the same girl staring back at me.